Written by John
Now that the good old days have vanished, we have a future to make for grandkids. So let’s roll up our sleeves....apply all that wisdom we are so fond of ‘splaining we’ve got and get to it while our educated, direct progeny are “Crackbooking” and Istnt msgng.
Do you realize that if we created a dot.org or a corporation and each grandparent donated a dollar to a fund, we could build anything? A privately funded educational institution. That is how many there are of us. I don’t know why it’s so impossible sounding. Everyone can spare one dollar. It’s an idea. That’s all.
I went down Main Street in Ventura, unshaven and in my farm clothes as I had forgotten as I often do in my “spirit walks” and a man gave me a dollar after he asked me if I was OK and kept forcing it on me. I was just window-shopping second-hand stores for antiques or something to paint that looked antique. Minding my own business. Looking longingly at junk. Wearing Carhartts and tennis shoes.
It was that homeless guy who gave me the vision of the Ghengis Khan horde of Grandparents swarming to unify. Do you realize how much we all know - at our age? We could actually show the world we don't have to wait around for government. We could fill it - a steel building with truth - not old farm equipment - about earth sciences to create scientists. With a beautiful telescope that tracked the universe for the internet to see. It could be a place where people in wheel chairs, with canes, and limps, and Veterans could visit and say,
I, I alone, I, a beat up old person, built this. My kids pissed away, and are continuing to piss away hundreds of dollars a month on junk food, wifi andGodknowswhat off the internet. And we, the states people of America didn’t wait around for government to bail us out - did this thing - DURING A DEPRESSION. Without me, and people such as myself, this would never have been done. My grand kids could seek truth because it was there, I put it there. I decided to find fellowship with those of wisdom - and did it. It wasn’t....oops.
A dream. Patti just woke me up.
It’s Monday morning. Rain outside. Lots of it. I hope that hole in my boot somehow sealed during the night.
I’m going to write this because I am a dreamer like all farmers - which is reason to believe that dreams do come true if you work and rework them. Rarely is the first run perfect. No piece of good ground is weedless.
Sometimes, no, OFTEN _____ happens, as it has done in my life and yours, too, I assume. But I have no room to talk.
I had jury duty the other day and sat next to a lady in her mid-sixties, refined, educated, who basically told me, humbly, the story of a life of travel with her husband - worldwide fixing children’s maladies. Then she got to the the moral of her life, her story: She told me that her son-in-law survived a roadside IED (in a Humvee) - Iraq; that he was going back for a second tour this week; that her daughter, married to that fellow, was having a first baby - but doctors found a brain tumor in her daughter; that they had lost a house full of memories in a fire this year. She cried openly over it all. At jury duty. You know this person too, sort of, if you saw the movie, “Mask”. They were part of the team that worked on the young man with the mask.
Little things bother me even less now .
I hope she invites her family to our farm because they, of all people, deserve this place.
Remarkable country we live in, isn’t it? Remarkable people - outside of the exceptions that seem to make the news. God, bless our soldiers. Protect that young Captain, who has already been blow up once, and his men, too - and save his wife for him. So he and she can smell and taste bacon and eggs, know the warmth of a country kitchen on a rainy day like I'm so fortunate to experience. So he can experience, someday, the things he protects for us. That is what I want today. Nothing for me - for that soldier and his wife to both live to dream, too.
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