Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column wondering why things always give out just when they get the most comfortable.
People tell us we need new shoes. They point this out as they laugh at the flaps of sole sticking out from the sides. We haven’t quite worn holes completely through the bottom, but it’s only a matter of time. Our shoe critics are people whose lives are apparently trouble-free, thus permitting them time to analyze our problems.
We disagree. Why would we want new shoes when this pair is just getting to that perfect degree of comfort? Our resolve to keep them has only been enhanced after surfing the Web and finding out that they don’t make these shoes anymore.
And these shoes have been there for us: backpacking trips, tromping through all kinds of muddy potholes that come with living in Summit Up Land in the spring, not to mention kicking a few lazy behinds. They’re the perfect shoes. We couldn’t abandon them.
And if you think about it, the same is true of many more possessions we all have.
Jeans: Aren’t they the most comfortable right before the crotch rips out? Cars, too. Just when you get used to the steering and can change the radio station without looking, your battery bearings blow out and push oil through the smoke-shifter (or something like that – it’s all a mechanical mystery to us). Isn’t your favorite T-shirt the one with the holes in the armpits? Ours is (much to the chagrin of our co-workers).
Yes, it’s just another casualty in the disposable universe. Oh, to have access to products that are made to last.
Barbara in Dillon says we could be very helpful if we “frequently reminded the community that donations are needed for the food bank and may be dropped off at the County Commons social services dept. or the Intercultural Center/thrift shop in Dillon. I had to make many calls to try to find out where to donate, so think you could make it easier for everyone by printing the information?”
About a week ago, we ran some pretty funny pictures of signs. Al Thomas of Copper Mountain called to say that the one that said, “There’s plenty of room for all God’s creatures. Right next to the mashed potatoes.” is a real sign. We thought it was in Canada because there was “Saskatoon” in big letters on the sign, but it’s really off I-85 in Greenville, S.C. They apparently serve all sorts of wild game there.
Thanks for clarifying, Al.
In case you were feeling too happy, Francinelee Hand of Manhattan, N.Y., sent us this poem entitled, “Ski Town Opiate.” As the poker players say, read it and weep:
There’s plenty of time to find your star
As your youth dissolves at the local bar
The future seems so far away
While you spend your time in idle play
You squander all those days and years
As wasted time just disappears
For when at last you look around
Failure is the thing you’ve found
So, waste not time, my little friend
What will there be toward the end?
Funny, but we bet a lot of the folks she’s describing would write the same poem about all those cubicle rats in Manhattan.
It’s Saturday, for all it’s worth. Let us know how you’re wasting time at firstname.lastname@example.org, fax at (970) 668-0755 or just sing that first verse of Kid Rock’s “God Knows Why” on the voicemail at (970) 668-3998, ext. 237.
We’re out asking the trees if they waste time …
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