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The Gentleman Farmer

~ Found somewhere in a part of the country known as north Florida and south Georgia…

The Gentleman Farmer

Tag Archives: memory

Freshly Shod…

26 Saturday Jun 2021

Posted by thegentlemanfarmer in Family, Living, Passages, Relationships, Style, time

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Tags

boarding school, camp moccasins, children, clothing, college, contemplation, days, family, l. l. bean, life, lost youth, memory, parenting, scad, southern boys, time, woodberry forest school, years, youth

Recently, while sorting through the debris of my life, I came across this book, a reminder of my younger days.

So started a post never completed from July, 2014.  Lord, seven years ago, and I am trying desperately to remember who I was and why I was.

Seven years ago, my oldest had just finished his freshman year at college, living away from home, in a big house with a group of guys, enjoying the summer of knowing that he made it, at least through one year, and that he was on his own.

At the time, the house on Henry, though it never looked this good…

Seven years ago, my youngest was getting ready to ship off to his first year of boarding school.  He was getting an early start, in order to practice with the varsity soccer team.

At the time, gazing into his future…

Seven years ago, I think the chapter in question was this

If I took any of this seriously, forgive me…

Seven years ago, I think the Freshly Shod refers to these

Good ol’ LL…

Seven years ago, I found my inspiration to buy these from this

As I stated earlier, if I took any of this seriously, forgive me…

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Moving On…

12 Tuesday Aug 2014

Posted by thegentlemanfarmer in Family, Living, Passages, Relationships, time, Totem Hall

≈ 21 Comments

Tags

dodge, lexus, memory, moms, moves, moving, nissan, packing, pathfinder, poodles, ram 2500, roommates, rx400h, scad, sons, u-haul

Our oldest made his return to college Saturday. This was not our first fond farewell, having over the years sent him off to summer camps, boarding school, and the first year of college, but somehow yesterday was different, he was moving into his own home, well, own home with four other roommates.

folding sheets for the first and last time...

folding sheets for the first and last time…

boxed up and ready to go...

boxed up and ready to go…

The whole process was most entertaining and it brought back a flood of memories.

i'll just stuff this...

i’ll just stuff this in…

it doesn't take me long to pack...

it doesn’t take me long to pack…

To begin with, all our carefully thought out plans fell by the wayside. The big Dodge 2500 is still in the shop. She was going to be the workhorse of the move. So, you say, no problem, I am sure you have a Plan B. Well good old Plan B did not work out either. Since my son’s Pathfinder did not have wiring for the trailer lights, there was no U-Haul for us, not rentable. Surely, we can use one of the open-air trailers here at Totem Hall, right? Ooh, too bad, the Lexus, choice three, with tow package and harness, is no good, faulty wiring.

The end result: ah, stuff it in the back of the Nissan.

packed in the back...

packed in the back…

packed on the side...

packed on the side…

packed on the other side...

packed on the other side…

and packed in the front...

and packed in the front…

He is definitely my son.

How crazy time is, really. We move through it, try our best to hold on to it, swimming upstream, you know.

bye moms, bye poodle...

bye moms, bye poodle…

Was it just the other day that I was making my own moves, possessions stuffed into a trash bag, or two? Or how about renting the first moving truck, enlisting a couple of friends with offers of beer and lunch, forgetting to tie down everything in back.

bye totem hall...

bye totem hall…

Then came children, just the births alone seem long ago, though, in the grandness of time, not too far away, remembered, just not able to be captured again, the first words, the first walk, off to school, off to university.

bye son, fare thee well...

bye son, fare thee well…

Life is such a funny game…

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Time Passages

22 Tuesday Jul 2014

Posted by thegentlemanfarmer in Music, Passages, time

≈ 22 Comments

Tags

169 barber street, 40 watt club, athens georgia, blitzkrieg bop, catapult, death, fables of the reconstruction, lost youth, m1 abrams tank, memory, misspent youth, ramones, rem, sex drugs rock & roll, tommy ramone, university of georgia, well spent youth

rip, tommy…

Has it really been close to two weeks?Ā  My, oh my, time really does slip away.Ā  The recent death of the last Ramone, Tommy, set me to thinking, well, contemplating sort of, the completely existential existence thing we call life.

we were all younger then…

Youth, what a strange, fickle, ephemeral state, it is and though it doesn’t work as well as it once did, together we can take a trip down my memory lane.

which to choose…

During the Ramones heyday of the early eighties, I think I was spending a lot of time around M1 Abrams tank sights, living the dream of firepower, little money, and lots of partying.

m1…

After my stint with tank sights, I found my way back to Athens, Georgia, and University.Ā  An earlier attempt having resulted in a glorious flameout, my second effort would only be marginally better.

through this arch all dreams come true…

At the time a very popular local band, REM, was making good, and to my mind captured the moment best, ā€œOoh, we were little boys, Ooh, we were little girlsā€.Ā  HaHa, what a wonderful line!Ā  There was so much music, so much art, so many young, pretty people.Ā  The rent was cheap.

169 barber street home…

The food, and alcohol, and drugs, were even cheaper.Ā  I embraced everything, soaked it up, believed in it, cared not for the future, understood not the future.Ā  Went to class; didn’t go to class, fell in love; fell out of love; had lots of sex, had no sex; cared, didn’t care.

made famous…

And, true story, became a character in a song, from an album, by a band.

in here somewhere…

Now, of course, it is a hazy, distant memory, though I do wonder if I’ll be like those elderly ones who remember way back when so clearly, as if it were yesterday.

hazy memory me...

hazy memory me…

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Curioser & Curioser

08 Tuesday Apr 2014

Posted by thegentlemanfarmer in Passages, Totem Hall, Totems

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Buddhas, cabinets, curios, Julian Barnes, Lewis Carroll, memory

Underneath the watchful eye...

Underneath the watchful eye…

And behind the "looking" glass...

And behind the “looking” glass…

Oh, well, yes, I really do owe Lewis Carroll an apology. Curious curios collected over the years, each one with a story, a memory, even though some of those stories and memories are lost to time, or distorted by time, kind of like a Julian Barnes story.

Campari...

Campari…

Rocking horse...

Rocking horse…

Magic bus...

Magic bus…

Eskimo...

Eskimo…

What we collect, what does that say about us, right? And further, where we place, how we place our little objects, what too does that say about us? It caught my eye; it means something. I must have it, cherish it, forever. It will look just right, right here…

Friends...

Friends…

Henny penny...

Henny penny…

Our little world...

Our little world…

The moon belongs to everyone...

The moon belongs to everyone…

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Recent Background Noise

Perhaps my ennui stems from David Bowie's death. I read somewhere that we should consider ourselves lucky to have lived at the same time he did. I do. Many years ago, there was a girl in my secondary school, Debbie P., who was very hip, very groovy, and very pretty. Now I attended Catholic schools and so, as you might imagine, we had to wear uniforms, except, of course, for after-school activity, and that's where I get to the point of the story. Our school was putting on its big play of the year, I had a small part, Debbie was working backstage. One evening during rehearsal she showed up wearing a Ziggy Stardust tee-shirt. I was young, naive, not hip, not groovy, and not knowing who the ambiguous Ziggy might be. During the weekend that followed that rehearsal, I went to a record store and discovered just what David Bowie was all about. It was a transforming experience. Now some forty years later, I farm, David is dead, and Debbie is into Christian rock bands. Did I say ennui...

Recent Bedside Read

Granny's Wonderful Chair is still my bedside read for reasons discussed nearby...

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