Otoharo!
I seldom remember dreams but last night I could not return to sleep after some vivd dreams. There turned out to be a review of lifestyle changes during my growing up days.
I began life on a cotton farm. The soil was fresh and new, having been cleared by my grandfather. We grew the first cotton. When picking time came, my father hired local people from town to hand pick the cotton from the boles. These people had been freed from slavery. I was about four or five years old. we played in the shade of the wagon all day long listening to the songs, the sweetest sounds I have ever heard, wafting among the constant breezes of west Texas.
The memorial service for Martin Luther King was to be held in an area of Savannah, Georgia of with I was not familiar. I entered and seated myself in what I thought was the right church finding myself the only caucasion present. I refused the efforts to get me up front to say something. Then as the song service progressed, again I was surrounded by the same sweet sounds of voices that bend and waver in ways incomprehensible to me. I wish I could sing like that.
In later years, my father hired a family from Mexico who arrived in their own truck, Enough hands to pick our crop in short time. They picked it, and hauled it in to town to the gin. My little brother found a constant playmate in this family whom he brought to our table. We smiled to ourselves, when he tried to roll a slice of white bread into a tortillo with which to spoon up the beans we served. the native bean of that country was the pinto. It was served in my home four days out of the week. Either fresh green or dried according to the season.
These dreams coming one after the other have followed the day of learning that time no longer exists. Only in our memories.
What will Light and Life bring about?
finaltiy
