We almost had venison for Christmas dinner.  A doe but a very large doe.  The one that slammed into my car just after sunset Sunday afternoon on State Route 54 north of Hammondsport, New York.  Route 54 was named one of America’s 10 most scenic drives by some publication just a few years ago.  It’s a designation I won’t dispute and over the last 20 years I’ve probably logged more miles on it than any other route save for the ones I drove on back and forth to work.  So I know it well and when this doe came charging from my left I braked and then all I could see was the animal’s head coming to rest on my hood.  Then it spun and raced off across the road and into the forest.  And I’d never even reached a full stop. 

My daughter asked if it was dead.  No it wasn’t.  I pulled the car off the road and couldn’t even find a scratch.  This was like a metaphor for my time away.  Some close calls but for the most part a good week.  My daughter has been in that car or another car I owned for trips to New Hampshire, the Adirondack Forest, Quebec and many trips to Ontario.  We’ve seen moose and black bears and all sorts of deer but never had a collision and I always worried about her and about her reaction if something like a collision would occur.  On Sunday she just shrugged her shoulders. 

 Her odometer reached 14 years Thursday and she’s seen a great deal for a young woman.  Some early family strife and many, many, maybe too many broadcasting moves by her dad.  Now she displays a calm I believe will serve her well in life.  Two years from the day I write this she can begin driving, with supervision, in New York State.  I still need to research the laws here.  If she stays there she’ll drive in some nasty conditions.  It rained steadily and all day Sunday and there was flooding because the December snow totals are nearly 3 times average.  On Christmas day there was an ice storm and when I left for Delaware a light rain became a heavy rain and then big snow flakes that slapped the windshield with a “plop”.  The big difference between here and there is that there all the cars and trucks are covered with the grime of winter.  

 The grime wasn’t a problem before I stopped for lunch today.  At a steakhouse in Springfield, Pennsylvania and I ate and I talked until it was almost 5:00 P.M.  The Pennsylvania Turnpike and I-95 were suddenly crowded and switching lanes was made more difficult by the film on my windows.  When I finally was near home I bought gas for 2 dollars and 80 cents a gallon.  A good 45 cents less than I had paid starting the return trip.  A man on the radio in Philadelphia talked about potential fuel alternatives and as I snaked through the earlier traffic I wondered what was holding up the promises.  The future can seem so bleak when you fill the tank and listen to the stories about the housing market and the potential for a catastrophe in Pakistan, however.  Christmas was pleasant.  There was family and friends and the men gathered in the den to talk about the merits of Presidential candidates and reached no consensus. 

When I was waiting for my date in Philadelphia two thoughts converged.  My cousin, Mike Gordon, dropped me a line earlier this week.  His folks still live in the hamlet of Black Creek, New York.  People there have weathered depression and war and all sorts of fads and life goes on almost unchanged.  I was thinking about it when my cell phone jingled and it was Mary telling me she was on her way.  A cell phone.  Cable TV.  Computers and the internet.  Can you take a moment and total all those monthly costs?  

 I doubt Uncle Paul and Aunt Laura are wrapped up with these things back in Black Creek.  He still rings the bell at church, a real bell, on Sundays.  She still bakes for Christmas.  The house is warm. 

It’s good to be back in my warm house on the road near Millsboro.  And looking forward to a new year filled with family, high hopes and some common sense about where we’re going. 

 

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