tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3708517032598462632.comments2008-01-16T13:23:19.685-05:00Mint Julep JournalGeorgia Front Page.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18248749393644673382noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3708517032598462632.post-464694603917515852008-01-16T09:05:00.000-05:002008-01-16T09:05:00.000-05:00Well, Miss Faye, aren't you the sweetest thing? I ...Well, Miss Faye, aren't you the sweetest thing? I sure do 'preciate that invitation. Just add another straw to that mint julep and scoot over cause I think I'll just take you up on it and come sit a spell on your v-porch. <BR/><BR/>As long as I don't wear out my welcome, that is.<BR/><BR/>You sure are right about talent right here in our own backyard. Why just look at the Fayette Front Page. All those people doing all those talented things.<BR/><BR/>And it's nothing new to this area, either. Why this patch of red dirt we call home has been talented upon more times than I can count.<BR/><BR/>Take this one boy named B. W. Mersk. He hung around between second and third base on the school playground, leaning up against the little fence that surrounded the cesspool, separating it from the kickball field. Somebody'd really get their foot into a ball, and whoosh. That red school-issue ball would sail right over everybody's heads and thunk right into the cesspool. Quick as a flash, B. W. went wading in, treading where none of the rest of us dared to go. He'd fetch the ball, get back outside the fence, shake himself off pretty good, then roll the ball back to the pitcher and go on back to leaning and waiting on the next pretty good kicker to step up to the plate. That right there was what I call useful talent. Anybody who could go that close to the cesspool - let alone inside it - and not gag. Uh huh. <BR/><BR/>Now I got a husband who can tie a knot in a cherry stem with his tongue. And not even open his mouth too much. I been thinking about hiring him out for parties and such. He's a right outgoing type, and a little bit of pin money never hurt any of us. You know what I mean?<BR/><BR/>Got another relative who can lay down on the piano bench - her head close to the keyboard - raise her arms up over her face to the keyboard, cross 'em, and play the piano. <BR/><BR/>She really can. <BR/><BR/>Can play all sorts of tunes like that. That's not just talent - that's a nimble brain, too, dontchaknow.<BR/><BR/>Then there's my uncle who can make a dollar go further than from here to Australia and back. But I guess that's delving into a different column - one that's called something other than talent.<BR/><BR/>At least to hear his family talk, it is.<BR/><BR/>Ummm hmmmm.<BR/><BR/><BR/>Why just look at you and Miss Etta. All the talent that veritably flies right outta your fingertips daily. Y'all sling these words and thoughts together like nobody's business, and I'm here to tell you: that's talent.<BR/><BR/>Yes it is.<BR/><BR/>You are so right, Miss Faye: we don't have to trek all the way out to California to find talent. No, we sure don't.<BR/><BR/>But I tell you what: if you want to step outside our backyard via the internet, give this little nugget a listen: http://www.songpeddler.com/JimWilson/GodsCricketChorus_JWilson.asp<BR/><BR/>It's a chorus of crickets singing.<BR/><BR/>I kid you not.<BR/><BR/>Somebody with way too much time on their hands, recorded crickets THEN, as if that wasn't enough, slowed the recording down to match the length of the average lifespan of a human being. <BR/><BR/>Don't ask me how they did that 'cause I do NOT do math.<BR/><BR/>The slowed-down version is on track 2, so be real sure to listen to it. It's a selection right outta nature's talent show. And it could still be local talent 'cause for all we know, those crickets were performing on this red soil we call home. Could be. It sure could be.<BR/><BR/>Gotta' run.<BR/><BR/>Till next time, I am<BR/><BR/>Miz VulAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3708517032598462632.post-78019955050264434862008-01-14T22:56:00.000-05:002008-01-14T22:56:00.000-05:00I tell you what, Miss Etta, I got some kinfolks wh...I tell you what, Miss Etta, I got some kinfolks who have episodes every now 'n then, episodes that can be downright entertaining IF you are outside of hearing and reaching distance. But when it comes to the tv, there's a wholelotta stuff on that makes your #2 - "Listen to your spouse"- seem downright appealing. <BR/><BR/>When I was growing up (a project that just never does seem to end), about the only time the television was turned on at my Grandmama's house was 5:00 p.m. on Saturday when Live Atlanta Wrestling came on. I declare, my Granddaddy died believing that men walking on the moon was television trickery but knowing that Live Atlanta Wrestling was an honest-to-goodness serious sport.<BR/><BR/>And while Granddaddy watched his show, we sat with Grandmother in the glider on the front porch, going back and forth and back and forth, thumping ourselves with the furniture store fans and counting the cars as they went by. I don't think that's a likely addition to your Other Than TV List, though. Unless you've got one of those little silver clicker thingies and fingers that never heard of arthritis.<BR/><BR/>There is, however, one weekly show I try to never miss and that's The Closer. I don't know what station it's on, but I am here to tell you, I love that show. Every single week without fail, that cute little Brenda Lee Johnson (the Deputy Chief of the LA Homicide Department) gets another case. There she is, the little Georgia transplant, heading up a team of folks who know - they just know - that a little ole' bitty woman from the South could never solve a case. But by golly she does it. Every week. In slightly less than 40 minutes.<BR/><BR/>Gotta' love it. You just plain gotta' love it.<BR/><BR/>Till next time,<BR/>Miz VulAnonymousnoreply@blogger.com