The end of day

Amid the confusion of the day, I stopped trying to fight the promptings of a calendar, and let the final task of day take me on a journey down US 19 I found broad, four-lane pathway cut between the furrowed pastureland, until the sun had died over toward Columbus. I found relaxation wishing for peace in the growing darkness, following the last business of the day. Coming home, retracing my steps, the purebred not that long that I could not enjoy the ride through the farmland bathed in moonlight.

Odd Winter afternoon

It got colder today after a cold front came through last night. The wind was blowing hard this morning. Last night we met John and Debbie at LaTavolo in Virginia Highlands. The food was very good and the service was very good as well. Cindy and I shared a bottle of Montepuciano. We had a nice supper with friends and then walked down to Poulo's for gelato. We got back home late and I went to bed while Cindy watched Saturday Night Live. This morning it was hard to wake up. I was planning on making steel cut oatmeal this morning but made myself a pastrami sandwich on rye . An odd breakfast I suppose, but col fits are common breakfast material in Germany. Afterward, I went to church and Cindy and I spent the day predominantly indoors, trying to avoid the cold. This has been an odd Winter. It seems like the world is tipsy turvey this year.

The boys in the neighborhood

Frank and I attended David Balfour's memorial service this morning at Peachtree Presbyterian Church in Atlanta. Mr. Balfour didn't recognize us at first. Referring to myself as Tom Baynham didn't help. After he remembered us, he immediately referred to me as "Tommy".

According to a story Scott told about his little brother, David led him to a saving relationship with Jesus in a bar in downtown Atlanta. He asked him, after visiting three or four bars, what made him, a Christian, any different than the rest of the partiers in the bars. Quite ironic that David's middle name was Andrew.

I have been thinking about those happy days in Dunwoody, when we were kids and young adults. The Balfours had a tree house where we used to meet and talk and play with snakes or insects or whatever we might find. It was a big group of boys, all around the same age. We played football and baseball in our front yard and in the grassy median of the cul de sac behind our house. We played football and baseball at Murphy Candler. A couple of those years, I played with David. A couple years I played with Scott. On the championship Atlanta Colts 115 pound team in 1970, Scott and I were the right side of the offensive line. Later, David and I played for Dunwoody High School together for one year. My last year at Dunwoody, I got to play with Frank in one momentous game against Chamblee High. I would have liked to have played more with him.

I recalled a story just a second ago. The boys in the neighborhood were all gathered in the front yard, shooting bottle rockets into the night sky. One big one flew over toward a house across the street and exploded behind the house. Everybody scattered. Frank, David and I ended up sliding on the den floor into a grouping with Mom and Dad and Susan. Panting like puppies, we feigned watching the program on the tv. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. My dad got up and answered it. The neighbor across the street was complaining about the Baynham boys shooting off fireworks and one exploding in their kitchen window while the family was eating supper.

My dad asked how many boys there were. The neighbor replied "ten or twelve". My dad answered, "I only have two boys." He closed the door.

I remembered staring wide eyed into David's face and both of us laughing. I guess David went home soon thereafter. We had a lot of fun in that neighborhood.

Locked Doors

A tall brick wall, too high to climb safely
Was constructed by some errant mason
Between my thoughts and my memories
One Autumn slumber
When hard-pressed by the getting and spending
I lost touch with my recent past
And could not lay claim to my self again.

Thus, life became fragile,
A tattered tapestry
Hung in a darkened ante-chamber,
So close, yet the doorway
Slowly bricked up like that of Poe's victim,
Bereft of the promises
And that last sweet taste of Amontillado.

Crackles in the dark

Is it a problem when I go out into the darkness of 11:30 in my pajamas to let the dog do his business? So far, no complaints. Tonight, I expected it to be quite chilly when I left the house. For the past few evenings the wind has been whipping around the corners of the house, shaking the storm windows, moaning like a banshee.

But tonight, I took Tex out expecting to see the coming of the precipitation. Instead, the night was silent like a snowfall. I came back in and told Cindy that if it were about thirty degrees cooler I could see it snowing. Of course, it is not thirty degrees cooler. We would have to travel up to Blairsville for that tonight. And it may not happen anyway.

I have been pleased because my laptop has been receiving my wifi for two days in a row. I think I finally figured out the problem. This allows me to write my blog, so you can blame it on my technical abilities. I'll let Kate attest to that.

It was a dark, still night in the neighborhood tonight. No dogs barking from down the street. No shade tree mechanics revving their engines. Instead, the clouds blanketed the atmosphere above the pines and everything was silence.

So quiet that I could hear the dog pee.

Cold Saturday

Winter arrived about two months late today. It is going down into the twenties this evening, or early morning. Tonight we joined a portion of the Galloways for supper at a Mexican restaurant in Griffin. Afterward, we drove over to Kroger and I bought more meat for the pot of soup I prepared this afternoon. The soup was heavy on broth, vegetables and barley, but light on beef. Since we call it "Beef Barley Soup", it would need a preponderence of beef to meet the name's requirements.

Today, I went into work and ran some errands before going home and settling in to an afternoon of soup-making and watching "Desperado" on the television before the evening came to the feasting time.

Tonight, I hope to go to bed soon and wake up in enough time to make stone cut oatmeal and eat it with my orange juice and my Irish Breakfast tea.

I am watching "The Vicar of Dibley" with Cindy. The characters are fighting over what is appropriate in church and who is in charge. This episode is hitting fairly close to heart. We are so propriatory of our churches. It is the oldest fuss in the church. Overall, it is ultimately a blessing that Jesus is actually in charge.I suppose we must remember that.

The vagaries

It has been some time since I wrote on this blog. I have not thought often about writing something. Which is sad. I had this computer upstairs at home and found that the wireless router did not reach its signal to Kate's room from our bedroom. I brought the laptop down and fixed the problem. Fixed. Right. Anyway, I need to write on this from time to time. My wellbeing is supported by it.

I think I will start again on Wednesday. I have been travelling quite a bit for a number of months to do refinance loan closings at the homes of borrowers. The lenders seem to want me to travel to Warner Robins or Columbus quite often, with trips to various hamlets, villages and such in between. I seem to know every little village in Muscogee and Houston counties these days. Like the back of my hand. And various ways to get in and out from there at various times of day.

I like driving. I don't particularly enjoy the driving at night with my eyes near blinded by headlights and the drowsiness of the end of day. I will continue to try. It is regular money at a time when regular money is not easy to find.