He turned to the woodstove and the coffee pot on top of it. He reached for a small towel, folded it over and used it as a mitt to grab the handle. He poured some of the hot brew into a mug and paused.”
–James Leonard (The Good Guy)
Mornin’ Pard, little late this mornin’ sorry. The ol’ bone are achin’ from a long drive. Yep, sittin’ in the steel mount ain’t the same as it was thirty years ago. But all went well. The missus and I went over to Baton Rouge, to pay last respects and honor to one of my dear Pards. Yuh remember, ol’ Grizz? Yep, he’s the one always totin’ that rifle around. Whooee, Pard, there are some stories to tell. Well, he passed over the Great Divide an’ we wanted to spend some time with the family rememberin’ him.
Events can sure get yur attention. I’m reminded of ol’ Solomon when he wrote that there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity. Two weeks ago, we was a-celebratin’ a young couple gettin’ married, startin’ on the journey of life together. Then yesterday celebratin’ the life of a man who has passed on through this life to glory. That’s the way it goes, that’s the way it is.
Say, Pard, don’t let my recollectin’ stop yuh from slurpin’ yur coffee. Ha, one thing for sure, beats hotel coffee and road coffee. But at one stop to rest the ol’ mount there was a place with Community an’ they made it strong enough to suit my ol’ taste buds. Ahhh, reminds me of the huntin’ camp I was in with Grizz. We kept a Folgers can on the counter, but it wasn’t normally filled with Folgers. Actually, when the can started goin’ dry someone would buy, usually Community, to fill it up. One of the fellows at the camp said he only drank Folgers. Ol’ Grizz and I smiled at each other. We never could get the poor ol’ guy to believe it wasn’t Folgers.
Speakin’ of drinkin’ coffee. The missus and I were eatin’ something they call breakfast at the hotel. Now mind you, I was grateful for the vittles, but it sure wasn’t Annie’s home-cookin’. Of course them there places play music, or somethin’ they call music. I usually try to tune the sound out, but while I was takin’ a bite of eggs, one phrase made it into my mind. Crazy phrase, but it shows the plight of some of our society. “We’ll go get tattoos, and trash a hotel room. I don’t want to be a one-man band.” Sorry, Pard, didn’t know that’d cause yuh to sputter out yur coffee. At least it didn’t come out yur nose. But talk about nonsense and pure foolishness. If that is what brings delight to a body, then he is indeed a wretched man. Sounds like a man without much hope in his life and for certain the joy of the Lord ain’t there. And not bein’ a one-man band. Why, Pard, none of us go through life alone. We either travel with the Holy Spirit by our side, guidin’ our steps, or ol’ slewfoot, the devil is walkin’ beside a person. Yep, he’s just the sort that’d get a person to get a tattoo and trash a room jist for the fun of it.
Time to be up an’ goin’. Yuh be safe with yur walk this week. I thought I saw a lump on yur noggin’. Yuh didn’t forget to check yur cinch did yuh? Slipped on ice, ha, well, we must be careful when we’re out a-traipsin’ about.
Vaya con Dios.