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Tag Archives: 1951
Night Riding (The Way Things Used to Be)
Childhood memories are almost indelible, aren’t they? I can remember lying in the floorboard of our black 1951 Plymouth, sleeping cozily on the left side of the hump that ran thru to the backseats; the hum of the engine and … Continue reading →
Posted in Aging Parents, Family History, Fathers, Stories, Uncategorized, World War II
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Tagged 1 Corinthians 13, 1951, 1963, air conditioning, Alseep in the Deep, Bible, box fan, chattanooga, church hymns, cottonfields back home, Drink to me only with thine eyes, Edgar Allan Poe, Ezio Pinza, Father's Day, ice plant, magical, Norden Bomb Site, Plymouth, Plymouth Fury, push button automatic, razor strop, sacred, The Raven, Tucson, Wing Tee Wee
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Dog Poop and Other Things That Stink
If you’ve lived long enough on this planet and have been out-of-doors for any period of time you’ve probably experienced it. One day you take an uninformed step on the ground beside you and you sense you’ve landed in a … Continue reading →
Posted in Aging Parents, Assisted Living, Family History, Nursing Homes, Stories, Uncategorized
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Tagged 1951, Andy Griffith, aroma, bizarre, consideration, dependent, dignity, dog poop, elder abuse, fast-paced, freedom, ghosts, God, hurry, incomprehensible, infractors, mother, Nursing Homes, olfactory, oxygen tank, patience, Plymouth, praise, pungency, rehab facilities, respect, rush, stink, taking things for granted, veracity, waiting, wheel chair, white shepherd/lab mix
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The Lost Story 