the wallace opry

i have a part time job.
i run the cash  register
i listen to raw jokes
i listen to talk that sometimes offends my liberal mind
i have a part time job at our municipal golf course

almost each friday morning 8 months of the year, i open the
golf course. i work friday am’s because that is the day the senior’s
hold their scramble. i work any friday  i can get because i
adore these men. they have become part of my life. literally.

i value their friendships. i love their wives. they matter to me.

it is a fit for sure. i would say i do much better hanging with
men that i do a room of chicks. probably for the same reason i
always felt such a bond with my dad. i would say i am a man’s
girl. i don’t know why. just the way it has always been.

these boys are part of my life. they treat me like one of them,
and at the same time, they treat me like they would their wife
their daughters, they buddies. they matter too me, they
help define my life

for the past three months, they have invited bryce and
myself to their monthly dinners. thursday we headed
to wallace, indiana. as we neared the lands of the past,
my cell showed no service, the deep ravines filled with
the tasty black mushrooms waiting to be plucked
and the natives waiting to listen to their beloved john
colvault.  walking into the little general store i was
instantly taken back, waiting to see loretti lynn to
be up on the stage with her guitar. the locals of
course starred at each of us as we followed our
waitress to our long table.

i watched an 84 year young lass, cutting the rug with
each song. chunky christmas lights outlined the stage
where the wood burned signed simply stated “the wallace
opry”.

these are the moments in my life that matter, where
i visit strange lands and see little communities gather
and bond. little pockets of the lands of the past. i sat there
with my boys and their wives, belly laughing, bonding
gaining community.

these boys matter to me. they are ones how also
define my life.

thursday nite in the wallace opry. lands of the past.
no cell service.