The unmentionables…

Not everything is peaches and cream here in the South. There were also a few unmentionables pared from this letter; not all the news is fit to print. That’s why it’s a few paragraphs short of a full load.

But next week will be on the lighter side; the trip up north to see Emma and her entourage.


August 25, 2014

Ellen/Reid: It was a tough week last week for your uncle in Grand Island. He had to endure the penalty phase of the trial of the killer of one of his law partners, Todd Elsbern. Apparently the murdered showed no remorse and was sent up the river. It tests your conviction about the death penalty but Ralph showed no movement to endorse it. Good for him. I don’t know how I’d feel in the same situation. I suppose there’s justice and then there’s vengeance. Justice was served.

Ellen, times have also been tough on John at Caldwell. We have a lot of gay members and visitors, and as of late we’ve had a lot of anti-gay protestors yelling and cursing outside the sanctuary doors on Sundays. They’ve even taken to attacking John personally, along with Kelly and their daughters. He pastors up by going to the front walk not to get into any kind of verbal spat but to stand in front of them while his parishioners walk into church. The things they yell in full voice – ‘harlot,’ ‘whore,’ ‘eternal damnation,’ ‘faggots’ and worse – are tough to hear. None of which sounds very biblical to me. I wasn’t aware these bigots were in the position to decide someone else’s final disposition in life. I highly doubt that God has ceded that judgmental ability to them. But it all wears on John. You can see it on his face. Amazing how much vitriol in the name of God there is in religion these days.

I am leaning toward another Harley. A Road King Classic. It would be my fourth. I would love to tool around all of the lower 48 on a new rig. The old Softail has 51,000 miles on it. The intent is not to foist myself on people like you for overnight stays while traipsing around the country side. Instead my tent and gear would go with me. It would be a non-Interstate route. The best part of riding the Carolinas has been putzing along at 50 MPH which is an optimal speed for the bike. I’d also steer clear of the  loonies on the Interstate by sticking to side roads. It would be one of those trips where you’d see a sign for an Historical Marker 1/4 mile ahead, but instead of zooming past, this time I could actually stop to read it. The journey would really be one final good spin.

The tomatoes have been given to the cleaning ladies and neighbors. Same with the basil and oregano. If anyone wants some, they can have it. Re-stained/waterproofed the front porch and gave it a general cleaning last week. Now if I just had someone to sit out there with me.

Real estate has been picking up in my neighborhood of late. Condos (I call them townhouses) have been selling, maybe not quite for what they were before ‘the crash’ but for a lot more than in the last couple of years.

The bright spot is that real estate is finally perking up in Charlotte after a long crash-induced dormancy.

The bright spot is that real estate is finally perking up in Charlotte after a long crash-induced dormancy.

I’ve been tossing about the idea of moving up toward the Davidson College area. It’s a fairly liberal community and well away (about 30 miles north) from the hustle and bustle of SouthPark. The one thing I’m reticent about is giving up the privacy of the green belt right behind the house. I went to a dinner up in Davidson the weekend before last and it really is nice up that way. Moving to the Midwest isn’t entirely out of the question either. With the clock ticking toward retirement I’ve got to get things in gear in terms of planning. So who knows at this point. Your guess is as good as mine. I’m listening if you want to tell me anything.

Okay, the window of opportunity for this letter has slipped past. Be good, and I’ll see you shortly.

Love, Dad


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