Writing From the Hip: The Big City In a Thousand Words

My First Wife Chancie and I took an airplane ride to Georgia’s Big City a couple of weeks ago.

All of our Nifty Nine Grandkids were there cutting up and otherwise making everybody feel loved. Chancie and I got plenty of fresh hugs and our laps got sat upon with passion. We boiled over with joy.

We had a great time and enjoyed all kinds family things, including non-stop cooking. We had a weeklong eating marathon and they said I won. I put on several pounds—and can show you every one.

The point of the trip was Our Oldest Granddaughter’s high school graduation. When they called her name, we were so proud—why, I felt like a just-opened bottle of 7-Up. She graduated from a huge high school. We had to walk half a mile from the parking lot to the stadium. Fortunately, it was a beautiful night in Georgia. More than seven hundred kids graduated, which made me wonder which one of those handsome graduates will be our President some day.

I love my kids and grandkids, but I sure don’t care for where they live. I prefer living way out here in Pancake Flats. First off, I like sleeping in the dark. No street lights. The only lights I want to see out my windows are those stars shining in the universe. Okay, the moon, too. When I was a kid growing up in the Arizona desert, the stars seemed so close I often tried to reach up there and touch them. Arizona desert nights are gifts from the Lord—just like our nine grandkids. I’ve been hooked on stars since I was just a little booger.

Another thing about not living in The Big City is those blasted 24-hour sirens. I’ve never heard a siren in Pancake Flats. When I go to sleep, I prefer a cricket serenade. And frogs, too, if there’s been a good rain.

But worst of all is that rascally Traffic, Traffic, Traffic. Hoo-eee!

Have you seen that verse in the Bible that says, "The chariots storm through the streets, rushing back and forth through the squares. They look like flaming torches; they dart about like lightning."

If you ask me, that's what it's like in The Big City. Where is everybody going? Where did everybody come from? And why is everybody in such a hurry? Wouldn’t it be easier if you left a half an hour earlier? While we rode to My Boy’s house, Chancie sat up front with him and took the photo below. Maybe you’ve been in the same area.