NOTHING BUT THE GEORGE

The cooler temperatures remind me of Fall. Not the season, but my recent one. Most folks will find this hard to believe, but on some days, my teenaged brain does not synch with my three-score old body, despite my calcium induced strong bones (I’m a big milk drinker), my youthful personality and good looks. Whereas I used to be 10 feet tall and bulletproof, able to stand up inside a coke bottle I am now barely 5’8”, pee a lot, and am offset by a pear shape body supported on debutante ankles—however, I aint going peacefully. And it came to pass that I had some fluorescent lights to install in the drop ceiling in our basement recently, and after having delayed for some time, I grabbed my ladder, tools, and started my task in earnest. The removal of the old light (2’x 4’) was a bit cumbersome-the drop ceiling is 8 ft while working from the 6 ft ladder, but I was able to swap the old and new with quick dispatch. “Piece of cake”, I said, almost out loud. Here I was, working safely, e...

  What began as a simple request resulted in another adventure. One day a hundred years from now people will come from near and far and for reasons not explained, find themselves in the low country of South Carolina, at a wonderful home called Westervelt...  About a dozen years ago the four of us— by us, I mean Clint, Randy, Steve, and George, high school friends for life, reunited for a long weekend to dust off memories of our not so misspent youth; automobiles, girls, classic rock music played via    turntables or filtered through our cars’ Jensen Coax speakers— when nothing hurt--before bifocals, hearing aids and prostate induced night patrols. When the biggest problem any of us had was where to get the case of longnecks for the weekend trips to the power lines or the banks of the Ocmulgee River.  Our annual get togethers have been wonderful, the food good, and the fellowship providential. Our recent weekend was spent in the glorious low country of South Caro...