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Born May 18, 1953; got saved at Truett Memorial BC in Hayesville, NC 1959. On rigged ballot which I did not rig got Most Intellectual class of 71, Gaffney High School. Furman Grad, Sociology major but it was little tougher than Auburn football players had Had three dates with beautiful women the summer of 1978. Did not marry any of em. Never married anybody cause what was available was undesirable and what was desirable was unaffordable. Unlucky in love as they say and even still it is sometimes heartbreaking. Had a Pakistani Jr. Davis Cupper on the Ropes the summer of 84, City Courts, Rome Georgia I've a baby sitter, watched peoples homes while they were away on Vacation. Freelance writer, local consultant, screenwriter, and the best damn substitute teacher of Floyd County Georgia in mid 80's according to an anonymous kid passed me on main street a few years later when I went back to get a sandwich at Schroeders. Had some good moments in Collinsville as well. Ask Casey Mattox at www.clsnet.org if he will be honest about it. I try my best to make it to Bridges BBQ in Shelby NC at least four times a year.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Unfolding by Carl Dennis, oct 24 New Yorker

Came across this great poem compliments of the Attalla Public Library which subscribes to the New Yorker. It is interesting to compare their Magazine offering to those of Collinsville Library and Gadsden Public. Oxford American Would be grand addition to Collinsville Library.
Many friends have passed in this last year, including a woman who worked in the Ft Payne Library and was killed in the April 27 F-5 tornado that came through Rainsville. I may name some more week after Christmas; and note to myself got to get the May 31 Bham Post Herald Story up about the night Brett Morgen came to Collinsville Baptist Church to show his documentary later to be shown on statewide tv. Eventually I think Martha may want it for her files in the Collinsville History Museum as this is the 20th anniversary.
Meanwhile this poem resonated with me, in this year and fall of my 40th High School Reunion:

Unfolding

If there is no spirit unfolding itself in history,
No gradual growth of consciousness
Beneath the land grabs and forced migrations,
The bought elections, the betrayal of trust
By party factioin in the name of progress--
What about spirit in the personal realm
Unfolding slowly inside us, so slowly
That our best days seem like a holding action?
Seasons repeat themselves, but the tree
Shading the yard keeps growing.
Don't be chagrined that the sadness you felt
This evening beside the bed of a friend
Who's growing weaker wasn't more profound
Than the sadness of yesterday, that you still
Cam't imagine a fraction of what he's feeling
As the world he loves slips from his grasp.
No progress from your perspective,
But who's to say what you might notice
If the scroll of the last few months were unrolled
On the table before you, how clear it might be
That your understanding of all your're losing
In losing him has been slowly deepening?
Another day, you say to yourself, at dusk
As you climb your porch steps, which you notice
Could use some scraping and painting this weekend,
A Fresh coat that with luck will last a year.


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