The summer Of Luck

They sat staring at their children through the cracked door reflecting on their lives until this night, contemplating the future and which direction to take. He had been a Lumber Jack and she a Bikini Model. They had met in the Summer of Luck and she fell for him when she first saw him. He strode towards the massive tree among all of the protests and shouts, Husqavarna in hand with a look of determination she had seen on no other man's face. She leaned further out to get a better look at him, then slipped, falling from the branches of the massive tree and into the arms of the Lumber Jack. "You saved me", she said in astonishment. But she had saved him, giving his life a meaning other than satisfying his addiction to cross word puzzles and sudoku. Her heart had been broken so many times it seemed to only be held together by glue. It had been one cause after another, baby Seals, educations funds for the poor, hungry children, all leaving her heart broken and bleeding. In his arms that day, in the Summer of Luck, she felt it beating anew. He smelled clean and she flushed in shame not having bathed in over a week in the protesters perch in the massive tree. She anxiously showed him all of her portfolios, he showed her all of his chainsaws. She asked him to marry her in the pouring rain as he carved their initials into the massive tree under which they had met. "Hell, why not?", he told her. Together they ran away to the South where the sun shined for her bathing suit and he could cut pulp wood. Along the way they found their children, selling lemonade after their parents had abandoned them. They bought their lemonade and took them to the back woods of the south. They had cut most of the pulp wood and the sun had not shined in weeks. They thought that it was a good time to get away, so they got the children out of bed and left for the North Woods to show them their initials in the massive tree in the Summer Of Luck...

Just a little writing excercize.
The appalachianist

Fighting Cows

The first and last time I ever tried a tobacco product, Hawkins Dip, if I remember right, I was walking across a cow pasture with my cousin. I had just put it in my lip as he instructed me when he yelled a bull was coming. I looked over my shoulder and sure enough a bull was in a fast walk straight to us nor more than twenty yards off. The fence was about five yards in front of us, five yards that we covered quickly. I had dip all in my mouth, all over my teeth and after we cleared that fence all over my fingers getting it out. I told him that I wanted no part of that again. He understood.
Seeing this video reminded me of that.


The Appalachianist

Decisions Decisions

Well, Good Morning. It's clear on this mountain, but, I know down in the river valley there will be fog. I just got my morning dose of view point. As so you know, I'm sitting here making up the gumption, while listening to Cracker, to go to town...Town, that urban configuration where people gather for the greater goodness...What ever that is. Opinions vary, but for me it would be a plate of eggs, slice of bacon and the rare weekend cup of coffee. But, then, I'm debating a family reunion today and those have a tendency to be high calorie. Decisions, decisions.

It's been a split weekend for me. Yesterday, Saturday, for you confused folks, I was at Ft. Jackson for a Brigade conference. Two weeks ago it was Greenville NC...Yes, North Carolina...Which is way on the other side of North Carolina from me...About the biggest thing here and there have in common is the Governor...Then of course there was my trip to Kentucky to the littered banks of the Ohio. That was preceded by two Drills in June. It's been a busy summer that ain't over yet, but, I'm not going to lament. Lamenting has been a misdirection of energy to me. Even when I was a little kid. Heck, I sometimes forget that I ever was a little kid. And then at the same time I long to be a big kid. Not bigger, but, kiddier.

It's quiet. The dogs are quiet. There's a light breeze and between songs I can hear a cricket.David Lowery is singing into the microphone "You know what time it is, you know what time it is".

Time to go.
The Appalachianist