Elderly Folks

I spoke with a wonderful Texas lady the other day who was in an assisted living home (she had some information regarding some business interests). When we finished our business discussion we went into a casual conversation. Though I am no spring chicken she has several years on me. As I get older and older I understand more and more what the great value there is in age and its necessarily associated  wisdom.  So much is lost to home, family and society by, so often, relegating older people to the sidelines.

Back

Got them back. A genius named Susan up in Missouri led me through the dark abyss of computer world blogging..
The only reason a tractor is better than a mule is, you can kick a tractor and it won't kick back.

Busted

Somehow I deleted my published links.  Now I've got to redo them. Hmmmm. It was easier the first time.

Small Towns

I was reading an essay by Bill Kauffman, and though a Yankee, also  an agrarian I interpret, and a defender of localism.
The essay comments on some unnamed big city reporter/anthropological writer who knows the small-town-folk, though only through superficial experience.
A quote from the reporter: "It's easy to spot someone who grew up in a small town and got out: they have a breathless air about them, their expressions somehow startled and dreamy."
A quote from Mr. kauffman: "What the hell does that mean?"
Good for Mr. Kauffman. 

Southern Songs

I was thumbing through an old anthology of Southern Literature: The Literature of the South, 1952, Scott, Foresman and Company. I wasn't sure what, if anything, I was going to read, when I passed into a chapter on old folk songs of the South. Some tunes I never heard so they are merely poetry on the page. However, some I recall from childhood and some re-recorded later. Instead of reading, I recalled in my mind,with wonderful nostalgia: Barbara Allen, Casey Jones (my daddy sang it when we went riding when I was a boy), Kennie Wagner and Old Smoky. You don't have to be a poet or a musician to enjoy all of them.

Early on one frosty morn

"...early on one frosty morn..."
It's getting cold in Dixie. I remember in the "old" days having to scrape the ice off of the car windshields after a cold overnight and a frosty morning. Now two-car garages prevent such efforts; unless you've had a garage sale and don't have one.

Poetry

I received a wonderful gift in the mail today. A book of poetry from Don "Scooter" Purvis et ux Bunny Cobb Purvis. Thoughts and memories in Rhyme, written by "Scooter" himself. Full disclosue: "Scooter" is an old high school coach of mine and Bunny was a classmate. Coach Purvis, who played for the 1958 National Champion L.S.U. Fighting Tigers, had put together a beautiful collection of life's memories of family and friends and time and events--wonderfully done in poetic style.  And they reflect  the most important Southern view in life: God and Family.