Georgia Green Stamper – Georgia On Her Mind

This is a Christmas story. Sort of. Or maybe it’s about grumpy old men. Maybe it’s about the commercialism that we like to rant against at this time of year. I’m pretty sure, though, that it’s about love.

I’m learning the Morse Code. I got the idea from a movie I saw this summer. In one of those light-bulb-flashing-over-my-head moments, I realized this could bridge the communication gap between my young adult children and me. They only communicate by texting now, and with my clumsy old thumbs and last century spelling, I’m left out of the conversation. Re-invent the telegraph, I say, with its finger friendly dashes and dots in plain old English!

It was one mile short of being a river, folks said when I was a child, and I believed them. Eagle Creek was our Nile, sustaining our livelihood, nurturing our culture. Its winding path had carved out our place on earth a million years before the mighty Ohio was born, mapping where the hearts of my people would rest. Even the edge of the sky stopped at a wall of tall, boney sycamore trees that grew along its banks.

The world is divided into two kinds of people, those who rise with the sun and those who don’t.
The morning folks cornered the world market on worms centuries ago, and have the best PR staff in the business. Early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise – oh, their press releases go on and on.
Personally, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the sun come up. Oh, maybe in my youth when I pulled colicky babies through the night, but I lived in Ashland then, in a hilly forest cut off from the rest of the natural world by industrial smog.