As I look at the situation we are in, in this country, and read some of the content on politics and religion on the forum, I feel I am in the wrong place, that I should not be here. I will miss many of you but I feel more and more I am out of place here. My presence here will not matter but acting on how I feel will. I hope you al stay well.
I hope you will reconsider, Bill. Just as in life, the posters here don't always agree with each other but it's a nice place to exchange a few stories. Take a break till the political stuff dies down then c'mon back.
As I age I think of this old couple more often. They Don't Live Here No More Once upon a time two old people lived in an old house on a street of many old houses. The old house was not a fine house or even a good house, it was just a house with some cracks in the ceiling, with windows that had stood too many tests of time against driving rains and high winds and dust storms and now suffered warped panes and rain rot and looked out upon the world in a state of dilapidation. The once stately doors crinkled and squeaked and one had the impression they could hardly stand upright. The roof's shingles curled at the edges and some were missing and the outside paint resembled not paint at all but thousands of tiny brown leaves stuck on its walls to hide its embarrassment. Inside the old couple greatly resembled the house where they had lived so long. They both used canes which they used to tap their way around the house, arising early they tapped their way to the kitchen, there to make the morning coffee and a solitary piece of toast for each. For many years they had eaten oatmeal with their toast and in the years of plenty they often had a strip or two of bacon to supplement their breakfast but that was long ago for the years of plenty never came around anymore. Now they were simply old grand-parents. But it was a day of joy for word had come to them that their son and daughter-in-law and two grand children were coming for a visit. It had been a whole year. My, how the grand children must have grown, they said to each other in their excitement and anticipation. They changed the linen on the guest room bed and tided up the bathroom and placed a glass and bottled water on the vanity for convenience and a vase of flowers from their garden on the dresser and dusted and cleaned, their canes tapping happily all bout the house as preparations were made for the coming guests. Grandmother, after shopping for the anticipated visit, prepared an evening meal of fried chicken, green beans, scalloped potatoes, yeast rolls and iced tea. And in the oven, two homemade chocolate pies. Grandfather thought this a scrumptious meal and wished guests would come around more often so grandmother would have cause to prepare such a meal. At last the appointed time arrived. Their children and grand children pulled up in their driveway. They tapped their way out onto the porch to greet the new arrivals. It was indeed a happy reunion. That evening they all sat around the dinner table in their pleasant faces and with their gentle voices and talked of meals past and recalled memories of growing up in this place. Now these times have become memories. The old house is silent. The grandparents don’t live here anymore. They have moved off life’s stage, first one, then the other, ancestors now, on their long, silent march into history.
@Bill Boggs , bravo! I expect that old house could tell many tales if it could talk. Some painful, some funny, some heartwarming.
Today's Quote: A reviewer who expresses rage and loathing for a novel is preposterous. He or she is like a person who has put on full armor and attacked a hot fudge sundae. Kurt Vonnegut
I slept uncomfortable most of the night. Was cool almost cold. We have a comfortor we have not yet put on the bed and may not. Wife thinks is too heavy with it's cover on. So dguess I'll turn the night time heat up a notch or sleep in something warmer.
My grandson called this morning. He was driving from Georgetown to Austin, he said, to perform a wedding. I asked, when were you ordaained. He said this spring.
I've got one tree in my back yard. I think it is a spruce. It is as high or slightly higher that the utility pole which appears to be a forty footer but wouldn't surprise me if some one with the electric company told me it was a forty-five foot pole. It is beginning to crowd my service line comming off the pole just a little bit. It will need to be trimmed out before too long.
I don't know why I feel so alone at this time. I might as well live out in the country somewhere surrounded by wilderness. I's not the case, but the way I feel. Maybe it is th time of year. Had biscuits and gravy and some fried bacon for lunch. I like best the hard, brown bottoms on those biscuits best, covered with creme gravy, and peppered down real well with fresh ground pepper corn. I had two biscuits split open, covered with gravy and chased down with hot, black coffee. It was some of that good.
It is time for my nap if I'm going to take one. My eyes are getting heavy. Maybe I'll have a good dream. Later.