When I sat down on my back deck, I looked at this little tableau and decided to tell you about it.
In the background, you can see my shed.
What you can’t see is the radio inside, playing a preseason football game.
You also can’t hear the thrumming cicadas, droning their love song to an aging summer.
You can see the cold bottle of Miller High Life.
I just pulled it out of my Coca-Cola slide cooler. That cooler stocks a few different brands of beer, and one of them is Miller High Life because of my father-in-law, Rod.
And because of the TV commercials I remember from when I was a kid.
Those commercials showed hard-working men at the end of a long day. As the sun went down, they’d look at each other and the announcer would say:
“Now comes Miller time.”
Rod was a farmer, and he must have liked those commercials, too.
Whenever we were at a restaurant, he’d ask the waitress for a “Miller High Life”—pronouncing every word and licking his lips just a little in anticipation.
I can still see him doing it.
Anyway, before I get back to work, I thought I’d sit here for a few minutes and enjoy this late-summer day while it’s still here.
The cicadas are singing.
Football is back on the radio.
There’s a cold Miller High Life sitting beside me.
And summer, though aging, isn’t quite finished yet.
Or, as the announcer used to say:
“Now comes Miller time.”
Sound familiar?
