Wilderness Blues- Ramblings from the Great Land

   I like to watch movies, though for over forty years I never went into a movie theatre. We didn't have a movie theatre in Hoonah, so we never got to see the latest releases. However, that changed when we moved to Wasilla. They have a large movie theatre here, a big honking thing with something like seven screens. On Tuesdays, they have $5.00 matinees, so if something comes on that I want to see, it doesn't break the bank.   Last week my wife and I went to see a movie titled  The Sound of Hope.  It's a true story about the people in the town of Possum Trot Texas, a small town in East Texas without even a traffic light. The people who live there are predominately African American and for the most part they are desperately poor.   I believe there is only one church there, the Bennet Chapel, pastored by W. C. Martin and his wife Donna. They have two children, a son who was born mentally handicapped, and a daughter. Life was hard for them, struggling to make ends meet. When Do

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~This is a poem that my Fan Story friend Adonna wrote. I never really cared for poetry until I started to read some of the work she put out. I've never known anyone who could put what was in their heart to words as well as she does. Her husband is suffering from dementia and she's been in need of some friends. I'm glad to be able to call her a friend, I only wish we lived closer to each other so I could help with some of the chores. My thanks to her for letting me use this fine poem on my blog. When I was a child I did not know how small the world could be. I did not know you were born only a few miles from where I lived, and if, perchance, I saw you at the grocery store clinging to your mother's hand as she reached for your favorite cereal, or smiling from a car window that passed me on the street, I did not know enough to smile back or to wave hello. I wish you had reached out for me then as I passed you by. If only I'd known you were so close. But God

                   I know it has been quite awhile since I've written anything. I would like to take the blame, but honestly, I can't. The blame rests solely with my daughter Autumn. Let me explain. Some time in the not so distant past, I had mentioned to her that I would love to have a Hoochy Cake. Never having seen one before, I thought it would be a novel idea. My birthday came and went, and I believe I had a cake, which, though appreciated, wasn't all that memorable. I believe she baked me an apple pie though, that was pretty tasty. I prefer pie over cake. I think birthday pies should be offered at bakeries and supermarkets around the country. Perhaps I can work on selling the idea to various outlets.   In any event, I was a little disappointed that I didn't get a Hoochy Cake for my birthday. Low and behold, Father's Day arrived and Jan and I went out to Autumn's in-law's lake cabin to celebrate the day. We had hot dogs and burgers and of course chips, d