Heathens . . . missing Ma and Pa . . .

Two of the most important men in my life are heathens - it's true. P&D's Pop and my Kiddo did not take my invitation to sit on the front porch and watch the sunset seriously. Supposedly the big one watched through the window and the smaller one watched through the door! I'm supposed to be content with that knowledge. Yikes! I've been had. A sunset cannot be described; it cannot be videoed; it can not be photographed; it cannot be painted although that would be the best a human being could do - sunsets are not to be trifled with - they are the void we would enter now and in éternua - how peaceful, graceful, strong, passionate, fiery, brilliant, ephemeral, bold, startling, crisp, clear, vague, suave, clean, vaporous, transient and human. There is hope in humanity but when the sunsets end it is the end. PS The big one did come out as the sun faded away and the smaller one was busy speaking with his Mama - all is well.

Oh to have the descriptive powers of a Samuel Longhorne Clemens . . .

I wish I could do the gentleman justice. We've met him a few times in passing at James' Coffee Shop in Old Denham Springs. Today he was dressed in dark suit pants, light brown shirt, a brown tie with yellow paisley design, a medium brown suit jacket and the brightest yellow straw fedora with a brown band. As he was leaving the restaurant, having said his au revoirs to his friends who were dressed as most men in the shop, shorts and polos, he stopped by our table and offered me a choice of the flowers he clasped in his gnarled, warm hand. The stems were wrapped in tinfoil just as we used to wrap Mama's violets back in the day. I'm in love with south Louisiana.