Patsy and I had not seen Connie Rossignol in seven years. Connie and Suzanne (who doesn’t have a last name but is a member of the Mammoth list) trailered up from New Mexico to purchase two Mammoth jennets from Tanya and Jon Tourjee. We jumped in the pickup and made the three-hour drive to Penrose, Colorado, for a visit with Tanya, Jon and to meet Suzanne and Connie.

I am a very shy and unassuming person. You can imagine how I felt when I was introduced to Suzanne. She looked at me and said, “Nature sure played a dirty trick on you.”

Connie laughed and said, “He looks better in the dark.”

We adjourned to the corral to look at the Mammoths. Connie and Suzanne had purchased two Mammoth jennets from Jon and Tanya. I felt kinda out of place, you know, like odd-man out. I was left out of the conversation. Jon looked at his Rolex and said, “Tanya should have dinner on the table by now.” So off to the house we went. I was relegated to the counter in the kitchen. They didn’t want me eating at the dining room table with them. As usual, Tanya had out-done herself in preparing a meal. A sumptuous brisket sat in the middle of a decorated table. As I sat alone  in the kitchen, I could hear them talking and enjoying one anther’s company. I ate a hot dog. I struck up a conversation with a not so very sociable dog. Mr. Dog looked at me and said, “Dummy, the reason those folks don’t want you to eat at the same table is because your Robert Redford looks and your Clark Gable smile make them feel inferior.” I really felt like the odd-man-out when Tanya waltzed into the kitchen and took from the cupboard a delicious-looking chocolate cake. She looked at me, sneered and snapped, “Down boy”. I was feeling pretty darn low and useless, and very much unappreciated. Connie came into the kitchen with the empty cake plate on which a few crumbs were scattered about.  She said, “Here. This is for you.”  I felt much better.

I’ve finished my book, Along the Back Roads of Yesterday. It will be in the hands of the printer by week’s end. Now that it has been put to bed, I am starting another one. This morning I’ve been sitting in front of this monitor listing notes for the new book. I’ve been remembering. Nostalgia has awakened within me. Creaky front proch swings. Aunt Ivia’s apron strings, grandmother’s mantle clock ticking on the top of her piano, the ice box with its “drip, drip, drip”, the big red barn, robin’s nests, chasing shadows, a sleek blue roan donkey, big black mules, raisin-filled cookies as big as a blue willow plate, fresh buttered bread, fluffy buttermilk biscuits, birds, butterflies and bees, summer showers, freckled-faced summers, the smell of rain drops on a dusty road, the dipper and the water bucket, old Ring, my dog, my two little brothers, my childhood friends and the adventures we shared with donkeys, dogs, mules, storms, the pleasure of hard work, neighbors, dreams, disappointments, memories, the joys and heartaches of growing up in the 1940′s and early 1950′s, etc.

Nostalgia – - – can we go back again? I think so. I’[ll write about them.

“Me too,” I said. “We gotta think of sumthin to do. We could pick up cigarette butts along the road and roll a smoke.”

Henry said, “Nope. We already tried that yesterday and all it did was make hot smoke and flames that shot down our throats.”

“This is one of those boring days,” I said.

“Not life, but a good life, is to be chiefly valued.”  Socrates

I work at home. It’s a good thing, I can’t work anywhere’s else.

I have a good family life. My family tree is growing at both ends, like ancestry.

If you want to get published, write a book.

Those are bits of advise from the admin of this site. Read ‘em and get busy writin’!