He laid his revolver down within reach, and proceeded to light a fire in the stove, from which rose presently the pleasant odors of aromatic coffee and fried ham and eggs.”
–William MacLeod Raine (A Texas Ranger)
Take heed to what ol’ Bill Raine said, keep yur gun within reach as there’s too many crazies runnin’ ’round out there. My mercy, the way them supposed sophisticated bureaucrats acted durin’ the President’s speech, one has to be wonderin’ ’bout the common person any more. Pard, things are gettin’ out of hand. Where’s the common courtesy that is to be afforded? It’s not black and white no more, it’s not racism that is the issue; it’s the sane versus the crazies.
But enough of that, don’t want to rilin’ yur gizzard with all that foolishness. But one other thing, an’ then I’ll poured yur coffee as I see yuh reachin’ out yur paw. There’s a payday comin’. Sooner for some, eventually for all. Don’t yuh be forgettin’ that.
Hyar yuh go. Take a sip an’ that’ll perk yuh right up. Picks me up, why whenever I need a fixer-up, I’ll pour me a cup, sit down in my chair an’ do a little contemplatin’. Went to the doc the other day, and found out–guess what, I’m gettin a mite older. Yep, as my Aunt and Grandma used to call it, progressive agin’. Listen, Pard, it happens to all of us if’n we fortunate to live that long. But let me tell yuh the goodness truth of the matter. I look at those folk in the doc’s office an’ they’re bad off. Besides the aches and pain they must have they let it affect their face and demeanor. Not, all, some roll with the punches. Some know that the ol’ body wears down an’ they keep a right good attitude with it. Why Pard, I thank the Lord for another day, and always for a good night’s sleep. Don’t want to get sour and grumblin’.
Ol’ Paul, wrote somethin’ like this. “We do not lose heart!” Get that in yur noggin’. Most of those folks I saw have lost heart. They depend on the doc for help an’ they get their pills to swaller, but it don’t do much good, jist helps them linger on a little longer. See, we should never be losin’ heart. Yep, for shor, this ol’ body is wearin’ or as Paul said, “wastin’ away.” But the good Lord don’t leave us that way ’cause our innards, no not yur gizzard and liver, but that inner man is bein’ renewed day by day. Get this Pard, when yuh feel the aches and pain, an’ yuh let out a moan–spiritually we never grow old. Now, that’s something to clog in the kitchen about.
Hold on, Pard, I jist can’t hold it in. Beller out with me if’n yuh want to. “Never grow old, never grow old, In a land where we’ll never grow old…” Whoopi-yi, don’t that get down in yur soul? Add that to yur coffee an’ yuh can surely have a good day. Live the life that the good Lord would have yuh live an’ don’t be worryin’ for yuh ain’t never gonna grow old.
Keep that thought through the week, but wait, that don’t mean to go through life foolishly–yuh still need to check yur cinch.
Vaya con Dios.