“Half remembered names and faces, on an ever spinning reel...”
T’is a long ‘n winding road we tread....our beginnings buried in the mist of memory that we only know from what we’re told....the memories of those who were there at our beginning.....our own mem’ries, the ones we consider t’be real, come later, in bits ‘n pieces....
snatches of color in a dream....a remembered scent.....little things passed over swiftly enough but caught in our subconscious to stay with us all our days...
Friends begin to fall away even in the springtime of our youth ‘n are lost only to come again in the fullness of a dream....
I understand the US Post Office is taking out those old standbys, the neighborhood mailbox....I guess that shouldn’t be a surprise...when was the last time that you found a public pay phone that was usable...’n I bet when you did find one, it didn’t belong to AT&T.....those are long gone....another thing that is doing a disappearing act is that ringy-dingy thing that used to set on a hall table, what the younger set call...’the land line’....the brave new world is upon us whether we’re ready for it or not....snail mail is out...heck, e-mail is falling by the wayside ‘n being replaced by Twitter....’n by the by, one doesn’t twitter, one tweets on Twitter...James Kirk ‘n his merry band ‘ud find themselves at a technological disadvantage here in the early days of the Twentyfirst....
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