Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
I put down the first human tracks by the town pond this morning since the Blizzard of 2011.
Such quixotic quests appeal to me.
There is no real reason I had to climb over the drifts to reach the town pond, but it seemed necessary to me.
Sometimes, you just have to strap on the insulated Carhartts and do stuff to think of yourself as a man.
This morning was one of those.
The only tracks were those put down by snowmobiles. At least one cat was ahead of us. There were a smattering of rabbit tracks and a few trails of mouse tracks.
Too often as modern men I think we forget to think that stupid conquests are part of pushing the world wider.
My thoughts go easily to the meaning of modern man this week.
Wednesday morning, at one point as the last of the lake-effect ended, all the men from about five houses side by side had gathered while we jumped around shoveling and plowing each other's drives.
Or least plowing and shoveling enough that we could get our cars, pickups or vans out to the street.
At one point, there's about five of us adult men and two late-teen boys standing in the middle of the street, spreading the b.s.
And I almost started singing Devo's ``Are We Not Men?'' I don't think that is the complete title, but those who know Devo, know the song.
But I wasn't sure if any of my neighboring men would truly appreciate me starting in with a Devo ditty.
There has been a lot of men gathering and doing manly stuff the last few days around Chicago outdoors.
It feels good, like we rediscovered part of ourselves.
I sometimes think that is the most important thing that the outdoors can restore in us as modern men.
The drifts were wind-packed. Yet again, only one dove flew out of the trees below the old rail trail.