Attention Bigfoot

Here’s another you will like. Found in a box of pictures and memorabilia I’m sorting through to either “do something with it” or burn. Quite a bit is being burnt.

I do come across some “gems.”

Talk about a story! My uncle died of polio in 1950, I think, at age 14, a couple of days after swimming in this very ditch or one very much like it connected nearby. In the Mississippi floodplain, many thousands of miles of drainage ditches were bulldozed into the region by the Little River Drainage Project, a federal project which probably exceeded the TVA initiative, which was also a federal project to tame the environment of the interior in ways which would be deemed impossible today. This changed the landscape here from swampland to the agricultural mecca it is today, with some of the farmers in the region farming land in their family for a hundred years, my own family included, though our farm isn’t typical of the region. As you might grasp… my father was extra-ordinary, eccentric and some even might say, weird.

My maternal uncle, whom I never met, is on the left side the bank. I think he is the young man who seems to be texting. Can you imagine how many of those children would be in protective custody for safety issues and the lack of shoes? This image was made, according to my grandmother’s handwriting, in 1949 and the uncle died a few months later after swimming with friends. None of them caught polio. My mother was 18, soon to marry my father, who took the photo. No, that is NOT her crack you can see and no, I do not know if that is why he took the photo. My mother is more likely to be up on the hillside, close to the road. She was twelve years younger than my father.

I think you and I should write a story about crossing rivers… one from your point of view and one from mine, using this as our illustration. C’mon… whatcha got to lose except your good name, which nobody around here has known from comment to comment for several months, if not years. As a matter of fact, I’m not even positive I’m even talking to you, Me Hoe. I am not sure I’ve managed to follow your transition into this new persona you are creating.

So, we’ll call it EC and Mags Collaborate on the Rio or something similarly clever and punny. I won’t even bring up the Cuban. What do you say? We can write it right HERE or we could go offline via email.

We could discuss current events as if seen through the eyes of you, I and a few of these country bumpkins (ironically photographed by a man just returned from POW status in Japan) who’d won the war against communism abroad only to bring its evil twin, progressive socialism, to the homeland.

We could also invite the tadpole… he is quite the metaphorical dream weaver.

*Once in a while I throw out a titillating little factoid to see if I get a nibble.

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