When we were kids, making each other take turns in "repositioning" the bunny ears on the t.v., was just another part of life. As we grew, the bunny ears turned into A-B cable, and you always needed to know what was on B as opposed to A.
Next thing we knew, we weren't watching real television at all, we were watching "cable" and it was all the rage. HBO brought us into the world of paying for entertainment and our news stations weren't as easy to remember as channels 3, 4, 5, and 9. Now News channel 3 was on channel 13, and News 5 was on channel 10.
When a big storm would roll in, we counted on those bunny ears to get us through, and to help us tap back in to our favorite news station, just to make sure we knew if the tornado was coming or not. Now, we just have to wait and see if the roof of the house flies off, and the wicked witch blows by on her broom. This fact was highlighted in my mind just a few nights ago.
My husband and I, as we sat in our little third story walk up, looked out the other night on a horrible scene. The lightening and thunder had rolled in fast, and we werent sure how long it would last, or if we were in the bulk of it. See, we have cable, and when a big storm rolls in now, the cable shuts out. Comcast puts up a cute little message saying, "this channel will continue in a moment." That moment could be the one moment where the roof of our apartment complex could blow off.
What will become of the people who need the warning. We had tornado warnings as a kid because we were lucky, living on the same block as the tornado sirens, but also because we watched on our little t.v., adjusting the bunny ears, to see when it would hit our neighborhood.
I realize now, even more, as the government announces our all new, totally digital t.v. digs, that we need a NOAA radio to keep in our house. In fact, at this point, the more I think about some poor old lady in some small midwestern town, whose television just went out this morning, that everyone needs a NOAA radio in their house (maybe the government should send one to every household, on them).
Needless to say, the first thing we're doing on sunday while running errands, is picking up a weather radio. If you start to think about the weather around your own area, maybe it would be wise to invest in one as well. Don't wait to see the wicked witch fly past on her broom... at that point, Dorothy, you're already gone.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Out to the Field of Clovers
We were ten, holding hands, swinging our arms back and forth between us, feeling the sunshine as we skipped down the dirt road. It was summer, the sun was setting, and we ran towards the fields of clover. The green petals bristled in the wind. We sat for a while, watching the sun turn shades of red and purple. We talked about the small things in life that made it fun, like nice teachers, playing ball, and swimming. The big bell on my mother's back porch rang with a furry. It was time to head back to the houses.
We were fifteen, holding hands, walking down the old dirt lane. It was summer, the sun was setting, and we leisurely went towards our spot in the clover. We sat for a while, our hands never leaving each other, not really watching the sun, but gazing deep into each others eyes. We talked about our love, our futures, and what we really wanted. The big bell on mama's back porch rang now, but softer than when we were children. As if beckoning us home, but letting us take our time.
We were eighteen now, holding hands, we walked down the dirt road to the edge of the clover, and stopped to take in this moment. His uniform pressed, my best dress on, our hearts were racing. Our last day, our last moment in the clovers. We walked out into the clover, and he kneeled. The happiest day in the clover, we sat together, nestled in each others arms. The big bell never rang on Mama's back porch that evening. She wanted us to take our time, because she knew.
I am twenty one now, I walk down the road to the clovers. I clutch my black satin pocket book, and his handkerchief in one hand, a tiny hand in the other. It is summer, and the sun is setting. Our little one toddles beside me, down the dirt road to our place, the place where our love grew. To the place where our son's love will grow. Out to the field of clovers. The bells of the church from the town ring now, they ring for him.
Out to the field of clovers.
We were fifteen, holding hands, walking down the old dirt lane. It was summer, the sun was setting, and we leisurely went towards our spot in the clover. We sat for a while, our hands never leaving each other, not really watching the sun, but gazing deep into each others eyes. We talked about our love, our futures, and what we really wanted. The big bell on mama's back porch rang now, but softer than when we were children. As if beckoning us home, but letting us take our time.
We were eighteen now, holding hands, we walked down the dirt road to the edge of the clover, and stopped to take in this moment. His uniform pressed, my best dress on, our hearts were racing. Our last day, our last moment in the clovers. We walked out into the clover, and he kneeled. The happiest day in the clover, we sat together, nestled in each others arms. The big bell never rang on Mama's back porch that evening. She wanted us to take our time, because she knew.
I am twenty one now, I walk down the road to the clovers. I clutch my black satin pocket book, and his handkerchief in one hand, a tiny hand in the other. It is summer, and the sun is setting. Our little one toddles beside me, down the dirt road to our place, the place where our love grew. To the place where our son's love will grow. Out to the field of clovers. The bells of the church from the town ring now, they ring for him.
Out to the field of clovers.
Good Morning Ladies and Gents
When the early morning sun rose above the fields and we looked out on what would be our next great adventure, I stopped in my path.
"This is it," I spoke to the sunrise, sparkling at the horizon, and I took my first step into the world of tomorrow.
-----------
Within this blog you will find many many stories. They are works of fiction, just as I am a work of fiction. I'm a pseudonym, a "pen name" if you will for a writer who lives and works in the eastern part of the states.
Please enjoy this blog of fiction and the short stories shared within. Please leave comments, whether good or bad.
Enjoy my loves,
Emmaline J. Crawford
"This is it," I spoke to the sunrise, sparkling at the horizon, and I took my first step into the world of tomorrow.
-----------
Within this blog you will find many many stories. They are works of fiction, just as I am a work of fiction. I'm a pseudonym, a "pen name" if you will for a writer who lives and works in the eastern part of the states.
Please enjoy this blog of fiction and the short stories shared within. Please leave comments, whether good or bad.
Enjoy my loves,
Emmaline J. Crawford
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)