INCREASE-DECREASE

So I missed Griffin’s art show. BUT there is a reason! And a pretty good one. I drove from Brooklyn, stopped in DC to pick up my mother, and headed south. All the way south. So south, that the state has “south” in it’s name (so, does South Dakota, but that’s not where I went). South Carolina! (Applause)

Dinner menu (made by the hands of my mother and cousins): Beef Ribs, Fried Chicken, Honey Glazed Ham, Green beans, Collard Greens (also pronounced Colla greens), Black Eyes Peas, Macaroni & Cheese, Corn Muffins, Cheesecake, Yellow cake, Apple Bread, Banana Bread, Ice cream, a gallon of fresh brewed Iced Tea (in a tupperware container), and Budweiser.

Conversation menu: How my grandfather acquired 100 acres of land, How to light a pilot light on a gas stove, How happy we are that baby Talan (my godson) is born, How screwed up the education system is, College basketball, Funny church-folk, and whether or not I’m going to get my hair twisted.

This is Josh. Practically a big brother to me. He just had a child (his fiance did, really), Talan. Talan is my godson. Talan is beautiful.

Notice the wood on the house. The country window. The handmade wooden bench. The old school hippie cooler. This is an authentic place, with an authentic family. Crazy, but authentic!.  And an authentic peace. One I haven’t felt in quite a while.

It’s funny. This store has been a part of my family for a long, long time. It’s located directly behind the house (in that pic up there. Literally, it’s in the same yard). I remember running from that house, across the yard to the store, where a wiry and fiery Uncle C.S. always sat behind the counter. It was his store, but back then, it didn’t have all this liquor. I mean, he sold beer, and maybe corn liquor, but it was mostly a hangout spot for country old me, in gab slacks discussing crop secrets, and extra-marital women. Guess it’s true, you gotta change with the times.

I used to get a 25 cent bag of BonTon chips, or a hand full of penny candy. Uncle C.S. used to have a huge jar, with LOOSE butter cookies, that he would reach in and get for you! For some reason, I remember several elders coming in and asking for sardines, and other kinds of fish, which kinda grosses me out, when I think about his hands in that cookie jar. But hay, maybe fishy butter cookies (that we ate off our fingers) is what made me a man. Nonetheless, I am proud.

(Sigh) Back to the jungle.