A great deal of traffic this week on folks reflecting what the Christmas Season means to them. Heavy emphasis on “memories of past holidays” and how it all seems to stick with them, over the years, and never goes away. This is just that type of story, and at Christmas time in the Heartland.
Here lately I am seeing a solid stream of Oklahoma politicians, political wanna-be’s and other social miscreants making a bee line to Washington to pay homage or tribute to our newly elected President. As my Daddy used to say, “they are not fooling anyone, they are all lining up at the trough.”
Michael Chin is flying home for his 25th high-school reunion, it has been a long time since he left his native land for a new life in the Silicon Valley. He is looking forward to seeing one or two of his old flames, his school buddies, looking forward in anticipation of making new connections.
Last night my sweet Muse came to me in a dream and she said: “It would be great if you were closer to me, I could come over and lay my head on your shoulder and have a good cry … But then again, the smell of Ben Gaye really burns my eyes.”
And now, just now, the local news reports that there will be no revered Dorrito’s Commercials on this years’ Super Bowl. And on top of all that, ragweed and grass pollen has increased dramatically here in the Heart-Land … So most likely … No peace for me either. Feel better? No? Well take two aspirin and call me on Munday. And finally, never, ever, buy a 12 year old a Nikon camera. What was I thinking?
I believe that inherently in all of us, is a embedded DNA code, the God-given right to the pursuit of happiness, and at the same time, there is equally the God-given right to the pursuit of unhappiness. 13th of the month, another week of Mondays. Don’t go riding on that Long Black Train.
Look now for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing … O rest beside the weary toad and hear the angels sing … Old buses always seem to run faster on the way home, and most of the time, the road always seems to stay the same.