Silence

I’ve not been on WP until this evening.

This has been my day to be silent.

Didn’t care to read about personal agendas in response to the recent Las Vegas tragedy.

Let those affected grieve in their own ways.

Will this country ever be united for the good of all concerned? Instead of making political hay at every opportunity?

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It’s Still Life

Life at its worst
Life at its best
It’s still life
Disasters on
Massive scales
Trappings of
Modern life
Unimportant
Compared to
Saving lives
Life at its worst
Life at its best
It was still life

Along Historic Route 66

Country Classic Cars, popped up from the corn fields near Staunton, Illinois. With an eclectic collection of cars and trucks from yesteryear.  Interstate 55 passed by on one side, and old highway 66 on the back side.

The business is a tangled mess of burned out cars and twisted metal from a massive fire a day ago. Between 150 and 180 collectible vehicles were destroyed–inventory has yet to be completed.

Rubberneckers gawked, myself included, as they passed by on I-55. There was a Desoto sedan just like your Uncle Nick and Aunt Martha’s with tail fins. I perused their website on a regular basis after moving from the area.

Their cars were affordable. Some fancy, most were just regular, common cars like our parents, grandparents drove.  The business owner rented period cars out for movie productions.

Where else could one see such a smattering of automotive history, from the twenties through the eighties?  Hopefully they will stay in business. It’s reported there were a total of 650 vehicles. This will put a dent in the business for some time to come.

 

–http://www.countryclassiccars.com/–

Rain, Rain–Hurricane Go Away

Nothing’s worse than a hurricane evacuation.  The worst traffic tie-ups known to mankind.  People have had their cars run out of gas in gridlock.  It’s a gut-wrenching decision.

Some with expensive whole-house generators and storm shutters, view it as a challenge.  Dueling with Mother Nature–nature always wins in a full-bore onslaught.  It’s a high stakes, crap shoot.  When away, hurricane news coverage reinforces the tension of not knowing whether one’s home survived or not.

I’ve been on both sides of the issue.  Once, because of my own ineptitude, and lack of adequate advance planning.  That was during daylight hours.  Everything seems worse at night–when wind howls, rafters crack and pop under the strain.  If there’s a choice, I don’t intend to ride out another hurricane.

Stop Giving Me Reasons To Complain

There are far worse problems–namely the thousands of homeless Louisiana flood victims.  The South, will, once again, take care of its own.

Memories of hurricanes Ivan, Katrina, and the oil spill are still fresh.

Closer to home–why does WP keep defaulting back to the old editing page?  This has gone on for the last two weeks.

Far be it from me to complain.  I wouldn’t complain–if there weren’t things to complain about!

DEMISE OF THE BECKY LYN

A macabre, blackened skeleton

Emerged, from morning fog

Attached to a tow rope

Masts, rigging–burned to stubs

Blue and white-trimmed hull

Dull, soot-covered and stained

The gleam in her eye, long gone

Left anchored, to burn out at sea

Captain and crew–abandoned ship

Fire gutted her heart and soul

No tears, only memories

This lovely lady, sailed no more