Somewhere over the rainbow ...

A late night email from a co-worker was unprofessional.  But, after years in academe, I am no longer surprised.  In fact, being polite and courteous, and sincerely engaging, are the kinds of behavior that will shock me--apparently, I am rarely ever shocked anymore ;)

The morning came and soon it was time to drive to campus.

It was one of those rainy days when every once in a while the sun tried to peek out from behind the clouds, but failed and then it rained for a while.  As is almost the case, I drove in silence enjoying the scenery.
The gazillion shades of green that I never knew existed until I moved to Oregon.
The rolling grass fields.
Sheep.
Hills.
Horses.
Hawks.
How people could possibly be rude and unprofessional in such settings is simply beyond my wildest imagination!

I noticed the truck ahead in the slow lane indicating to move to the faster lane in which I was approaching.  I slowed down. After seeming to confirm that I had indeed fallen behind, the truck moved over to my lane and as it passed the slow vehicle, the driver flashed his tail-lights in the truck-driving-fashion to thank me.  Here was a truck driver being polite and thankful on the road, while he could have simply gone on.  What  a contrast to the email the night before!

I passed the truck.  Slowly, the northwest sky darkened.  The sun tried to peek from the other direction.  And it started raining.  In a matter of seconds, a huge rainbow appeared on the horizon.  The cosmos was reminding me that life is immensely more than awful emails late in the night.  I was near ecstatic.

After having freshly-brewed coffee in my office, I walked over to the copy room and got my work done.  I hoped that the students would enjoy the task that I had prepared for them.  As I was walking away from the copier, the late night emailer was walking to the machine.

"I'm sorry that I jumped all over you."

I couldn't care.  "I'm used to it by now" I replied as I continued to walk.

I suppose saying "sorry" has become far easier than to behave properly in the first place.  Such is life--it is not always rainbows and green grass and hawks and horses and sheep and drivers saying thanks.  But, I know better:

And I think to myself
What a wonderful world

This, too, shall pass

"Will we have a class on Wednesday" asked a couple of students last week, hoping that I would cancel the meeting because the day after that was Thanksgiving Thursday.

"Of course, we will meet" I told them.  "Rain or shine, I will be here" I added.

We met on Wednesday.  Two students brought doughnuts for the entire class.  We had an oversupply of goodness!

It was now the Monday morning after the long four day break from school.  The radio reported that a few schools south and west of us had closed for the day because of freezing rain.

"Freezing rain?"  I checked the weather report for where I was headed--yes, freezing rain.

"Rain or shine, I will be here" or canceling class were the options.

I started driving.

It was a dry 27 when I left home.  A few minutes later, little drops fell.  Ice on the windshield.  It was now a damp 28.

A slow drive it was.  "No sharp turns" I reminded myself.

A few miles in, I saw the first of the three casualties--a car in the ditch.

"Am I being stupid to drive to work today?"  But, I continued on.  I had by now joined a caravan of slow moving cars and trucks.  It felt good to have company.  "If they are with me, then I can make it."

The truck in the other direction had the hazard lights on as it approached us, and as it kept going.  I figured the driver was warning us about something ahead.  The traffic was slowing down.  I was impressed with my fellow-drivers.  We were such good drivers--slow speeds, lots of gap between vehicles, and all the safety protocols in place.  There is hope.

I could see the flashing lights of the cops.  And then the sight of another car in the ditch.  An older man was walking up the grade to the road.

It could have easily been me in the ditch, as it happened once a few years ago.  Thankfully, only that once.  I felt sorry for the older man.

Any given day, any disaster can strike any of us.  A tiny error in judgment is all that it takes.  Shit happens!  We fail to understand and appreciate how fortunate we are when things are "normal."

The class made it all worth.

The weather the rest of the week will be back to normal for this time of the year--no freezing rain and black ice.

As the Monday fades away in the rear-view mirror, memories of this white-knuckle experience will also fade away.  I suppose it is a good thing that the human mind forgets most of the bad experiences--else, humanity would never take risks of any kind.

Heaven on earth

"Can I ask you something?  Why do you live in Eugene?" the younger colleague asked when I went to recruit her for a series that I am working on.

