Friday, January 31, 2014

pecan lane style

There is rarely any traffic on my lane because it's just me and them, the mentally disabled bunch at the dead end where my baby brother once, no...twice lived. The slough curls around a mountain of trees, river hills above the Forked Deer reaching up to the sun and creating an entire ecosystem of sorts right here in front of my very eyes...and for most of my life! When I was ten years younger I explored every nook and cranny of it by foot or by Camry and didn't always get out of the muddy spots. Just ask Hoss! He's a dung beetle so you might not recognize him. During our one brief visit I got stuck in the mud with a Jack bottle between us and hiked all the way home. When I turned into the lane today I noticed three cop cars pulling out as I moved over and watched. The last one is married to a gal who works with me and told me it was the usual with you know who down there. Grace of god kids...grace of god.

When I was growing up the John Hughen family lived there and they had a daughter named Susan who is coincidentally ( I love it when this happens) a med tech in East Tennessee. After that came Robert Miller the rugged coyote hunter followed by Tiko and Shirley and on and on and on. Cousin Debbie and her family moved there for awhile when the boys were little. They learned to hunt here and grew up in a male sort of paradise. Over the years old timers who grew up out here during the forties and fifties would come drive around looking for their old home place or school yard. Mrs. Willa and Catherine C ran over one of my puppies as we hiked up the hill in my walking for exercise days. Pepper just rolled with it and jumped up to be his precious self again. Dusty the pharmacist brought some racoons out here one time and left them because they were crawling out of that gully behind College hill. My ferocious dog fought them to the death and then died himself from the wounds of battle. As I type, my grave wolfpack of four sit at attention in the front just daring hatchet man to attack. It's Friday and I'm tired. Any questions?

I've been told that I internalize things to a fault and that's really not true when it comes to what's important. I learned 30 years ago that issues not discussed turn into big problems down the road. For someone to call me out in love is an admirable thing because I've had it both ways. I've been told that I'm too nice, too fat, too thin (youlooksick) try too hard, make mistakes...and think too much. Obedience has never been a strong character trait post therapy. It's been suggested on more than one occasion that I need church in my life and I agree. The definition of church is a whole 'nother matter. I tend to take the Wesleyan view that whenever two or more are gathered in his name it's a spiritual matter. Most of my spiritual moments happened outside the building, proper. Like at work or something.

Now that I have the TV in my room it's a real treat picking out what to watch each day. Boogs and fam are in and we're doing the tribal thing with sheets over the doorless openings and towels stuffed under the outside ones to keep heat in. I swear I feel like Mary freaking Ingalls! Since it's Friday and I'm off a couple of days I feel some serious hibernation going on. Tapping on the keyboard and listening to a baby learn to communicate with his sister is not such a bad way to spend date night.

Hey big man....lemme' hold a dollar!

No comments:

Post a Comment