Oh, Bill.

 

He was an impetuous youth in the wrong year born.

 

Where others saw books and boards from a desk,

He saw

An open plain from his saddle on a horse.

Feet made for boots,

Hands made for ropes.

In a different time, another place, my brother

Would have been a cowboy.

  This photo is Bill with his horse, Sonny, a 2 yr. old quarter horse. Fast, I was lucky to be alive after riding it one time only.

The bold underlined words were prompts from Delores who gifted us with enigmatic phrases that fit well with my thoughts and mood.  
Thank you, Delores.

Delores set up a great series "Wednesday Words", encouraging writers. She 

handed off the baton to other bloggers to submit other crazy words. Please check these sites:

River  and Elephant's Child

I encourage you to join in.  
Please.  
Share your own mood and thoughts.

  This was written but not posted in 2022.

Nebo, my home town

 

 

Hebo High School, 1917?

The irony of Nebo, Illinois, is that while I lived there, I could not wait to leave it.  Now I think about those days, get a wallop of nostalgia, and wish I knew more about the place left behind.

It began as a true log cabin town, growing with each new settler with names of Shaw, Ross, Franklin, and many more.  With each new family the settlement became a township.

  When I returned for visits over the years, the town had shrunk just a little bit more and the people I knew had died. Their children left--just as I had--and there were empty houses, and people I didn’t know.

            Basically this precious little town could never compare to its former self. 

 

It saddens me that others won't know what Nebo had been.

Here are photos of back then :

Peck house on Pearl-Nebo road

C.R. Rodgers' Trans Continental trip for
to promote Vin Fizz soda

 

 

 The community flooded to the events like this. Life was personal at this time of Nebo's existence.

Painted by in-mate at nearby prison

Nebo High School Gym--all that remains
of the High School

Country School Students

 Nebo in Wales, with me and my glorious hair 1984

 

Mt. Nebo, where Moses is buried

Fred in the coffee shop

Heavy silence fell when an elderly man with a cane came in to buy a coffee.  The customers in Rick’s Coffee remembered him well.  Oh yes, they remembered him.

He called himself “Fred”, but no one ever knew his true identity.  An air of inaccessibility surrounded him, which was just the way Fred liked it.  All that anyone knew was that Fred was superb at tracking. Did something like that in his military days. Animals or people, Fred was on their trail while foot prints were still wet.

Some said Fred could find a mosquito hiding in a free standing rotting tree, during a raging sand storm. Yup. Fred was a different man then. Now he was a man with a cane

 

When “Fred” left, walking slowly with his cane, all exhaled. They had not wanted a repeat of the last time he came for coffee. It was horrific.

No.  They did not want that to happen again, but it would. 

 

 

The italicized underlined Wednesday words are courtesy of River, who was handed the baton from Wed. Words writing challenges, Delores from Under the Porch light. This post is from 2015, along with the sentence prompt. 

The italicized underlined Wednesday words are courtesy of River, who was handed the baton from Wed. Words writing challenges, Delores from Under the Porch light. This post is from 2015, along with the sentence prompt.