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I was out back of the CowChows a little while ago poking around in my collection of undetermined purposes. I’m working on a new project. I got the idea from the Lazy-Susan in the kitchen, but in my design my La-Z-Boy sits on a giant turntable in the center of a donut shaped desk. On top of the donut will be two laptop computers, a television, a compact refrigerator, a toaster oven, a coffee maker, and of course the universal remote control. I call it the Youniverse. It’s going to be revolutionary.

While I was poking around in the pile looking for parts a couple of kids were playing shoot-em-up next door. They were running around chasing each other, making “p-keww” and “kapow” sounds, and arguing about who got who. I wasn’t too concerned about the outcome of the game so long as someone got shot, but then I suddenly realized they had gone silent. I first thought they had simply gone inside but a stealthy giggle told me that was not the case.

I turned to discover two young boys peering over the retaining wall that divides the properties. One I recognized as my neighbor, Mason. He’s the little brother of the little blond haired girl who regularly torments me. The other boy I didn’t recognize; possibly because I didn’t know him but more likely because both boys were making their best horror face. With their nose pushed up and their eyes pulled down and tongues sticking out and heads waggling from side to side they did look barely human.

I watched them for a moment wondering if I had a face in my own arsenal that could send them screaming for Mommy, but decided instead to take the tack of an adult. “You should be careful,” I said, “Your face could freeze like that and then you’d look that way forever.”

“Hunh unhh,” they replied in unison.

“It’s true,” I said. “Every time you make a face at someone you run the risk of your face freezing like that, and then you’ll have to wear that face for the rest of your life.”

“How do you know?” asked the little stranger boy.

“Well, that’s what my Mommy told me,” I said, “and Mommies don’t lie.”

Mason’s eyes grew wide, and then he shrugged his little shoulders and said, “Well, can’t say she didn’t warn ya.” And they ran off laughing and shooting at each other.

I think it’s going to be a long year.

Regards,

Tim Couch

Occasionally in life we are blessed with a moment of clarity, an instant of insight when suddenly we know something with unquestioning certainty. These moments have the potential to change us forever, to change the way we see the world, and to change our role in it. I had such a moment today.

I was out back taking care of the morning CowChows chores, and as I was trudging along the snow packed path I looked up and noticed a bird’s nest in a tree. It was nearly perfectly camouflaged even now in the dead of winter. Nestled in the bough of a young elm tree its twigs and leaves blended so perfectly that had it not been for the cap of snow on top I might have missed it. Certainly, it had been there all along and I had missed it until now. The tree which held it was itself entangled in the climbing vines of a multiflora rose and I could not imagine how the nest could have been better protected.

As I stood there contemplating this nest and considering the birds who built it I wondered at the process that brought them to make this specific location home. Were they born with an innate instinct, or were they faced with myriad decisions which eventually brought them to this place? As I studied the scene before me and imagined the two birds poring over maps and blueprints I became aware of ice flakes falling about me.

Overnight, a heavy frost had left the CowChows looking as if an expert hand had lightly sprinkled the world with a fine layer of confectioner’s sugar. Now, as the sun shone through for the first time in days and touched upon the upper branches of slumbering trees, these tiny crystals turned loose and wafted gently to the ground. Looking up, I watched them float towards me against a background of clear blue sky and I wondered at how not unlike they are to each of us. Each is unique unto itself and through all of time there will never be any two exactly alike, and yet all share similar characteristics and frailties.

It was while these delicate crystals of ice fell gently upon my face and birdsong carried lightly on the breeze that I experienced that moment of clarity. It came to me not as a thought, but as a fully bloomed flower of knowledge and in that instant I knew without doubt and with unquestioning certainty that, “Damn, it’s still cold out here.”

And I went in the house.

Won't someone save me?!

I am a child of the sixties. I learned at an early age that there was no danger, no threat, no villain that could not be defeated or foiled in thirty minutes or less. No matter how many and how ruthless the rustlers the Lone Ranger would always find a way to outsmart or out-shoot them just in the nick of time. No matter how powerful or ingenious the villain Superman, somehow, always foiled their evil scheme with no time to spare. And, regardless how huge the mess or dire the circumstances Samantha Stevens could fix it all with a magical twitch of her cute little nose. Ah yes, I learned at a very tender age that there was nothing to fear. Good would always triumph over evil. But, more importantly I learned that there would always be a hero or heroine who would swoop in at the very last second and set everything right again. Unfortunately, it is not so.

For fifty some-odd years, going on four generations now, we have been raised in a haze. Through television and movies, the fodder most of us grew up on, we have been slowly impregnated with a sense that somehow some way everything will work out. Some benevolent  hero or as yet unknown force for good will ride over the hill and save us from all the lowlife outlaws. All we have to do is hang on until our savior arrives.

Many of us thought November 4, 2008 was that day. We voted for hope; we voted for change; we voted with our emotions and ignored our own common sense. We bought in to political rhetoric and campaign slogans and abstract goals. We believed because we needed so desperately something to believe in. Many of us believed that the Obama Administration was our hero riding in to save the day. Few voters on that fateful day recognized or comprehended the power that a Whitehouse and Congress controlled by the same party would have, and now…..

Our government is out of control. We all, as well as several future generations, are laying on the railroad tracks and the train is coming fast around the curve. we hear the whistle; we see the steam and we can feel the vibration of the churning wheels on the track. We look imploringly about for surely our only chance is that our hero will race to our side, release us from our bonds and whisk us away to safety. But wait! Our hero is the deaf and blind train engineer madly shoveling coal into the firebox. What ever will we do?

