Anchor Struck

Although I generally honour the meteorological seasons to get spring started March 1st rather than the equinox on the 21th (usually), I’m honouring the astronomical beginning of summer today to prolong my favourite season. Plus, I’ve got a lot to celebrate.

Good Neighbour Harris fixed our generator yesterday, eliciting a huge “Whew!” from Jude and me. The abundance of rain in the winter and sunlight in summer here keep our micro-hydro/solar energy system humming along quite nicely. But there are times, like the stretch of cloudy-but-not-rainy days we’re having, when a third source of energy is required. Hence, our diesel generator.

We rarely have to run it, but without it we risk complete discharge of our battery bank. In a worst case scenario we would lose the contents of our fridge and freezer, contact with the internet and, most tragically, access to our satellite dish that provides us the news, sporting events and reruns of Cheers.

So, happy Solstice, all!

It’s also the anniversary of my release from active duty from the U.S. Marines in 1969. After all the sturm und drang (boot camp, Vietnam) of three years, the Corps cut me a break. Well, not just the Corps and not just me. The Department of Defense had/has a policy that if a person is to be released on a Monday, he/she is to be released the Friday before.

I believe the logic was that there was no need for us to spend a weekend lolling about the barracks or base clubs in service to our country. However, that was of scant interest to me as I rolled up to the guard shack of the base for the last time.

I lived off base, so I was a familiar face to the MP’s. One of them, a huge soul brother, always smiled when I passed through. I stopped, jumped out of my car, hugged him and said “I’m out, Bro!” He laughed and said “Stay out of trouble for at least 24 hours.”

I drove off to a future richer yet grittier than I could have ever imagined.