The perfect lawn. It's all a state of mind.

I don’t remember if it was high school or college, but there was a short, dark haired teacher in front of the room, and he was talking about tomatoes. In the days when all tomatoes were vine ripened, when all were either homegrown or sold by farmers, the perfect tomato was red. It was round, and large. Unblemished. Perfect.
That was back when all tomatoes tasted good. Red meant ripe. Then came shipping. Tomatoes could be eaten far from the source, and out of the local season. Tomatoes were picked early, and gassed to make them red. They were bred for firmness, to withstand the rigors of shipping. And of course, all were round, unblemished. That, after all, was the epitome of a tomato. Unfortunately, taste was sacrificed. Now, when we want the perfect tomato, we grow it, or buy it from a farmer. We bring it in from the garden, still warm from the sun, and cut off any places the birds have pecked or wet leaves caused a little rot. And the taste? Perfect.
Look at a picture of the perfect lawn. Imagine the uniform green, evenly cut, covering the rolling landscape around a house. Looks peaceful, doesn’t it? Perhaps, one time, it was. Maybe in a wet climate, with not too much sun, keeping it short and lush. Ireland, or maybe Seattle. On that rare sunny day, that carpet of green must have been a sight to behold. Peaceful, inviting. Soft on bare feet.
Now we have lawns everywhere. They still make nice pictures, until you turn up the sound. Power mowers. Weed whackers, for the OCD perfect edges. Hedge trimmers. And those horrible leaf blowers, letting everyone within a quarter mile know that we are moving dead grass off the sidewalk, or cleaning the driveway of fallen pine needles. People spend hours stalking weeds with poisons. They put down fertilizers, install sprinklers, wash all those fertilizers into the world around them. Yikes!
So yes, it looks peaceful, only it isn’t. I suspect there is a whole generation who will never remember the hot stillness of a summer day. Heat will always be accompanied by a distant (or not so distant ) whine, and herbicides and pesticides pollute nearby waterways in the quest for a perfect lawn.
So can we have perfect lawns and a harmonious life? Sure, as long as the perfect lawn has dandelions decorating it. Honeysuckle creeps in at the edges. Dead leaves feritlize it. It is a safe place for children to lie on their backs and see shapes in the clouds, while pets frolic nearby, and it feels nice on bare feet.
Like the tomatoes, all that needs to change is our minds.

Soft Rock with more talk

When I see these Soft Rock commercial telling me that "you get all those classic soft rock songs," "the music that made soft rock pure magic," and "hits you'll never forget."

Does any of my peers think that this is absurd to the point of hilarity?

I wondered if it ever ocurred to the producers of the classic collection that there are songs there that I want to forget?

Memories less than precious and more than few that I have chosen to let go. Songs that remind me of terrible mistakes and choices that I made when I was young. Of dreams pursued and left on the fringes of my youth.

I'll give you some examples:

Wildfire - the song about the horse. There was a girl in my German class who loved horses and just loved this song. (not a bad memory, really)

I've Been Waiting (for a girl like you)-that guy from Foreigner could sing. This song reminds of my first real love. As a young woman, I truly believed that no one but this person could ever love me; that belief is a train wreck waiting to happen.

Lost in Love - That song reminds me of my father's orange Pinto. That little car took me everywhere. From play practice to dinner theatres to Kenosha, WI for King Richard's Faire, when it was King Richard's faire. I've done a lot of interesting things that I'm not sure I want to tell my kids.

AND I put a little rainbow decal on the back window. I liked that pretty rainbow. I remember seeing it when I went to San Francisco. Had no idea what it meant until a couple of years ago--I live in Mayberry USA, after all.

When will I hold you again? - Barry Manilow. Used to call him Barely Man-enough, but I do appreciate him now. I'm not interested in going to his concerts but I'll be nice now. When I was a teenager and full of teen angst, I used to listen to that song over and over and over and over. After I talked to my friend Nance on the phone for about an hour and a half.

Let Her in - John Revolting, I mean, Travolta. I hate to say this, but I really liked him and his hair on Welcome Back, Kotter, until I liked Robert Heydges (Epstein).

I am a Woman in Love - Babs Streisand. My friend Nancy and I used to sing this song as Ethel Merman. Guess you had to be there.

Fabulous Forties-what about you?