Every year during the annual spring cleaning a plan to clean out the attic is always intended but as the time slips away the chore goes undone. This year as I climb those creaky stairs into a hot dark space I attempt to start the process that has been ignored for so many years. There are boxes of Christmas decorations and shoes of a different generation stacked along side a tin box full of yellow worn photographs of family members lost in time. The musty smell of old books, a pile of magazines from years past and six white candles to be used in the event of a blackout are among dozens of items and boxes that that fill this upstairs attic. With each peek inside of a different box I am sent down memory lane and the choice of what stays and goes becomes more difficult. Here’s a life magazine issue of the Moon landing how could I possibly throw that out. Here’s a box of old birthday cards, this is my grandmother’s old china and look here’s the dress my mother wore at her wedding. The reasons I haven’t chose to climb those stairs and all these years is finally clear. This attic isn’t littered with garbage it’s packed full of memories gently faded remnants of family members lives. To clean out the space would be to delete all that has come before me. What should I do? Should I clean out the attic or should I just add to it for those who will be here after me?
Much as happened since my last entry on this blank screen. Another mass shooting has taking place in the greatest nation of all. I stood shocked as I heard about Orlando from the various news outlets early Sunday morning. I was sad, I was angry and I was confused. How could any human being do that to another? How can we purposely and viciously cause harm to others as people of this land of the free, one nation under God? I just don’t understand. Later that day the presidential candidates all made statements and it left my head shaking and for the first time in this election year I wanted to know “Where’s my choice?”
Ever so often I like to take the opportunity to talk about music because music has always been a big part of my life. I first discovered by enthusiasm for music in the mid-70s from groups like Led Zeppelin, Boston, the Steve Miller Band, The Bee Gees and anything else that would make my body move and my mind wander.
On any given Saturday or Sunday you can find me at the local thrift store going through bins of records. Here is where I find things I’ve already collected and maybe a few that I’ve been looking for. On this particular day I find a 45 mini album by Jonah Jones. Jones was a jazz trumpeter who created concise versions of jazz and swing and jazz standards that appealed to a mass audience. Jones died in 2000 at the age of 90.
On the road to our next adventure. Listen as we ramble about cheap beer and reminisce of the 80’s. We’ve come a long way since then.
Oh how I love Bluegrass! Growing up I was influenced by this raw down to earth music genre. I can recall sitting on the back porch as the music flowed through my grandparent’s house from an old table top AM radio. Often my grandmother would be shelling peas or shucking corn as her foot would gently tap on the wood floor to the beat of an old Ralph Stanley song.
You can imagine my excitement when I was able to convince the Peach Mountain Gang to be a guest on My Almost Nightly Podcast. I hope you enjoy tonight’s show.
Tonight I have the privilege of talking with Ruth A. Wilson, Rockdale County Clerk of Superior and State Court. Mrs Wilson is the mother of three adult children, all college graduates. She and her husband William are proud to call Rockdale home. Wilson earned her BA in English at Southern Illinois University and her MBA in Finance at Georgia State University in Atlanta. On the Podcast I ask Mrs. Wilson about her job, the office and her thoughts on the nationwide restroom issue. Thanks for listening.
There’s little to do on a rainy day but sit, listen and peer out the windows. The dark gray clouds that produce the water that runs through the gutters and across the driveways trap us in this warm and dry spot on our couch with nothing more to do than to wait it out. I love summer showers and the distant rumble of thunder it’s soothing and relaxing and takes me back to my childhood.
As an adult the summer showers and periods of heavy rain block an all but productive day. It’s easy to lose sight of what a blessing water from the clouds are because I get caught up as anyone else does in the daily routine of life.
So pitch the umbrella back behind the chair. Don’t be afraid of a little water. Just grin and bare it walk outside and dance in the rain. It’s a great day to be alive!
Growing up I always enjoyed my time with my grandparents. I could count on a bucket of KFC chicken, homemade biscuits and sweet tea for lunch or dinner. There’s no way you would go hungry when you visited Grandnanny’s.
I miss the days when I looked forward to a weekend at my grandparents. The sweet smell of honeysuckle mixed with the fresh fruit and vegetables from the garden. The summer afternoons outside on the porch, the picnics in the backyard with a salty ripen tomato sandwich. It was messy but it was good.
Today as I sit on my daughters couch and hold my grandbaby I wonder if I can ever measure up to the grandparents I loved so much. I nearly tear up each time I look into baby Ethan’s eyes as he smiles at me. What did I ever do to deserve such a precious blessing? I look forward to the days ahead and the fun Ethan and I will have. I know it’s not posable to be perfect but I’m going to do the best I can to be the grandfather Ethan can love, depend on and respect. In addition to that I’ve dug out my grandmothers biscuit recipe and old sweet tea jars. Oh and if you come across any KFC coupons let me know. It can’t hurt.
Tonight’s Podcast is clips of a typical day with my daughter and grandbaby.