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Have you ever had one of those moments that something pops up out of nowhere and you get stopped cold? We had run out of Styrofoam cups at work and I was presented with a standard coffee cup with which to indulge in a freshly brewed pot. I didn’t pay attention at the time. I filled the cup, sat it on my desk and ran around for a few minutes. When I made it back to my seat I glanced at the cup and it happened.
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There it sat, white cup, steam slowly rising above the rim. Without warning I was yanked backward in time. It was a Richard Dreyfuss moment… I had just ripped the top off of Devil’s Tower in my own living room. The noise around me lowered to a dull roar, much like the sound of putting your fingers in your ears with a house full of screaming teenagers.
I began to ride the memory wave as images flashed before me of western shirts, black coffee, Dentyne in small wooden kitchen drawers, penny ante poker, aggravation dice tumbling across a table, green ghost games, Johnny West
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With the loss of several important people in my life in the recent past, it was almost as if a break with reality was upon me, but I continued to ride the memory onslaught, letting it flow over and encompass me.
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I was five or six and under the table as my parents had the regular Friday night crew over for card games. Then I was standing in my aunt’s house as she patted biscuits out for baking with her hands covered in flour, yelling at us to leave the antique car replica on the shelf alone. My grandfather was sitting in his rocking chair, cutting a plug of cannon ball to chew. I was desperately trying to make it to the other side of the elk’s club swimming pool without touching bottom. I was tuning an old-fashioned box radio. Patrick, Stuart, and I were sitting in front of the fire place as we engineered and constructed a fort for the star wars men. I was holding a defused hand grenade while at the pawnshop trying to get my Dad’s attention. We were dropping rocks down a well to listen to them glance off the sides then plunk in the water. I was trying to shoot carpenter bees with a daisy bb gun. I was sitting next to my Dad, surrounded by relatives all hunkered around a fire, listening to stories about their childhood.
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3 comments:
So when, exactly, are you going to publish your memoirs entitled "The Truth about the South"? I'm anxiously awaiting my copy...
it would be the same chapter over & over... much like this blog...
No it wouldn't be the same over and over. It would be memories that will be forever lost to your sons if they aren't written down. I am sure that Rick Bragg thought the same thing and look how he ended up. Hmmm?
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