Kudos to the Illinois State Museum who hosted its annual Collectors’ Day Saturday, November 15 on a cold, windy overcast day in which fully 95% of the local populace could have cancelled plans for an afternoon hike through Lincoln Memorial Gardens at Lake Springfield. I was invited to display part of my collection of old model airplane kits, and the day was a tropical breeze of warm hospitality and conviviality from start to finish . . . after I unloaded things from my car and set up on the table provided literally in the middle of the museum’s fabulous art gallery. Sharing that part of the museum were Eldon Launer, a collector of portable transistor radios and camera collector extraordinaire, Ron Ackerman. Other collectors were placed in the first floor and lower level, including my favorites, “John Wayne, American” of Glynn Stamper, Mel Weseloh’s “Lincoln — Post Cards and Postal Covers,” and “The Living Art of Bonsai,” part of James Reynolds’ awesome work, a living collection of miniature, meticulously nutured trees. My exhibit was titled “Pieces of Dreams: 75 Years of Model Airplane Kits.”
The day had begun with a thorough shampoo, my first in a week and a half. (Nobody notices dirty hair where I work, and I didn’t interface with anyone else whom I know who cares all de lib long week) While the hair dried I updated my AeroKnow home page and packed boxes of kits for the museum show, which as noted earlier was a delight.
A fast run to the grocer after unloading my kits at what I now call “Hostile House” and others might call “Home Cold Home” netted me toothpaste, cottage cheese, soup, laundry detergent and some deli-sliced turkey for lunches next week. I had run out of things to do. The day was too gloomy to site see despite a full tank of fuel, so I had to go home to Hostile House, DANGIT!
Despite the new issue of The New Yorker in mon mail box, my ONLY PRIORITY was to get a short nap under my belt to refresh my mind — which was in great shape until I came home, and body — from about six hours on my feet talking about model airplanes (AND reciting Vachel Lindsay’s great poem Simon Legree on the spot to a curious museum staffer and camera collector <– significant TRIUMPH. I’m always looking for a reason to recite a Vachel Lindsay poem and hand out my Vachel Pages web site cards.).
I did NOT want to go to bed though I knew I’d be warmer there. The mere thought of going there revolted me. I am a frikking youthful MANE, don’t ya know. I will take a frikking NAP on the easy chair and ottoman under a hand-kitted afghan, gift from mon Mother back in ‘79. I ate a can of Barbecue Pringles with a tall glass of iced tea followed by a small glass of Carlo Rossi Burgundy. If I’m hungry later tonight, I’ll eat better and stick with iced tea. I turned the TV on of course, in case I might awaken for the 6:00 new weather report, which I did.
I nodded in and out of “nap city,” awakened only by cramping in my lower legs, a sensation I experience often in bed, usually around four hours after going to sleep. I resent these interruptions which I can usually fix by repositioning or extending leg muscles gradually in directions opposite of the cramping contractions. Sometimes I have to stand up, put my feet flat onto the floor and extend from that position. It was a drag that continued through an hour of Cops and another hour of America’s Most Wanted despite my being awake; semi-supine, but awake. By 9 p, I was ready to RESUME LIFE which I did by making more iced tea, coming into the office, turning on the space heater that works okay in this cozy confines, and booting up the old computator which is where I am now. In a few minutes I’ll be catching up with AeroKnow updates.
The weather forecast is a “grim flurry tale.” I SHALL make gas reconnection my priority next week, and if I must spend time away from Rock City, I will.
This holding out against the cold has ceased to be an adventure. Too much of my time is spent shaking of the woe of sorry, chilly circumstance; not in productive activity. The Collectors’ Day event was a joy and inspiration to me. Aviation is a joy. Corresponding with good people is a joy. Cowering under an afghan watching “Cops on Fox” is a cheap substitute which no longer allures me as it used to.
It’s time to resume normal programming.
Live long . . . . . and proper.
