September 8th, 2002

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The heat breaks

This morning a strong rainstorm has broken the heat. I guess the tropical storm in south Texas has finally filtered upwards to us.
I always feel that summer ends when that first big September rainstorm hits us, usually a by-product of a hurricane or tropical storm in the Gulf of Mexico.

I'm eager now for cool weather--not cold weather, but that mild evening chill with a tang like a fresh snap bean. I'm eager for leaves to turn red and yellow, for temperatures to stay well below 85 and for cooling, redeeming rain.
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under stormy skies

We went to Chisholm Trail, the Plano little public sidewalk trail that runs by a creek. The rains converted the little trickle creek into a rushing waterway. I chuckled and began to sing "Old Man River". Mockingbirds flitted among the trees, while geese hunted for water to drink which was not flowing so swiftly. In the middle of our walk, the rain began to fall steadily, a light,
gentle, pleasant rain. It was grand! I remembered being a kid, in the rain, dashing in puddles without fear of getting wet. My wife pulled out her umbrella, under which we both huddled for a while, but in the long run, I let her use it alone (I am much taller than she, so it does not work out well otherwise), and I walked with only my Huntington Gardens baseball cap shielding me from the rain. We went home, changed to dry clothes, and then went to the local Mimi's Cafe outlet, where I had pot roast, she had penne, and she recalled winters in KC wearing galoshes on rainy days, ice skating in the winter, and rushing down hills in a sled. The meal was grand, and I loved that the waitress had five simple earrings in about a 2 centimeter space of ear. I've spent part of the afternoon watching a football game involving teams about which I have little concern, because it's just so glorious to feel as though August is over, football is here, and God granted us the grace of another Texas summer survived.
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Three Modest Evidences for a Theory of Sublimation

I believe that the way of the world is that emotions can be outletted in a number of ways. What seems to be about one thing can be about something entirely different, transmogrified in format. Here are three supports for my theory:

1. I've noticed that during the first weekend with a really full football schedule, the talk of going to war has subsided slightly.

2. I've noticed that specials which address Pearl Harbor are easier to assimilate as 9/11 approaches than actual 9/11 specials.

3. I've noticed that coverage of American Idol voting has subsided, and now people have noticed that they will have to elect politicians soon.

It's all about outlets. Outlets.