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| Contrary to popular opinion, Kepis are not comfortable |
It’s a bit of a kick to play someone and entertain. The longer
I do this, the more I am reminded of my theatre days up in Young Harris and the
blast I had but I am finding other aspects of my new job that I am enjoying
even more.
Because I am camped out at the corner of where the
Mansion meets Forsyth Park, the people watching is superb. So far, I’ve gotten
to meet a lovely older couple who have two corgis they named Porgy and Bess. There
is the crazy electric wheelchair lady who takes her Chihuahua out for a walk
and during the last cold snap, she looked like a deranged Yukon Cornelius out
searching for his silver and gold. I call this one guy the Griot. He’s an older
African American gentleman whom always has a wooden walking stick. While he
carries it though, the Griot never lets that stick turn vertical or touch the
ground. The stick is laden with beaded bracelets and all sorts of decorative
trinkets. I swear the Griot even has an old teething ring on there that looks
just like the one my little sis had when she was a toddler.
Yesterday, I was witness to something that brought back some
very happy old memories which affected me in a good way for a change. As I sat,
leaning against the Mansion’s wall, a young family approached. Mom and Dad were
both young, probably in their early to mid-thirties. The parents were bundled
up in some very nice designer wear.
The Dad was pulling a red wagon which turned out to be a
brand new Radio Flyer. The payload was an adorable two year little girl who had
the biggest smile in the world. As they walked past me, that little girl acted
like she was training to be on a beauty pageant float somewhere down the road.
Dad would make deep trunk horn sounds which prompted that little girl to squeal
in delight. I could not help but share in that joy.
Out of the blue, an old memory shot into my skull like an
electric charge. I’m about five years old in Savannah at my grandparents’
house. I am being pulled around in my Sears & Roebuck special edition red
wagon by my Pop. As we go down the hall way into the living room, Pop bellows in
that old Savannah dialect which is an amalgam of a refined Southern drawl with a
large dash of Gee Chee.
“Choo Choo! Dang a lang!!!!”
I clap my hands as I laugh then shout, “Again, Pop!” to
which my grandfather is more than happy to oblige. This goes on as we keep strolling through the five room house my grandparents bought back during the Depression.
We’re on what will be our third and final lap as the
bedroom door to where my parents are sleeping opens and the Big Guy stumbles
out with a bit of an exasperated look.
I forgot to mention that my grandfather was always
an early riser, usually around 5am. My favorite part of these visits was always
getting up with Pop and hanging out in the kitchen as he’d brew his coffee in
one of those old metal percolators that would make the neatest bubbling sounds.
We’d walk down and get the morning edition of the Savannah Morning News then go
back and read it. Grandma wouldn’t get up until around seven so that gave Pop
and I plenty of time to get into trouble together just like we just did with
the Big Guy. As I look back, I realize the fun for Pop was twofold. He got to
make a few amazing memories with his grandson while at the same time yanking
his own son’s chain a bit.
It’s
been way too many years to recall the last time I had thought about being
pulled around in that little red wagon but a smile stayed on my face for the
rest of the day. By the time, that little family had crossed over Drayton and
got into Forsyth Park, I knew I’d want to write about this.
As
I was trying to figure out how I was going to lay it all down on paper, it got me
to thinking about the New Year. Not going to lie to you, while 2014 had some
very special moments, I was happy to see the door hit it in the ass on the way
out. It’s been a bumpy road of late which I own up to some of my own doing but
I’m ready to start 2015 off right.
I
hate New Year’s Resolutions nor have I ever really been able to keep anything significant.
Years ago, I began a series of sarcastic ones like, finally give up heroin,
bring back codpieces in men’s wardrobes, all while trying to gain membership
into the Daughters of the Confederacy. Nor am I going to start them now.
For
a while, I debated on maybe I should focus on trying to be a better person but
it just felt cliché. I kept coming back to that red wagon that both I and that
little girl at the park got so much happiness from. So I decided that not only
am I going to focus more on finding the joy that is my world around me but I
also want to help be a source of that for others. How to go about such a thing,
I have no idea but I know that working on my attitude will be a start.
As
I peer into the start of 2015, I am actually a little excited. I’m writing again
which always helps me deal with all my crazy. There are some big things on the
horizon for this year. My kids are healthy, beautiful, and doing great. My wife
just keeps getting more and more gorgeous as she heads down her own career path
of writing.
I
guess the trick is to remember that when everything comes crashing down, it’s
not that hard to take a second and remember how awesome the world can be just like
that little girl did in the back of that wagon and just smile like you are in
your own parade.
Last night before I went to bed, I was reading Facebook because I couldn't sleep. I rarely pay attention to most memes unless they are funny, dark or sarcastic but I came across one that caught my eye and resonated with me.
Last night before I went to bed, I was reading Facebook because I couldn't sleep. I rarely pay attention to most memes unless they are funny, dark or sarcastic but I came across one that caught my eye and resonated with me.
Maybe it's from all the Breaking Bad I've been watching with Kim but as I start out in this New Year, I keep hearing the following phrase said in my best Jesse Pinkman voice....
"Choo Choo Dang a lang, bitches………"
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