The things we learn in a decade

This is my weekly column for the Sunday, June 22, 2008 Hibbing Daily Tribune.

The things we learn in a decade
By Aaron J. Brown

I’m finally starting to pick up on the patterns of nature out where I live. I grew up in the country around the edges of the Mesabi Iron Range, but I was a kid more interested in books than deer or fish. Then I went to college and got a job in the big(ish) city. About three years ago we moved from Hibbing back out to the rural fringe. When you live in a place where the power goes out every time it’s windy, you realize that you’re really a part of a natural rhythm. Robins arrive. Loons nest on the lakeshore. Leaves bud. The smell rolls from the cold, woody scent of February to the stinky musk of April and then the hot, sweet odor of late June. Then, this past weekend, the turtles arrived.

Turtles are everywhere. You don’t see turtles in town, even small towns (especially since five and dime stores stopped selling turtles, and then stopped existing altogether). We’ve got turtles dragging across our country road at all times these days. I thought I was finally settling into my country ways when I decided to greet a turtle in a cartoonish way.

“Hello, Mr. Turtle!” I declared.

The turtle peed all over the driveway and ran, RAN, as fast as a turtle can run away from an idiot who thinks he’s Dr. Doolittle because he finally knows that pine trees aren’t all the same.

“Hey, Mr. Turtle, I mean you no harm.”

Mr. Turtle pees again, and runs faster.

Growing up in rural northern Minnesota, I have always been surrounded by experts. They know the names of the animals, may have even been here when God told the people to name them. They knew when the ice was out early, or late, and when it was safe to put out the lawn chairs. I know a little, but not what they know. But, thankfully, I still have the power to change all this.

Speaking of natural cycles, last weekend brought my high school class reunion. The matters of turtles, foliage and nature’s cycle were not discussed at the reunion, but the fact that we were all part of a pattern of life was on bold display. It’s been 10 years, a decade (to enhance the drama) since we had all marched through the Cherry High School gym/auditorium/tornado shelter to the strains of “Pomp and Circumstance.” On this day, however, we were all just regular people, many of us married and raising kids, worrying about our siding, shingles and our youthful ambitions that, while still possible, have become much less assured than back when we were invincible. There was karaoke, beer, conversation, additional beer, and then someone would ask, “What have you been doing these last 10 years?”

Ten years? That’s serious.

Most people who read this are over 28 and, thus, know that the 10-year reunion is the first stop of many along life’s journey. Some who read this probably know that turtles pee when you try to say hello. But that’s the glory of this time of life. You’re old enough to know that you’re fallible but young enough to learn new things, perhaps even to change course if you want. Perhaps this changes with age or maybe it is and always has been a personal choice. I don’t know. I’m still working on figuring out turtles, because I do know that they show up every June, crossing highways, moving toward something that is very, very important to turtles.