Not bored...

Finally, in the fifth decade of my life, I am learning to appreciate the month of January. I used to think that the month was worthless, and other than one day at the end of the month when I would get presents each year just for turning a year older, the month could have just as well be stricken from the calendar. Half way through January, 2010, however, I’ve discovered an appreciation for the coldest month.
January still has its issues. Most noticeable is the fact that it has turned my 45-minute commute to the office into a one-hour drive, minimum. Weather drawback #2 would be a cursed wind chill that at times can suck the air right out of you.
Then there is the reality that the excitement of the holidays have passed, coupled with the arrival of the December credit card bill. This can be survived also, but it requires making sure Kathy (a.k.a. Oh-My-God-We-Are-Destitute-Nelly) is sitting down when she opens the MasterCard bill.
Here in 2010, however, I’ve learned to appreciate the post-holiday lull, and now that I’m no longer in the newspaper business, I even get to stay home in the evenings. At the height of the craziness, I would have my choice of 18 basketball games in which a Lincoln County basketball team was participating, as well as an assortment of school board and city council meetings.
Now, however, I only head out in the evenings when it is MY choice, and that is usually only when the temperature is above 20.
The rat race has slowed to a crawl.
Being an active Facebook participant, I am always amused by the number of “I’m bored” posts by young people on my live feed. These posts appear daily, but increase exponentially on, say, the second consecutive snow day off from school. I distinctly remember school snow days from 40 years ago. There was the anticipation of hearing the WCCO announcer giving the list of school closings and the agony of listening through the alphabetical listings before finally hearing the magical words, “Russell, two hours late.” One particular January…I believe it was either 1968 or 1969…this announcement was always followed with “Russell, closed.” That year we might have made it to school three or four days in January, and they sent us home early a couple of THOSE days.
I don’t recall ever, during any of those many snow days, experiencing boredom. I was usually too excited about the prospects for the day to even permit myself to go back to sleep.
There were games to play, puzzles to assemble and usually a round or two of Canasta or Scrabble with Mom. Once the snow and wind subsided, there was a natural amusement park outside our door. There were a host of activities to keep a kid busy, from snow forts to snowmen, but nothing more fun than grabbing a sled and heading across the road from our house to the giant hill in Mr. Hively’s field. Ten minutes of climbing to the top of what seemed like a mountain would be rewarded with the fastest trip you could imagine on a plastic “flying saucer”…even if nine times out of ten you found yourself upside down at the bottom of the hill.
Midday, we would trudge back in and lay our socks and mittens on top of the heater (where these items would acquire a stinky, burnt smell), fill up with a hot meal and then head out for round two in the afternoon, smelling of burnt, slightly wet yarn.
We hardly noticed the cold, and if we were lucky, the red in our cheeks might have faded by the time we crawled into bed, where we would drift off to sleep hoping that WCCO would once again make our school famous the next morning.
Bored? It wasn’t part of the lexicon.
When all those other activities were exhausted, there was always reading. In those days I would read books about Fran Tarkenton or Bart Starr or Harmon Killebrew, but the choices were nearly unlimited, and today the choices are even greater. Kids! Open a freaking book!!!
Today, with the onset of middle age, I’ve realized that I can actually have too much fun lined up, and have had to scale back my magazine subscriptions from an unwieldy seven or eight to a more manageable three. This has freed up some of my precious reading time for catching up on my Stephen King addiction. Mr. King can write books faster than I can consume them. I have probably read around 35 of his novels and collections of short stories, but that still leaves me 10-12 books behind. Last week I was able to start “Wolves of the Calla,” which was written several years ago.
So, this year I am embracing the slower pace that January brings me…a pace that I am hoping lingers well into February.
You youngsters (look at me sounding like an old person), before your next “I’m bored” update, think about making a trip to your local library.
And starting today, I believe I have come up with the perfect daily status update for my Facebook page…
“Not bored.”