When I had my first apartment in Oak Park, I
did my laundry at a laundromat up the block.
Back then, I stuffed my dirty clothes into
an old duffle bag I bought at the Army/Navy surplus store in Forest Park.
I am chalking today's Morning Chalkboard
from a laundromat up the street from where I live today.
Thirty-six years separate these two
laundromats.
Thirty-six years packed with a career,
bachelorhood, marriage, fatherhood, family, divorce, and back to bachelorhood.
And apparently, back to the
laundromat.
When I was doing my laundry in 1990, I was
embarrassed that I couldn't wash my clothes in the comfort of my own home.
When you are twenty-four and working at a
place where everyone seems to be making a shit ton of money, you don't exactly
feel like you are setting the world on fire schlepping an old duffle bag of
dirty laundry into a coin-operated laundromat on Oak Park Avenue.
One of the older guys at work told me he
took his laundry to the cleaners. They washed it, folded it, and had it ready
for him after the closing bell.
I tried that a couple of times.
It was lush.
Unfortunately, it was also a little beyond
the budget of an arb clerk working in the ten-year pit.
So, back to the duffle bag and the quarters.
Here I am at sixty, schlepping two big bags
of laundry into another laundromat.
I'm not sure why a twenty-four-year-old
needed one bag and a sixty-year-old needs two. I do know they seem a hell of a
lot heavier these days.
But something else has changed.
The laundromat no longer carries that little
badge of failure I pinned on it when I was young.
I'm not embarrassed to be doing my laundry
at six o’clock on a Sunday morning.
In fact, it has become a peaceful little
ritual.
There is something satisfying about the hum
of washing machines, the smell of clean clothes, and having absolutely nowhere
else you need to be.
The technology has made it a helluva lot
easier.
In 1990, I needed five bucks in quarters
and a box of detergent.
Today, an app takes my money, starts the
machine, and dispenses the detergent and softener.
Thirty-six years of progress, and I am still
watching my underwear go around in circles.
Which brings me to the words on today's
chalkboard.
"Come away, O human child! To the
waters and the wild…"
Those words belong to William Butler Yeats,
who wrote of escaping the troubles of the human world.
At twenty-four, I was desperate to escape
the laundromat. I wanted the house, the washer and dryer, the money, and all
the things I thought would prove I had finally arrived.
Somewhere along those thirty-six years, I
got many of those things.
I also lost a few.
That's life, that’s what all the people say.
At sixty, I realize that the things I once
thought were signs of success weren't necessarily the things that made life
successful.
The young man with the duffle bag was so
busy worrying about where he wasn't that he couldn't appreciate where he was.
The old man with two bags knows better. Maybe
Yeats was onto something.
Sometimes we need to come away from the
noise, the expectations, and the endless comparisons that clutter our lives.
Sometimes the waters and the wild aren't some
magical place far away.
Sometimes they are at a laundromat on a quiet
Sunday morning.
Sometimes it takes thirty-six years to
discover that being back where you started doesn't mean you haven't gotten
anywhere.
Especially when you've got all your laundry
finished before seven in the morning.
A special shout-out to JoJo on National
Mother-in-Law Day!
I might not be married anymore, but that
doesn't mean I don't still have a mother-in-law to keep an eye on!
More importantly, I want to make sure JoJo
continues spending time with the Shepkids. Divorce might change the family
arrangement, but it doesn't erase the family connections.
And those connections are worth keeping. Happy
Mother-in-Law Day, JoJo!
Finally, Chalkheads…
…enjoy this last Sunday before we turn the
clocks back next weekend.
Next Sunday, November 1st, we get that extra
hour of sleep, but we also start surrendering our late-afternoon sunshine.
So get outside today, soak up a little
autumn, and enjoy the daylight while we've got it.
There is still plenty of living to do
before the sun goes down.
Have a fanfuckingtastic
Sunday.
Go at life with
gusto and astonishment and don't forget to put a smile on the sun!
