jumpingfish

And so we headed south. We had gear in the back of the station wagon. We had a load strapped on the car rack. And we had two dogs excited to be going along.

A week ago would have been better for this. In was cool then in comparison to these 100 degree days. But we had reservations, so we headed south in the heat to Palmetto State Park. 

As we passed thru Lockhart, the skies darkened. In the southwest the clounds were streaming rain, turning the black sky white. In the southeast menacing teeth dipped below the cloud ceiling, threatening wind and rain. But our route was taking us between the two, and we hoped that the campground might not be drenched.

But just outside of Luling the road turned to the east, taking us directly into the blackest of the black.

The rain came sometimes in torrents sometimes drizzle, and there were places where it had clearly not rained at all. As it turned out, the park we dry when we got there, although we eyed the sky nervously and set up our tent quickly, hoping to beat the rain—rain that never came.

The clouds parted. The sky turned blue. And the sun came out. Not only did we beat the rain, but the rest of the afternoon and evening were cool, with temperatures dipping into the upper-80s. Ah yes. The upper-80s. Perfect weather for camping. 

I was sitting there on the gym floor. Cooling down. Thoughts inward. Zoning out before going to work.

“Good morning, Mr. David!” 

I looked up, and there was Jimmy smiling down at me. He had just stepped off the Bosu balance trainer and was handing the barbells to Johnny.

“Your turn!” he said to me, pointing to the blue half-ball that Johnny was climbing onto.

A week before, they got me up on one, and it felt as if my ankles were going to roll out of my shoes and I was going to plant my face on the floor.

“No thanks,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m done for the day.”

He smiled and pointed to the blue dome.

“Come on.”

I was silent for a moment.

“I tell you what,” I said. “I’ll start doing it with you on Friday mornings.”

“You’ll be here Friday?” he asked, well aware that I wasn’t at the gym on Fridays.

“I’ll be here on Friday.”

And so now on Fridays I do the Bosu balance trainer with Jimmy and Johnny, my seventy-something training buddies.

1. Watching You

“I’ve been watching you,” Kashif said.

He stood up from his desk and walked over to me.

“I’ve been watching how you take notes during the day. I need to do that.”

I looked down at my spiral notebook and looked up at him and smiled. I was flattered that he noticed.

2. Down There

“Does anyone have any tape?” I asked, popping my head above the glass.

I had a little scrap of paper that I wanted to tape to my daily log.

Sanjay looked up from the other side of the room and pointed with his finger.

“Down there,” he said. “In that … you know … copy room.”

The room with the paper clips and pens and spiral notebooks. The room where no one goes.

No Personal Banker For You

“I’d like to close my account,” I told the teller.

She told me I should sit down and wait for a personal banker.

I sat down at waited. Across the vast, empty expanse of the bank, a couple personal bankers were busy helping other customers. And when it got to be 1:30, I got up and walked out.

Second Try

“It’s almost 30 years to the day since I opened this account,” I told our personal banker. She was sitting across a desk from Trudy and me.

She looked at me in disbelief (as in, right…). But then a few moments later, her eyes widened and she said, “August 1982, you’re right.” (Yep, as in, right.) She was merciful in not adding, “That was before I was born,” which would have undoubtedly been true.

I opened that account at University Savings when I first came to Austin to go to grad school. That was back when there were such things as Savings and Loans. But they went away in that financial industry train wreck that we never seem to discuss today. University Savings was absorbed by NCNB, which eventually bought and then became Bank of America. And Bank of America became too big to fail.

And so we’ve wanted to leave that bank for some time. But the convenience of their vast network of ATMs was hard to dismiss while I was traveling for work, and so we hung our heads and dragged our feet.

See The Teller

Well, I’m not traveling anymore, hence my failed attempt Friday and our joint appearance Saturday inside the bank lobby.

My personal banker handed me a sticky note with the balance of our two accounts written on it.

“See the teller,” she said, pointing to the other side of the vast, empty lobby. “He can print out a cashier’s check.” And she said, completely sincerely, to have a good weekend.

The Deed Is Done

No one bothered to ask why we were leaving. No one tried to convince us to stay. None of them really seemed to care. 

Frankly, I’m relieved they didn’t ask. I really didn’t want to talk about it, earlier rehearsals in the car notwithstanding.

And now at last, the deed is done, and our heads no longer hang low.

“How did you find this place?” I asked the fair and industrious Trudy who has researched and planned and booked all our travel to Kaua‘i and Hawai‘i.

Our condo on Kaua‘i was nice, but I tell you, this Keauhou Beach Resort was fancy.

I mean palm trees swaying against a deep blue sky and white clouds rolling by

and a heiau just walking distance from the lobby

and the deep blue sea breaking on black lava beaches

and spacious rooms and porches with a view

and verandas with broad ceilings shading you from the sun and a sea breeze blowing off the water and ceiling fans turning slowly overhead and rocking chairs looking out beyond the breaking surf and gardens and ponds where you can sit and relax

and hammocks strung between palm trees

and lounge chair near the beach to recline in as the sun goes down.

We are … how shall I put it? … a frugal kind of family, and this kind of place was an unexpected (and quite welcome) luxury.

“How did you find this place?”

“I don’t remember,” Trudy said, “but it was a really good deal.”