Regarding my previous post:
I might be wrong about Obama. I hope I’m wrong. I have my beliefs, and all I can say is — we’ll see. But let’s all be friends…
So, on a far lighter note.
I’m at my parents’ home for a couple of days. I actually passed McCain’s tour bus on the ride home as he departed Blountville, but no matter. I also passed about 16 other tour buses– from just outside of Nashville all the way home. I wonder what that was all about.
As I was saying — I’m home for a few days, in a town half an hour outside of the closest city. As we were sitting down to dinner, we heard a knock on the door. This alone is extremely uncommon for this area, as we are isolated in the midst of trees and forest.
My dad answers the door. It turns out to be our neighbor’s son, who is probably 16 years old by now. I haven’t seen him for a good 10 years, and he’s grown up and out in all the ways a southern boy does. The entire family is extremely southern – the epitome of the term “local,” if you will. They have an eclectic mix of random crap in their yard – the old Bookmobile, a couple of broken lawnmowers, a rusted out truck, etc. Their collection of junk resembles Sanford and Son.
My dad asks, “How can I help you?”
The son says, “I was thinkin’, I hadn’t seen Laryssa in years.”
At this point, I wander out from the kitchen into the living room and stare into the blank eyes of this boy’s friend who is also standing on our front porch. Fortunately, my dad standing in the doorway blocked my line of vision to the boy himself.
“And?” My dad pressed.
“I was wonderin’ how Laryssa turned out, what she was up to.”
At this point I ducked into the corner of the living room before I could be spotted and feasibly recognized.
“She’s down in Nashville. She lives in Tennessee now. I’ll tell her you stopped by.” My father said flatly, and shut the door.
My parents then shooed me away from the windows until the boy and his friend had taken off down our driveway, unsuccessful in receiving my hand. What are the odds that he’d show up on one of the 10 nights a year I’m home?
And my father summarized it well: “If you had asked me what the most bizarre event that could happen tonight would be… that WOULD NOT have been it.”
He also said, “Tell Gunner you’re not allowed to come home without him anymore. I’m going to get out the shotgun.”
It’s always good to come home.