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Tuesday, February 16, 2010


Sometimes people don't understand when you don't really have that many people to talk to and in our modern world who could've known we'd share our innermost feelings with thousands of people we've never even met? I'm not sure if that's good or bad, but that's just how it is, and I've felt a lot of compassion and kindness over the years from people on the internet. Maybe I tell too many unpleasant things people don't want to deal with and that's my fault, but they're all true and sometimes I'm just looking for a little support from all the craziness in my life that I don't really understand anymore.

I know sometimes I've done too much of that. Maybe it should be like the old days when families "kept" all their secrets, or at least, thought they did. Like a cousin who had a child out of wedlock, or someone who went bankrupt, or someone who cheated on their spouse, or drank too much.
I know the internet can be a good thing sometimes because it's filled with people who care. Still, I don’t like the world of today. I wish I had a familiar place to go home to, where things never change, and life was simpler.
My grandparents sold their farm in Adamsville in 1976, it has changed hands many times over the years. The current owners decided instead of restoring the old rock farm house, which didn't need a lot of work, just bought a double wide and moved it on the property. The roof is sagging and it hasn't been painted since my grandfather last did it.

Ruby's house in Monahans, which she and Earl built in 1932, was sold in 1960. The house and property were sold to a guy who owned a car repair shop and for years the place was filled with old broken down junk cars. The ground has been saturated with oil and the house is also falling down.
Agnes sold her house and small strip mall beside it in 1979, to a guy who moved his insurance agency into it and took out most of the walls. It's kept up, but I was inside it once and it was sad. When I was there in 2000 for my aunt Ruby’s funeral, I drove by and I noticed a 1998 Oldsmobile Aurora in the carport. It made me smile, my aunt Agnes always drove Oldsmobile’s, so it seemed normal to see it there. It made me want to go up and knock on the door to see if she was home.

I guess what I'd like most would be able to get in my car and drive back to those places where porch lights would be on, black and white TV's are playing in the background. Smells of good cooking, fire flies and crickets, dogs would run barking and people would come running out with arms open wide to give me big hugs. God I miss them.

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