Another Day in the Country
It’s a surprise
© Another Day in the Country
It’s been a quiet week in Ramona, my home town. My friend Steve, who lives in Abilene, often says to me, “So what’s happening in Ramona?” as we trade places exercising on various contraptions meant for building muscle.
“We had rain,” I tell him; but then they also had rain where he lives.
“We had a wedding — on Main St.,” I tell him. “Bet you didn’t have that in Abilene.”
“I’ve been painting chairs,” I tell him. “They are a Father’s Day surprise for my cousin Gary. I’ve done them up in the colors of his favorite team — the Denver Broncos.”
Steve likes that idea. He’s a big sports fan.
And then, of course, I have to tell him more of the story of the chairs I’ve been painting.
It goes back to the first of the year when I got this bright idea for 30 kids each to paint a chair of their own in art class.
“Where are you going to get 30 chairs?” my sister wanted to know.
“Well, I’ve already got five old chairs just sitting there forever in the garage. That’s a start,” I retorted.
And then my cousin Gary heard about my idea.
“I found some chairs for you at an estate sale — five of them,” he said. “Let me show you.”
Now I had 10 chairs. Before we were done collecting chairs for kids to paint, I had chairs left over.
Wouldn’t you know it? Three of them were those chairs Gary had found. They were bigger, higher, heavier, swiveling bar-stool chairs and evidently intimidated kids.
After the project was done, Gary said, “Oh, I’ll just come get those three chairs that you didn’t need and use them in my garage.”
While I was flying to California, I got to thinking about those chairs sitting on my porch, waiting for my cousin to pick them up, and thought wouldn’t it be fun to paint those chairs for him as a surprise.
By the time I got home, it was the first week of June, and I’d concocted what I thought was a perfect plan. I’d invite my cousin’s, their kids and grandkids over for lunch on Fathers Day, and we’d unveil the surprise when they got ready to go home.
“You’d better take those chairs,” I’d say, “that you wanted for your garage,” and he’d be expecting old, worn, brown chairs, and there would be bright blue-and-orange chairs with a Denver Broncos logo on them. Surprise! That was the plan.
So, one day I called my sister and said, “I got the blue and orange spray paint for those chairs. If you want to help me, come over.”
By the time she got there I had the first chair partially painted.
“Did you wash these chairs off?” she wanted to know. “Did you get enough paint? You don’t want to run out.”
She’s a planner, an organizer, a gatherer of tools and spreader of drop cloths, and I had just launched, though I had put a drop cloth down!
“I dusted them off,” I said. “These are garage chairs, not dining room chairs.”
Last night, we were watching a documentary entitled “Humans,” attempting to chart the development of our species.
“What sets humanoids apart is their ability to cooperate,” the moderator explained.
Hmm, I thought. I’ve seen movies of wolves cooperating in a hunt, haven’t I?
Then again, maybe that was their survival instinct kicking in. For sure they hadn’t discussed how they could cooperate and have better success if they combined their skills and worked together, like we do on city council or school board or when sisters paint chairs.
Haven’t I seen insects cooperating — bees in a hive, ants in a hill, all working together?
This view of humanoids evolving over millennia was unnerving. Are “we the people” just a bundle of primitive instincts, or are we creatures who communicate, cooperate, plan, build, and invent spray paint?
I like creation stories that pretty much zap us humans into being, fully formed, speaking English, reasoning our way through dilemmas like do we really want more knowledge or should we just say we aren’t going to mess with AI taking over.
Are apples really good for you, or did they get sprayed with too many chemicals?
Surely, we’re smart enough to do our own thinking, and plan for the greater good.
While I had this flight of fancy, the moderator was explaining, “Friendliness is our human super power as a species.”
She’s right, I thought, immediately remembering all the ways friendliness and friendly people enrich my life, beginning with my cousin picking up free chairs from some friendly folks having an estate sale, my plan-ahead sister admonishing me to clean before painting, right down to Steve asking about Ramona — so many friendly humanoids using their super power for survival as a species so that all of us are still here, able to spend another day in the country.