Rain, Rain, Go Away; The Brooklyn Dodgers Want To Play

It's been raining here since last night. I love it. Rainy days remind me of hanging out on my grandmother's front porch, close to the elements but protected from them. We had a close-up view of all this water pouring down from the sky, but seldom felt a drop on ourselves.

Maybe that's why I prefer to hang out on the protected decks during my yearly cruise when the weather is picking up. Why be warm and comfortable inside when I can feel a bit of the spray and the rain just as I did back home?

The Creator of all (us, our planet, its weather) put it together and we should experience it when feasible. A good, pouring rain from the safety of an open porch, or the safety of a full raincoat and hat. No, you won't catch your death of a cold; you get that sort of thing from exposure to someone else's germs, or bacteria or cooties, whatever.

And a really good downpour -- I mean, a firehose from the heavens -- just can't be beat. When we'd have one, the manhole cover in front of the house would bubble up. There was a creek that went from our side of the road, a few houses up, underneath and came out the other side. I don't know where it eventually led to, but I do know that the dip underneath the railroad bridge would pond up very quickly. I never did see what happened behind our neighbors' houses, but I would imagine the creek covered most of their backyards during a high-water storm like that.


Everybody has a story:

Local fellow's obituary mentioned that he loved playing the horses at the local track, gambling, going to the Atlantic City casinos and had an eye for the ladies. Further on, it noted he was survived by his ex-wife. Anybody surprised?