The river continued to flow, summer’s green trees continued to hold off the invasive beauty of autumn, the magic of summer flowers seemingly trying to outlast the overriding challenge of the rush of November and the shadow of Gabe’s Tower continues to hold its own.
That’s the way it is when you mix reality with make-believe. The world we live in gives us plenty to see and listen to and it’s how we accept what’s offered that makes life more interesting.
It was about two weeks ago when I spotted two little girls sitting crosslegged on a driveway with smiles dominating and words I couldn’t hear chatting out the beauty of childhood.
And it was several days ago during a drive down Booth Avenue that I ran across a scene I had never seen before. Gathered on a street corner were at least four seniors huddled in their wheelchairs and seemingly enjoying their unusual excursion.
How nice, I thought, when a group of handicapped folks can be melted into a moment of pleasure.
Sitting in church last Sunday morning prior to the services, I delighted at the sight of little children hopping and skipping up the center aisle and showing the way for their parents.
It was a scene of religion in the making.
While driving west on Hill Avenue last Monday morning I saw a young mother running at a pretty fast clip and with the handle of a baby stroller in her hands. I wasn’t in a position to see the baby’s face but I was reasonably sure it was either smiling, laughing or letting out some lovable infant chatter.
And why not? That baby was having a great day and so was its mother. And I kind of enjoyed seeing it, too.
There was a time when playing golf was a major part of my life. However, years have taken a disastrous toll on my swing and arthritis has done the rest. However, I still enjoy driving by Hillcrest Golf Course and slowing down for a closer look.
Out there in the land of memories, I can see myself along with Ron Hood, Phil Fogle and Bill “Rocky” Glass. Those three guys very likely are out on that big 18-holer up in the sky and all this old foursome survivor has is memories of some very good times and some very bad bogeys.
I just drive by, look and wish.
And speaking of great things to see, I can’t go too many places in my home that I don’t run into a collection of grandchildren pictures. What’s more, I can open several drawers and find a lot more of the same.
I open my refrigerator doors several times a day and never does that happen that I don’t first see a grandson swinging a baseball bat, or a granddaughter holding a volleyball. There are grandchildren standing on a Florida beach or another granddaughter lovingly hugging her old papaw.
It’s nice getting into that old fridge, even if I can’t always find something to eat.