Writing for Sanity's Sake

I remember when the “Doughboy” stood in the center of the “square” out in front of the “Big Friendly” Trion Department Store. I was always in awe of that statue. I remember reading the names on it over and over…some of them familiar names of families who lived in Trion.

The Department store itself was a wonder! There was no other place like it in the world. You could get anything, and I mean anything in that store. I loved going in there as a child. The toy aisle looked like it went on forever! There were Lincoln Logs, Tinkertoys, and Matchbox cars. There were cap pistols, and a rack next to them with a “bluejillion” packs of caps on it. There were porcelain dolls for the little girls. There were bicycles and stuffed animals. I can remember how wonderful this area looked when it was decorated for Christmas. Big, giant, bright Christmas balls. Rows of tinsel. Lots of the big old huge lights that screwed in and out of the sockets.

One of the most vivid memories of Christmas, was when I was four years old and I got the “Hopalong” Cassidy outfit and guns. I don’t think I took that outfit off for a week. I didn’t find out until years later that Dad had put that outfit and those guns on “layaway” almost 6 months before Christmas and had paid a little a week on them until he had them paid for. I don’t know what happened to them. My Mom was NOT a person to let something lay around in the house and take up useful space if it was not being used. I surmise that I probably wore them out using them the first year or so I had them, and they got tossed out in the move we made to Simmons Street. One of those guns go for about 120 dollars now on Ebay.

Mom got me even worse when I went off to college my freshman year. I had MY closet in my room filled with all of the Marvel comics that I had bought over the years. I had the first issues of a lot of them, plus the subsequent early issues. I had my old baseball cards which I had taken good care of, in a couple of shoeboxes. Mantle, Maris, Aaron. They were all there. We were not allowed to come home from school for the first month, if I remember correctly…it was one of the rules. The first time I came back home, I opened my closet and my stuff was gone! I know everybody says it, but in my case it was true….my Mom had thrown my comics and cards out. I cried then…but I cry harder now when I see how much some of those collectibles are worth.

Back to the Big Friendly though, there was a fabric department, a hardware store, a grocery store, a drugstore, a funeral parlor…? Yes, there was…a funeral parlor upstairs in the Big Friendly. The way the store was laid out, you could drive around the back and be at “ground” level. And so…the departed could go in and out the “back door” without creating an issue throughout the rest of the store.

Across the street from the Big Friendly you had the Post Office on the corner. Next to the Post office was the Barber shop.

We had one of the most modern and wonderful places called the “Y” The mill had first built a swimming pool sometime around 1934, and then built the “Y” up around it. It had an inside heated pool, a gym, a pool and ping pong room, a weight room, a theatre on one end, a snack bar….this place was WAY ahead of its time. In 1973, our class of 1968 had our five year reunion there….not long before they tore it down. I loved that place and often wished there had been some way to save it. It would have really been a historical landmark if it could have been saved.

If we wanted to, we were allowed to leave school for lunch back in those days. A lot of us opted to do so…lunchroom food being what it was. A lot of times we went up to a little place over near the mill which served burgers, fries, and dogs. I think Mr. Colbert owned the place. We thought the food was decent, and he also had a jukebox which was somehow filled with the most current songs. That was the first place I ever heard a Beatles song, the Rolling Stones, many of the iconic groups of those days first came to me over the jukebox in that dive.

We had to cross over a little bridge leading out to the burger joint. There was a creek which ran out from under the mill which flowed into the river at that point. It started into the mill as normal colored water…but being as there was a dye house at the mill back then, it would come OUT of the mill almost any color you could imagine. I used to like to guess what color the water was going to be every time I crossed over that bridge. I had no idea the colored “water” going into the river was polluting it.

The river is cleaned up now and it’s one of the cleanest in the State. There are kayakers going up and down it every day, and I believe that there are some great game fish in the river now.

As much as I long for those “bygone” days every now and then, I realize that memories are sometimes much sweeter than the actual living. So, I try to live everyday now hoping to give the people who are around me…especially the little ones, something sweet to remember.

