The Fourth of July has passed, but not the sweltering heat that ushers it in each year and lingers on for months to make sure we all know who is boss.
Months from now, unless things are much worse than we've been led to believe, a chill will return to the air and we'll get a taste of what is known in scientific circles as "football weather."
That's a long way off, though, and in the meantime I suggest we all eat a cool slice of watermelon. We did that recently at our house, but not without some summertime drama.
We took the usual steps: laying newspaper across the table outside; fetching the salt shaker and a large kitchen knife; shooing away the flies; pushing back young faces hovering over the large, green melon.
As I drew back the knife, my son-in-law, Dennis, warned me to be careful.
"I broke two kitchen knives slicing an ice cream cake recently," he said ominously.
I reassured him that I had been cutting watermelons ever since I was big enough to snap one off the vine and carry it away when the owner wasn't looking. In all my misspent youth and beyond, I had never lost a finger nor broken a knife.
The kids gathered round, salivating, I pulled back on the knife. Relying on my lifetime of experience, I applied just the right downward force.
The knife broke.
Not the blade, which I could have understood, but the handle. It crumbled into pieces and made the utensil useless.
What were the odds of that happening: the warning, and then the act?
Having been forewarned about broken knives, had I erred in my cutting? Had I been so sure of myself that hubris got the better of me? Had the gods of summer made an example of me just, well, just because summertime livin' isn't always easy?
Or was it plain old, everyday coincidence?
I've never really understood coincidence. It doesn't live by our rules or timetables. Rather, it flouts authority and dismisses any idea of cause and effect.
For example, have you ever bought a car that you rarely see on the road, then taken it out for its first drive and seen others just like it at every turn? Sure you have. Were you simply paying more attention to that model, or was it coincidence?
Here's a recent example. One day I heard the word "extirpate" on the radio, and the very next day I read it in a magazine. Until then, I probably had not come across that word since high school. What were the odds?
Extirpate? It means to destroy or remove completely, to exterminate or abolish. More accurately, it conveys the idea of "pulling up by the roots."
Not quite what I had done to that knife, but on a sticky hot summer day, with the refreshment of cold watermelon delayed, it was the nicest word I could think of.
Reach Glynn Moore at (706) 823-3419
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