Small Town America
30/06/08 23:12
Hey Guys, Choozie here with my latest and greatest to share with you!
Right now I’m hanging out in what I would call stereotypical small town America. You know the place, white picket fences, matching shutters, and awesome home baked goodies. I love it. And since it’s summer, yard work is the trade of the season. You’d be amazed, but people pay really good money to mow grass. Plus the perks are great! (Remember the home baked goodies that I was talking about?)
Anyways, I was walking through town the other day and I saw a man and his son (at least I think that it was his son, it looked like it) pouring a new path in front of their house. As I watched them lugging around really big bags of really heavy concrete mix I was infinitely grateful that I was on my way to a day in the sun with a nice self propelled lawn mower.
Then as I was walking home later I walked back past that same house. The man and his son were gone and the object of all their hard work looked great. I actually had to stop and admire it, the concrete was nice and smooth, very level, really it looked great.
Then as I was standing there I saw this tiny little kitten. I mean just a little scrap of a thing that looked like it shouldn’t be far from its mother. It was after this bug. You know the way kittens do. (You see where this is going don’t you!) Yup, that kitten chased that bug all the way down that path. Little tiny footprints all the way down all that fresh concrete. Someone was not going to be happy. And the kitten (of course) just kept going, none the wiser of the havoc that it had caused.
I have to admit, at that point I was laughing so hard that I was having trouble standing. Then I booked lest I be caught laughing and blamed for the little prints.
So I finished my walk with a smile on my face, and it made me think of being little and summers spent at my grandparents’ pool. See, I’m the youngest (two older sisters, love them, but YUCK!) and before I was ever born my grandfather decided that he wanted to put in a pool. His plan was that if he had the pool, then he would have his grandkids during the summer. As it turns, out it was a master plan that worked like a charm. We all spent every summer in that pool until my grandfather died and we moved my grandmother in with my parents.
But, I digress.
While the pool was built before I was born, my sisters were already alive and kickin. So when they poured the concrete that formed the deck around the pool, my Dad took each of them and helped them put their footprints right at the edge.
Now, fast-forward a few years. As soon as I learned how to walk I started putting my feet into those prints. I absolutely LIVED for the day that my feet would be as big as my sisters were. (Yes, I know that they were growing too, but that was Soooooo beside the point! This was a right of passage for me people!)
I remember with perfect clarity that bright summer day when I finally fit into the first set of prints. I walked around that pool with my chest puffed out for weeks. And, of course, my grandparents were appropriately impressed. It’s a moment that I will never forget.
Now when I think about those little stone prints, I hope that the family decides to leave them just the way they are. Why? Because now that path has a story, it has a meaning that it just wouldn’t have if they weren’t there. I know what happened, but that family can only guess. And that will end up just being part of the fun.
Perfect is boring, life should have personality. Well I guess it is off to a wedding for me with some cool stuff from Scott Mason
Kachoozie
Right now I’m hanging out in what I would call stereotypical small town America. You know the place, white picket fences, matching shutters, and awesome home baked goodies. I love it. And since it’s summer, yard work is the trade of the season. You’d be amazed, but people pay really good money to mow grass. Plus the perks are great! (Remember the home baked goodies that I was talking about?)
Anyways, I was walking through town the other day and I saw a man and his son (at least I think that it was his son, it looked like it) pouring a new path in front of their house. As I watched them lugging around really big bags of really heavy concrete mix I was infinitely grateful that I was on my way to a day in the sun with a nice self propelled lawn mower.
Then as I was walking home later I walked back past that same house. The man and his son were gone and the object of all their hard work looked great. I actually had to stop and admire it, the concrete was nice and smooth, very level, really it looked great.
Then as I was standing there I saw this tiny little kitten. I mean just a little scrap of a thing that looked like it shouldn’t be far from its mother. It was after this bug. You know the way kittens do. (You see where this is going don’t you!) Yup, that kitten chased that bug all the way down that path. Little tiny footprints all the way down all that fresh concrete. Someone was not going to be happy. And the kitten (of course) just kept going, none the wiser of the havoc that it had caused.
I have to admit, at that point I was laughing so hard that I was having trouble standing. Then I booked lest I be caught laughing and blamed for the little prints.
So I finished my walk with a smile on my face, and it made me think of being little and summers spent at my grandparents’ pool. See, I’m the youngest (two older sisters, love them, but YUCK!) and before I was ever born my grandfather decided that he wanted to put in a pool. His plan was that if he had the pool, then he would have his grandkids during the summer. As it turns, out it was a master plan that worked like a charm. We all spent every summer in that pool until my grandfather died and we moved my grandmother in with my parents.
But, I digress.
While the pool was built before I was born, my sisters were already alive and kickin. So when they poured the concrete that formed the deck around the pool, my Dad took each of them and helped them put their footprints right at the edge.
Now, fast-forward a few years. As soon as I learned how to walk I started putting my feet into those prints. I absolutely LIVED for the day that my feet would be as big as my sisters were. (Yes, I know that they were growing too, but that was Soooooo beside the point! This was a right of passage for me people!)
I remember with perfect clarity that bright summer day when I finally fit into the first set of prints. I walked around that pool with my chest puffed out for weeks. And, of course, my grandparents were appropriately impressed. It’s a moment that I will never forget.
Now when I think about those little stone prints, I hope that the family decides to leave them just the way they are. Why? Because now that path has a story, it has a meaning that it just wouldn’t have if they weren’t there. I know what happened, but that family can only guess. And that will end up just being part of the fun.
Perfect is boring, life should have personality. Well I guess it is off to a wedding for me with some cool stuff from Scott Mason
Kachoozie