As we baby boomers age and die, we will likely be the last generation of human beings who would/could if we chose, put away our computers, our smart phones, and other advanced technology, and still be able to survive without the use of them.

If I chose to, and many times I wish I would, but if I made a concerted and extraneous effort, I could live the rest of my life without personally using advanced technology. That’s not to rule out the fact that it could still be used on me.

I might move to Alaska, build a cabin, and live out my life as a survivalist. It wouldn’t be pretty, probably not very long, but I could do it.

In the future, as technology and the biology of humanity continue to merge…humans will be so dependent on technology, that we would not be able to function, or simply die without it. Our phones may one day soon be so “smart” that they will be implanted in us, and will interface with us through our nervous and autonomous systems. (They will be a lot smaller, not larger as they are now)

Other aspects of technology will take over, or assist our biological systems, and we will become part human/ part computer. My son points out that we are already “Cyborgs” because machines now do much of our thinking for us.

So, I am glad I have lived in the age in which I have lived. I am happy to have been guided by my own human emotions, which have been in daily interaction with other humans like me. I am glad to be 66 years old, and not 6 or even 16. All of the coming changes, the new paradigm of which I have been speaking for so many years, may be seen as beneficial and needed for our race to survive. The coming super humans may be able to solve problems and differences which now plague us, and they may finally be able to be at peace with each other, and reach out to the mysteries of the Cosmos.

Yet, I’m glad I will have already taken my place in history.

I once climbed all the way to the top of Fort Mountain with my daughter on my back, with her singing “little bunny foo-foo” the entire way up and “bopping me on the head” every time the song called for it. Which is a lot. I made it up that steep and fairly long trail with some breath to spare. I would hate to say how long ago that’s been. Someone would probably have to carry me up now!
It’s a shame how most of us cannot stay at optimum operating conditions for our life span. I blame it on lack of options, and lack of willpower.
When I worked at Rome in the eighties, I had to leave home before there was time to fix a healthy breakfast, so I fell into the habit of eating those HUGE honey buns which Mrs Winners used to fix. I think they weighed 3 pounds and had about 3,000 calories. It was fast food for lunch, and sometimes for dinner. Who had the time to cook?
When Paula and I worked at Crown Crafts together for ten years we never had time to fix breakfast. We had to get to Calhoun by 7 am. So it was biscuits from the burger joint across the street which Mr Chow would conveniently bring over to the plant by the box full everyday like clockwork at 7:30 am. Then it was off to Arbys or some other fast food joint for lunch. Then, whatever we could tiredly scape up for supper for the kids. Our poor kids. Having parents who worked like we did…commuting two hours a day to 9 hour jobs. I feel so sorry for them. Kirsten helped us out a lot when she got older.
And so on it went….through my working career. I lived in Trion all my life practically, but always had to work out of town. I paid heavily for my choices in 1999, and again in 2014. Years of neglect, years of bad choices, years of stress and strain on the body.
I get out now once in a while and walk. I walk with the grandkids, and I do a little metal detecting every now and then for exercise ( believe me, you DON’T find the treasure they tell you you’re going to when you buy the detectors) I was piddling around over where they tore down the old Apartments…digging my umpteenth corroded Lincoln penny and sweating like a pig. I looked up and saw the Mayor and his wife drive by, peering out their window…so now my spider senses are tingling about even getting to do this much longer!
I slung my metal detector over my shoulder and started walking back to the truck. I had a bit of a headache, but back somewhere in the recesses of my brain I could hear a little voice singing: “little bunny foo foo, hopping through the forest, scooping up the field mice, and bopping them on the head”
I think Father time, and NOT the good fairy, has turned me into a GOON!!

