Life Ai’t no Saturday Night Counry Musical

4 Mar

Life Ain’t no Saturday Night Country Musical*   There are times in a man’s life after the shadows have grown long, when he discovers life is not all wine, women and song, but more like walking barefooted under a chinquapin tree. This is made more apparent when he sees the growing number of empty chairs at morning coffees and his Sunday school class. Excuse my poor grammar in the title of this offering, but some words just don’t ring the bell n that tells those on the playing field that recess is over and time to think about something besides fun and frolic. Using correct English is best for most occasions, but if it is too proper, it’s about as effective in getting people’s attention as throwing a pair of rolled-up socks at the school bell. No man, however unimportant he may be to political power brokers and bankers, wants to be ignored if he believes he has something to say that’s a wee bit more important than dry water well in Death Valley. When a man discovers the winters have piled up on him, he’s likely to also find out that his priorities have changed. It is at that time when it appears the events in his life are running past him faster than boards in a picket fence when he drives by them. And adding to his problems is the fact that there are no brakes on his golden carriage and no side exits. Where once he thought time was passing so slowly he would never be old enough to get his driver’s license, he now finds himself wishing he could nail the calendar to the wall and stop the clock. Where did the time go? How did he get here so fast? Why did he spend so much time doing dumb things? Why didn’t he tell his mother and dad and all the old folks that he loved them? But the dye has been cast, the end product turned out, impossible to change. In too many cases, nothing can be undone or re-done.  The ship has sailed, the wind is strong, and there’s no anchor. If he’s lucky, a little voice might say in his ear, “Don’t be so morbid. Do you think you’re the only person in the boat you’re in? Cheer up! Think of the only alternative to getting old. Remember all the good, happy things you’ve been a part of. Most of all, think of your loving family, those healthy, happy children who would not have been here had it not been for you (and your loving wife). The poorest of men are made whole by that accomplishment alone. “Think of those who were not so fortunate to have lived so long, their lives cut short by illness, senseless wars or a drunken driver on the highway. Perhaps there’s no physical proof about what happens to a man, other than returning to dust when his choo-choo jumps the rail and falls into that bottomless pit; h; but there is always hope that there is more to come. No man is so tough that he should be ashamed to admit he has faith in there being something beyond his capacity to understand or explain. Things are too well made to have come about by accident, or to have been made by mere man.” If buoyed up by such positive thoughts, a man who has crossed many bridges might decide it’s is no time to mope and moan. Didn’t he do the best he could with the know-how and resources he had at any given time? It’s time now to celebrate still being here, and for doing so many things right. So, strike up the band! Ring the bells and let the good times roll! Pt the sausage on the grill and your favorite beverages in the cooler! Shout Happy New Year! Merry Christmas! Happy Valentine’s Day and all the other days not named! And most of all, Happy next Birthday, Mr. Lucky! *Title from dialog in Bowden’s novel, Voices from a Far Field

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One Response to “Life Ai’t no Saturday Night Counry Musical”

  1. Beverly Bishop March 5, 2014 at 2:36 pm #

    I love this!

    Sent from my iPhone

    >

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