Finally the bells of summer have tolled and school is back in session. I told my school teacher wife early Monday morning before she left the house headed to Conehatta Elementary School, that I felt a bit melancholy.
It was 18 years ago — June of 2010 — when our little family of three packed up the Jeep and moseyed on down to Fort Morgan, Alabama for a beach vacation. We had rented a tiny seafoam green beach house slap dab out on the beach. We were hooked big time.
It is three-tenths of a mile from the end of my driveway down the dirt and gravel Pine Grove Road to Highway 21. Three-tenths of a mile. A little after 6:00 a.m. on the Fourth of July I decided to walk to the highway and back because I was more than a little perturbed on the eve of the Fourth as I drove in from work.
It seemed extra quiet in the office last week as the hustle and bustle of early deadlines quickly engulfed us. The phones didn’t ring much, the keyboards were clicking, and my co-workers and I were busy as bees trying to make sure everything was done on time.
It was fun while it lasted, but I suppose all good things do come to an end. This in reference to the miracle ride Mississippi State University’s baseball team took us all on to the College World Series.
We spent a long four days in New Orleans last week along with the King and Queen of Spain. Actually we were not with the King and Queen, but we did see them — or their entourage anyway — several times.
For years I’ve complained in this space over and over again about two things in particular. The way some folks drive around town, and especially on Highway 21 between here and Sebastopol, and what they do with their trash in those same areas.