Sunday, May 8, 2016

The faithful mirror


Isn’t it wonderful how we remember the memories of others, and how those memories become our own, and in turn are passed along? Take, for example, this one from my father’s Depression Era childhood on the farm:

His mother goes out to use the outhouse, and while she is inside, her son rains clods on that humble splintery shelter — upon which salute she comes out roaring and chases him through the yard, past the barn, under the mulberry tree, he laughing, she cursing, threatening, loving him, her proud glad heart grateful for the foolish exercise. And not just once, but dozens of times.

And now they are gone and I am nearing my sixtieth birthday.

It is all a painting of you, the faithful mirror replied . . . .



8 comments:

Stream Source said...

~ ~ ~

William Michaelian said...

Your lovely shorthand is gratefully received.

Jonathan Chant said...

Just great. Memory on memory...

William Michaelian said...

Many thanks, Jonathan....

Jan said...

My teary eyes, should you be able to see them, also come with a smile :)

Very Beautiful, William~

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Jan, I knew you would understand....

Gary B. Fitzgerald said...

One day a boy leaves the cabin for school. Just for fun, he pushes the outhouse over and it rolls down the hill into the creek.
When he gets home from school that day, his father is waiting with a belt. “Son,” he asks, “did you push that outhouse into the creek this morning?”
The boy says “Yes, father, I can not tell a lie…I did.”
“Well, son, I’m proud of you for being so truthful, but I’m still going to have to punish you.”
“But, father,” the boy says, “George Washington’s father didn’t punish him when he told the truth about cutting down the cherry tree.”
“Yes, son…” the father said, “but George Washington’s father wasn’t IN that cherry tree when he cut it down.”.

William Michaelian said...

In fact, he was in the outhouse. Ah, history. Ah, rural life. Ah, Gary!