I am used to this question, and I have a standard spiel.  After reciting that, I added, "like today, I enjoyed an awesome rainbow when driving to work.  It was just awesome!"

I might be old, ancient, but tell me there is a rainbow in the sky and I will dart out of the room faster than a kid will.  Back when I really was a kid--yes, I once was--and later even as an adult, there were always two things that stopped me if I ever spotted them in India: elephants and rainbows. I would watch the sashaying pachyderm for as long as it was within my view on the street. There is something majestically wonderful about elephants.

Rainbows were rarer than elephant sightings.  A rainbow is magical.  Yes, there is that dull boring science that explains what causes a rainbow.  But, rainbow is not just some science crap.  Even after the physics teacher, Vasudevan, had presented us with the explanation of white light and Newton's experiment with the prism. The scientific technical details made it all the more impressive.

After moving to Oregon, in the rainy early fall, and throughout the spring days, I have now probably seen more rainbows than I have in my entire life before-Oregon. Yet, every time, I am impressed even more than ever.

A rainbow.
The colors.
How it changes by the minute.
Sometimes it is in full from end to end.
Other times it is broken.
Sometimes it is bright.
Other times it is faint.

Every once in a while I see a double-arc rainbow, and that is when I think there can't be anything better than this--neither here on earth nor in the imagined heavens.

Thankfully, I know enough, from my years on this planet, not to talk this much with a colleague whom I had just met.  I stopped with "it was just awesome!"

Sometimes--only sometimes--I think to myself that during one of these April showers when the sun also shines through, and when there is rainbow across the darker sky, maybe the ultimate would be to watch an elephant walk through the green, green grass, while the tune of "elephant walk" also plays :)

That, dear reader, will be heaven on earth!

'Tis Fall in the Valley

From two years ago

The moon was full and bright
Glowing in the company of puffy clouds
Perhaps enjoying the clean look
After the bloody eclipsed hours.

The air felt cool and dewy
The eastern sky was lighting up
The darkness erased by the colorful magic rays
With the orange and red matched by the pumpkin patches.

Soon, the moon disappeared
And so did the sun
The car ahead of me also vanished
It was fog everywhere.

Rain and fog don't bother me
Because the cosmos has always been kind
'Tis humans who are the dangerous kind
Like the speeding new car that was right behind.

O'er the bridge to the other side
The fog was gone and it was bright.
Fall is here, fall is here
Wake up, dear friend, fall is here.

Summer! Can't do serious blogging :(

Allow me to use Calvin's logic first:

It has been a month since the academic year ended.  It might as well have been a century ago; that's how it feels.  If not for the summer school class, well, I wouldn't even know the day of the week or the date!

Summers here, in this part of Oregon, are to be experienced to be believed.  Look at the weather conditions:

(Ahem, those of you in the metric world--you know who you are!--we in the US don't care about the rest of the world!)

You think it is possible to even think about serious topics, leave alone analyzing and blogging about them?  No, ma'am, no can't do!  Try as I might, that is mission impossible.



Let me explain.  I am up at about 5:30 (yes, early for everybody except Ramesh and Gowri!) and the air outside is at a wonderfully refreshing cool temperature.  The kind of mornings that makes me wonder why the world is not awake at that hour.

As the coffee starts brewing, and as the aroma wafts its way from the kitchen corner through the entire home, and as the bread transforms into a golden-brown toast, the thoughts of work or the Syrian civil war, or the free falling Indian rupee, all those issues seem so trivial.

The hot Ethiopian elixir will blur the newspaper headlines as I head to the funny pages first.  The headlines become even more stale, and even less appealing, after that.

Thus, it requires a Herculean effort on my part to blog even this much, dear reader.  Am making a huge sacrifice for you.  Just for you ;)

The blueberry season is coming to an end.  Not to worry; I saw quite a few blackberries waiting to mature and ripen.  As the temperature warms up, the blackberries will sweeten and will be my treat at the end of my walk.  You really think that at that point I will feel like picking up War and Peace or the Scientific American?  Ha! HaHa!

