AVOIDING THE JULY FOURTH RUSH

Macon is usually deserted on July 4th. The weekend.

People head for the beaches (mostly); some to the mountains north of us.

Those of us left back here can always find something to do….a fireworks display, a day at one of the local ‘lakes’, a backyard cook out. Ribs are most popular. I’m doing rock Cornish hens on Monday flavored with a local guy’s excellent BBQ sauce. He slipped me a sample in a squeeze pump bottle with all the intrigue and secrecy of a dope dealer or bootlegger pedaling his liquid fire.

This stuff is good. Best I ever tasted. Tried it twice already on steak and chicken. Ingredients? No idea, tomato based, but no clue about the rest. And the neighbor won’t tell.

While my friends and family are rushing around trying to squeeze as much frenzied activity into the long weekend, yours truly is taking it easy, doing a little writing, quite a bit or gardening and taking long walks even in the heat of the noonday sun. Mad dogs and ex yankees.

Like Christmas at the end of the year, The Fourth is a good time to pause and to reflect. The Yuletide is an intensely personal time for me, a time for inner examination, the focus being on self and family and harmony with nature. The Fourth seems best suited for outward contemplation….what is the state of our nation, of the world. Where is this mess heading. Will man be here in another ten or twenty years, or will he have worn out Mother Nature’s welcome map forcing her to retaliate and wipe him from the face of the earth.

It could be war, plague, nature turned angry, an asteroid from far distant space, a strain of virus antibiotics cannot control, or an insect population fast multiplying beyond our means to control them.

Up to our asses in fleas or cicadas. Death by cockroach.

We will talk about our Fourth Of July musings very soon, before the weekend has passed us by.

In the meantime take a breath. Enjoy the long weekend. Do something useful. Me? I’m babysitting six cats, a dog, and a tank full of Piranhas and avoiding bringing their fleas into my pristine little home.