c. 2024 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(7-24)
My week here at the Icehouse began with a surreal amount of news stories. Worldwide woes with internet connectivity, thanks to a CrowdStrike update that affected Microsoft platforms. The abdication of President Joe Biden from his campaign for reelection to office. The bombastic return of Donald J. Trump to his own quest to regain the White House, after nearly being assassinated in Butler, Pennsylvania. And in personal terms, my need to gain e-check certification for the household hauler, so that my license plates could be renewed.
I decided on visiting the Lake County emissions center, a favored spot during a dozen years spent living in Painesville. I thought that going to a familiar location would make things snappy. On Sunday morning, I headed north toward Madison, while enjoying the friendly, summer climate. But too soon, my breezy mood would be scuttled by circumstance.
There was major road work occurring at Route 20, the east to west corridor south of Lake Erie. So, when I reached that important intersection, traffic was decidedly heavy. The lanes of travel were narrow and bordered by barricades. Once I turned left, it was as if I had entered a construction project modeled after a demolition derby. There were warning signs and orange cones and paint stripes, everywhere. I lost track of my surroundings despite having been home in Ohio for over 40 years.
When I reached my destination at the E-Check depot, their single, self-serve kiosk was out of order. No explanation was given, only the offer of a brochure which listed other locations that were theoretically available. Otherwise, they were closed for the period. A survey of details on my cell phone did not reveal any information about services being interrupted.
I had become stalled in virtual quicksand.
Grumbling quietly, I headed through the capital city along Liberty Street, to reach Routes 84 and then 86. A path back to my rural home in Thompson Township. But I soon discovered that literally half of this connector was unavailable. The entire northbound lane had been blocked off, for paving. I meandered over bumps and irregularities with caution, until finally reaching the point where I could veer away from this Twilight Zone made of asphalt.
While in a dreamscape of yonder days, I had hoped to search for Lord Chesterfield Ale, a product of D.G. Yuengling & Son. But with all of the drama and confusion, my impulsive plan vanished into a haze of futility.
I limped home having accomplished nothing except for wasting a quarter-tank of gasoline.
Monday morning found me waking early, about fifteen minutes after six o’clock. I tossed and turned in bed before surrendering to consciousness. Then, made coffee and flicked on NewsNation, to hear further details of Uncle Joe’s fall from grace. There were talking heads from both major parties, from a diverse roster of news organizations and think tanks, and from real-world neighborhoods across America. Yet very little genuine enlightenment came from this parade of faux intellect. As I sat sipping java, my focus turned toward more immediate concerns.
What about my little Ford SUV in the driveway? How would I find the patience to wait out a perplexing disruption of cyberspace? What magic could give me patience when I yearned to get things done in a timely manner? What miracle could morph me from a quivering mass of urgency, into a calm and careful disciple of practical thinking?
The answer was of course, that no such elixir existed. I had to get off of my ass, and be in motion! Speed was the drug I needed. Blue skies overhead, and a landscape of greenery passing by with rapidity.
Then and there, I chose to visit the Geauga County E-Check location. A place that I had not used in twenty years, at least. Feeling groggy and out-of-focus, I went through Chardon for a stop at the Post Office, to mail one of my books to program host Rachel Maddow, at MSNBC. A quirky, wacky idea proposed by my mentor and musical muse Dennis Chandler, of Solon. As an adviser and confidante, he had never steered me in the wrong direction. So, despite my own misgivings, I did as he suggested. When I had finished composing my cover letter, I added a business card from my stash on top of a file cabinet, in the home office.
Dear Rachel.
I am a retired journalist, newspaper editor, and active author in a county southeast of Cleveland... Enclosed here is volume eleven (of my Trailer Park Militia Series), part of my attempt to use good-natured satire to express what life is like in my region of Ohio. There are many events depicted that actually happened, though I render them in a useful form of fiction. My intent was and is to entertain the reader respectfully, and perhaps, provoke thought and discussion.
I shared one of these volumes with Rep. Liz Cheney, right before she left office. Regretfully, I never received a reply of any sort. Yet it is my fervent hope that she got a smile out of reading what I wrote, if nothing else.
I invite you also to have a look. A character based on your important show and career appears in Chapter 25, ‘Cable.’ (Page 117.)
Sincere Regards,
Rod Ice
In honest terms, I had rarely ever watched her program. So, sending out such a package did seem a bit ridiculous. But after at least 50 or more submissions through the postal system, one more needed no justification. I figured that a scattergun strategy would serve me best. Tossing out volumes of work here and there, until at some point, I saw a positive result.
After mailing my big envelope, I headed toward the rendezvous with emissions testers on Auburn Road. Yet as my eyes battled the glare, I managed to miss the station entirely. I drove north until eventually reaching Concord Township, and the Fioritto Dental Center.
Curses flowed freely from my lips, as I turned around in their parking lot. I had passed my destination somehow, despite attentively scouring the landscape. Going back along the roadway, I saw every familiar address in reverse. Lots of residential plots, small farms, produce stands, and gardens. And finally, the official signage that had been invisible, before.
Getting my vehicle certified was a quick affair. The technicians were chatty and visibly bored with their work. I wondered aloud about the worldwide outage that had interrupted services of all sorts. But they had no clues to offer.
On the way home, I stopped in Hambden at a Sunoco Fuel oasis, and Redi-Go store, where my shaggy, creaky, hobbling presence was a familiar sight. My favorite cashier was busy ordering product in one of the snack aisles. I joked with her about being trained to perform various tasks. Something I guessed would increase her value as an employee. Her long, red hair had been pulled back into a twisty braid. I liked the stylish design of her glasses. It gave her a studious, nerdy appeal that I found compelling.
Driving home, I swelled with confidence over having ticked off so many items from the daily bucket list. Yet then realized that one chore had been dropped with a clumsy lapse of my mental faculties. I had forgotten to ask about Lord Chesterfield, and his green-labeled brew.
POTUS Joe must have heard a grandfather clock ticking, when he reached the dreadful conclusion that it was time to end his campaign for a second term. But for myself, a different timepiece split the seconds into a rhythmic pattern. A pop-pop-pop of beer cans being opened, which came later on my front porch.
I had purchased a case of Yuengling Premium Pilsner. That prize was enough to carry me through the rest of my day.
No comments:
Post a Comment