Churn My Buttermilk

In Lonesome Dove, the second-best book ever written, a whore named Lorena is despondent because she’s stuck on a cattle drive, probably somewhere in Oklahoma, when she really wants to be located in San Francisco where it’s cool.

Augustus McCrae, the epitome of cool, wisely states, “Life in San Francisco is still just life.  If you want one thing too much it’s likely to be a disappointment.”  Gus finishes his soliloquy by sharing, “The healthy way is to learn to like the everyday things, like soft beds and buttermilk – and feisty gentlemen.”

Gus, of course, is right.

Here are a few of the things that churn my buttermilk as I watch my beard turning gray:

Standing in a bright patch of sunlight out in the deep woods, letting the warmth heat up my Carhartt and my bones.

A grand-dog sitting as close as she can get, while resting her head on my knee.

Hot, black coffee in a cup… and time to drink it.

Whistling songs to a mockingbird in the top of a sweetgum tree, and smiling as the bird sings back.

Old friends who give long hugs.

Sitting in the cab of my pickup truck, where things are arranged precisely as I wish, and knowing that they’ll stay that way.

Being greeted at my local Wal-Mart by an impossibly happy woman from Jamaica who always flashes a huge smile and says, “Hey, mon!  Have a good day!”

A grandson who stares at me with eyes full of wonder… and then begins to laugh.

Friends who call at 2:00 A.M. just to see what I’m doing.

Sitting with my 89 year-old father by our campfire and listening, once again, to those stories about bombing runs in World War II.

Peace.

 Thought for the week:  "Read you some Bible today, the BEST book ever written."