Light and lively pop music.  Women in summery dresses.  Children with their tans jumping into the water along with their dogs. The sculpted and beer-bellied men speeding on their bikes.  Smell of backyard BBQ. It is summer.

If every single day of the year were to be like this, the planet's seven billion will be crowded into this small and remote corner of the planet.  Which is why there are the long, wet, cloudy, overcast months to keep the pesky billions away.  Summer is our reward for standing up to those awful months.

Ah, but I know me.  The dull and boring me will blog on serious topics. Or, perhaps not--if too many beautiful women keep smiling at me on these gorgeous summer days!

Must be raindrops, for a man ain't supposed to cry!

When I saw the seashells chocolates box on the dining table, I remembered, yet again, my daughter.  The image of her, from years ago, as a teenager having those chocolates while watching Grease for the nth time.

I walked back upstairs to grab the Grease CD, to play during the drive to work.  Next to that was the Simon-Garfunkel CD.  I hadn't listened to it for a while and I grabbed that too.

It was a cool and rainy morning drive and I plugged in Grease.  I was all smiles, as I am now even as I blog about it.

On my way back home, I decided that Simon and Garfunkel would accompany me.  I didn't want the songs to be played in the order in which they were listed, and opted for the random play.  Light rain, winding roads, cool temperature, and wonderful music.  I was having a good time.

And I felt water.

I realized that I had lost myself in some thoughts as Garfunkel sang Bridge over troubled water. His voice, the lyrics, the music, and the setting had slowly drawn out the emotions from somewhere deep inside, without me knowing about it.

I took a detour, and stepped out into the light drizzle.

I realized that my own drizzles were not from sadness but from contentment.  A feeling of everything peaceful and quiet within.  And so was the landscape that I was looking at.

I got back into the vehicle and resumed the drive.  No music.  Not because I worried about raindrops but because I wanted to absorb the scenery.  The wonderful spring, though on an unusually cooler side.

I stopped again, when I saw sheep lazily grazing.  I debated within about stepping out into the light rain when the gauge reported it was only 52 outside.

But, it was too good to simply stay in.

It was soothing and refreshing and exhilarating.

I noticed that one was staring at me. I stared back.

We stood staring at each other.  The drizzles I could feel more as they soaked their way past this animal's shirt.  The other animal on the other side of the fence couldn't care with all the woolly clothing.

I blinked.  

The warmth inside the vehicle felt wonderful.  I sat there and watched the animal staring at me.  Damn that patience!

I started driving.  Home, sweet home!

Spring is in the air ... out come the crazies!

"Such a wonderful day" remarked my neighbor.  It has, indeed, been a string of gorgeous sunny, spring days.  "I bet it makes your commute also easier without the rains" he added.

I merely smiled as we went our different directions.

The reality is that the commute and life seem to have been easier during the rainy days.  The sunny days bring the crazies out.

Yesterday morning, I was thinking about my class as I tailed two other vehicles on the country road with plenty of sharp curves when out of nowhere a Lexus appeared in my rear-view mirror.  He was in a hurry alright.

Suddenly he shot out to pass me and I slowed down to allow him to jump ahead of me.  He kept going, however.  He did not care that a curve was coming up.  He did not apparently care for the double-yellow stripe on the road that makes passing illegal.  He kept going in the opposing traffic lane, past me, past the car that was ahead of me, and past the first car also as he rounded the curve.  Crazy #1 he was!

A few miles later, with the other vehicles having exited the country road, I had the road all to myself and was enjoying the drive until I had to slow down from 60 mph to between 35 and 40 mph because the driver of that Honda Civic was not apparently keen on anything more than 40, though 55 was the posted speed limit. Crazy #2!  Unlike the Lexus driver, I waited for conditions to be safe for me to overtake the Honda, which, by then, had slowed down to as much as 30 mph.

At least no other crazies after those two.

At the end of the day, as I walked back to my car to begin the return home, I was shocked to find that the campus police had ticketed me for parking without a permit.  The officer had in his/her infinite wisdom completely overlooked the decal on the rear fender.

Pissed, I drove up the campus safety office, and waited my turn at the counter.

"Your officer made a mistake in writing this ticket.  I have a permit on the car" I said.

