The cows were chasing the hay wagon last night--and I was laughing.
Mostly I was laughing because I was not on the hay wagon with everyone else. I was the one (the only one) who stayed behind and stood by the open outdoor hearth (sneaking extra fistfuls of chips, spoonfuls of apple cobbler, power-drinking a ... Diet coke--really) while everyone else had clambered aboard the hay wagon (some more gracefully than others, I must note in the name of Honesty), and headed off down the dirt road, then across the field where the cows, noting a new food supply (Hey, guys! There's hay on that thar hay wagon!), took out after the wagon with a kind of lumbering grace and intensity that bore with it a bit of alarm.
Eileen had called the other night, had said she was getting some of the old group together. Eileen Kutinsky, one of the greatest teachers I'd ever seen. (It was a toss-up between Eileen and her sister.) After she retired she sold her farm in Streetsboro and bought another one down near Alliance and Atwater, a beautiful place with woods and water and fields where cows can chase you when the mood strikes.
|Harmon Middle School|
As we ate (too much), I bounced around from group to group, catching up. I'd not seen some of them since I retired from Harmon in January 1997. Conversations ranged from "Remember the time when ..." to comments about political issues (no one was too insistent or too venturesome: nothing like a good old political donnybrook to wreck a nostalgic picnic) to queries about who is where now and what the kids are up to ... and aren't grandkids cute!
While her hircine husband baked his butt back by the fire and fattened it in the fading light with more chips and cobbler. And heard laughter floating over the fields.
Along with a few moos.