Hum Drum Days

Traffic moves up and over the bridge. A freight train moves slowly through the congested center of town. Flags flap in the breeze steadily, indicating a strong wind of 13 mph from the south. Trees form the horizon with billows of branches, limbs and leaves of differing hues. Traffic slowly passes our building, some turning into the small grocery store. The sun is sell up. It is 9 am. The sky is blue, the light diffused by a persistent haze. Temperature is 77 degrees and will build to 90 later today. An air quality warning has been announced. It is summer in Illinois, more precisely in downtown West Chicago, Illinois.

The diffused light reminds me of my youth in southern California. We had smog there, another way of saying haze. Smoke mixed with humid ocean air (fog?) formed the term smog. Haze to you and I!

Little things wiggle my memory. Sometimes it is a breeze coming from a certain direction, another time it is a breeze that brings with it sounds that awakens memories of years gone by. Another town, another year, at an age I was still a kid wondering about the world. A breeze with sounds. Also with smells. A touch of automobile exhaust, or maybe a heavy truck. A smell of a nearby restaurant or bakery with its aromas tickling a hunger I didn't know I had. Or maybe the smells are of trees, weeds, dirt or chemicals. All mixed up. All niggling the memory of another time and place.

I watch a person walk down the street. On his way to school or work, or just a drop in visit to a friend or family member. What’s on his mind? What is he thinking about at this very moment?

Remember when you had a big event in your life, one you were preparing for? Maybe it was a big test that worried you at school. Perhaps it was the battery of tests taken to determine if you were college worthy. Maybe it was a medical test to answer the questions you had about a pain you had been experiencing for several weeks. Maybe it was a happy event anticipated, like a wedding or a special birthday. Or maybe the grandparents were expected to be at the house when you got home from school. They visited annually at this time of year for a few weeks. Then they would continue on to other family and friends they visited each summer. Or the other set of  grandparents who made the yearly trek to the cabin in Canada. Fun times to spend with them. It was hard for me to get through the school day just knowing they would be home when I got there in the afternoon.

The sense of doom I use to feel knowing I had a big meeting at work that day and wondered how it would turn out. I watched other people going about their business and wondered how their day was to unfold. Would it be as momentous as mine? Or as worrisome?

Driving home from a doctor’s appointment having received bad news about my health. How was I going to adapt to the new circumstances? Would the disease encroach on my routines and happiness? And my family? And what about the others on driving down the street? Are they worrying about something similar? Or just concerned about their shopping list and hoping they wouldn't forget an item?

So much to think about. So much that is personal and specific to me. I wonder what others are wondering about specific to themselves?

We are not alone. We are not the only ones with problems. Or with special joy. We are one among millions of others.

And that’s what makes the world go ‘round. Hum drum.

Kinda interesting, no?

July 25, 2014