"We cannot take care of it here" she said.  "We only administer the parking.  Only the people at the administration office can void it for you."

I am now even more pissed.  "But you are the parking people, right?"

"Yes.  But we cannot take care of your ticket."

"So, for a mistake that you people made, you want me to run around?" I asked her as politely as I could.

"If you want, we have a complaint form there" she said with a tone that seemed to be mildly sarcastic.

This is how bureaucracy works.  When they mess up, they don't have to correct it.  The burden is upon us.

So, I drove to the administration office and waited for my turn at the counter.

I stepped up.  "Your officer made a mistake" I said, again.

She said it was her colleague's job and returned to her chair.  The colleague came up to the counter.  I handed her the parking ticket.

"Do you have a permit?" she asked me.

"Yes."

"Where is it on the car?"

"On the left side of the rear bumper."

Meanwhile, she looked up the database.

"This time I will void it because the system shows that you did purchase a parking permit" she said.

I got really, really, pissed off.  She could have said something like "I am sorry for the trouble."  But she did not.  Instead, she made it seem like she was doing me a favor with "this time I will void it."  So, the next time?  WTF!

But, over the years I have come to realize that there is no point fighting with bureaucrats.  I simply walked away.

It was thus that I merely smiled at my neighbor's remark--I am sure he wouldn't have had the patience to listen to all these as a response to the small talk that we engage in.

Life does change in many ways with the changing seasons.

This could be your last day on earth!

Unlike yesterday, there were a lot more people on the bike-path.  Of all ages.  Kids too. Many as couples and groups.  Thus, throughout the walk, it seemed like I was constantly changing the radio stations and listening to bits and pieces as I walked past people.

Some of those made me think more, while the rest were, well, not worth blogging about!

I passed a young mother, with a packet of Camel Lights in her left hand and a cell phone in her right, walking a step behind her blond-haired four-yearish son.

"When we reach home, you want a cheese sandwich, dear?"

I was tempted to say, "no thanks!"  But, what if she got upset instead of laughing?  I kept quiet as I outpaced them.

"No. Not today" said the tyke.

Back in my younger days, I doubt that my mother would have given my such choices.  I would have eaten whatever she gave me, and wouldn't have dared to say no to her either.  At least, that is how I imagine my four-year old self to have behaved.

"Then, what should I make you?" the mother asked.  I was out of earshot soon and have no idea what the kid said.

It was a wonderful coincidence that almost right away I passed an older gentleman walking and talking on his cellphone, and I heard him say--no, yell--this: "You are fat because you eat a lot of food."

OMG!  Don't people have any sense of what not to say in the public?

There was a pause--I suppose he was getting an earful.

"But, the stomach is not a hole to fill up" he replied to whoever it was at the other end.  OMG is an understatement!

For a while, I was not bothered by humans.  I heard a woodpecker somewhere knocking his beak against the wood.  The geese were extra loud.  It was as if the animals too decided to be as loud and obnoxious as that old man was!

A family of three were leaning against their bikes and looking into the distance.  It was a bald eagle up on a tree.  I kept walking, however.  One needed binoculars to get details on that bird, and there was no fun without.

A few minutes later, that family passed me.  The father in front and the mother a cycle-length behind.  Both their butts were overflowing out of those narrow seats.  I wondered whether the bikes would simply collapse under their weights.

As the son passed me, he yelled: "Daddyooo ... we have to stop"

"Why?"

"I have ladybugs on my glasses."

I passed them yet again.

I was over the bridge.  It was the final stretch home.  Two women were walking in the other direction and slowly their voices became louder and louder as they neared me.

".... that this could be your last day on earth."

"Yes, life is so fragile."

"Which is why ...."

I felt like turning back and walking behind them in order to find out how they were planning to spend this final day.  Which is when I heard, "do you see that bald eagle on top of that tree?"

It turned out that the guy on the bike with his feet firmly planted on the ground was talking to me.  With people on cell phones, and that too with all those fancy bluetooth devices, it is difficult anymore to figure out whether a stranger is on the phone or talking to me or is simply crazy!

"Yes, I did, when I was on the other side" I replied.

I paused because he seemed to want to engage me in a conversation.

