October 5, 2017 – Thursday
I don’t know if it’s because there is a maple tree outside my window that is doing it’s “fall thing” and turning more crimson by the hour or if it’s that everywhere (as in everywhere) I look there is some sort of Pumpkin Spiced something within view. I am all for everything pumpkin but seriously, do women need panty liners that have that fragrance?
I digress.
In any case, I’m sitting here at my dining table gazing out my windows … out one window the trees and bushes are green and I see flies dancing in the air so it looks like it could be warm out; summery. The other window beholds the red maple and another tree that is turning a bit golden; it’s autumn on that side of the house. Ahh, the changing of seasons … it makes me nostalgic.
I’m here listening to my snoring pug and the (constant) forlorn braying of the neighbor’s neglected beagle. I think of that poor lonely dog and instantly my brain runs with “beagle” which makes me think of, for whatever reason, the HMS Beagle that naturalist Charles Darwin was aboard in the early 1830s. One of those beautiful multi-sail “pirate” looking ships that went around the world – navigating some 40,000 miles all the while with good ol’ boy Chuck accumulating specimens to bring back to England for study and edification -all which led to his theory of evolution.
Some 180 years ago.
And yes, after all that and all his troubles, we still have people thinking the world is flat (hello, Flat Earth Society members!) and that evolution is a made up idea begun by pagans and non-believers (of Creationism). In this day and age? People! It’s scientifically backed! Wake up and smell the curvature and the transmutation of species (or Neanderthals – your choice).
I digress, again.
So, back to the brain engaged on the Beagle and Darwin and the bravery he had…
Naturally, since I bore easily, my thoughts now take the fork in the road to the path with the weeds in the middle of it (lesser traveled) and I’m no longer thinking of beagles or the Beagle or Chuck but of 50 some years ago when I’m at my elementary school wearing the cutest, short-sleeved turquoise and brown plaid plaid dress (with a bronze metallic thread in it and of course it had a Peter Pan collar!) – stiffly starched (thanks, mom) and white anklets (horrors). It was a fall dress … hence, I’m thinking all things autumn – apparently.
Back to School (after Labor Day) held such promise! It was an exciting time! Who can deny that the scent of paste and oil cloth doesn’t bring some sort of comfort to them? Well, not me! I look back with much fondness to those days. I was a good student. An eager learner. I was well-liked by my teachers because I was easy. A pleaser. (You want the black boards cleaned, Miss Luschek? I’ll do it!!!) I was probably the teacher’s pet but was too unknowing to know it. Not a brown-noser as I had nothing to gain from them liking me – just an easy kid. School was fun and came easily for me. (Can I read another triple black diamond SRA – PLEASE???) Anyway, somewhere along the line while wearing said dress I had to do a report on an explorer … and my guy was (drumroll please ….)
Vasco da Gama.
I’m pretty sure it was the luck of the draw that I got him and not Columbus, Balboa, Magellan, Cortes, Sir Walter Raleigh, etc. but I remember being somewhat thrilled as his name was so EXOTIC! In a world of Roberts and Jimmys and Davids … no one I knew was named Vasco! Who the hell was he? At that point in my life I had no clue – at this point in my life I vaguely remember the name. I don’t remember at all (sorry Vas) what he did … or didn’t do … or what his contribution to society then/now/forever was.
So, the internet has come to my rescue. I could have looked him up in my 1960s Golden Book Junior Encyclopedia set (which I still have!) because back “in the day” that’s what we did. And if you were lucky enough to have a set at home (as we did) – you were, well … golden. No pun intended.
So, here’s the scoop: Vasco da Gama was a Portuguese explorer and the first European to reach India by sea. Arriving in harbor a mere 459 years and 1 day before my birth. Now why that was relevant to 10 year olds back in 1967, I have no idea – but apparently learning about 500 year old conquistadors and explorers was easier and less controversial than discussing the current civil rights movement.
And while I’d love to go into depth about school subjects, my love for paste or that good looking explorer, my thoughts have already zoomed forward from 1967 and have landed back here on this dining room table while I stare off through the windows wondering if my summery trees will change colors this year and how those guys did what they did. I’m left thinking how brave those explorers were. Did they just wake up one morning and say – “I think I’ll get aboard a big, wooden ship and sail to the unknown.” Kind of akin to astronauts who strap themselves into a metal tube with mega tons of explosives underneath their butts hoping they won’t disintegrate but will have the trip of a lifetime in the final frontier. Who does that?
My hats are off to those guys and to all those who have guts (including my kids). I am pretty gutless when it comes to explorations or risks or getting out of my comfort zones. Well, when there’s personal harm involved, anyway! Nope, you won’t catch me out on running trails by myself. I don’t run, so, no – you wouldn’t find me out on those trails but if I did run, I still wouldn’t be out there. I watched The Lone Ranger on Sunday mornings – I know just where that cougar is hiding amongst the rocks waiting to pounce! Paddle boarding? I don’t care if it’s a river or lake … I saw Jaws and I’m not doing it! Roller coasters? Nope – been there, done that – have been greener than I ever need to be ever again. Sailing off into the unknown or strapping myself to a rocket? Um, not in your lifetime.
So, as the leaves begin to turn and fall and the air becomes cooler and all things pumpkin abound … I will send off a little thank you to our forefathers for their wisdom, courage, fortitude and perhaps dumb luck. Kudos to you guys.
And, with that – I’m off to get myself something pumpkin spiced and am hoping by the time I get back that that beagle has stopped braying!