The Apple Falls

They say they apple doesn't fall far from the tree. They say that because it's true.

Me Pops would routinely get, I thought, very hung up on time. He would always want the first appointment of the day with his doctor, typically 8 AM, and would be in the waiting room at 7:15. Dad was the prototypical dad: it doesn't hurt at all to get there a bit early. 

I generally felt he thought too much about how much time something would take. Back in the day, he might be sending me on a pickup that was four miles from the old barn and hasten me along with the admonition, "You better go, it's going to take most of the morning." Not really, I would think to myself. It could take maybe as long as 45 minutes if things worked modestly against me, but no big deal.

Yesterday morning I was sending me brother Phil out for two stops, one in Oak Park, one in Ferndale. They are near northern suburbs of Detroit, neighbors, in fact, as they share city limits on one side. At most they're six miles from the Shop. We're looking at no more than a 15 mile round trip. Even factoring in the inevitable down time at both stops it would take Phil an hour or so, tops, outside of a catastastroke, as me Grandpa Joe used to say, to get the job done.

Still, as Phil pottered around the old barn for a few minutes before leaving I found myself thinking, "You oughta get going, boy, it's going to take you most of the day." I didn't say it, but I thought it.

Either way, the apple has fallen.