"It flew over my head when I was on the other side" he said.

I noticed that he was missing quite a few teeth, but he wasn't that old either.  It was quite a shock.  Perhaps the lack of medical insurance?  Or, perhaps from bad habits?  Both?

"What a wonderful day" he continued.

"Yes, and will be like this for another four or five days, I hear."

And then the nerd took over.  "But, we have to pay a price for this.  We haven't had such a dry winter in over 120 years."

"I can imagine that.  I grew up about forty miles north.  When I was a kid, we had lots more rain and snow.  Not anymore.  Things are changing."

"Yes they are.  But, we will enjoy the good day" I said as I started walking.

I have no hassles if it turns out that this was my last day on this planet.  It was a good last day!

What you see is not what you get?

It was a gorgeous spring day in the valley. For now, I will conveniently ignore that precipitation this year has been significantly below average--well on our way to break the record since the systematic collection of data that began in 1892!  I will simply be Polyannaish and enjoy the phenomenal weather that nature is offering.

Stop to smell the roses, they say.  Despite the allergy risk, that is what I did when I came upon this tree blossoms:

The circle of life that spring time reminds us.  Regeneration. There is hope, even though only two months ago it was a grey landscape.  The burst of colors and the green shoots on trees and plants have only begun.

The bottom-line for humans that there is no second act in life doesn't seem to apply to nature, I thought to myself.  Trees and plants that looked so dead only a few weeks ago are so much alive now.  Perhaps that is what this bird was also contemplating about:

I wondered where all the kids were--it is spring break for them too, and they were not out on the bike path on such a day?  Were they watching TV and playing video games and missing out on all these?  Why were only the oldies, and me, walking about?

Sometimes, I wish that I didn't think about anything at all.  Why bother about such things, I ask myself.  Who cares if the kids are growing up messed up, or if there hasn't been enough rains, or whatever.  The fate of humans and this cosmos doesn't depend even one nano bit on what I think.  I might as well give up.

But, I don't listen to these inner voices.  I continue to think.  My neighbor might conclude that I am wasting my time.  Thinking is so internal. Watching paint dry might be more exciting than watching a person think.  Unless, that thinking is captioned with cartoonish pop-up bubbles.  Ah, but then Monty Python already explored the unsexiness of thinking in their soccer championship!

I spotted a couple seated on a bench and engrossed in a conversation.  They looked young. The woman seemed like she had a hijab on.  A colorful one.  Perhaps a scarf?  But, it wasn't worn like a scarf.  It was a hijab.

But, wait, is that smoke coming from her face?  A woman wearing a hijab and smoking a cigarette?  That is quite a sight. I decide to take a detour and check the couple out at closer quarters to verify that it was a hijab and she was smoking.

Indeed!  They were talking in some strange language and in low tones.

The man didn't look even moderately  handsome.  She was no beauty either.

But then very few among us are awesome looking.  Most of us are bland. Boring. Even ugly.  The cosmos couldn't care for how we look.

In our teens, most of us are worried most only about our looks. The pimple on my nose that wouldn't go away haunted me during my high school years. I worried that no girl would ever give me a second look. Especially that girl.

Now, I care very little about how I look. The advantage that age offers. Who cares a shit anymore!

What? I am already home?  Thinking makes five miles go by so easily!

Later in the evening, on my way back from the grocery store, the western horizon looked fantastic with the colors. As risky as it was, I snapped a photo even as I continued to drive. YOLO!

Mahindra: Mumbai and Monroe. Neyveli, too!

For a few months now, on my way to work, I have been intrigued by a billboard, and was waiting for a non-rainy, non-foggy morning for me to pull over and take a photograph.

Finally, today was that day.

It was a pleasant 49 degrees when I left home, with the sun trying its best to break through the cloud cover on the eastern horizon.  It was so pleasant that I drove with the sunroof opened.  (Yes, Ramesh, it was awesome and not cold!)

I spotted the billboard and flipped my vehicle indicator in order to turn into left, into a logging road.  After the turn, as I pulled over away from the road, a couple of trucks fully loaded with timber reached the intersection.  Both the drivers seemed to look intently at me as if they were wondering what I was doing there.

