Our grown children are having all the fun

(Would you rather go birding at DrTom's, or go dancing with Paris Hilton?)

I thought I was enjoying my life in retirement until earlier today when I talked to my son who lives in Las Vegas.  I mean, I have my gardening, and my forest, a great wife, a good dog (about which Mark Twain said each man deserves one of in his life), some aging friends, and the internet.  But my son was describing to me how he went to what is probably the most beautiful swimming pool in the world this week, how he goes to after-parties that are even after the usual after-parties, and that he is so busy chumming with celebs that he barely has time to sleep.  For example, last night he walked into a Japanese restaurant, saw one of his bosses across the room, and went up to the guy to say hello.  Only then did he realize that the man was having dinner with Paris Hilton, who he is dating.  (Of course, the two of them are not having such a good week now, given their arrest due to that "stuff" Paris had in her purse.)  In contrast, this morning I met with some students who were graduating from Cornell.  We met at the annual breakfast under a tent on the lawn in front of a decaying 100-year old building, where I ate half a bagel slathered with cream cheese.  Something is wrong with this picture.

Until today, I thought that hearing a Tufted Titmouse singing in my woods was pretty exciting.  I thought that anticipating the first bloom of a day lily behind the house was stupendous.  I thought that going to Punk's Place in Candor, NY on a Saturday night to get a reuben sandwich was rewarding.  I thought that eating a radish I grew in my garden was miraculous.   But when I think about my party-going, snowboarding, cave-exploring, topless-pool spectating, Texas Hold-em playing sons living under the clear Western sky I'm not so sure.  What the heck was I doing when I was young?  I was married with children, in debt, in the Army or in school trying to educate myself for the good life that was to come.  And what do I have now?  A pithy radish and bird poop all over the place.

So just now, this very minute, I made a commitment to myself.  DrTom will do something at least once a week that can stand up against the social reports of his kids.  For example, this fall we can attend the Candor Senior High School football games.  That marching band of theirs is supposed to put on a pretty entertaining half-time show.  Instead of just listening for birds on my place, I will start turning rocks over for salamanders.  There must be a whole world I am missing by always looking up.  I'm not going to just grow radishes in my vegetable garden; I'm going to try some pak choi.  And that Kama Sutra book that has been sitting in the drawer next to our bed needs to be dusted off.  We use it to press flowers between the pages.  But there are actually some interesting pictures in there.  Management and I need to study those.

So kids, just wait until you call us next time.  Ryan, I won't just be killing tent caterpillars on my fruit trees by squishing them between my fingers like I was when you called today.  I'll be doing stuff.  Lots of neat stuff.  Stuff so neat that you'll want to spend every vacation here at home instead of hiking the high peaks of Colorado or dancing at fancy clubs with those girls who star in Cirque du Soleil or going to comedy clubs with Jarvis Green (the Broncos' new defensive linesman) or going to Cancun for tequila tastings. You might even start bringing people like Paris Hilton, or Alex Rodriguez, or Leonardo diCaprio with you because they have all heard that Danby is now the place to be seen, not Vegas.  And Danbyites are discreet about what celebs do here.  Cause you know what everyone is saying these days: "What happens in Danby, stays in Danby."

The missile has landed: my sister-in-law arrives for a visit

(DrTom, about to pick up his sister-in-law at the Binghamton airport.)

Yesterday I picked up my sister-in-law at the Greater Binghamton Airport, whose name is larger than the airport.  The airport has one gate and one luggage carousel.  At the food counter, you can buy bagels or taco chips.  The men's urinals are so narrow and so crowded along the wall that you have to stand sideways to urinate, facing the back of the person standing next to you.  Obviously, all men should face the same direction, but very awkward, nonetheless.  There is only one car to rent there, so you have to wait until it is returned before you can use it.  Did I say the airport was small?

When I picked up Susie, I went dressed as you see in the photo above.  I went to fetch Susie alone, because my wife is on a strict deadline with her work.  I wanted to be sure she found me, and I did not want to pick up the wrong sister-in-law.  After all, I have only known her for 43 years, but I have not seen her in a few months.  She could have grown a couple of inches since our last meeting, she might have dyed her hair a different color, or she might have lost her freckles.  You just never know in this era of extreme makeovers.  Twelve people got off the plane, so it only took us minutes to find each other, thanks to the sign I was carrying with her name on it.  I spelled her name incorrectly on the sign I was carrying (I never had to write her name before), but it was close enough for her to understand. 

On the way back to Danby, I drove through Apalachin, Owego, and Candor, to give her a taste of our Southern Tier communities.  We stopped at the little market in Candor for some canning supplies.  I bought the last two bags of sugar on the shelf before the elderly lady in front of me could bend over to get them.  We also needed ascorbic acid, but "We don't sell no stinkin acid in here.  Why would you want to mix acid with your pears?"  I didn't have the energy to provide a complete answer, so we moved on before that elderly lady caught up to us.  I really needed that sugar.

We arrived home safely, but exhausted from dealing with a regional airport and the Candor market.  After our frog walk and tree identification session, I let Susie rest before we went to dinner in Ithaca.  And the trip to Madeline's Restaurant constituted another exciting adventure, which I will describe someday.