The change of seasons brings unsettled conditions both inside and out. As such, we touch this week on various zephyrs blowing through the empty corners of your correspondent’s mind.
It truly seems like it’s us versus the corporations when it comes to data regarding identity. Why is it so tough to opt out of having information shared? My credit card and insurance companies claim they value my privacy, but they certainly make it difficult to reduce what they share with their affiliates and other financial companies.
The change of seasons brings unsettled conditions both inside and out. As such, we touch this week on various zephyrs blowing through the empty corners of your correspondent’s mind.
It truly seems like it’s us versus the corporations when it comes to data regarding identity. Why is it so tough to opt out of having information shared? My credit card and insurance companies claim they value my privacy, but they certainly make it difficult to reduce what they share with their affiliates and other financial companies.
The latest note from the Auto Club does not even give me the option of expressing my privacy preferences on their baffling website. No, I must mail a form which must be filled out with my membership and policy numbers. I suppose they think if they make it hard enough, maybe I’ll forgo trying to limit what they share so profitably.
We are thankfully coming to the end of zucchini season. Fortunately, a raft of these summer squash stepchildren was not deposited on my porch under cover of darkness; this year I was gifted only one.
Unfortunately, I’ll not be making zucchini bread, vegetable medley, or meatloaf with grated zucchini concealed inside. Thus, as my family's ancient trope of “waste no food” rings in my head, 12 guilty ounces of the darn thing perch accusingly on the kitchen counter. Together, we wait for decomposition. It is a grim vigil.
Just finished a week of boarding a dog for out of town friends. I dearly love doggies, but have come to the conclusion that someone else's dog is somewhat like a rental car. It's nice and all, but it’s not as nice as yours and you just want to return it without damage.
It has been lovely to have a full-time canine in the house, but the presence of my friend’s animal precluded the usual two nights of sleepovers with my own dog. Charlie, you see, is too much of an insecure cur to share. When I introduced my friend’s pooch, little Charlie acted as if he wanted nothing more than to tear out the throat of his new, larger acquaintance.
The calendar now officially marks the passing of summer, the season supreme. As if to offer a parting gift, her last day presented summerlike conditions in sharp contrast from the recently endured ten days of decidedly autumnal weather.
I donned short pants and played shirtless in the backyard with my friend’s dog. Hopefully, my neighbors across the back fence are nearsighted or did not glance out the window to witness the un-toned, farmer-tanned spectacle. But, oh, how I will miss the feeling of sun and wind on my bare skin.
And so we fall into fall. I pray for a mild temperatures and the strength to steer clear of the second pieces of pie sure to tempt me over the next few months. There’s already plenty of skin available for the sun and wind to caress.
Pat Grimes, a former South Bay resident, writes from Ypsilanti, Mich. He can be reached at pgwriter@inbox.com
