A.G.E's Joint

  Why me? Why not? Sweep the shards The shattered glass He was in his world Grabbing for the bowl Another casualty  Of childhood.

  They pile in from church In ill-fitting suits and chartreuse dresses Wanting to get into their Easter baskets Grandma says no,  Supper first And change out of the nice stuff We know you're getting messy Play clothes donned Ham and green beans eaten Out on the porch The trading starts. Emmy likes peeps Charlie likes bunnies Daddy feeds Mommy malt eggs When Grandma comes back  Everyone is asleep It's been a good day.

The little girl in the sun was Gabrielle, twirling the nerf sword and trash can lid shield in the grass between the cars and building. She didn’t want to be Xena. That was Sarah’s job. She had the dark hair and was older than her. The makeshift cape fluttered over her arms as she twittered .    “I’ll save you, Xena, Warrior Princess !”    The balcony door opened in Momma stuck her head out.   “Gracie, go get changed and we’ll head to the pool.”    That didn’t have to be said twice. She’d been waiting all day . Dropping the props, she flew through the front door. Skidding to a stop, her yellow top sailed off and landed on the bedpost. Shucking out of her pants, the mirror caught her eye. Wonder if Momma would let her go like this? Swimming nekkid in the lake was fun. She thought a moment. No, that wouldn’t work, too many people around. But, still…    A pale face rimmed with carrot strings looked back at her. She made a ...

I was looking at Pam Stone's Facebook page earlier this week working a young mare.  It got me thinking about something that happened when I was about six or seven years old. We lived in a subdivision in the North Buckhead area of Atlanta.  This was in the mid 1960's and beyond our street the area was mostly small horse farms, with a few cows interspersed here and there.  There was a creek and an abandoned rock quarry.  In other words, lots of places for a kid to get lost in and have adventure.    One morning during the Spring, my mother was cleaning up the kitchen after everyone had left the house.  Given there four kids and a husband living there at the time, this was not a small task. I was home sick from school, so she had me to deal with, too.  She is finishing up the sink when the phone rings.  With a cuss, she picks the receiver off the wall.  It is Mrs. Rowan, our next door neighbor. "Teeny!  Have you looked outside your ...

Yes, you know him. Overall one of the most recognizable faces on television ever.  But also the operator of one of the most subtle and effective Christian ministries ever.  It all was predicated on this passage: The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these." Mark 12:31 And Fred said. "Won't you be my neighbor?" Yes.  Yes, I will.

Hmmm... Longing. The wanting of something that seems out of reach. Our longings change.  When we are children, it is a toy we saw or a maybe a chocolate cake. As teenagers it was that mysterious one of the opposite sex.  And for those who actually caught the prize, not knowing at all what to do with it. As adults we long for wealth and power, even though we know deep inside it really isn't good for us. And now as a older type person, longing for the success of our children and the love of the grandkids that may or may not have come. Along the way we trade important things for our longings, only to find out we were better off if we hadn't. But it doesn't matter. In the end, when we find the ultimate freedom, we all are at the same place..