Saturday, January 20, 2018

PAYING HOMAGE TO SATURDAY

My little winter escape on South Padre Island, Texas

During the winter, I live in a quiet campground (just 16 trailers) usually populated by others like me, happily retired seniors who walk their dogs three times a day and mingle in the middle to chat.

This winter, though, two youngsters live among us, a 30-something burly construction worker and his wife, who work nearby on a natural gas pipeline. They work Monday through Friday. And they play on Saturday. They play hard, with loud music, loud car vacuums, loud whatnot. 

They create an energy to Saturday I’d long forgotten about, an energy that sets it apart from the work week. Because Monday through Friday is quiet and regimented. It’s a work week. Its form and function destine it to work.

But Saturday is Fun Day. Anything can happen because it’s off the clock. They tinker with their trucks, tend their dogs, vacuum the trailer, sip beers and listen to music.  Loud music. Sometimes head-banging music. But never for long.  (Who knew there's a funky rock version of "Margaritaville"? Heard it today. Hmmmm.)

I’ll not complain.  It’s OK for them to thump my world a little bit on Saturday because heck, I’m retired. Every day is my Saturday, so I have seven to their one. They can have their one however they want it, I say, listening to a rambling wild guitar riff I don’t actually like much at all. 

And because that riff is never ending, maybe I’ll go walk the beach. 

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