Gone with the Wind

Gone with the Wind

There is nothing that portrays comfortable and laid back Southern charm than a tire swing. Countless generations - since the earliest automobile, have enjoyed the classic serenity of this soothing past time. The very sight of one swinging in the back yard brings back memories of yesteryear.

Imagine if you can, three rustic old-timers sitting around a glowing pot-bellied stove shortly before the Great War, men in the twilight of their years with fading memories of a glorious South before the Civil War.

George is whittling on a piece of cast-iron hickory that never seems to get shorter, Herbert munches happily on soda crackers and hoop cheese, while Elmer carefully stokes his ancient pipe, his cataract eyes critically watching a young sales lady extolling the virtues of a new line of ladies' boots.

You hear the mad howling of a frigid wind each time the cow bell on the door dings to admit another weary customer, a half frozen relic enters who is magnetically drawn to the cherry-red stove where he immediately opens the door and adds another piece of seasoned oak to the roaring fire within.

As the clock ticks a lonely rhythm, the whispering of the old men reaches to the far corners of the room as they unconsciously raise their voices to accommodate ears worn deaf by time.

George talks of the new fan-dangled 'lectrick butter churn and how he avows it will never replace a good woman. Herbert; spraying chunks of cracker, lashes out at the new Audie-Mo-Bill, and how it scared his two mules, Pete and Repeat so badly they wouldn't work for days.

Elmer still has his half-blind eyes glued on the young saleslady at the store counter. With a regretful sigh, he laments the evil of the times as the young woman raises her skirt to show the fine workmanship of the line of boots she is trying to sell.

"Might near seen to her knee," Elmer clucks. "Why, when we was young no lady would dare half the things these young people take for granted today. Times are a gettin' evil I say."

With a sympathetic nod of agreement, the other white crowned men turn to witness this open and blatant desecration of standard moral values.

"What we need," George slowly whines, "Is some way to let this generation know or somebody to teach them the greatness of past generations."

"Yup!" The newcomer Floyd chirps in, his backside roasting near the glowing stove, melting snow dripping from his great coat and forming a spreading puddle on the dusty floor. "Kids need to learn them things. My Paw said that if we don't learn from the past we's a gonna repeat it. There's a lot of truth in them words."

The small group slowly bob their heads up and down in approval of this choice bit of wisdom, each glancing down at the aging floor in search of guidance and understanding.