July 25, 2024: Eichelman Park beach on Lake Michigan in Kenosha, Wisconsin.
Another Week: Number 83
These are the quiet days, as we start rolling toward the end of summer — the days when people read books outdoors. Some are away on vacation. Others have found a shady spot in a park. Even the construction crews and their heavy equipment at the school across the street have been reasonably muted.
A power emerges from this stillness. Something draws you over to a particular spot and you notice a slight ripple in the air. Next, there’s a faint shadow with it, and a flutter — and suddenly you make out the whole hummingbird. Then, the hummer looks you in the eye and buzzes right past your head as it moves from plant to plant, almost like a caress. They’re not very frightened of humans.
In previous years, we typically had one hummingbird that visited our feeder day in and day out. This summer there are at least two females — one thick and muscular, the other somewhat skinny — and their visits are very sporadic. I have the impression they come from a distance.
Since the neighborhood fireworks seem to have been exhausted, my main peeve is municipal yard waste disposal. In olden times, branches pruned from shrubs and felled by winds could be bundled and placed at the curb on garbage day, and a dedicated garbage truck would pick them up and haul them off. Neat!
These days, however, the taxpayer must drive yard waste to the city dump himself on Wednesdays or Saturdays only — with a once-weekly limit. This assumes that all citizens drive pickup trucks, and while most do, I drive a small wagon. At least I can fold the back seats down and line the rear with a tarp when I chauffeur my sticks into town. On Wednesday at the dump, I parked next to an elderly couple who were trying to retrieve twigs from the trunk of their sedan as they tripped over the piles of branches dumped by landscaping services.
Do better, City of Racine!
Thursday, to avoid the midday sun, I was out walking Kenosha’s lakefront by 7:20 a.m. I had expected a crisp and cool outing, but it was already stuffy and smelly at that hour. Between this walk and another one Friday at Petrifying Springs, I logged 6.47 miles this week.
Believe, believe
That life can change, that you’re not stuck in vain
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Joe Biden withdraws from presidential race, endorses Kamala Harris
Minutes into the Biden-Trump debate on June 27, it was obvious that although Joe Biden has accomplished plenty as president, he was not going to be able to effectively market himself anymore, let alone serve another four years.
It was clear to me then that Biden needed to step aside and turn things over to Kamala Harris. She’s whip-smart and tough as nails. She has a warm personality and a rich sense of humor. A generation younger than Biden, she instantly offers an exciting option to the “double-haters” not interested in choosing between two old white guys. She was elected specifically to replace Biden if necessary. His campaign could instantly become her campaign, with a staff and war chest already established. The donors that had soured on Biden would come back in a flash.
My only question was whether it made any sense for Biden to resign the presidency and put Harris in office immediately. But other people wanted to hold mini-primaries or throw the convention up for grabs — and Biden himself showed no inclination to step aside.
So the situation seemed as grimly constipated as ever when I put a lounge chair in the shady corner of my yard Sunday afternoon and took a call from my friend Sharon. As we chatted, my mom phoned me, and I saw her voicemail transcribed at 12:58 p.m.: “Hey Mark, I just heard that Biden stepped back …” Next, my sister Karen sent a text: “BIDEN WITHDREW!!!”
I didn’t scream or jump. I just felt an oppressive dread lift from my soul like a released helium balloon — and everything that has followed this week unfolded exactly as I imagined it would.
Yes, there’s plenty of organizing to be done over the next three months and it was always going to be a close race, but now there’s a decent chance for America to put Donald Trump and his casino-flavored dictatorship into retirement for good.
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Paris Olympics opening ceremony
Friday afternoon, I watched NBC’s coverage of the opening ceremony for the Paris 2024 Olympics.
Overall, it was a refreshing feat of imagination to have the Parade of Nations proceed down the Seine instead of marching into a stadium as always. The various pop-up performances along the route were joyous and diverse, shifting effortlessly from heavy metal to opera, dance to painting. It was a spunky salute to culture.
I could have done without the animated Minions segment, though. Also, NBC’s hosts — Mike Tirico, Kelly Clarkson, and Peyton Manning — did not need to point out every single minute that it was raining.
There was a robotic horse that galloped down the river with an Olympic flag. That seemed to take about 30 minutes, which was 28 too many. Likewise with the torch relay to the cauldron, and the cauldron itself. It sits beneath a stylized hot air balloon, which makes it seem like the balloon’s gondola is on fire, and that’s disturbing.
Otherwise, though, it was an impressive pageant.
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