Sunday Morning Coffee

OldSouth enjoys the quiet, the dogs passed out after the morning romp, the second cup of coffee, well before heading off to church.

The afternoon holds such excitements as the installation of six rose bushes, the final pack-up of the china collection left displaced by the Great Middle Tennessee Flood, and preparation for a ten-day business trip. He is so grateful for the small blessings of coffee, church, dogs, roses and china, and feels just how fragile life is at these moments.


An hour yesterday spent with a neighbor, only five years older, whose health fell apart without warning earlier this year was sobering.  OS will be taking his own physician's admonitions to heart. There is a prescription to fill, a diet to undertake, exercise to be done faithfully. No one is bulletproof, especially those of us who believe we are.

So, in the quiet, before the activity that must occupy the day and the next ten, a word of thanks to those who bother to read OS's ramblings. He tries not to ramble, and hopes he adds value to the lives that read his scribble. It doesn't take a shrink to recognize that this blog is in great part a therapeutic exercise, a place to make sense of the world, in a publishable form, clearly enough expressed that someone else might read and understand. 

About a year ago, the 'Wrestling Midgets' mayoral campaign in OS's little town finally put him over the edge. It had been preceded by decades of watching the culture slowly unwind and disintegrate, with the recent series of economic crises presenting as the latest symptoms of the malady--the abandonment of the moral and intellectual underpinnings that built this wonderful place. The distress had been building as he watched lives, families, and institutions fall to the avalanche of consequence that now inexorably heads down the hillside of history.

It was either write his thoughts and publish (even if not a soul read it), or become unbearable to the sainted Mrs. OS, or begin working on that first heart attack in earnest. Since he loves Mrs. OS so, and doesn't wish to spend the next twenty years with the big scar on his chest while eating cardboard food, this seemed to be the better route. For very good reasons having to do with the welfare of his family, OldSouth chooses anonymity. Nothing nefarious going on, soon enough it won't matter anyway.

In the meantime, it's been fun to speak from this 'alter-ego' voice.

It has helped to know that people the wide world ‘round read his scribble. It gives him a sense that he is not totally nutters, that he can communicate and be understood. He attempts to explain to his neighbors, in their dialect, here in this sleepy Southern town, how the outside world has come to bear upon them, hence the address 'mainstreetmattersmore'. He tries to share what better minds than his are saying, to help them make sense. He has a definite point of view, but attempts to always learn from others, 'cuz he might be wrong. 

Likewise, he attempts to give insight into small-town Southern life, and its state of mind, to anyone who cares to read. Who knows, maybe one of them will be someone who makes big decisions whose consequences rain down upon our small lives.


Maybe, OS will say some small thing that impacts what may remain of a conscience in that person.


Maybe. 

So, thank you, all ya'll out there. Whether OS has helped you or not, you certainly have helped save him.
Now, for a morning thought to share, you might wish to look at a recent posting on Baseline Scenario, entitled 'The European Road To Serfdom'. Simon Johnson, a true voice of reason, helps organize the events of the past few months in understandable form. 

Hope you find it valuable.

And, again, thank you.