Hi Reader, hey! It’s been far, far too long since we’ve spent some time together. I know, it’s all me, always me, I’m not pointing any fingers your way because we’re friendies and we have a deal that I write nonsense and you show up and read it and maybe leave a comment here or on Facebook and I say in my head, “yay, we’ve connected!” And I’ve let us down, because absence DOES NOT make the heart grow fonder, it’s more “out of sight, out of mind.” We both know that.
I’ll try to do a little better. Because I love you, Reader.
Anyway, I left you at “getting ready to go somewhere” or something – I know a spider story was involved – and I did go somewhere! I had my yearly trip with one of my very favorites, the John Boy to my Mary Ellen. Yes, I know she’s a girl, but she’s also my “Goodnight, John Boy.” It’s a backstory, one that involves my mama, and since it actually is Mother’s Day today let’s tell the story.
Growing up, in our very small 2-bedroom house on Lloyd Road in Cleveland, Ohio, my daddy worked night shift on and off to bring the bacon home. And so my mama would sleep downstairs in one of the beds and we’d yell across from room to room in the dark, “Goodnight John Boy,” “Goodnight Mary Ellen,” “Goodnight Elizabeth,” “Goodnight Erin,” until we little ones ran out of Walton names we knew. And then we’d drift off to sleep, safe in the knowledge that we’d all said our goodnights and all was safe on BangBang Mountain.
If you don’t know the Walton’s, you won’t understand and also I feel sad for you because it’s too good not to know.
I guess I’m just partial to Simpler Times shows, which is why I also am a #1 fan of The Andy Griffith Show. Small town. Friendships. Good food. Music. Family dinners. Cake. It just appeals to my heart, where I’ll always be a small town girl. Who likes to stick her toes in the sands of far-away beaches. 