Have you heard the song Them Bones by Alice In Chains?
I just watched the music video. Dark stuff. I’d watch MTV before middle school. This was the 90’s and music videos were dark. That stuff will mess you up.
My son Solomon is in 6th grade. He watches episodes of Bluey with my wife Katie before middle school. That stuff will mess you up too, just in different ways.
All of us get messed up in different ways, and that is okay. Mr. Rodgers probably said something like that.
***
I thought of the song Them Bones because I entitled this blog Them Leaves. I entitled this blog Them Leaves because I’m trying to convince myself to go out and take care of the leaves in my yard. Them leaves are daunting.
It is unseasonably warm, so the leaves began to change colors late this fall. It’s the middle of November, and the leaves are finally falling from the trees. I’m not much with a rake. I prefer my trusty lawn mower. Grind ’em up and spit ’em out. Get rid of them leaves.
I suppose I’m fortunate to be living in Iowa City. Our house in Pennsylvania was surrounded by trees. A forest rained labor into my life each fall. I was a younger man then, and I’d undertake the Herculean task of transporting those leaves from the backyard into the front yard. A wall of leaves awaited the Ferguson Township leaf-sucking truck. Are those things called leaf-sucking truck? There’s no way to know. I’m certainly not going to Google it. I don’t trust AI and neither should you. Go watch the movie Terminator and tell me you trust ChatGPT. A cautionary tale, if I’ve ever seen one.
Them leaves await me, friend. I’m throwing words at this page to stall.
***
Oh, to be 45 forever. Being 45 is different than being 33 forever or being 17 forever. This morning, being 45 is writing blogs about Them Bones and doing yard work.
I’m listening to the record player my family bought me last Christmas. Ease Down the Road by Bonnie “Prince” Billy. You can’t find the album on Spotify, so I like owning the record. It skips and scratches, but it fills the basement with magic. So does the Sandalwood incense I’m burning. It’s a lazy Saturday morning, and I’m doing my best to avoid them leaves.
Excuse me, it is time to flip the record. Oh, to be 45 forever.
Samuel Jaye Tanner 