THE DUST WILL WAIT

A memory popped into my head out of no where when I was driving home last weekend. There was a television series back in the mid sixties titled "The Legend of Jesse James."  The leading man was handsome, as I recall, and that is probably the reason I wanted to watch it.  Of course, in television land, the James brothers were modern day Robin Hoods, which made for a very romantic story line.   It wasn't the show itself that emerged from my thoughts, but rather a conversation I had with my daddy one evening.  Daddy walked in to the "front" room,  took his reading glasses off and stuck them in his pocket, and then observed the show for a few minutes. "I went to see Frank James when I was a youngster," he stated in a very matter of fact tone. "You what?" I remember turning all my attention to him. "Yeah," he confirmed.  "The James Farm was 10 or so miles from Excelsior Springs, and one day we went over there to set our sights...

Molly left me a note yesterday to remind me that her last request as Fun Monday hostess is for bloggers to write about a child hood memory.  She knew that I would be drawn to this topic like a fly to manu… Er… No, I mean a bear to honey. A memory had already been evoked in me earlier this month when suffering with a horrible fever blister that covered the end of my nose and part of my upper lip.  While doing some errands for Auntie Fern,  one of the owners of the retirement village suggested I slather my affliction with Bag Balm.  Immediately two thoughts popped into my head.  One was of that big fat wedding movie –  where the father character pulls out a spray bottle of Windex (window cleaner) every time someone appeared in the script with a skin ailment. * * * The other sentiment was of my dad.  My dad would never have been so bold to suggest his remedies to strangers, but he did share his opinions freely with family. If you had a headache i...