Just a couple of weeks ago I wrote about how Thanksgiving is so often bulldozed by everything that’s wrong about Christmas: commercialism, materialism, fighting over sales items instead of savoring time with loved ones.
This week I feel as if I’m experiencing a 180 in regards to decorating.
Last weekend I pounced on the opportunity of seeing Paul in action with the chain saw, taking down some rotted pines behind our manure pile.
I should explain that when I say ‘our’ manure pile, I mean the horses.
“Please, please,” I begged, “can we go clear the trails now?”
Not too long ago, Paul and I were chatting with a friend during the after church coffee hour when the subject of cars came up. More specifically, manual transmissions versus automatic. He has a stick shift because he far enjoys the driving experience with it in his sports car, and we have a stick shift because it made our new car a lot cheaper.
Alrighty, retailers, commercials and the giant inflatable snowman in my neighbor’s yard…
GET OUT OF MY THANKSGIVING!!
I’ve often wished that I had experienced the, for lack of a better word, visions, that friends have had after losing a pet.
As my stand up performance in Tryon, NC, looms over the horizon in three weeks, friends of mine have been asking what I’ll be joking about.
“All the animals on your farm?”
Nah, that’s like being subjected to a doting grandmother with endless photos of a cherished but rather ordinary grandchild.
“Paul?”
Love thy neighbor as thyself…certainly not always easy to do, but when the Hyders are your neighbors, it’s not only easy, it’s also a privilege.
After 170,000 miles and a slipping transmission, Paul bravely decided to send his Hyundai over the rainbow bridge. Except it needed a tow truck to get over it and meet all its South Korean relatives on the other side.
“It was the kindest thing you could have done,’ I said, mopping my eyes. “It’s in a better place, now.”
To cap off a really lousy last couple of weeks a friend and I, both ardent fans of the late rocker, Tom Petty, were trying to come to grips with his death.
Most of us, I should think, remain dazed by the rapid succession of unthinkable tragedies that have been hurled in our paths: Hurricanes Harvey, Irma, Maria…one, two, three gut punches of utter devastation from Mother Nature.
