Thirty-two degrees is cold for Savannah -- and this morning -- yesterday's rain turned to a slick skin of ice that covered my truck. When it was time to climb behind the wheel and head back home, my doors were frozen shut! Shortly after I hit the road my son Justin called, he was on his way back to Massachusetts from a camping trip in Canaan, Maine. No tent, no cabin, and no shelter -- just them against the elements! "Dad, we loved it; the temperatures were in the single digits!"
Both of our sons are lean and mostly gristle. Since they were 12 and 13 years old they have been wedded to the outdoors. I have always loved that about my sons, and have never let reasonable risk or danger manipulate me to deprive them of those kinds of experiences. Neither of them ever took up hunting, but that is about the only passion for places with no walls or ceilings we do not share. Josh just called, late yesterday afternoon he stopped on the edge of the Mojave desert, climbed a mountain, and watched the sun set over Lake Tunedae.
At the moment Sandy and I are watching the AFC championship between the Patriots and Chargers. The good guys, New England, are up seven to six. Winner goes to the Superbowl! What's this? Asante Samuel just intercepted Rivers -- Brady gets the ball back. Two plays and the Gaffney is in the end zone -- 14 to 6!
On the long drive back from Savannah I remembered I forgot to make a friendly wager with my good friend Richard I. -- steak is always good barter. Man, did I see him coming when the Sox were in the World Series. The poor guy believed that Colorado would win. I told him they would not win a game, and put my steak where my mouth is! Great pride and joy filled my soul when the boys from Beantown put the smackdown on the Rookies from the Rockies!