The Rambler

Today is Sunday, as usual I am up at 5:30 am no matter what. I enjoy the fact that I can come online and ramble.

Usually I ramble in a large journal ledger that I keep in bed with me. Many years ago, I found that it is comforting for me to just ramble in a journal. Once I went back, and really read some of the garbage that I had written that is why I call it "vomit" on paper. Whenever I would read some of my ramblings, I found that I would put down my dreams and my wonderings. I would come up with some of the one liners that I am famous for. For some reason. I can see the mundane, the obvious, and the obtuse. Beleive me, no real feat just an innate underpinning that is a necessary part of my being. In other words, I came equipped with it.

However, as I think back and as I listen to my children and grandchildren I think it is a gene because so many of us have it. Wherever we got it from, I want to thank the ancestor. I would like to see one of us really develop it. I don’t think it will happen during my lifetime because we are a funny bunch of coconuts. We have this innate gene to be free spirited, to be totally autonomous, to be free willed, and to be unpretentious with our undertakings, and to be quite forthright with our speech. We are a hard bunch to take and in a bunch we are a freewiling fun loving, crazy, wild, quick witted, and high energy bunch. I swear our energy alone could light the eastern seacoast for at least a week.

As I ramble along, the sun has started to cascade through the house. It rises just over Williams Island to the east of my condo and throws its beams down Skylake Lake. If I stood on my toes and looked to the east, I could see the ocean about three miles from here. On a good day I can even see forever.

I wish some one were in the kitchen "smelling the house up" with a great breakfast. I can just smell my mother’s pot of coffee wafting through out the house and waking up every one and every thing. Even the house plants seem to sense that she is up and soon will be talking to them and touching and loving them. Even the birds seem to sense that every one is slowing coming to. How I miss those cool mornings of cooking before the sun heats up the house. Sundays were the days when you could get a good meal anywhere. Every one cooked on Sunday. You might not have a great meal during the week after the leftovers were gone. But, on Sunday’s the family would be sure to be around the table. The day when all the gossip--community news-- was unleashed and a day to some what plan the week.

My grandmother had a problem with my planning and day dreaming. She use to tell me to stop always planning and day dreaming. Once I asked her why. She told me that tomorrow is a mystery we don’t know if we will be here. But, if we are here shouldn’t we have a plan? No, tomorrow will take care of itself.