You get your computer, your phone, your iPad or your kindle and you “open” it up to Facebook. You see a lot of these words: hate, lie, swindle, crook, kill, murder, hurt, bad, awful, terrible, death, die…..you get the picture…right?
I have used some of those words before. They are words invented by humans to describe emotions or actions of a negative nature. I’m guessing they are used twice as often as words describing things of a positive nature. Really though, I just want to talk about one word.
Love.
What does it mean to you?
I know it means different things to us at different times in our life. There are several different “types” of love so they say.
The kind I’m talking about is the kind of love which brings tears to your eyes by just thinking about it. It’s the kind that you think about when you imagine you are living your last day here on earth. That kind of love.
Regardless of what your beliefs are, or what your religion is, or if you do or don’t have one. At least try for that kind of love. At least think about whether or not you have it, or can get it.
Or…if you don’t have it or don’t want it….please see a psychiatrist quickly.
But seriously, I think of it every day. I think of my family…especially the little ones, and the future this world may hold for them. I want more than anything in the world to be around to protect them, advise them and help them. But, I won’t always be…
So, I figure the best thing I can do for them while I’m here is to love them. To be with them. To pick them up when they fall. To try and teach them respect.
Thank goodness I’ve got my wife to help though! I need it. She knows about the kind of love I’m talking about.
Then, no matter where the final road leads I believe I’ll be able to go down it in peace.

I was reminded by a friend that the summers in the sixties seemed so much better. They were longer, and the pace of life was much more leisurely. I spent those glorious days playing baseball, golf, and guitar. There was time to get a little band together…play some songs.

There were books to be read that I wanted to read, not some boring book assigned for a class. There was iced tea that Momma made to cool us down. There were walks to take, and rides in the cool cars of the “older” guys.

There were trips to the cool solace of Grandma’s house up in the mountains, and the resulting explorations. There was great music, the best ever, to be listened to. There were friendships to be cultivated that would last forever…many who are still surviving today.

But then, there was that inevitable day when down inside you a longing for the fall and the “new year” to start would come creeping into your brain. School was always a love/hate relationship but looking back now through the rearview mirror it wasn’t so bad. No, actually it was more than not bad, it was good. Even with some of the crisis we thought were so earth shattering at the time.

We moved on and became adults, and took on all the responsibilities that go with it. We raised our kids, worked our jobs. We lived our lives.

Things were as they should be. Things are as they are going to be. It’s inevitable. Change is inevitable, sometimes for the better, sometimes not.

Still, it doesn’t hurt to wander back every now and then in our minds to the days when we worried more about what notebook to buy for school than we do about how we’re gonna pay our bills. It’s actually soothing to the soul.

It matters very little in the end what we have done or said while we live. For most of us, we effect only a handful of people with our lifetime actions. It’s the ripple effect that takes place after we are gone which counts. For you see, our pebble is not thrown in the pond of history when we are born, but only when we die.

In the future, nothing is going to be the same. I suppose that’s always been the case, hasn’t it?

Each generation has our own time, we have our own historical setting. We have the “good old days” which have belonged to us and us alone. The unique time which has been given to us, and which passes us by like a combination run of the tortoise and the hare. Slow the days….swiftly the years.

As I was driving to Rome today for a Drs. appointment, I had that feeling you sometimes get when you think you’ve been there before, and done that before. The deja vu affect. I think it’s simply because that particular drive, that particular way to go, is so familiar. I’ve traveled this way hundreds, or perhaps thousands of time. As a child I dreamed that Mom and Dad and I ran off the road in a rainstorm at the big curve right after you go by Hunters furniture. I still remember that dream vividly.

I felt a deep sense of nostalgia driving back today. Could have been because the dermatologist froze a big spot on my forehead and kinda cooled my skull down. Maybe cryogenics is the way to go after death.

All I know is that our HS 50th reunion is this summer, and that friends that I loved and played little league ball with, are passing away or are already gone. I don’t feel old, not really…but I know time is ticking away….slow the days , but swift the years…

“but, I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep…and miles to go before I sleep.”

