"The world is cruel and dumb. I don’t like it much anymore. But the hummingbirds are nice....."

As I get older my world shrinks. I don’t have the time to save that world anymore. All that’s left is trying to help the neighborhood.

I used to sit on my front stoop on summer evenings, but I can’t do that anymore because we now have one of those RING cameras (to quickly identify Mormons and 7th Day Adventists without having to get off the couch) and I’d just be a live feed on my family’s phones. So I sit on the back porch, which actually suits me better. Nobody can see me back there. I draw the shades on one side, and a strategically placed tree protects me from the other. There’s a box fan on stand-by in case the humidity wants to fight me. I can curl up with a book, or stream the Phillies game on a portable TV. There’s a little blue tooth speaker out there for music. Once the heat dies down I’ll don a sweatshirt to keep the mosquitos from chewing on my arms. There’s wasps creating a nest inside one of the light fixtures, but as long as I don’t bother them they don’t bother me. There’s a hummingbird feeder too. They used to be hesitant when I was out there, rarely showing up. Now they just come and go like they own the place.

Once my dog realizes I’m out there, he wants to come out too. Max is a good boy, but he’s not that bright. If the sun is blaring, he’ll sit right on top of it until his panting starts to make me nervous and I force him back inside. He’ll then stare at me through the glass door like I just did a Judas on him. Max is also super-sensitive to movement of any kind. So if a neighbor appears…..even if it’s one 100 yards away…..he goes bat shit crazy. If a chipmunk scurries across the yard, he goes batshit crazy. If a FedEx truck makes too much noise bumping down the street, he goes batshit crazy. Once Max is outside in our yard, nobody else in the neighborhood is allowed to be anywhere within his line of sight. I’ve tried to explain to him that this isn’t fair, but he doesn’t get it. So it’s either put up with his incessant barking, or put him back inside.

Sometimes it’s quiet and nobody is around and he’ll just doze at dusk at the top of the steps, and these are the moments I like the best. Outside of yelling at it, Max is not at all interested in what lies beyond his own piece of ground. He is content to the point that he doesn’t even want to leave the compound to go on a walk. I’ll just end up carrying him, which is not the idea. Trips to the groomer or the local vet play out like a Shakespearean tragedy. Max is a true enigma. He instantly falls in love with anybody who walks through the front door. It could be the plumber. But shove him through somebody else’s front door, and he turns into a shambling, shivering, neurotic mess who will almost instantly shit on the floor.

Home is where the heart is, I guess.

And so it goes. The world is cruel and dumb. I don’t like it much anymore. But the hummingbirds are nice. Max is a good boy. The way the moon shines through my living room window on certain nights is lovely. A cold beer on a warm night tastes better on the porch. I try to think about these things in the midst of everything else. We’re never as good as we think we are. But we’re also not quite as bad as we look right now. When Max jumps on your leg for a scratch, I dare you to resist. When the hummingbird swoops in for a treat, I dare you to not soften, if only for that moment. Max and our hummingbirds are completely unaware of Ukraine and Gaza or the ravaged Texas hill country. Their world is the neighborhood.

I have a wife and children whom I love dearly. I have a feast of friends. I have a solid, 19 year old Gibson acoustic guitar. And Max. The inevitable hard knocks are cushioned by such things. I’ll be 59 years old in 2 days. Statistics say that I have around 17 years left….or just enough time to pay off my mortgage. Funny how that works, eh? Once I hit 60 I’ll probably freak out. It just sounds worse than 59. But for now I fully intend to keep the AARP at bay. I’m perennially grumpy, but hide it well.

Monday night me and 2 friends went to the movies to see the original Spinal Tap on the big screen. A shared large popcorn and some sodas and slushies and 90 minutes of laughter later we all walked out and one said….”not a bad way to spend a Monday night, is it?” and I thought…..if there were more neighborhoods like mine, the world would be a better place.

Watch Spinal Tap on a Monday night. Get a dog. Put out a bird feeder. If you can’t sit out front, sit around back. You can still see the moon from there.

In a bit…

—tf