Yesterday I walked into a room and on the TV was a Family Feud Classic. It kind of encapsulated that sense of growing up. The postcard of the past is more backdrop than present. And somehow we face the present as being in the present not so much as people with pasts.
At one of my first jobs, selling coffee and donuts, a man came in one day. Before I could force my face into a professional mask I winced and made an oooooo sound because whatever had happened to the man must have hurt. He right away said, It doesn't hurt anymore!
What happened?
The man explained what a radiator cap on a vehicle was and how if'n a person opens that when it's hot, a person can get scalded. It took a good minute for a tremble to come into my hand as I passed the cup of coffee to him. I was like a horse on legs that just were. There wasn't a lot of time and space between life all around and me on these "legs".
I don't have many of my books with me. One of the most important I've read was a history of the U.S. Post office. I was pondering censorship and free speech. In the history of the US, there's a critical link between the monies Congress has and what gets communicated. There's a chapter like a still life of controversy.
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