Weeknotes: March 17–21, 2025

Monday March 17

It's Islay's 11th birthday, today. My dog and both my parents are now firmly in their senior years. Mom calls to tell me they've hired some arborists to fell a few trees in their wooded backyard. Slated for execution is Dr. Pepper, the massive white pine that grew directly outside my boyhood window. I don't remember why I named it Dr. Pepper — I was only four when we moved there — but it's become a beloved landmark and feels like an extension of the house.

When my parents started building in 1981 they spared this tree and cut a hole in the deck around it. As its circumference grew, my dad enlarged the opening until it reached a crossbeam, then he found a way around that problem too. It has been our primary shade tree and its evergreen needles have danced outside my old bedroom window for as long as I can remember. It became a popular destination for flying squirrels. 

We all love Dr. Pepper, but he too is now a senior who stands perilously close to the house. My dad is afraid it will fall on the roof, an emergency that would be tough to handle. I understand it's time to say goodbye. My mom's voice caught when she told me the news. The house will look significantly altered next time I visit, but I'm grateful for the warning; I'd hate to be caught off guard. 

At the brewpub a folk band is doing their best with some Irish tunes. I'm at the far end of the bar drinking an obligatory St. Patrick's Day beer. To my right is the kitchen service window where a hand periodically delivers plates of fried food onto the stainless steel shelf and rings a bell. My parents text my brother and I photos of Dr. Pepper's dismantling which are a little heartbreaking. They've found an old photo of my dad just after they bought the lot, standing next to the tree with only the foundation of our house behind him. The next image is of him today standing on the deck next to its broad stump. Everything changes. So long, Dr. Pepper. 

Tuesday March 18

I hit the ground running; no time to pause. I listen to David Lange's Return of the Comet while I work. I bought it at Hanson Records in Oberlin where my friend Aaron described it to me as sounding like the rainbow escalator at the Michigan Science Center. I instantly knew what he meant. Tranquil '80s new age, the kind we might have heard soundtracking a grade school filmstrip. As kids of suburbia, the Science Center in Detroit was a popular field trip destination. The rainbow escalator, where gravity seemed an illusion, was always the best part.

It's 3:30 and I've just left class. I'm in my car waiting at a traffic light just outside campus. Without warning my back window implodes. Not just a spiderweb of cracks, but completely shattered with chunks of glass cascading into the hatchback. It's a windless, sunny afternoon on a wide open road. Not a dangerous part of town, but my knee-jerk reaction is that my window has been shot out. I recover from my shock and pull into a nearby parking lot. The driver who was behind me follows me in to say tell me he didn't see anything except the sudden explosion of my window. 

At home, I hastily duct tape a piece of cardboard over its jagged edges, throw my gear in the car, and race to Saline to borrow K's truck for my gig in Detroit. I have no idea what happened and no time to deal with it.

Wednesday March 19

I'm back at A2 Auto Glass. I was here a little less than a year ago getting my front windshield replaced after mismanaging a 2x4 on my way home from Lowe's. Now they're doing the back window, quick and efficient. Across the street is the megachurch which I will always associate with drive-through COVID testing. I spit into a lot of small vials in that parking lot. Behind it is the trailhead for Saginaw Forest where I hiked just last weekend.

I work off their wifi and eat a PBJ sandwich I brought from home. On the table next to me is a stack of company calendars with a crisp alpine photo on the cover. On the television Drew Barrymore talks to a panel of guests about innocuous feel-good stories. Across the room the secretary occasionally breaks into song, singing snatches of "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." 

They install my new window faster than expected and after settling up, I sit back down to finish the assignment I’ve been working on so I don't have to do it at home. No foreign objects or bullet holes were found in my car. The broken window is a mystery.

Thursday March 20

It's the Vernal Equinox, which of course means a midday snow squall. When I go out I wear my fingerless gloves which make me feel like a Dickensian street urchin. I get through the first ten minutes of Amy Poehler's new podcast which so far is just five funny people laughing together. After class I finish the episode which ends up being an interview with Tina Fey. It's a funny and candid conversation between best friends and I wish I had 40 more hours of it to listen to. Parks & Rec and 30 Rock are my two comfort shows. I've watched both series so many times, I can put on any episode and feel my equilibrium restored. 

At night I meet up at a local pizza joint for trivia night. Last time our group went, we cleaned up and won three gift cards. Mary kept them, so I guess she's our treasurer. Tonight we compete as the Department of Education. Even as our government declines into authoritarianism, we have to keep our spirit or else we'll lose our souls. Our main competition is House of the Rising Pun, a large team of regulars who are the big dogs around here. The host is my old bandmate, Kit. We're tied with Rising Pun for first place after the first game, but lose our shirts in the bonus round.

Friday March 21

I switch on my rear wiper which disappears from view and clacks against the back of the car. They've reinstalled it upside down. I drive back to the auto glass shop who are quick to repair it (★★★★). During the ten minutes I'm back in their waiting room I notice a new pile of swag has appeared. It's a stack of miniature 4” branded kleenex boxes. On the drive home I'm behind a minivan with a bunch of punny maritime-related stickers: Whoopersnappers US 13212, Pier Pressure US 1391, Aloha Clam US 14433. What do they stand for?

My brother and I meet up with some co-workers for a happy hour event at a local beer garden. Later, I watch the Severance Season 2 finale which early on threatens to jump the shark, but rights itself for a satisfying Graduate-inspired ending.