Found while... um... procrastinating

Bob Johnson is a colleague of mine in the American Translators Association. I met him a few years ago at the annual ATA conference (in Nashville, if memory serves). The latest issue of SlavFile, the publication of the ATA's Slavic Languages Division, features an interview with Bob, on the occasion of his being the first active division member to actually retire, as opposed to going into another line of work.

The following item was published in that interview, and I plan to keep it close to my work place:

Epitaph of a Procrastinator
He died too young
as do we all
Not a hero, not a martyr, not a saint,
but he, too, died before his work was done.

He planned to clean the garage this weekend
and sort out fifteen years of photographs,
paste them into albums with neat labels,
go on a diet, lose twenty pounds,
stop smoking, write letters to old friends,
tell his children he loves them,
read two years' worth of National Geographic,
and listen to the Saint Matthew Passion.

He leaves behind a cluttered garage,
ten shoe boxes full of photographs,
thirty years worth of good intentions,
and several people who would love him
as far as he allowed.
       -- Bob Johnson

Cheers...

Reductio...

Long absences are tiring... particularly the part right after you get back. Half the world seems to have tried to contact you while you've been gone. Add to that the need to organize what you brought back with you... Ugh.

Three things stand out as pleasant moments during my recent trip with Galina from Houston home here to Colorado.

In no particular order, the first was noticing the cactus in bloom along the highway to Abilene. They were so pretty, with mostly yellow and peach-colored flowers, we stopped and I took this photo along the road. At a range of 30 feet or so, the flowers look pretty small. Up close, they are, of course, quite large; too, other features of the cactus - such as damaged, dead, and dying "leaves" - are very noticeable. Still, it's a pretty shot.

The next item was stopping at the truck stop in Tye, Texas, on Interstate 20. This was the place where I spent New Year's Eve, sleeping through the actual midnight hour (but waking up soon after, freezing cold, and continuing on my way). What was memorable about this place was that after I filled the tank and added air to one of our tires, I began to look around for a paper towel with which to wipe my fingers. There weren't any. As I started walking toward the building, one of the truckers - who'd seen me going from pump island to pump island obviously looking for a towel - hailed me and gave me a bunch of paper towels from a stock he had in his truck. I noted his outfit - Western Marketing - as I thanked him. It's folks like that that make me think there is hope for us yet.

A bit later, after coming out of a restaurant that was located on the other side of the Interstate, I saw the Western Marketing truck again, delivering fuel this time. I blinked, and noticed that there were two Western Marketing trucks: one delivering fuel, the other driving past. Halfway across the overpass getting back on "my" side of the Interstate, I see two more such trucks, which made me think of the climax of The Thomas Crown Affair. There was no way I could ever find that trucker, now... (...and the cynical among you will please note I had only water with lemon with dinner. :^)

The third item that stands out in my mind was a driver switchover in the middle of nowhere between Clines Corners and Interstate 25. I looked up, and the night sky was so bright that I turned off the car and Galina and I spent a few minutes looking up at the night sky. No traffic sounds... just a little wind... and a sky full of stars.

I'm sure that, given enough time, I can think of other notable moments. But these are the three that come to mind first. I'm glad to be back, if only for three weeks.

Gotta go back to work now... I'm home, wading through papers and trying to figure out what to do next.

Cheers...