Just askin, mind you...

Outside my "shop" I have a couple of "pup" trailers parked. One is secluded by old pallets and equipment skids. Underneath has been placed an old mattress. It's obvious homeless folks are sleeping there overnight. I've not tried to do anything about it.

This morning upon arriving at work I found a couple of folks still asleep. I tried not to disturb them and didn't run them off. That action got me to considering: "How does one help those of lesser circumstance without making onself vulnerable to them and their predations?"

Or, are we called to making ourselves vulnerable to the world around us?

Ol Possum

So, last Friday, news of the day reported that George Jones had died. He was, in my mind:

1. The greatest voice ever to sing Country Music, and
2. His signature song “He Stopped Loving Her Today” is perhaps the greatest Country Song ever written.

I am, and have been since my youth, a Country Music fan. Back in the day, we could go to one of the “Joints” around Waco and listen and dance to the great classic country artists for like $3.00 per head. I believe a beer was about .50 or .75 cents, to put that $3.00 Cover Charge in perspective. I can’t remember everyone we saw, but some that come to mind are Willie Nelson, Tommy Duncan, Jerry Lee Lewis, Charlie Pride, Ray Price, Merle Haggard, Bonnie Owens, Loretta Lynn, David Houston, Norma Jean and of course Tammy Wynette and George Jones. They would travel on their Tour Bus with their respective Bands and do a 4 hour performance:

• 1st set was the Band alone,
• 2nd set was the Band with their Lead,
• 3rd set was just the Band again
• and the last set was the Lead and the Band again.

They played from 8:00 PM to Midnight then everyone went home; or out for a Chicken Fried Steak Dinner to sober up a bit at one of the 24 hour cafes or truck stops around town.

What’s the importance of the preceding paragraph, you ask? That same Friday, after posting a “goodbye” to George on Facebook, the wife and I went to NOLA to return the Granddog, which we had been babysitting while daughter was working in Toronto. We got to her house around 9:30 pm, she hadn’t arrived back yet, settled in and about 1 ½ hours later while getting ready to bed down, I checked on her outdoor cats. Well “Shut My Mouth”, there were no cats on the porch but there was a possum eating cat food, about 4 foot on the other side of the door. It was a young one and didn’t seem bothered by my watching. It struck me as strange because I’d not seen a possum in her backyard before (she lives in town), Possums are somewhat “skittish” and George Jones nickname was “Ol Possum”. In relating the story to daughter the next morning she said: “Its name has to be George.” I concur.

My take from all this? I don’t know. It certainly was a bit of serendipity to meet George the possum the same day Ol Possum died. Is there any message to be read into it? Probably nothing more than: "…All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well".

Requiescat in pace George Jones, ‘till we meet up again; and peace and grace to all y’all reading this.