Over the holidays, we watch old movies together.
“Wait for it….”
Expecting the coming punchline. Dialogue already in our heads. And on our lips. Story summoning memory.
We anticipate what we’ve already seen.

Over the holidays, we watch old movies together.
“Wait for it….”
Expecting the coming punchline. Dialogue already in our heads. And on our lips. Story summoning memory.
We anticipate what we’ve already seen.
They try a new location. In the opposite corner. Instinct rules and they will not be stopped. We pile something in this new spot. Our attempt at a scarecrow. We wait to see whether they’ll leave for another place.
They’re obnoxious. All the chattering and swooping makes the back patio an unpleasant experience. But I know it’s how they’re wired. It’s time for nest making. Go home.
Recently I found a few brief sentences recording a significant life-changing experience my senior year. In 1975-76 we were on furlough in Shreveport, Louisiana, and our family joined Highland Baptist Church. In September, we attended revival services there, led by Jack Taylor and Ron Dunn.