The Heat Is On

The Heat Is On

David C. Russell

Word Count 1,235

It was a warm, muggy, Friday afternoon. June 15, the final half-day of school before all would begin their seventy-six days of summer vacation. Lockers were cleaned out of anything imaginable belonging to students. Student textbooks collected had added student wonderment in the margins. One promised to love another until the end of time. A second proclaimed if elected President, they would banish 90% of illegal immigrants to mars.

This summer would be historic in retrospect. This particular special season marked our nation as its 250th birthday would be recognized the first weekend of July. Of course, coin collectors, of which I am one, were already psyched for the Quincentennial.

My immediate family would observe our annual plan to be at our cabin from July 3rd through the ninth. Location, Northern Michigan. This was family vacation- for myself, wife Sally, three children in their formative years.

Professionally, I have been the Principal at Lincoln School for the past sixteen years. Education as an industry is always in a state of flux depending on who’s in charge, politically speaking. Children, unfortunately are left behind in any administration despite theoretic intent.

Before two p.m. this day, I turned the key on the door-locks at Lincoln and headed to our local Home Depot. I chose one project this summer, a DIY - the supervision, production, purchase power, creation of such would all be up to me. I had seventy-six days to complete the construction of a portable patio cooler. The project cost was under $125, minus a vacation week at the cabin already mentioned. Doable, yes by those with mechanical aptitude.

When I entered Home Depot, shelves were being stocked for the weekend rush, the onslaught of home DIY carpenters, builders, assemblers, men, women, boys and girls. Music by the group Journey, played over ceiling speakers throughout the store. This interspersed with sharp quips promoting anything from fashion to chain-saw selection.

“We can order the particular set you have in mind,” the male clerk said, smiling to display a perfect set of straight chompers in their mouth.

“I would like that. When can I expect arrival?”

“Late next week. Do you want home delivery for $45?”

“No, I can pick this up once informed it’s in,” I said.

On Saturday morning, June 16, we were at the ball diamonds in our town for Little League practice. Teams were allowed use of the field from nine until noon. Adult leagues had the field for use until Sunday evening, respectively. The boys practiced on Saturdays and played on the following Tuesday or Wednesday evenings. My crew, the Civics, were between eight and ten years, energetic, excited, directable as long as one was consistent and a bit firm. Sally had made cookies for the team, so they would be raring to go for this practice. All went well until a softball came toward Junior and struck him on the forehead.

He fell to the ground, remained motionless for minutes, and then continuously cried as his dad and an assistant to me removed him so to go to the ER.

The lad’s mom was livid when I showed up at the ER one hour later. I let her clear the air, and we agreed to further talk at the game on the next Tuesday. Her threat of a lawsuit, doing away with the little league program, making certain I would pay for damages, had cooled considerably over the next several hours. Does passage of time, like in this instance, put perspective on ordinary or the extraordinary of life?

Home Depot called me (June 21), the beginning of Summer’s official start to tell me my project was on back order. It wouldn’t be in until after July 8. I agreed to the wait, and still would have under seven weeks to complete the project.

Meantime, Sally and I agreed to paint the three bedrooms in our home. Two boys shared one, Sally and myself the Master, and our daughter had her own, a bit smaller than the one occupied by our two sons. We did this the week prior to our vacation up North. The Little League baseball team had yet to win one game. The team did pull together and scored a win the last Tuesday in June. Little League had a two-month season, mid-May through mid-July. I of course, would be absent the last part of the season, but had capable assistants. They were members of the high school baseball team.

I went back to Home Depot prior to leaving for our vacation. This was to check on my project order, and to schedule rental of a house power washer. My portable drink cooler project had been delayed now since June 15; enjoying drinks while viewing crickets or the occasional grass-hopper was yet to occur from the patio. I could surely assemble my project in a month’s time if this dragged on into August. Dedication would be required. This trait is easier carried out in the professional setting than under personal choice.

We would power-wash the house on our return from vacation. The unit would be rented to us for the first Monday through Friday that we would be back in town.

The evening before we left, the National Weather Service issued a tornado watch for our county mid afternoon. By 8:00 that evening, the watch became a high wind warning with storm including hail. Some tall trees met their end on our block, and a maple of about forty years tilted with two branches lying across our roof line. This meant scheduling a tree service to remedy the situation. Fortunately, tree removal occurred while gone, and the house power-wash project went on as scheduled once we returned home.

The summer days went by per natural course: sixty minutes every hour, 14,400 minutes daily. On July 31 the call came from Home Depot. “Your patio cooler project is here. Do you wish to pick up or home delivery?” asked the phone clerk.

Within three hours, Sally and I had the box containing the cooler home, occupying a corner of the patio, toolbox nearby for assembly. My seventy-six day time was now reduced to around thirty-two days. If you have made things from a box, a kit, a prescribed plan, you know the unwritten questions that arise that also contain unwritten answers. I was thankful, many things considered,, we had postponed the shed remodel and reorganization for another summer.

“Let’s get the pieces in order of what’s next before doing anymore,” my 12-year-old son suggested.

“Good idea, son. What will be our reward?”

“How about we bike to the DairySpot for a couple cones,” he volunteered.

Within a couple hours, we had the order of things in place and even dreamed of realizing a portable patio cooler. It would be complete with bottle opener, one-half inch thick pads for bottle placement, a bright-colored exterior made of acacia wood that was smooth to the touch. Our spin, a door handle from a previous refrigerator saved for this occasion.

The five of us each had a part in the construction of our family patio portable cooler.

Our children posted notices on our neighbor’s front door inviting them to a hotdog/burger roast to be at our home Labor Day, Monday afternoon. This would be just seventeen hours before the bell rang issuing in the new school year.

End