Before any major life experience I like to head to Wexford to check in with the family. I find it's good to see the dirt where you came from to remind you of why you travel and what you hope to go back to. Unflinching support for the nonsense that are the goals in your life simply cannot ever be absorbed enough.
Without space to put them in NYC, my non-essential drums have been resting at the ol' homestead. Given the music making opportunity ahead I want to have everything possible at my disposal. Dropping by was a two-bird stone. I also had to return to Pittsburgh to pick up my fresh new MacBook Pro (sure you can buy these in NYC, but they're cheaper in PA) and meet with the Lawrenceville Corporation folks.
Pap was out in the garden when I arrived.
He said he was thinking of giving it up this year but nevertheless came out and starting weeding.
The bed of the truck was filled with plant debris. He's doing OK for 92. We chatted for a few minutes about nothing in particular, ignoring Grandma's calls for lunch twice, then went inside. Lunch today was vegetable soup and sliced turkey sausage sandwiches.
I retrieved some of my drums from the garage's upstairs storage. Pap helped. He had my congas in the basement of the house, propped up on wicker chairs in case of flooding, and tethered to another stack of chairs with a leather belt. I wanted to take my beater Mapex bass drum but it just wouldn't fit. The timbales, bongos, congas, their stands, and the 16" floor tom were all that seemed reasonable to load.
Pap asked me if I was parking under tree with all the bird crap he saw on my car. I explained that this was actually PennDOT crap, drippings from a wet saw being used on a bridge above me. They coated my car when I drove under it.
I had to get Lawrenceville to wrap up talks with the Lawreceville Corporation on the neighborhood site and meet the new guy who'd be taking the reins of it. As I went inside to say "so long" and "after while, then" to Gma, Pap went about dusting off the car. Gma wished me luck and gave me a bag of cookies. Those cookies were good as ever, perhaps better than usual this time, and essential to survival on the trip back to NYC.