For starters, we can recognize that we are not actually tied down. We only imagine that we are. All we have to do is rise up and stop the runaway train of government from crushing us under its iron wheels. This is a time for heroism. But, this sense of waiting to be rescued is not only childish it’s foolish. We must become our own heroes. We must contribute to our own future and the future of our country. And, not by looking to someone else to lead us but by looking within and choosing the direction we wish to go. A hero is someone who chooses to do the right thing when there is an easier choice to be had.

We all know right from wrong. we may disagree in the methods and means, but we know what’s right and what’s not right.

It is not right to saddle future generations with our debts.
It is not right to regulate freedom.
It is right to protect ourselves by whatever means possible.

Just over a year ago we asked for change. Now, it’s time to demand it. Our government will continue to take control of our lives as long as we continue to allow it. Never before have we had so many methods from which to choose to make our voices heard: make phone calls, write letters, write blog posts, post video online, attend meet-ups and meetings. You can make a difference. You can make your voice heard. You can be a hero.

The choice is yours. Stand up, shake loose the imaginary bonds before they become real, and take responsibility as a citizen of these United States. Or, lay there on the railroad tracks and wait to be rescued.

The time to choose is now. Which will you be, the hero or the damsel in distress?

Regards,

Tim Couch

Yeah, that's gonna leave a mark

When we awoke this morning the CowChows lay under a four inch thick blanket of snow. Snow brings a peace and quiet to the world that is both soothing to the nerves and invigorating to the spirit. I found myself at once wanting to be outside frolicking in the snow and inside curled beneath my own blanket near a crackling fire. Throughout the morning I chose the latter. If only I’d been smart enough to stay there.

We were just finishing up lunch when I heard the tinkling laughter of children outside. The CowChows is nestled onto the side of a fairly steep hill, and through the window I watched as a couple of neighbor kids took turns on a sled. Their laughter, falling snow, the aroma of wood fire created a moment of nostalgia and a tiny voice inside my head asked, “How long’s it been since you slid on a sled in the snow?”

“They won’t want to play with me,” I argued. “To them I’m an old man.” But, the next thing I knew I was bundled up in my coveralls, boots, gloves, cap and shuffling out into the snow. I stood off to the side and watched, feeling every bit like the kid who wants to play with the other kids’ toys but is afraid to ask. We exchanged “Hellos” and they continued to play, and all the while the little voice kept urging, “Go ahead; ask them.”

So, I did. I asked if I could ride their sled. Their stunned silence lasted only a few seconds and then they explained it was actually a “Snow Boogie” and yes, I was more than welcome to ride it. I wanted to start from higher up the hill and as we climbed to the perfect place to take-off from the little dark haired girl explained the finer points of snow-boogieing including steering and balance and safety, and I pretended to listen.

At last I said, “This is it,” primarily because I was already winded. We turned and with the excitement of a child I took two running steps and dove onto the boogie sleddy thing. As I picked up speed the years fell away and I was flooded with childlike sensations and childhood memories. The cold pinched my cheeks, my eyes filled with tears, and I could not stop smiling. I was flying down that hill and going faster by the second. At some point, though, fast became too fast.

About halfway down I was sure I’d passed the speed of sound because I could no longer hear myself screaming. I wished I’d paid more attention to the little dark haired girl when I realized I was not going to miss my neighbor’s mailbox. Luckily, my shoulder absorbed most of the blow and it hardly slowed me down at all. I caromed off the mailbox, across the snow covered road and into the ditch where we had placed several large rocks last Spring to prevent washout. Somehow my Snow Boogie stayed under me and not only skipped across the rocks but picked up speed in the process. When my eyeballs finally stopped bouncing I realized I was headed straight toward a neighbor’s truck. Rather than be decapitated, I bailed.

The world became a blur of snow covered ground and snow filled sky as I rolled over and over and over. Thankfully, a hedgerow of thorny bushes stopped my tumble. I rolled onto my back and lay there panting, and as if drifting down with the snow I heard again the laughter of children. Funny how much different it sounds when you know they’re laughing at you.

Perhaps age will eventually bring wisdom, but aches will definitely do the trick.

Cordially yours,

Tim Couch

Time: it's what life is made of

Well here it comes, a new year, a new decade even. This is the time for taking stock and making plans, a time for looking back at where we’ve been and charting a course for where we want to be, a time of new beginnings and second chances. Ehh.

I stopped making New Year resolutions several years ago. I wasn’t very good at keeping them so I figured, Why bother? If I didn’t make resolutions in the first place then I wasn’t disappointed when I failed to keep them. I thought that by making New Year resolutions I was just setting myself up for failure. In fact, before I stopped making resolutions all together I would go ahead and break them soon after the New Year began so as to get it over with.

I thought this plan was pretty good. It seemed to make sense at the time, make no promises, break no promises. But lately, I’ve come to realize it’s a pretty stupid plan. Actually, it was a plan to not have a plan. How’s that for not thinking things through? So, I decided this year I would do things differently and I started today.

I sat down with pen and paper and started by making a list of all the things I felt I needed to get done, all those things I’ve been putting off for one reason or another. It took a long time and the list covered both sides of a sheet of paper.

Then I thought that in order to approach this list realistically I should have some idea how long it will take. So, I made up an estimate of how much time each task would require and added them all up. Assuming no task takes longer than I estimate and no new tasks are added to the list I expect to have some free time around June of 2016.

Next, I thought in order to approach this list pragmatically I should have an idea how much it will cost. So, I researched the projects, estimated the cost of each and added them all together. After forecasting our budget, allowing for inflation predictions, probable tax increases and unexpected expenses I think it’s going to take yet another stimulus package. All in all though, I was feeling pretty good about having a plan. It was nice to have a direction even if the trail was straight up and rocky.

About that time Barbara Gayle called down from upstairs. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I replied.

“Stop it,” she said.

That’s when I realized I only needed one resolution: Stop Wasting Time.

Cordially yours,

Tim Couch