You know, it’s funny what we remember from childhood.
Today, I started the day by going for a walk as it snowed. I kept waffling: writing/chores/walk…walk/chores/writing…sleeping in/writing/tax stuff….
Walking won out.
I love “bad” weather, love it when it snows, rains, or it’s windy. Love the good stuff, too, but am just saying, bad weather doesn’t necessarily deter me from doing things. Having to do other things deters me from doing things. What to do first. But, today, the early walk won out, It was cold, blustery, and, as I mentioned—snowing.
In short, it was beautiful out.
And hardly anyone did I pass, given the weather and the early morning hours—it was great. Passed some dog walkers and a Park and Rec guy cleaning graffiti off a sign (I thanked him for that).
But every time I go out on my walk/hikes, I always think back to a guy who took his daily constitutionals past our house when I was a kid, which was a couple miles down from his place—a local restaurant he owned, called The Lodge. His name was Mr. Hohmeyer, and he used to be a U-Boat commander. That’s all I remember of him—besides his daily walks and eating in his restaurant. But what really stuck with me all these years was how he walked every day (at least in my memory of him)—and I believe he had a cane and maybe even sported an “old world” rimmed hat of some kind from time to time (damn, how the memories are beginning to fade…)? In any event, I’d frequently see him briskly (and I do mean briskly) striding down Route 30, cane in hand, head held high, back ramrod straight, always a wave or a “hello” as we hailed each other. He always seemed to be in a good mood, and I think occasionally, would give that cane of his a little extra “panache” as he strode on by.
He was cool to me. Fascinating to watch.
So, every time I go out for my “constitutionals,” especially in inclement weather, I always think of Herr Hohmeyer. I give him honor and a mental nod. I think about his brisk stride, his smiling face, and that cane of his, and I always wave to him in my head.
Bis spater, Herr Hohmeyer!
This was so nice, Frank. What a great memory. 🙂
Thanks, Wendy.
I really like “bad” weather, too. It makes me dream. We don’t have enough of it here in Northern California.
Makes you “dream”? That’s a new one to me….
It does! I am always very thoughtful on rainy or stormy days. I love the sound of rain.
I dunno. Guess I’m weird. 😀
Ah…gotcha. :-] Like riding in a car and succumbing to the hypnotic hum and rhythm of a vehicle in motion and daydreaming or going hypnogogic….
Haha. Yeah, something like that. 🙂
wow Frank – thanks for the remembrance! He actually walked always two and sometimes THREE times per day – 3 miles – same time every day- after lunch, before dinner and after dinner – rain, sleet, snow and freezing temps – until he couldn’t anymore. Sometimes with his dog, his wife and even took my kids in the strollers.
You’re most welcome!
You know…I kinda thought he did walk more than once a day—almost put that in the post—but just wasn’t sure. Glad I got the inclement weather right! :-]]] I don’t remember the strollers…MAYBE the dog…but, then again, I’m not known for my memory! :-] But he did wear a hat sometimes? Use a cane?
Thanks for stopping by! It was great seeing you two a couple years ago—hope to stop by again!
Thank you for remembering my husband after all these years! It made me very happy and sad at the same time.We had a wonderful life in the Adirondacks. My son and his wife now run The Lodge with their kids.So life repeats…thank you…from me and my family
You are most welcome, and It is my humble pleasure, Mrs. Hohmeyer! I’m glad I could bring back some wonderful memories. I’m glad you and Mr. Hohmeyer had a wonderful life, and I’m sure Ernest and Cathy are doing a great job with The Lodge, now. Thank you so much for stopping by—Cathy told me she had read this to you—but, it’s such a terrific surprise and honor to have you comment! You are so kind.
Jim and I remember Mr. Hohmeyer well, and the Mrs., too. We’ve lived on Upper St. Regis Lake for 30 years and watched his German Shepherd puppies grow into dogs as they accompanied them. We always remarked on how well the dogs obeyed. Then, we watched with delight as he strollered his grandbabies up and back Route 30. What a nice read!
Thanks for stopping by, Lynn, and sharing!
Yeah, it really was fun for me to see him…he was “cool” to me (especially since my dad—who was also a submariner—told me he used to be a U-boat commander!). As I write this, the image of one summer day we were selling lemonade or something, down by the road, comes to mind, and I waved and said “hello” to him. He was always so nice and smiley!
There’s a saying (pardon any butchering of it on my part) that a person never really dies until the last memory is lost from the living. I Iike that.