I nodded at them and kept walking.  I am used to that feeling of being the odd man out.  Story of my life!

All for this photograph:

I would never have imagined a billboard for Mahindra so far away from India, along the back roads in the Willamette Valley.  This is perhaps the best example, yet, of how much India has changed, especially over the last two decades.

(Coincidentally, all those rapid economic changes happened in India after I left for the US, which then easily lends itself to my joke that by leaving India and coming to the US, I simultaneously increased the average IQ of both the countries!)

Mahindra's product was an important part of life in Neyveli--the product was not the tractor by the Jeep. Throughout most of my years in Neyveli, because of the projects-centered nature of his work, father always drove to work and back in a Jeep that the company provided for him.

Father was one of those who believed that an official vehicle was for official purposes alone.  I do not recall ever having had a ride in one, during all those seventeen years of my life in Neyveli. So, the second-best option for my brother and me was to sit in the parked vehicle and pretend we were on a drive.  Our throats made sounds of gears being changed and we had quite a few imaginary drives on Neyveli's roads.

And, now, Mahindra is here in Oregon. Selling tractors.

The Doubtful Thomas that I am, I wondered if the billboard stated the truth about Mahindra being the world's largest tractor seller.  The company's website adds details:

We began manufacturing tractors in the early 1960s for the Indian market.  Nearly 50 years later, we are the number one tractor company in the world (by volume) with annual sales above 200,000 and over 2.1 million tractors sold to date.  Our products are making farms more prosperous in more than forty countries on six continents.

What an awesome transformation!

A lot more transformational that anything that can be achieved with a new Pope!

Pleasant day: 48 in Eugene now, versus 84 in Neyveli then!

It was sunny outside, against a clear blue sky.  Halfway through my sandwich, I checked the temperature display on my phone.  48 degrees. I finished my sandwich and the fresh mug of coffee.  And stepped out for a five mile walk.

Back when I was growing up in India, I would have shivered at the very thought of 48 degrees.  Well, it would have been 9 degrees Celsius in the metric system.  And now, 48 and sunny is wonderfully pleasant.  Pleasant enough for me to venture out on a five-mile walk!

When you see young lambs on green fields, do you think of ...?

It was a relatively warm 54 degrees when I was driving back home.  A little bit of cloud cover that every once in a while sent raindrops down.  The fields looked wonderfully green.  Felt a little bit consoled on a day that didn't seem all that well.

Over at another field, sheep were grazing.  Little lambs too.  The scene was wonderfully therapeutic. If it were not for the lack of a shoulder space on these back roads, I would have parked there to take all these in.

I remembered one interaction, from a few years ago, with the physical therapist who was helping me with calcification in my shoulder.  Not being comfortable with another person, especially a woman, hovering next to me made me do the small talk even more.

"I saw lambs on my here from work" I told her.  "Looked like not many days old."

Her face lit up visualizing the newborn lambs on the green fields.

The nerd in me took over.  "I suppose that is why there is lamb at Easter, eh?"

It seemed like I had knocked the lights out of her.  One minute, her mind had created a relaxing scene of lambs playfully running around in the green fields and, the next minute, thanks to my remark, a lamb was now a dish on the table.

It was mostly a quiet therapy session after that.  Sometimes, small talk goes awry, especially in not-so-comfortable contexts.

But, that small talk is merely yet another example of the cognitive dissonance that permeates our lives.

Once, when visiting with a colleague at her home, she showed me her chicken and pointed to the lone rooster in the group.  She threw some bird feed at them.  I asked her what their typical life expectancy is and whether at some point they will become dinner.  She said she never kills her own chicken, though she does eat chicken.  "I guess I am hypocritical here that I cannot think of my chicken as food."

Here in the US, we are so easily separated from the messy process of a living animal being converted to the food that we purchase.  An overwhelming majority of the consumers are city slickers who are spared of the details.  A packet of boneless chicken is a product in the grocery store as much broccoli or toilet paper are!

It is perhaps such a separation from the source that also makes possible the enormous consumption of chicken or fish or whatever?  How many of the crab and lobster loving consumers, for instance, would bear to witness those critters being boiled alive?  I imagine many would simply prefer not knowing anything about the process.

