This is fantastic!
I love the nostalgic edge to poems like this, and you have given us a feast here.
Hey, you said more years available on demand...
What's the ickiest gooiest stuff you've got tucked away in there, even more graphic than stinky butter... ?
Blessings,
Christine
Seems you sure led an interesting life. I still make my own bread, ice cream, pasta, tomato sauce all from scratch and sometimes churn my own butter when I have the time. Lots of work in my little garden too six months of the year...
Did you try toe jam on your bread with your stinky butter...? Fun and informative write, how did I know you were a geek way back when there weren't any...LOL, Ed
Reads, sounds great, like my own. Like Huckleberry Finn, one of my early book ideas, Snakes and Snails and Puppy Dog Tales [not a sweet children's book--they'll have to sneak to read], lies waiting on the To Do list when I'm old of those riotous times we had free from soccer moms and diligent dads.
Why you and I love the wilderness today.
Ron
Reviewed by Peter Schlosser (Reader)
8/5/2010
in 1965 i was begging my parents not to have sex, as i was born into this toilet bowl world in 1966. but this is really great writing patrick. maybe 1965 was the last good year on earth and it all went to hell the day i landed??
I love this poem. Whether you grew up in Michigan or California or the Ozarks, childhood and the teen years were once a smoother road, stinky butter and all.
It makes me realise that kids in the 60s in America were doing things not much different to the kids in Australia. They were great times, thank you for sharing them Patrick.
Kids of the 60s unite and write!
Best regards,
David
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