LILY PADS AND OLD CRAWDADS

It is late in the afternoon and I am sitting in my rocking chair on the front porch. The dusky dimness of the glowing red embers of sunset has somewhat dulled my senses and I begin to reminisce the past without one single thought to the future. At age seventy-two, one can afford to indulge such pleasures!

While caught up in the magic of this pleasant twilight zone, I recall the good things that have over the many long years, touched my life. There are many. I will admit that as I rock to and fro, my mind wanders in a rambling sort of way, selecting the best of many magic moments.

I think of my home as a child - - - a haven of safety shielded by the love of a caring mother and father that allowed me to have the freedom to be me.

I recall the pleasure of stretching out on my back under the shade of an apple tree, watching the clouds slowly drift on by, chewing on a blade of grass while contemplating many heroic successes in an uncertain future. All while doped up on the heady aroma of new-mown hay.

I think of a dog that shared a large portion of my care free boyhood days. The hunting trips we both shared with my Father; and of course, the taste of hot biscuits, gravy and grouse cooked to perfection by my mother when we made a kill.

A fishing trip, back on Gentry’s Creek, that required an overnight camp-out and of eating fried trout, soda crackers, and rat cheese with pork and beans;

Building shanties in the woods and sleeping there overnight with my boyhood pals.

The beauty of that first love that never ever goes away - - - no, not completely;

The complete faith placed in me by responsible parents who turned me loose and propelled me into the unknown.

The utter beauty of a face in the moonlight as lovers touch and they become one; the astonishing fact this love is still there, stronger than ever, nearly fifty years later; the awesome love and sense of responsibility as I gazed upon the face of a newborn son.

These are just some of the things that drift through my mind while rocking away the last rays of sunlight on a lazy summer evening in Mississippi!

So, sometimes in the evening time,
I write me down a song.
‘Bout lily pads and old crawdads
Or good times now gone wrong.
Of mountain tops and lollipops,
Katydids and crows;
Whippoorwills or moonshine stills
And things that curl your toes!

As supper settles, way down south,
I may hum a little tune
‘Bout fried cornbread and horny head
Or circles ‘round the moon.
Father Time and things that rhyme
Pickled beans and dirt;
Old time fakes and sad heartaches
And other things that hurt!

I ease back in my rocking chair,
Close my eyes and reminisce
‘Bout maidens fair and golden hair
Or a kiss that I still miss.
Fast heartbeats and rumble seats,
Featherbeds and hay;
White wall tires and ladies’ squires
And things that got away!

Just before I go to sleep
I thank the man upstairs
‘Bout lily pads and old crawdads
And possums, coons and hares!
Lazy dreams and pale moonbeams,
Old Bo Peep and sheep;
Swimming holes and fishing poles
And things that I can keep!