Bob

Batz

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November 10, 2008

Ol’ Henry vs. the Leaves

“If you’ve never stared off into the distance in your lifetime it’s a shame . . .” – Counting Crows

It’s a little after four on a Tuesday afternoon and I’m sitting in front of my kitchen window watching leaves from the 3,000 or so trees in my neighborhood gently flutter to the ground smack dab in the middle of my backyard. 

“4,311 . . . 4,312 . . . 4,313,” I count out loud as the leaves sail and twirl toward the ground.

Counting leaves on a Tuesday afternoon probably doesn’t sound like a lot of fun to you younger readers who enjoy more exciting things like skateboarding, surfing and shopping at the mall for really ugly pants that ride dangerously low on your hips.

Me, though, I’m having a heck of a good time watching the leaves come down, because before I joined the ranks of the semi-retired I never really paid much attention to leaves and many of the other so-called “simpler things in life.”

Now that I have spare time on my hands, I’m making it a point to “smell the roses,” as they say, except my first wife Sally doesn’t like roses, so I improvise and stop and smell the other flowers scattered around our yard.

Leaves, I believe, are one of the things most people pretty much take for granted.

Except when autumn rolls around.

For years I had a next door neighbor named Henry, who was hell on wheels when it came to battling autumn leaves, which he had nicknamed “The Silent Plague.”

Yup, Ol’ Henry hated leaves and as soon as they started falling from the trees around his house Henry would go into the yard with an assortment of rakes, plastic bags, metal buckets and what-have-you to wage his private war on leaves.

He’d set up a guard post among the many trees in his yard. Then he’d wait.

Henry didn’t jump out of his chair to scarf up a leaf every time one fell, but he wasn’t one to snooze on the job, either.

He’d ignore one or two or three leaves. But let six or seven come down and Henry, rake in hand and a snarl on his face, would leap from his lawn chair to launch a sudden and savage attack on the bright-colored intruders.

Henry didn’t just battle the leaves with his rake, either. He also attacked them verbally, spewing words not fit for children and most adults to hear as he waged his furious one-man war against the dreaded enemy.

“#$@*&%#$ leaves!” he’d shout at the top of his lungs as he took the offensive against the bright-colored intruders.

My experiences with Henry help explain my new outlook on life after I tip-toed into retirement.

I tend to not let most things – including autumn leaves – upset me any more. I also tend to have more appreciation for the so-called less-important things in life. I’ve been known to applaud when it rains on a day the TV weather guy said would be sunny and warm.

When I pull into a service station and I see a sign that says “$3.89 a gallon” I just smile and take my place at the pump. If a telemarketer phones, I always make it a point to say “Have a nice day” before he or she hangs up.

If I happen to get a cart with a broken front wheel at the grocery – the cart I always get when I go to the grocery – I just chuckle about it as I wobble down the aisle. And if I go fishing for eight hours on a Tuesday and don’t get a single bite, I just smile to myself and say “Oh, well, tomorrow’s another day.”

Contact Bob at bbatz@woh.rr.com

© 2008 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

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