Man, time flies. I must be having fun. The clock seems to tick faster nowadays. Once in a while, someone will mention something that happened in the ’80s or ’90s. First blush, in my mind, it sounds like not long ago.
Do the math, and three decades have come and gone. I guess what my grandmother, Miz Lena, used to tell me was right. She’d say, “Honey Baby, life goes by.” It’s taken me all these years to fully understand exactly what she meant. Now, I know.
The first day of spring showed up this past Tuesday with very little fanfare. I always get it mixed up with Easter and daylight-saving time. Once again, it got by me.
When I was a little guy, living on my grandparents’ farm, to me, spring meant it was getting closer to summer. It wasn’t gonna be long before I would be wearing shorts. The days would last longer. Most importantly, the creek would warm up and I could go swimming.
My grandfather was an architect and commuted to nearby Nashville. My grandmother, Miz Lena, they called her, ran the farm. She knew exactly what she was doing. Her parents, my great-grandparents, Papa and Mama Sue Harvey, were farming people. Grand Mom grew up working hard.