Somewhere, off to the right, it looks as though yellow meat watermelons are for sale.

I’m going to be honest:  after I saw this sign, I made two u-turns to get back to this corner.  I drove up one street and down another one and never did see any watermelons.  I saw concrete pipe sections, and a grain elevator, and some metal stuff, but no watermelon.  Which is sort of a shame:  yellow watermelon’s my favorite.

Now that I think about it, maybe I assumed too much.  That sign doesn’t actually say the melons are for sale.  It just announces their presence somewhere, just letting us know that over there, to the right, someone’s got a melon or two in the refrigerator.  Good to know.

But I’m glad I don’t have to post a sign announcing the contents of my refrigerator.  Because it would have to say “Scary-looking leftovers”.

Lubbock, Texas
photographed 10.6.2013

1. Once, when I was in junior high and my dad and I were going through one of our times of not getting along, he sent me a letter. I can only remember two things about it. One was that after my friend Jan read it, she said, “He sounds like a preacher.”

2. After a long career that involved meeting people all the time, and talking to them, and making presentations to City Councils and so forth, my dad has diagnosed himself with social anxiety disorder. (Thanks a lot for that, Mayo Clinic Newsletter.)

3. My mom really was very shy. In groups, especially, until she found one person (or a child: she liked kids) to talk to.

4. Both of them were generally content to spend their time in each other’s company, doing quiet things like reading or sewing. They almost never went out with friends, and as far as I know my dad always came straight home from work at the end of the day. (Right after my dad retired, there was some talk of taking ballroom dancing with another couple, but that never got past the talking-about-it-stage.)

5. They both were active church members. Once, my mom was teaching Sunday School for three year olds – the class was called Toddlers – at the same time my dad taught a class for senior citizens. He dubbed them the Old Toddlers. We laughed about that for a long time, but don’t bring it up any more: now that he is an Old Toddler himself, it might not be quite as amusing as it used to be.

6. So depending on how you look at it, this either makes no sense or a lot of sense: both of them spent years working as volunteer chaplains at the hospital. They’d go on hospital visits every Sunday afternoon, still wearing their good church clothes, and spend a few hours stopping by to visit patients.

7. My deepest admiration goes to them for doing that; it’s not something I could do.

8. It’s been almost fifteen years since Methodist Hospital changed its name (and its religious affiliation, too) to Covenant Medical Center. But, my parents’ nametags from their chaplain days were still in the dresser drawer.

Lubbock, Texas
photographed 9.1.2013