Sitting out on the back deck this evening listening to the cicadas and the tree frogs in mother nature's band...an evening chorus if you will. It's a sound I remember hearing as a kid. After I started hearing them, school would start a few weeks later. They may do this all summer but I for some reason I only hear it in the fall.
I went to a funeral today. The grandmother of my good friend Dale Short passed away. She was in her high nineties and had been going strong until a years or so ago when she broke a hip. After that injury, she went down hill fast. The thing about living to be that age, most of your family and friends have passed on.
Dale spent a great deal of time with his grandparents. In fact, I think you could say he was raised by them. Both his grandfather and grandmother had great wisdom. I could tell you stories about the both of them.
One story about his grandfather I still tell today. Both Albert and Vera owned a small country store down near Shanghi, Alabama and one day a woman came in to buy some eggs. She asked Albert "how much is a dozen eggs?" Mr. Brasfield said they are 15 cents. The lady thought for a second and then said "Mr. Jones down the road said his eggs are only 12 cents a dozen." Mr. Brasfield said well I think if I were you, I'd buy my eggs from Mr. Jones.
The lady said "I would but he's out right now." Mr. Brasfield said well when I'm out of eggs, mine are a dime a dozen."
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