Bonnie (of ‘Organic Discourse’) posted about a detour that took her past a ‘Talc Mine’ in Robbins, NC. I didn’t know Talc was mined in NC. I realize there are a lot of things I don’t know, as I age, and I am trying to do it well.
HOWEVER, that term ‘talc’ immediately generated some of the best memories of my life. Memories shared by a young blissfully happy young couple. Past Sunday Sherry called our oldest son, and we sang happy birthday, We remembered a baby, 56 yrs ago..
(the above baby is that baby’s son)
So I ask, ‘Do you remember baby powder?’
What SWEET memories. Can you remember Just after the bath, the baby bottom is powdered, then a clean cloth diaper, a time that made for some of the fondest times of our lives. The baby smells so good and giggles so sweetly when you blow into their belly and make the airplane noises.
The time before the girlfriend disappointments, sneaking a cigarette, arrests, before drugs, auto wrecks and divorce. A time when you were in charge. A time that would never go away; and then reality strikes, an individual develops, he is no longer a baby. So LIFE GOES ON.
But… but… but I still have that memory, it is set like concrete, IT WILL NOT BE ERASED, because that was life at that time. A period of good smells, laughs, thrills at seeing the learning taking place. Your baby is the cutest, sweetest; the best one in the world.
I know some of you remember washing the #2 out of the diaper in the toilet. Some of you remember that smell too.
might have stayed up all night, walking, rocking, wondering what is wrong? Should we take him to the emergency room. Maybe I should call mama and ask. But… but…. but… at the end of the night when you are beat, and he is settled, making cute noises, sweetly smiling in his sleep, LIFE IS THE BEST and that image is frozen for all time.
No matter how many times they must pick themselves up and dust themselves off, YOU remember YOUR BABY and the smell of Talcum powder.
PS: True story.. This was the winning entry for the contest: The Most Caring Child.
.****** A four-year-old child, whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman, who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's' yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy just said, 'Nothing, I just helped him cry.'
(I just thought, that is all we need sometimes)
That is a ‘68 Chevy, #2 son Mark’s first car. The flames are painted not decals. It was born blue, I painted it and did some custom work on the inside.