Some think the blog may be a little heavy when I write about the creation and semi-religious subjects. Those blogs are to poke fun at intellectuals, atheist, radicals to the left and right, preachers, doctors, politicians, thieves and others in the trade. I think that covers most everyone except those of us who are retired and those paying the bills.

Anyway, it’s more fun to write about common folks and everyday happenings like rain and the drought. I could spend the rest of my days writing about the uncle in east Texas I visited when I was a kid. He is the one who taught me the art of porch sitting. After his farming days were over he mainly watched the timber grow on his land. He would often go into the woods just so he could watch the pine trees grow. I think he liked to go on Wednesdays, in the middle of the afternoon, because that was the time you could see and sometimes hear a commercial jet fly over his place. The 30,000-foot altitude of that jet was about as close as he ever got to an airplane. The excursions from his home were limited to about five miles, which was the distance to his church.

I don’t think that uncle ever saw a movie. His only exposure to TV was toward the end of his life when he was forced to move away from the country place. The church was entertainment enough. Gospel singing was popular in his day and sure beats a lot of the loud noise I hear today. Just visiting with the neighbors was a lot of fun, especially the old fellow who raised peanuts for a living. His house was a Texas open-air dogtrot with the convenience of a wood-burning stove. Of course there was no indoor plumbing or electricity. This peanut farmer was illiterate but loved to wear a wristwatch. When ask to tell the time he would look at his watch then up at the sun and say about 3:00 o’clock.

The only person in that part of the country who rivaled the intellect of my uncle was his own brother. He never owned a car and made his living purely off the land. He knew the woods like the back of his hand. University archeologist would visit him so he could point out the water line when that part of the world was covered by the sea. He hunted deer all year but tried to avoid hunting season because it was too dangerous with the hunters running lose in the woods. The smell of his smokehouse was absolutely heavenly.

I really miss those old guys. If they were alive today we could sit on the porch and I could just type their stories directly to the blog. I wouldn’t even bother about dreaming up some of that heavy stuff about Time, Creation and such.