Simple Interest (7.9.25)
Day Tripping, Yeah.
In the spirit of our moniker, today’s post narrates a pedestrian peek into my family life. You’re welcome to skip over it, but perhaps you’ll find something you can relate to if you come along.
A decade ago, we bought a small country house in a sleepy town nestled at the foot of the Catskills mountains. The entire region was going through a multi-year downturn in real estate; many properties had sat on the market for a year or two. Attracting little interest, asking prices were feeling gravity’s pull. At the time, we were visiting the area several times a year because our kids were taking swimming lessons with a coach who specialized in helping learners with aquaphobia. Due to a busy work schedule, these trips sometimes came together at the last minute, which often translated to a meagre selection on AirBnB at extortionate rates.
It didn’t take much to figure out that given the depressed state of the market, we were paying as much to rent someone else’s home as it would cost to own one of our own. No more packing and lugging our stuff back and forth. No more forgetting the goggles. No more wondering if the sheets had been laundered since the last occupant. It didn’t hurt that we had fallen in love with the charming walking trails and easygoing pace of life. I remember bustling out of a Home Depot after a run to get batteries, only to be stopped in my tracks by a bright blue sky over the mountain line. Stretching across the horizon, it was an incongruent fusion of the routine and the sublime. So we looked, found a modest home, and with interest rates dipping near 2%, bit the bullet.
We took advantage of a recent long weekend to visit our country house, which we have not visited for over a year due to the life events which longer-term readers know of from earlier posts. We drove up on a Wednesday evening, through a bout of heavy rain, and arrived in time for a late snack, then were off to bed.
Thursday morning, our younger son was up uncharacteristically early, ready to accompany us to the supermarket, which he rarely does. I went down to fetch something, and came across a mess the cats made. As I started cleaning up, I noticed another figure coming alongside me, wet paper towel in hand. There he was, on all fours beside me, taking the initiative to help. I appreciated it very much. On the way to the supermarket, we made plans for the weekend, talking about local restaurants and neighborhood treats we hadn’t had in a while. He could have been away, working the summer in another city, but it was nice to have him there, extolling the virtues of saltine crackers, taking a chance on a new pasta sauce, and feeling good about a $6 discount on a brand of olive oil we’ve wanted to try.
The night before, we had heard a rustling in the woods as we unpacked the car. I had a sense what it might be, but didn’t want to alarm him, and ushered him into the house. But on our drive home from shopping, we saw it – an adolescent black bear crossing the road. I couldn’t remember if you run (brown) or stand your ground (black) so I made it a point to check the moment we got home and read out the rules to everyone. After researching survival tips, it was time for breakfast. He had turkey sausage on an English muffin, while I made a bacon and egg frittata for myself and Mrs. Deeply Boring. We talked about Dowser, a local brand of bottled water which we enjoy more than pricier options, and which we have amply stocked in the pantry. After cracking open the screen door so one of the cats could watch rabbits chase in the yard, we played our favorite mealtime game, asking dad to guess the asking price on locally sold used vehicles listed in the Hudson Valley Auto Guide. Make, model, year, mileage – my task is to get within $1000 of list. I nailed the first one, within $600. Helps to be a car guy.
Breakfast done, I starting writing this post. I had barely started when he came by and asked for help. We have a small bedroom which we have converted into a space to run model trains. The boys have never outgrown their love of the hobby, though their taste in trains and the sophistication of the layouts have matured considerably. He wasn’t quite able to figure out a rough spot in the tracks and wanted my opinion. That turned into a three-hour affair rebuilding a portion of the layout, reorganizing the library of trains, and repositioning some of the scenery. After an extended test, we were satisfied that all was working well and agreed the changes were a needed improvement. As we cooked lunch, which was quesadillas for parents and pasta for him (to try the new sauce and olive oil), he asked me why I was smiling at him. I made up some excuse, but the truth was our time together reminded me of when he was younger, when we would spend hours together at something or other. It made me feel close to him in a natural and easy way, and I was grateful for the time, and for the flashback to earlier times. Our relationships grow stronger through such experiences, don’t you think?
A sudden downpour briefly interrupted plans to take an afternoon walk in the garden, but it ended as suddenly as it started, and he asked if we could go. Of course. First, we took a walk down the long driveway to drop a bag of rubbish into the bin. There was a flash of excitement as we encountered a snake that slithered its way into the bushes. Then, a small hare leapt across the front yard, startled by our exclamations. We walked back to the garage to put a drop of touchup paint on the car, fixing a scrape that had bugged me for years. Then we walked gingerly through the damp to the pond at the edge of the property, inspecting the water level and chancing upon a turtle. On the way back, I highlighted a few things in need of repair or inspection.
Returning to the house, he remembered that during the pandemic we had attempted to set up a retro gaming machine on a Raspberry Pi. It sort of worked, but not well enough to be used as we had hoped. But in the years that have passed, he has taught himself extensively about Linux – he can install and run it on any computer, even Macs and Chromebooks. I leapt at the opportunity to spend more time together. First, we had to redo the wiring and connections – that he left to me. But the hard part, configuring the settings and shell commands, I left to him. It took some figuring and some head scratching, but somehow, we managed to make it better than it was before. We only had a few ROMs on the Pi, but it was a blast watching him play Excite Bike (NES), which I played when I was 12, and Doom (N64), which came out around the time I graduated college. In his spare time, younger son designs highly complex objects for game development studios, so he has what one calls standards. But that did not take away his appreciation for the gameplay and level design of these ancient artifacts from the dawn of the videogame era.
There were other sweet moments throughout that day, a day made of nothing in particular. A string of many nothings, in fact: cleaning a cat mess, a supermarket run, and googling about bears. Breakfast conversation, tidying a room, fixing up a toy. Household chores, walking in wet garden grass, and rejiggering outdated electronics.
How many of us are bored with our lives? Do we not crave excitement, new places, new people, new experiences, new things? I’ve travelled the world, seen amazing sights, met heads of state, owned expensive things. I am grateful for all of it. But that Thursday taught me that it does not take such things to satisfy. You don’t need to be wealthy or “important” for life to have deep meaning. But it helps to have the eyes to see and appreciate the people in front of you, the heart to love them purposefully, and to have the common sense to seize the moment before it is lost.
I am not always good at such things. But I know I have the capacity to do better, and that it is wildly in my self-interest to do so. Perhaps you can allow yourself to be encouraged by a good day your correspondent has had, and to similarly seek such experiences in your individual journey? It would bring me, and I am sure, others, great joy to hear about some of your simply good days.
Grace and peace,
J
Hey Justin, we often forget these moments so easily and then time flies and the kids are all grown up and we, well we just think of these moments in reflection. glad you treasured them here. looking forward to reading more posts from you.
Grace and peace to you, Justin. Thank you for sharing these sweet moments. A moving essay.