I'm going to do something which I think is perhaps not done enough at least by me...but then again perhaps it doesn't have to be.

First, you have to set a mental image here. Me and a really good friend often are rockin' in our chairs, wrapped in blankeys, all set up in our winter retreats (the air's still good for ya, ya know, no matter if it'll eventually get messed up by the lungs of kings or the lungs of peasants. And the king decried, "And word should go out among.....[oops, oops! Wrong story....] So there we ended up, sittin' on a porch....y'know....a porch....one of them new-fangled things they had put on the front of one of 'em buildings we used to call plantations, now we call them family homes that hire undereduated, unendentured, undocumented, illegal slaves....but they don't call them "slave" anymore, so I pass my potically Correctness. so I'm okay. Let me try and say nigga though, and watch how quick everything gathers before dinner.

For those who may be unaware, A "porch: " is like one of 'em big fronts they'd put on buildings, then, every year, they'd mount screens, (which personally I think is a rather personal and privately discrete act) and have lots of little mosquitoes and bug bites to prove my position. And then we'd just sit on the porch. Spittin' occasionally. I was a pipe man myself. He'd get pretty good at hitting any of the kids as they went to school, and then the stupid guys, especially the jocks, didn't know who spit on 'em. It was kinda gettin' back at Junior High Stuff pulled on him. Whatever turns your crank. Seemed to me there'd always be fewer mosquitoes inside the house, than outside. Sittin' on a porch. That's one of the most important things you'll ever teach the young'uns; how to sit on the porch, that and how to carve a whistle out a single piece of willow, and how to fart. A coffee with a "shot of" whateever sitting on the table between us all the time. So, there's a number of impressionable young kids doing that whatever token to the grandparents they do before they could go out with their friends. A few young 'uns are sitting around listening and learning still.

The best thing to grap their attention with was the farting contest.The kids were listening wide-open when papa was telling them about the art of farting too, and getting into contests in stuff. The wife just said "No skid marks".


Have you ever noticed there is frequently only one person that lays back at the end, seldom asks questions or offers answers during class, but hit's you with a whole litany of them at the end of class, or you've taken a group on a photography students and one young student asks the questions that let's you know she's that "undefineably" ahead. She'se got it. It's in their eyes.
She is the one.

Those folks are the ones our education dollar should be spent on most wisely.

Now, let's see for Shane's sake there's a whole list of thought-provokers.
Get 'em off hte reervations, I say. The sooner the better.

And give 'em the vote, too. In Florida, that's two.

More challenges coming up for you, Shane!

One special Wednesday, me and my bunch of cronies were planning to be gathered around the Coleman stove inside the ice-fishing shack, but then we were wondering WTF(?) but then we realized it was holidays and we all dummied up. Now we wondered why we were planning to be gathered around the Coleman and settled in an ice-fishing porch instead of just settled where we intented to, but I tend to go along to get along. (WT)..., instead. Sometimes characters are nothing more that fashion and habit.

We just never did winter ice-fishing again. The locos still do, though (that's what I jut said, isn't it? Sheeessh!!).

So, we're sitting there on our porch rocking chairs, rickitey-snick as they were. Buddy was a spitter. Oh lordy, did he know how to spit. Not that there's too much evidence around town, but it's rumoured he can knock a crawling head lice off someone at 50 feet. .

It was when he tried to teach them how to spit tobaccy, y'see. That's when I stepped in. I stopped him, 'cause I knew I wouldn't be able to pay him back till next week, and he's got a temper, and things would get out of control, especially now that we all's making a big kafuffle over this "every man has a right to Uzi" debate thing that's happening...enough to make a man use the newpaper for birdcage liner and origami models., and all of a sudden it makes sense, the paper's worth a quarter.

So, no let's see. for Shanes sake, there's racism
education
and illegal immigration
and poliical correctness
apparently have a "shot of" in the coffee with kids, it puts them off their moods or something.
Climate change through elimination of mosquitoes
smoking
bullying
spitting as socially acceptable behaviour
pacificism
loan-sharing
multi=partners the mosquites, sorry!)
gun laws
blaming others when you fart in public

ans I'm sure lota, lots, more!

So why do I write this and what do I think is different? Quite simply, besides giving Shane a challenge, that little guy is standing at the back of the room, and I just wanted to let you know. I cannot remember a single occasion throughout my entire life where I conceived of the possibility of their being different kinds of love. The philosophy "It was this way, or it wasn't love was my most sanctified belief."

Sorta like being gay, I suppose.
.
Not to undermine by one iota any of advice and suggestions, prayers and support that you have honoured me with during this past tough time, all of you, this one struck me a little more directly.

But I'm going to single out Mackey for planting a thought at the back of my head that I don't remember all thes 56 years. She said:


I am sorry that you feel such pain for not remembering loving your Dad.
I don't know if you can go back & love or not love someone. But before you decide if you did or didn't love him just remember that love comes in different disguises. There isn't a blueprint for those feelings. You can love many people in many different ways. Maybe you loved your dad in a way you don't recognize.
I say this because I see the love for your Dad in your posts. It may be a different love than what you feel for your Mom,siblings etc. but nonetheless it is still love.
Hope you work through this.
((((more HUGS)))) to you.

PEACE.

Posted by Evydense on Tuesday, November 14, 2006 at 1:07 a.m. | Permalink