Drive-in Theater

The drive-in theater, a short lived phenomenon, will primarily be an experience of my generation. Begun in the 30's, peaking in the 50's and early 60's with  more than 4000 venues, and now faded to less than 400 still in operation. In the hey-day the family piled into the big station wagon for a summer evening of concession stand food, cartoons, and Disney flicks. In their decline, desperate for revenue, the movies changed to sci-fi, horror and porn, appealing to their primary clientele, horny teens. I regret I never got laid in the back seat of a big finned Buick at the local drive-in.

This theater is on Route 220 just south of Williamsport, PA. It closed a few years ago.  A strange beauty to this space being reclaimed.

Roofing

In 1987 I put a large addition on my house and did the roofing myself. Including the old part of the house it was about 1600 square feet at three levels. When you put down 25 year shingles you don't think about redoing the job. You know they don't last forever but it's hard to imagine that you will be involved in their replacement.

Well here we are 25 years later and though there are no leaks that we know of the roof is pretty funky in places, covered with moss and lichen. So this summer we determined it was time to do the job. I briefly considered hiring it out but decided I had one more roofing job in me.

It's interesting revisiting this task. Same job, different body. Two long weekends and I am maybe 1/3 of the way. Each part takes longer than expected though I can't say I remember how long it took the first time. I'm holding up OK though Advil is my friend at the end of the day. I bought a "fall kit', OSHA approved body harness and ropes, to be on the safe side. I'm doing this to save money and that just doesn't hold up if I go and hurt myself.

With good luck I will be here the next time this needs to be done. I hope someone will roll me out where I have a good view and the crew will humor me as an honorary supervisor. I will scoff as they levitate their materials to the roof and tell them how it used to be, how we would hoist an 80 pound bundle (aww hell I'll tell 'em 100 pounds) on our shoulder and muscle them up a ladder to the peak. And how we'd nail them down one at a time with something called a hammer. They'll smile and shake their heads. And I'll marvel at the lightweight, eco-friendly, seamless roofing they'll fuse in place with microwaves with little effort in half the time.

And if I'm feeling spry that day, if I've eaten well and my meds have kicked in, I'll say with a smile, "Say son, do you know what dog-tired is? Well, I'll tell you it's a lot like bone tired. It's when you have done physical work for a very long day in blazing hot sun and when you are done all you can do is sit there with your tongue hanging out, just like a dog. Yeah roofing will do that to you. At least it used to."

Today's Find

a Cecropia Silkmoth, or Hyalophora cecropia. I don't know squat about moths - I looked it up. Found during a very pleasant Memorial Day picnic at Black Moshannon State Park. I love the clown pants.

Why did the turtle cross the road?

Who knows? A better question might be will he make it. The Eastern Box turtle is not on the endangered list yet but every survey shows rapid decline in their populations. Being killed crossing the road is one of the main reasons. Harvesting as pets is another.

I spotted this one on a country road on Friday and stopped to move him as I usually do with turtles when possible. Carrying him across as he was heading put him on the edge of a vast newly plowed field, pretty inhospitable to turtles, so I carried him back into the woods from where he came. This may not have been the thing to do, I learned later, as they tend to stick with whatever directional input they are receiving. It could be a half hour later he was crossing the road again.

I hadn't seen a box turtle in years. What a beautiful creature. I think this one is a male  about 22 years old. Males have reddish eyes and their underside, called the plastron, is slightly concave to fit better over the female shell when mating (ain't nature grand?). Age can be roughly determined by counting the "scutes" which form rings on the shell, one each year. Box turtles can live 100 years and their home range is just a little over an acre. Both these facts surprised me.

With all our maps, local and global, and now, GPS devices it is hard to imagine navigating your path given just the visual input of the next three feet. How does a turtle stay within his "home zone"? How does he have any sense of his acre?

I think they have an endearing thoughtful look so it's no wonder that every kid who finds one wants to take it home. This is not a good idea. Most wild turtles brought into captivity die well before their time even if released later.

Predator Pets

Some mornings all that's left is just a leg, or the head, or an internal organ.

This evening from the kitchen window I see Simon sauntering towards the cat door with a mouthful, a baby bunny. I step outside to intercept him with a gruff, "Simon!" and he drops his prey and meows with an air of boredom. He lets me pick him up and dump him in the house. I go back to inspect the quarry and it moves to flee but drags its hind leg, surely a death knell for one dependent on speed to live. He seems otherwise unharmed. I pick him up without a squeal or struggle and carry him out to the woods and let him go beneath a thorny bush. I'm doubtful he will live long but who knows. Here's hoping.

I once rescued a pretty moth from what seemed a dire situation and set it to flight from our porch. The warm glow of the good Samaritan was quickly iced as a phoebe swooped from the eve and picked it clean mid air, landing on a branch with hearty gulp. Bird didn't seem to care that I didn't use the good silver or light the candles.

The dog killed a groundhog last Sunday.

What do we think of this natural instinct to kill in the food chain, the instinct of these pets we feed so well?  I live with a vegetarian who feels ill at the sight of the carnage. I work with a vegan who tries to convince me to be one too. I have been a vegetarian but am now an omnivore like most of our species. I have never hunted or fished. I have only intentionally killed an animal once or twice out of mercy. I cringe at the thought of doing it, but have no doubt I would do so if I was hungry.

If I have a food philosophy, and I am wary of philosophies, (spoken as truth but subject to change at the slightest duress) it is simply to be grateful for food. Any food. Eat what is offered.

We who have been well fed all our lives can not imagine otherwise. The thought of pawing through a dumpster, of eating garbage, is unthinkable. But the unthinkable happens to people every day.

A simple twist of fate and this evening I might have said, "Here Simon, c'mere boy. That's a good kitty. What a good hunter you are. Thank you for this food."

I Left You ...

a small part of myself.

Leaving Home