One of Those Nights

Tonight was one of those nights where I found myself feeling so happy to live where I live - in the city.  Never a dull moment and always something to do.  A near perfect night, really.

After dinner and bed for J.P., Joe and I strolled down to Belmont Boulevard.  For the second time in the past week, we stopped in at Cha Chah, a restaurant next door to Chago's Cantina.  I rolled the stroller into the bar, moved a couple of bar stools, and sat down.  We had the bar to ourselves.  I read a book on my Kindle Fire, drank a glass of wine and talked to the bartender and a server about music, books and iPhone apps.  

Then, Joe and I strolled home on a beautiful, early fall night.

My 'hood is my home and has been for the last ten years.  Initially, after Jude and got married and I moved into our house on Elliott Avenue, I thought, "what in the hell have you gotten yourself into."  Now, I can't imagine not living where I live, in the city.  So much to do, so many places to walk to, so many friends I've made and so many walks I've gone on with J.P. first, and now, Joe.  I realize I don't live in a big city, but this city - Nashville - at least where I live, is a part of me and always will be.    

The Great Pumpkin Vine

(at Bongo Java w/Sleeping Joe, drinking a "mood elevator" and listening to Neil Young - "Live at Massey Hall (1971))

I've been dying to write about the magic pumpkin vine growing wild (and I mean really, really wild) in our front yard but, until now, haven't found the time.  It's been one of the highlights of my summer.  I suppose it's appropriate to write about it tonight, since tomorrow is the first day of fall.

The first week of July, as we were gearing for our week of vacation at Santa Rosa Beach, Fl, I noticed a vine of some sort growing in our front yard, along the sidewalk near our front porch.  I didn't think too much of it and, frankly, I was glad to have anything growing in the front yard at that point.  Almost all of our grass had died due to the lack of rain and the hot, hot weather.

Upon closer examination, I realized it looked an awful lot like a pumpkin vine, which was weird, because Jude had planted some pumpkin seeds in the garden (but not in our front yard, obviously) back in the spring.  I decided to let it grow and told Duane, who mows our grass, to mow around it while we were gone on vacation.  He left it alone and when we returned to town, it was clear we were dealing with a runaway pumpkin vine.  At that point - in mid-July - the vine was about 3 or 4 feet long.

One of the cool things (and there are many cool things about it, actually) about the pumpkin vine, then and now, is that we had and have no idea where it came from.  The theory we like the most is that a bird picked up some pumpkin seeds after Jude planted them in the garden and dropped 1 or 2 in the front yard.  Or, perhaps, Jude and J.P. dropped a pumpkin seed in the front yard while they were walking to the garden.  On the other hand, maybe the pumpkin vine is magic and it decided on it's own to grow in our front yard this summer.  Maybe it will grow in someone else's yard next summer.

Anyway, the pumpkin vine continued to grow.  And grow and grow and grow.  Almost by the day, as the summer marched inexorably on, we could see it had grown substantially bigger than the day before.  Soon it was 10 - 15 feet long and bright yellow blooms appeared up and down the vine.  The blooms themselves are very cool - they open up wide in the morning and bees fly lazily from one bloom to the other.  By midday, the blooms close completely, not to open again until the next morning.

By mid-August, it was readily apparent the pumpkin vine has a life of its own.  It had grown in a straight line along the sidewalk, parallel to the front of our house, all the way to the garden.  When it reached the garden, it made a 90 degree turn and grew toward the street.  Then, it started shooting vines off toward the sidewalk again.  Now, the pumpkin vine measures probably 30 feet in one direction, 40 feet in another direction and it's covered, conservatively 20% of our front yard.  Friends that stop by the house marvel at it.

We even have a couple of pumpkins that are growing, one that's actually decent in size with a fully formed stem, which is cool.  J.P. and put some straw down underneath one of the baby pumpkins to prevent it (hopefully) from rotting from sitting in the dew in the mornings.

This evening, as J.P and I played "landscape company" in the front yard and Joey watched us from his bouncy seat on the sidewalk, I noticed for the first time that some of the large, normally deep green leaves near the origin of the vine were turning yellow.  I looked closer and saw that the original vine - which has been a green so deep it's almost black and very, very thick - was starting to wither away.  I'm  pretty sure the entire vine, and the pumpkins, are going to die, slowly.  That makes me sad.

The summer - Joey's 1st summer - is ending - dying, if you will, never to return.  The same could be said of the magic pumpkin vine.  I've so enjoyed looking at it each day, before and after work.  It's been great to talk about it to J.P. and to look for pumpkins.  It's been fun just to wonder how the pumpkin vine got there and how it grew so rapidly.

