i have been frequently accepting i am not of now.

i will not beat up today as it as evolved because of us. There are good new things, and there are new bad things, sort of like it’s always been.

i am old, not part of today, a relic. i am okay with that.

◆ ◆ ◆

My last political thought of this year, perhaps forever: It appears to be that everyone, regardless of their political persuasion are in favor of age and term limits, except of course for politicians themselves of every political persuation who profit mightily financially and being in power.

But, like the weather, no one does a thing about it — Lord, what song did that come from? If i were 30-40 years younger, i might become politically active to fight for 2-term limits on all elected officials, forbidding anyone over 70 from holding an elected postion, and requiring our elected officials to be subject to the same regulations as all of the other citizens of the country.

But i am old and have found no one takes anyone my age seriously…and no no one should, especially elected officials with in 10-12 years of my age.

i just don’t understand how our citizens don’t take action to amend the current state of political destruction.

◆ ◆ ◆

Other than that last political comment, i have recognized i am not of this world and time. i am an old salty sea dog and no longer fit. i try, try hard to fit in this world of computers, financial maneuverings, new fangled products, commercialism, etc., etc. But i truly am from another world. There are many wonderful things from our advances. i am glad, even profit from many, especially in the medical field. i use this thing called artificial intelligence as it as provided me answers to many questions. i am glad for those younger than me who are enjoying the advantages in the world today.

◆ ◆ ◆

i’m just thankful for things i have enjoyed, even loved in a world long ago, but miss. Such as:

At somewhere around three or four, being allowed to play in our front and back yards with no supervision. Having no restrictions wandering around our neighborhood to play with what seems to have been an infinite number of boys and girls my age, only required to be home at lunch or dinner time.

Having an open field next to our house, owned by our neighbors on the other side where all sports were played, snowmen were built.

Walking to and from school after the first day of first grade and stopping at Little Eskew’s for bubble gum with baseball cards and candy.

Walking to the old house on Main Street. which for a good while was the city library and checking out books, biographies of American heroes of every varity without revealing those heroes faults.

Spending weeks at my great uncle’s farm at the intersection of Blair Lane and Hickory Ridge Road, rising at 4:00am with “Papa” to call the cows, walk them to the barn and milk them by hand, feeding the hogs in the sty, and walking back over the fields to the tin-roofed farmhouse to eat home-made bacon, eggs from the chicken coop, homemade buttermilk, grits, biscuits with home produced butter and plum preserves.

Eating watermelon in the back yard and spitting out the abundant seeds. Making homemade peach ice cream in that same back yard, grinding the ice cream maker covered with dry ice and then covered with towels and blankets: best ice cream ever.

Watching the boarding cadets from Castle Heights Military Academy, from first grade up, marching to church on Sunday morning down Main Street, dropping them off at various churches.

Listening to reveille, taps, colors, the sounds from the Sunday marches and the Saturday football games at Heights from our home down the hill from the school.

Never locking our car and only locking our house when we went to sleep.

Oh, there are so many more things i miss, but i will close with the Christmas tree: From a very young age, my younger brother and sister with myself would accompany our father out to Papa’s farm and cut a Christmas tree from the cedars, which were prolific on the farm. Invariably, they were too big and had to be shortened to fit in our living room. As we grew older, Daddy allowed us to fetch the cedar tree. At least one year, we traveled to the farm in my sister’s 1959 Vauxhall, cut the tree, tied it to the top of the car and brought it home.

It felt like Christmas.

May all of you have a wonderful Christmas that will give you memories of things that you will miss.

Merry Christmas.