In this day and age I see, read and hear a lot of things I don’t understand. Back when I was a kid I think I was able to understand things better.

I understood trust better. Many people would give you their word they would do something, and they would. If they didn’t, it would get around that “so and so” don’t keep their promises. If you were in a business of some kind, a couple of cases of that might ruin you. Politicians who were not ethical didn’t get re elected. Relationships were built on trust.

I understood helping one another better. Neighbors would actually really do things for each other. I remember my Daddy mowing our elderly neighbors grass many times. “I already had the mower running” he would say. I remember brown paper bags of fresh garden vegetables being given from one place to another. “We got more Okrie then we can eat and more tomatoes…the neighbors across the street have more corn.” Out and back it went. People got together to help each other can vegetables for winter. A big mess of fish was shared, already cleaned. People…helped..each other. Look around and see if that’s happening now. Maybe sometimes…but most times not. In my neighborhood now I only have one person who has been there over a few months. The rest of the houses are rental houses. I should really take the time to try and get to know them anyway, but I haven’t. My fault there. It’s just a harder thing now for me.

I understood relationships better. There was only three TV channels and I had to go outside and manually turn the antenna to get one of them. Instead of constantly watching TV, we played. Baseball, football, hide and seek, freedom, board games galore, weekly Rook matches and so much more. My cousins were my close friends and playmates, along with our “neighbors on the street”. I could still name all of the ninth street gang if I wanted. There were a bunch of us. When it snowed during the winter, we cut up cardboard boxes and sledded all day. Didn’t even stop to eat lunch. We walked to the golf course with our clubs on our backs. We spent the night with each other. Does this kind of thing still go on? Do I just not see it anymore because I’m a grown up?

I feel like sometimes we have lost touch with each other, and when I say that I mean real physical touch, not just being electronically in contact. Don’t get me wrong. I have enjoyed and bought into a lot of the new age of communication and interrelationships. It was easy to slip into it, and it does have its good points. I think not being face to face with real people, and actually seeing and experiencing their needs and their own personal mannerisms and emotional expressions has robbed us of a certain ability to properly relate with other human beings. We see many people ask for prayer, and they get many likes and comments, but I bet one personal phone call or in person visit would mean more than 100 “likes” I came to a realization just the other day when I was “texting” my son. Texting is handy and necessary in some cases, but dammit there was no reason why I shouldn’t have just called and talked to him right at that moment…so I did.

I just saw statistics that more than 2700 hundred people will die in the State of Georgia over the next year due to the lack of Medicaid coverage because of political differences. That’s more people than the population of my entire town. If a tornado or a flood killed that many people it would be declared a disaster. If that many people died in a terrorist attack, we would go to war. As it stands, in this day and age, it’s just a number. Nobody’s outraged about it…nobody much anyway. Least not nobody who can do anything about it. I just understand it anymore.

Why complain about long grass?

I found myself doing that this past weekend, and I got aggravated with myself.

I find as the years pile up that perspective changes. What people think of me personally means very little. Worldly items pass like windblown leaves in the storm of days. You start to consider your legacy…what will it be? I spend a lot of time with my kids and grandchildren, and I find that I LIKE them more and more. I have always loved them, but having them as friends is now so important.

If I indeed have a legacy it will not be anything I have every written or said, anything I have possessed or will possess, anything which I bequeath, anything concrete thing I have ever created.

It will be the images I leave… in the minds of those I love. It will be a kind word that people who I call my friends might say about me. That is all which will matter.

Not how long the grass grows, it’ll be growing over me someday and it won’t matter to me a bit.

For all those October winds…that blew in the winters for all these years now. For all the Decembers which have crossed my path as quickly as a snow bunny….and for April’s spirited and joyous showers. Even for July’s blistering heat which hasn’t bothered me or made me sad. I am thankful..I am thankful. I have lived them all, and God knows I am thankful…and not yet empty of time’s draw.

I simply find when I look at the calendar.

And subtract the year I was born from…

The year it is now…

It gets…

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