I keep thinking the pumpkin vine is a metaphor for something else.  Something bigger.  Something that came into my life unexpectedly, brought me great pleasure, then left too soon.  I don't think I can go that deep tonight, though.  It's almost 9:45 p.m. and time to head back home on a beautiful night - the last night of the summer of 2012 - with Joey sleeping peacefully in the City Elite stroller.

Maybe that's what the pumpkin vine represents - all of these summer nights I've spent with my youngest son, strolling around the neighborhood as he slept.  Winter will be here soon and, also soon, Joey will be too big for me to stroll him around at night.  He'll be sleeping in his bed and I'll be back to watching TV or reading, and these summer nights spent with him will fade away until their just a distant memory.

Or maybe it's just a pumpkin vine.

The Electric Horseman

Rita Andra, Joey's godmother (and Jude's cousin), and Joey petting a horse at Uncle Tom's Farm.

The Godfather

David Walker (a.k.a. the Godfather) with Joey at Tom White's Farm.

Laura McCutcheon with J.P. and Joey at Tom White's Pig Roast on Saturday evening.  J.P. loves going to "Uncle Tom's Farm."

Cement Mixer

I love the way J.P. makes me see things - the most ordinary things - in an entirely new light.

This morning, when J.P. and I were about to come downstairs for breakfast, we heard what sounded like a truck engine running outside, in front of our house.  We walked out front, into the front yard, and saw a cement mixer parked in front of our next door neighbor's house.  Metro (Nashville) is repairing sidewalks in our neighborhood and today they were working on our street.

J.P. and I watched the men pour the cement, then carefully smooth it out in the sections of the sidewalk they were repairing.  J.P. was fascinated.  He couldn't take his eyes off the men working.  Finally, he looked at me and said, "Daddy, when I grow up, I'm going to fix sidewalks."  I smiled and enjoyed the rest of our morning together.

Hostage Situation

Friday afternoon, I drove Jude, J.P. and Joey to the airport, so they could fly to Jacksonville, FL, to spend Labor Day weekend with the Baines' family.  In the past, Jude has made a late summer trip there by herself (or later, with J.P.).  This time around, I decided to stay home to try and get caught up at work.  So, there we were Friday about 5:30 p.m., standing together in the security line, as I prepared to usher the 3 of them through, so I could drive back to Urban Grub in 12South and meet my friend, Mike Matteson, to watch the Tennessee-N.C. State football game together.  It looked like I would arrive at my barstool just before kickoff.

In other words, while Jude flew to Jacksonville with a 4 1/2 year old and a 6 month old, I would be sitting at the bar with one of my best friends, having a cold beer and cheering on my beloved Vols in their season opener.  Seems about right, doesn't it?

When we reached the front of the security line, Jude realized she didn't have an infant boarding pass for Joey.  Ever the helpful husband, I offered to walk back to the Southwest Airlines ticket counter and get the boarding pass we needed for Joey.  As I was talking to the lady at the ticket counter, one of the supervisors from the security checkpoint walked up beside me.  Trying to be helpful (I guess), he said to the lady at the ticket counter, "just print him a non-passenger boarding pass."

Time stood still, as I stared at the man incredulously.  "What?" I said.  "I didn't know you could do that."  This, of course, was "code" for "I am trying to get out of this airport, so I can have a beer with my buddy and watch my football team play."

"Sure they can," he replied.  As the lady printed, then handed me a non-passenger boarding pass, the man grinned at me stupidly (or, perhaps, cleverly).  "I've got my own kids," he said.  "You can take your kids to their gate."  For a brief moment, I seriously thought about throat punching him.  "Oh, okay.  Good idea." I stammered.

I walked back to the front of the security line, head down, muttering profanities to myself.  When I saw Jude and the boys, I forced a smile and, through gritted teeth, said "Guess what?  I can go through security with you and take you to the gate."  Jude looked relieved and J.P. squealed with delight.  I smiled, just a little.

We quickly got through the security checkpoint, then waited in another line to send Jude's carry-on luggage through the x-ray machine.  We took off our shoes, emptied our pockets, broke down the stroller and walked through the scanner.  Next, it was on to find a cup of hot water, so we could give Joey a bottle (Starbucks did the trick).  As Joey drank his milk and J.P. played in the Southwest Airlines play area, I peaked at my watch every couple of minutes, sighing as kickoff came and went.

I texted by buddy, Mike, advising him that I had blundered into a "hostage situation."  I was kidding, of course.  Sort of.

Finally, departure time neared and I walked Jude, J.P. and Joey to their gate.  We said our goodbyes and my impatience aside, I was touched when J.P. told me how much he was going to miss me.  Suddenly, I could have cared less about the Tennessee game, season opener or not.  I walked through the airport to my truck, already missing my family and looking forward to their return on Monday morning.