In the Wee Still Hours of the Afternoon - Along the Back Roads

In all your born days, you've never experienced such a moment as this. Oris George sitting still in his chair, reckoning the day away, while the spinning wheel sits off to the side of the fire waiting. The stories we could tell...

Danielle Simone, Don Buck, Patsy Reed, and I twittered over the setting, arranging, placing, adjusting and detailing the cards in Oris George's collection until they sparkled and shone in the glaring light of the lamp. Through the haze of smoke from the burning fire, we worked our fingers to the bone, un-nourished and underfed, the lot of us for nearly four grueling hours of laborous tending to perfect the display.

There he sat, smug on his throne, chastizing Danielle for fuzzy pictures, smirking at Patsy as she worried over hostess duties, and lamblasting Don for not being off at the salt mines pining away his day. Little did he know, I was taking notes. I'll remember his course behavior, and his portly manner, and that haughty attitude until my dying day.

Honestly, there was NO pleasing the man, he wanted the cards turned this way and that, tilted just a little, no back just a tad. Can we light them up better, and finally, when the day was done and we'd worried ourselves sick over the placement of each mule sketched card, he suggested we get the heck out of his house and don't come back until next week in time for writer's meeting. The audacity of that man is beyond me. I can't imagine how such a man could consider for a moment that he deserves a life of fame.

Then, at the last moment, as he shoved us out the door, he saved the day with two quarters tossed out in my direction. I was so pleased to have made a penance for the day. Can you imagine? Now, I can feed my children, keep a roof over our heads, and put a quart of gasoline in the car.

I feel blessed to know a man of such prominance and demeanor!