tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968186400753903801.post5988610374414465589..comments2023-06-12T07:27:45.243-07:00Comments on Jots & Tittles: No Title Comes To MindGenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15477478722994821078noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968186400753903801.post-983031289983179722010-06-11T13:38:47.743-07:002010-06-11T13:38:47.743-07:00Gene,
When I was a young boy who thought he was a...Gene,<br /><br />When I was a young boy who thought he was a man, I oftentimes traveled to the Conestoga Valley, near Lancaster, PA (home of the first Conestoga wagons). Mennonite country. Horses and buggies driven by bearded men dressed in black, alongside old-fashioned automobiles. Two-lane highway, Route 30. Barns, inside of which some of the local citizens sold their crafted jewelry. Lots of turquoise and silver. Many times a pretty girl by my side, one who wanted to marry me, although I was too stupid and naive to realize her intentions, and too immature for marrying (must have been my looks that drove her crazy).<br /><br />See what thoughts and memories just one of your blog's entries can inspire?<br /><br />By the way, good friend, what's "real life" anyway? You mean to tell me that Arizona ground squirrels and roadrunners are real?<br /><br />AVTAnonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07502819094792881476noreply@blogger.com