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A Bad Day

 

 

By Ren Summerlin

 

 



The other night I was listening to some baseball announcer lament about how awful it was to play ball in Miami and then fly to the west coast. Just awful. They were saying that the schedule should be changed to take this into consideration. 

I did not listen long. I thought if theses guys were being paid a million dollars a year to play this beloved game, they should not complain. 

Let me tell you about a bad day. 

When I was much younger than I am now , my rambling partner and I would be out until sometimes late . Real late. Well, this night was one of the real late nights. Looking back on it , we did nothing wrong, we were just out late. 

As I was coming into the house , the sky was turning pink in the east. I tried to be as quiet as I could.. I hoped the dog would not bark and he didn’t . So far so good. 

It was not to last. 

I had sat down on the side of the bed to remove my shoes and try to get at least an hour of sleep. My Daddy and Momma slept in the next room . I knew when I heard his bed squeak that this day would start early. I was so correct . 

He poked his head into my room and said “ Good . I see you are up. let’s go.” I changed my clothes and went to the breakfast table . My brother gave me one of those looks as if to say . ’ I told you so ’ 

Breakfast was good.; what followed wasn’t . 

That day we pulled weeds from peanuts , hoed some cotton and to top it off pulled citrons from the corn. At lunch I tried to grab some sleep. But my Daddy had a busy day planned for his baby boy. 

My head hurt , the sun was bright , I was sleepy and more sleepy. But we worked on. About sundown we left the fields for the house. The chickens needed feeding, eggs gathered, cows watered and the hogs seen after. My Daddy knew to not leave me alone lest I succumb to the ever worsening cry for sleep. He sent my older brother with me. 

After supper Daddy announced that there might be just enough time to change the tire on the old rotary mower. Guess who got the job? 

That my friends was a bad day. But I got thru it.


Copyright Ren Summerlin

* * * * *


Born and raised near BayGeorgia. One word BayGeorgia. This is about half way between Funston and Hartsfield. Some time these folks look down on us. They have a post office; we don't. However we have The Chicken Races, they don't. I have written ever since I entered the first grade. I have always loved it. I love a lot of things but am most impressed by God's work. Sunsets, butterflies, horses, dogs, blue skies, full moons, the stars at night, pretty women, good food and a whole lot of laughter. Bunch more too. Divorced and live alone. I am house broken and don't snore. Only get up once a night to go to the bathroom. Believe in God, Elvis, Baseball and that Humpty Dumpty was pushed from the wall. He never would have jumped.

 

     "This is me, Ren"


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