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Morning Sun
  • Gary Brown: Can’t live without rain — or with it

  • As I recall, I’ve been saying, “We need more rain,” “We need rain badly,” “We REALLY need rain,” and “It better rain soon” all summer. Then it rained. But, it was on my golf day. So I whined about it.

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  • As I recall, I’ve been saying, “We need more rain,” “We need rain badly,” “We REALLY need rain,” and “It better rain soon” all summer. Then it rained. But, it was on my golf day. So I whined about it.
    As a species, humans are tough to please.
    We’re not like dogs. You can make a dog stay still by shouting “no,” or “stay,” or “sit” — with a lot of exclamation points — or even give the lengthy “don’t you even think about it” command. And yet later, when it’s time for an owner-sanctioned stroll — even if it’s at some inconvenient moment of sleeping or bone-chewing — the typical previously disconsolate creature still will jump up and wag its tail and cry delightedly at the sound of the word “walk.”
    I believe that cats, animals that sometimes seem dissatisfied with everything, aren’t all that bothered when you shoo them, telling them “I REALLY need you to stay off that table (counter, bed, couch, shelving, windowsill — the list is pretty lengthy).” And then, when you turn your back, and the opportunity arrives for them to jump back up on the table to leave footprints, I think they’re pretty darn pleased with the opportunity.
    HUMANS NEED MORE
    We people aren’t as easy to satisfy.
    Take that rain as an example. It hadn’t rained for what seemed like forever. Grass was dry and brown. Crops were shriveling on the plants. Fire hazard warnings were being issued. Conversations that could have been devoted to the Olympics or the election or the latest episode of some crime scene investigation television drama were being monopolized by comments recalling a record drought that we’d all forgotten in the 1980s.
    Then came a cloudburst and suddenly we weren’t worried so much about diminished crop yields and the dangers of prolonged heat and humidity. We were wondering if picnics would be washed out or if concerts might be canceled or of children’s athletic events could be called off.
    Once it’s raining hard enough to make it tough to say we need rain, all concern for society apparently goes down the storm drain with the runoff.  
    ALL ABOUT ME
    Personally, I was concerned about my golf match. Specifically, I was worried about the fate of a specific shot, my longest and straightest drive of the day, which was sitting, quite unexpectedly, in the middle of the fairway, far closer to the green than I could ever hope to find my ball in the future. The distance, you see, was not due to any demonstrated skill, but rather a result of the dry conditions that hardened the ground and allowed the ball to bounce and scoot along the surface until the ball was stopped, I presume, by a curious squirrel.
    Page 2 of 2 - This sort of thing was not likely to happen to me again now that this stupid rain had, unfortunately, provided life-sustaining liquid for all living things. What a shame.
    “Ya know, if we try to walk lower and only use our graphite-shafted clubs, the lightning might hit them instead of us, and we could keep playing,” I suggested to my playing partner, pointing to the two other golfers in our foursome.
    He looked at me like he thought the rain had softened my brain. That’s just another reason it shouldn’t have rained. I think I made my point.

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