A few summers ago I was in India when, after a couple of unbearably hot days, I needed to get away from the city.  My father suggested Yelagiri, which is where the entire family went.

Yelagiri, 2009

While walking around in the morning, I noticed two goats tied to a lamp-post.  A few minutes later, when returning to the hotel, we passed that place.  There was only one goat, and it was bleating away.  The other one was hanging dead with its innards exposed.

No cognitive dissonance there for mutton-eaters.

For that matter, no cognitive dissonance on practically anything in India, given the in-your-face manner in which life and death unfold there.

Thoughts on a rainy morning: On the unfairness that life is.

Now that we are past mid-winter, the mornings are less dark and ominous than they typically are from late in November.  A rainy morning against a partially lit sky is immensely a pleasure compared to the trepidation with which I had to navigate the roads a few weeks ago.

I was lost in thoughts and driving practically in an auto-pilot mode when suddenly out of nowhere a Porsche appeared.  "Quite some speed on these curves when rainy" I thought to myself.  And, when it seemed safe enough, I slowed down and eased up to the right to let the driver pass me.  He sure did. In a nanosecond.  Vrooooom!

Thanks to all the bends, I never spotted the Porsche again.  Until the traffic light.  The vrooooom had been silenced by the red light!

Soon, we went our different ways.  The sky alternated between dark clouds and clear blue openings.  Heavy downpour for a couple of minutes followed by a calm and clear blue sky with sunlight.  It seemed to be as moody as a young woman with acute PMS :)

But, even that young woman can be charming, right?  And that is what happens when there is rain and sunlight--a wonderful rainbow.  It was a partial rainbow that didn't last long.  But, a glorious one to welcome the day.

It seemed that I had exhausted the day's quota of having the road all to myself--I found myself at the tail end of a procession, with a farm-equipment-hauling-truck all the way in front, followed by two vehicles, and then another truck, then another two vehicles and then me.

And then came a pick-up.

Like the Porsche driver earlier, this fellow too was not happy being at some other vehicle's rear.  It amused me that he didn't seem to understand that he couldn't get very far when in a convoy of these many vehicles and on a road without a passing lane. And when raining, with all the spray from the traffic.

But, stupid is as stupid does.  He passed me only to jump in before me.  I decided to give more space between him and me, reminded of the lessons from the defensive driving class that I once took.

A couple miles later, the pick-up passed two more vehicles, and was now kissing the truck's butt.  We were about seven miles from my university, and I wondered if eventually he too, like the Porsche driver, will notice me pulling up even with him at the traffic light.

When a chance opened up, he passed the truck and one vehicle.  The lead vehicle was the same--the farm-equipment hauling truck. Behind that was one pick-up, and then our character.

No more chances for that driver to pass.  We neared the traffic light in town and I headed to the left-turn lane.  Yes, we pulled even.  I so wanted to look at him and grin. But, I didn't.

When it comes to driving, traffic lights stop us, irrespective of the speeds our vehicles are capable of, and irrespective of our own desires to speed.  Unless one is willing to jump the red light, of course, and very, very few rational people ever attempt that.

Traffic lights are the great equalizers of society--we understand that we are all in it together whether we drive a beaten up old car, or a truck, or a Porsche.

If only all aspects of life were the same way. If only.

People are differently-abled to begin with.  Some are born with Porsches in their garages, while some live in garages.  Most of us follow the laws because we want to, and some obey the laws because they don't know how to escape them.  And then there are others who are rich and powerful to write their own laws and find loopholes in the laws that most of us dutifully follow.  But, there is no traffic light to stop them at all.  Armed with money, influence, and lawyers, they jump the red with ease.

But then who said life is far, eh!

I had no idea that I live in a nuclear free zone!

On my way back home, I meandered even more than how much I have recently been doing.  At this rate, if I don't watch out, soon my path home might be via New York City!

It was a pleasant late afternoon, with an occasional fine sprinkling from above.  The hills in the distance looked bluer than usual.  The greens of various hues were all brilliant.  There was no way I was not going to take in as much as I could.

I indicated left almost as a reflex.  And I was off on a narrow country road.

