I was gone two-weeks over the Holidays. Longer, than intended to be.
My brother-in-law’s memorial service, was dignified and simple. Just a small group of relatives, friends, and acquaintances attended.
Anyone that wished to speak, was welcomed. Mostly, there were quiet conversations scattered about the reception area. Without being morose, that’s the way I’d like to be remembered.
Greeted with warm, moist weather upon my return. That was, after eleven hours of travel in consistent rain and wind.
For myself, I’m wishing for a year without as many extreme emotional ups and downs. Wishing everyone a happy and prosperous New Year!
A garage full
Of things that
Could be important
As far as this blog’s concerned. Things have slowed to a crawl. Saturday night has never been the best statistically.
Remember drive-in theaters? There are still a few left–none around here. Kids in their pajamas, with their parents in case they fell asleep during the double-feature. Some teens attempted sneaking friends in car trunks.
Going to the lobby for tasty snacks–even popcorn. It was a good way to be seen by friends.
Weren’t those prehistoric, cheesy commercials for theatre snacks, in the fifties and sixties great?
“Let’s go down to the lobby. Let’s go down to the lobby. For popcorn, candy, refreshing soft drinks.” …Ju Ju Bees …Mike & Ike…
You all go ahead. I’ll catch up with you later. I’m going to my latest favorite spot for some breakfast.
Nature’s humidity blanket got kicked off sometime last night. Coolest morning temps since last spring.
Max, the Wonder Dog, agreed and went on our long walk this morning. He made up for lost time by refreshing scent markings at every turn. It was nice, not to be drenched in perspiration, for a change.
What do you remember about your first car? Was it a hand-me-down old clunker or beater brought back from the dead? Did you give it a nickname? Perhaps Green Hornet, Silver Streak, Old Blue, or the Batmobile?
Only on television did older brothers hand down their classic muscle cars. Latest rendition on “Bluebloods”–Jamie inherited his late brother’s classic, big-block, Chevelle Super Sport; sacrificed in the name of episodic wretched excess.
My first car was a hulking, full-size Ford, Custom four-door sedan. Nothing sexy or dramatic about it–just good dependable, point A to point B transportation. Wonder of wonders, it had power steering and air conditioning. That was luxurious in those days.
The three-speed stick shift, “three on the tree,” had overdrive to go with it. A single dashboard speaker blasted the latest top 40 hits from the AM radio. Only bonafide car nuts, like myself, will appreciate the irony of Plymouth hubcaps on a Ford.
If the late, great, old-school comedian were still here–he might have this to say.
“No respect…I get no respect. Went to the Kentucky Derby–bet on this horse to win. I shoulda known better. What kind of name is Nyquil for a horse–anyway? It fell asleep at the finish line. …Pa–rump, bump…”