Years ago, when I was a summer runner in the grain room, I came home a little buzzed on a Friday night.
My Oldman was sitting in his chair waiting up. Cigarette in his mouth watching reruns on WGN wearing just his white undershirt and plaid boxers. You could still see the rings from his dress socks pressed into his calves.
I swung the door open with a big grin and said,
“Hello Dad, I’m home.”
He looked at me and asked why the hell I was so happy.
I told him, “It’s Friday.”
He didn’t miss a beat.
“Friday? Friday! Just remember, Moose…Monday is two days away.”
That line never left me.
Every Friday night since, I have heard it. The reminder that the weekend doesn’t last. The celebration is already on the clock.
The glory of Friday night becomes the commitment of Monday morning real quick.
A couple years later, when I got going in the business, John Mellencamp had a line that stuck with me:
“The winter days, they last forever, but the weekends went by so quick.”
That is about as honest as it gets.
It was a good lesson to learn young, don’t take time for granted.
Still… I wouldn’t mind one more night tapping a keg in somebody’s backyard with The Loop playing classic rock on the boombox.
The grabber section keeps ticking. Summer is coming and the race is getting closer and before you know it, we will be standing shoulder to shoulder celebrating the Fourth.
Happy Monday, Chalkheads.
This Friday… it’s May.