I wonder if I would have enjoyed the scenery as much if I had grown up here.  Do kids growing up here know what a paradise this is, or are they counting down the days to get the hell out of here, like kids often seem to do?  Even if they feel that way now, the older they get, will they feel the urge to come back here from wherever they are?

Farmlands had been recently tilled, and there was that earthy smell in the air. The sky and the clouds looked gorgeous.  I had to pull over.

The country road wasn't straight for even a hundred feet, it felt like, and had a whole lot of twists and turns.  Some turns were ninety degrees and more.  All the more the reason for me to drive slowly and that is what I did.  As I passed a T-junction, I made eye contact with a much older man driving some farm equipment and waiting at the stop sign.  Waiting for me to pass.  He nodded his head to mean hello.  So typical of of what we would refer to as the salt of the earth.  I thought if I stopped and chatted with him, well, maybe he would even invite me over for supper.  I was tempted.  Life in this paradise is full of such temptations.

As I passed a sign board, it felt as if there was something odd about the board.  There was no traffic and I backed up the vehicle to that signpost.  Sure enough, there was something strange: a board that proclaimed that it was a nuclear free zone.

That is Oregon for you. No, that's so Eugene!

I resumed driving. At about 25 miles per hour.  It was my choice to drive at that speed on a road that is not often taken.  How much we miss out by taking the same well traversed paths!

Cows were idly standing under a rain roof.  Sheep grazing on velvety green grass.  I could have just parked there and watched them until the sky turned dark.  But, I didn't.

A couple miles later, the road ended at the highway.  It seemed like my mini vacation ended quite abruptly when I had to step on the gas pedal and drive at sixty in order to keep up with the flow.

As I neared home, I realized that this deviation from the usual route had taken up an entire hour.  I suppose there is an advantage to being divorced and single and without even a dog at home--I can take such a leisurely approach and forget all about the straight lines of life.

Grey. Foggy. Bleak. Rainy. Cold. Winter? Must be Oregon!

I told the class that the morning looked like the descriptions of the last days of Pompeii.  It was dark even at nine, thanks to the low-hanging grey cloud cover, to penetrate through which the sun's light and heat were simply not enough.

"Did it rain too at that time" asked a student, to which another replied "he looks old, but he is not that old."

If there is this much humor at the end of the term, I suppose it is a success that I have not driven them into insanity.  Yet!

Driving to campus this time of the year is an experience that is very different from how things were when the term began.  Unlike a few weeks ago, the entire landscape looks like a still-life painting.  Fog-enveloped nude trees are beautiful in their own ways, but the same trees looked a lot more lively and joyful when they had their clothes on.  As the green started turning yellow and read and brown, it was like a colorful party.  That colorful party has ended.

The term, too, is ending.

As we wrap up the term, and head towards the shortest day of the year, we know that it can only get better.  Every day after the solstice will have a few more seconds of daylight over what the previous day offered.  That alone will give me enough joy, even as old man winter sets in.

Thanks to the trees having already shed their leaves, I get a good view of the street and the neighborhood when I am home. Extremely rare it is anymore to see any neighbor doing anything outside.  Even the stray cats seem to have decided against showing up.

Through the stillness and frost of winter, signs of life will appear. Slowly. On the ground it will be in the form of green shoots of daffodils and tulips and crocuses.  Then the trees will begin to grow leaves and flowers.  Soon there will be a riot of colors all over the place. 

We will sneeze and complain about the pollen, forgetting how much more miserable it was during the cold and dark days of winter.  Because, our frame of reference would have shifted to the expectations of the warmth in the paradise that the Willamette Valley becomes in the summer.  With every passing spring day, we will complain how delayed summer is this time around, though that is the very complaint we have every year. 

Well, ... all those complaints come much later.  It is now the season to complain about the grey skies.  If to everything there is a season, well, there is a season to complain about the grey conditions too!

When driving back home yesterday, the flashing red at the railroad crossing was such a brilliant contrast to the grey that was all around me. By the time I fumbled around and located my phone in my jacket pocket, the short-length train was gone, and all I was left with was this image at the gates.  Ain't complainin'