White Trash

There’s just no room to deal with creatures of culture with the same creativity.


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Not too long ago, in the dead of winter, a very old lady in the far northeast said to her heirs, “Be careful cleaning out the attic”. The children thought she was just senile about her old stuff scattered around the attic floor. But one daughter paid close attention, opening every envelope; carefully looking for remnants of the old lady’s life.

There are times when we, also, find ourselves having to clean out our own “attics of life”. The things we once thought had value are now not worth the paper it is written on. Those times appear to be when the writer of those messages are little more than “white trash” themselves.

Looking back, I’ve begun to comprehend the value of some people that I once held to a higher standard. Then I discovered the memories stuffed in my attic weren’t worth keeping. Trying to keep records of importance end up, next to the Christmas ornaments, I see they are only there taking up space.

There are people in your life that fall into the same category. Collecting dust and taking up space, the world is inundated; too much “white trash” you never pay a bit of attention to anymore. There’s just no room to deal with creatures of culture with the same creativity.

Discarding memoirs of irrelevance becomes a necessity as our minds are cluttered with unnecessary objectivity. So I pray, God, is there purpose in white trash?  Like a mosquito that bites you behind your leg, it escapes when your attention is elsewhere. Useless as a gnat, “white trash” serves no purpose.

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So, I clean out my attic, hoping I can find something of value just like the young lady cleaning out her grandmother’s attic. She found a $4.00 framed, farm landscape painting. But….do you know what was on the flip side, hidden from view?? An original copy of the Declaration of Independence!

And as for me?? I just keep grabbing trash bags throwing out debris…much like the “I do’s” that didn’t. The senseless “white trash” that people become, rotting in the minds of loved ones – gone.

 


Author’s Note:

This is a true story of the farm painting. The Declaration of Independence was folded up into the size of an envelope and perfectly preserved behind a painting which was purchased at a Pennsylvania flea market in 1988.

You may read about this interesting story at this link:

http://www.nytimes.com/1991/04/03/arts/declaration-of-independence-found-in-a-4-picture-frame.html

 

Meet Me At State Circle

…only the Lord knew how we would react…. a true story


A brisk breeze invited the huge oaks to sway and the new little leaves fluttered as the morning sun evaporated last night’s rain. Three piece suits ushered in and out of the Capital where policies change with the swipe of a pen. I wasn’t here to tour or sit in on legislation.

I sat all alone on the retaining wall and watched the minute hand on the old movie theater clock. With baited breath, I straightened my collar, adjusted my sweater, and swept my hair in the right direction.

The crisp, cool breeze invited the sun as it made its way through the whispering leaves. With goosebumps, the seconds passed, and the minutes felt as though they were hours. The bell above rang in the steeple. It was high noon and I was scared to death! I wondered if she would recognize me or just walk on by. Was it me that should run and hide?

It had been thirty-two years since we laid eyes on one another and only the Lord knew how we would react when our eyes made contact. As pen pals, we posted notes and shared some pictures of ourselves, but, you never know if that’s “really you” after all those many years. I saw a blonde in the distance, walking my direction. “Could it be??”, I thought to myself, or was it just another pretty face. Nervous as an adolescent on his very first blind date, you were cordially late, which made me uncomfortable. I wondered if you would show.

Like a movie script, dressed to kill, with a smile that would light the world, you walked toward me. You looked like a college girl in your leggings, soft sweater, and a scarf that swayed as you walked. A mirage – maybe? Was it really you after all these years?? You haven’t changed. I jumped down off the wall as if to almost stand at attention. Your eyes sparkled and your teeth so white. You reach out to grab me like a long, lost friend. Embarrassingly, I felt your lonely heart, determined to see if there’s still a spark. I am amazed you’re still single! What any man, half my age, wouldn’t do to have you!

God is so awesome and fate may be the unwritten chapter in the Bible. Only He knew we’d meet, in May, on State Circle. The warm sun refreshes the dampness as life is revived from memories past. Only God could arrange such a reunion, as two hearts were once so close. I pushed you away to just stare into your face. I wiped away the years of tears and only wished for younger days.

Though God’s timing is unknown, soulmates are always on time. You see, we are never promised a matrimony where love is ordained to be on hold, but, somehow, it just felt right as I looked in her eyes and she stared into mine. Against all odds, I held you tight, as we walked the opposite direction, there on State Circle.

It’s true that hearts know no time and life starts over like spring after winter. So, I took your hand and began to patch up those lonely thoughts of us from years before. Only God allowed us to love as we prayed around State Circle ……