“Cuttin’ It Fine!”

Pobre Tomat here….

Time for explanations and reflections…..

My family, my rowdy, robust, Midwestern clan, harkening back to pre-Revolutionary colonial land grants, we have legions of legends and stories going nearly back to the beginning of time.  All told word-of-mouth, mirroring  generations long passed, all enriched upon each telling, we claim ownership of them all.  Not all of major impact, certainly not, but all of major consequence because they were real, they happened, and they shouldn’t be lost under the heaps of new adventures, equally of note.

Shared at overloaded dinner tables, whilst oohing and ahhhing Fourth of July fireworks, during long Sunday afternoon drives headed nowhere, where the imagination expands to near bursting, the need to put these long lazy tales somewhere for posterity weighs heavy upon me.

Told through the voice of my own Daddy, and those of his sisters and brothers….

Told through the voices of Grandpaps and Grandmamas and Aints and Uncles and endless beloved (and not so) cousins and neighbors and adopted kin from sea to shining sea….

And some even told through my own voice, adventures and moments seen through my own, now Californian “west of center” eyes….

Infinite stories.  Infinite voices.  Infinite heartfelt, heartrending ownership of every word spoken, and now written.

My gratitude to you for so graciously confirming the existence of these moments in time by simply allowing the words and tales to slip across your mind is equally as heartfelt.

My deepest thanks.

 

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