Growing up in Wright City meant the "world" was what one could see to the horizon (in a brush and pine tree infested landscape).
Embarking on a safari of significance likely meant a drive of bout two hours with return on the same day or the next.
As a yonker, your humble scribe remembers not leaving the Lone Star State til the ripe ole age of about 13 to traverse to the far away frontier of Oklahoma for a family pow-wow.
Upon being anointed as a baby Trooper, the ole fat boy packed a sack lunch and a lantern for the arduous journey to assignment in "South Texas". (OK, it was just San Antonio, but it was a damn far piece "south" of Wright City?)
Bottom line: After more than twelve lustrums of hangin' close to the home range, the ranch hand submitted an application today for a world travelin' passport. A naturally more visible accoutrement of us veteran world traveler wanna-be's.
Would love to tote that puppy back to Wright City and watch Daddy scratch his head bout his onliest son's latest hair-brain idea?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment