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Another Day in the Country

Front-porch musing

© Another Day in the Country

Having lived in a family setting most of my life, I find it difficult to eat alone at my kitchen table.

Breakfast is the worst, for some reason. So, weather permitting, I take my morning fare out to the porch swing and eat it there.

Being out in nature, perusing my neighborhood from the porch, seems less lonely.

The four o’clocks are so tall that I have to look through them instead of over them as I sit on the swing.

I can hear the sounds of small-town life in the morning. Sometimes, I see my neighbor doing chores. Sometimes, I hear a neighbor’s dog. In spite of hearing loss, I always hear the doves.

Often, I see my sister out watering her far-flung gardens in her big backyard. She does it all by hand.

As I eat my egg and toast or drink my coffee (Korean), I think. A porch is great for thinking. It’s thought-provoking, in fact. It’s rhythmic and quiet.

This morning, I was thinking about what I was going to write for my column. That subject is always in the back of my mind.

When I started writing for the Record, I was new in town. I wrote quite often about the town’s history — the olden days.

There were mostly stories that came from my family, stories I’d heard growing up, visiting Ramona through the years.

When Mom came back to live with us, she worried about those stories that I was telling.

“What will people think?” she said.

Sometimes, she’d be telling me some story from the past, maybe her opinion of it all, and she’d say, “Now don’t you dare write that!”

I didn’t.

Those more private stories, which I cherished, had to wait until that generation was gone — and still I’ve used discretion (just in case, you think I’ve told it all, everything).

It is true, however, that in the course of my writing the column, you’ve probably learned a lot about Ramona, some of the folks who’ve lived here, my family, my kids, my sister, and me! 

There are quite a few subjects, however, that I haven’t talked about.

I should say that there are subjects I haven’t overtly addressed because I know that anytime you write something down on paper, the folks who read it know more about you than you might think.

Since there isn’t a ready avenue for discourse in a column, readers then put their own spin on things, add their own experiences to the mix, and thus remember it and evaluate it in their opinion.

It is an Opinion page after all.

If we were sitting in the living room, around the kitchen table, or out there on the swing, a lively discussion would follow — a conversation, where differing opinions are best aired.

So, touchy subjects — like politics, religion, guns, abortion — I steer clear of, mostly.

I should say, I try to steer clear, but I know it probably leaks through, at times.

A couple of times, I’ve written on the subject of gun control, for instance, but never published them.

I was cautioned to stick to my theme of nostalgic country living, and I concurred.

A couple of times, I’ve banged out columns on the subject of abortion, but I’ve never sent them in, just filed them away in my logbook.

Some of these privately held choices are as individual as our thumbprint and our personal responsibility, ideally.

I once heard an evangelist speaking on the subject of religious freedom and the separation of church and state. He coined a phrase that I’ve tried to adhere to in my life, calling upon people to live their religious faith more than talking about it ad infinitum.

Religious adherents are often called upon to share their faith, but this fiery orator said there were areas of belief that refer to our own private calling, our own personal creed, that are between us, our belief system, and personal experience with Divine guidance.

He called it, “A faith NOT to share.” That’s why I don’t just “spill it all.”

Today, as I write, it’s the Fourth of July, a day commemorating the official beginning of the United States of America — a day, when, by some grand happenstance, enough people got together and agreed on a set of guidelines, giving unheard-of access to freedom: the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

I hear the sound of a little tractor pulling up outside my door.

It’s Art putting up flags on the main street in Ramona — such a lovely custom, such good people who live in our little town.

I ran to get my phone and took his picture and called out to him, but the motor was so loud he didn’t hear me.

This isn’t just any old ordinary day, my friends, but a significantly wonderful, precious, day in our country.

Last modified July 11, 2024

 

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