This isn’t the article I intended to write tonight. When I sat down at the iMac and opened the WordPress editor I had two articles in mind and hadn’t yet decided which I would write—one recalling certain aspects of the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s, the other a story guaranteed to make Mary Ann blush about things that happened in a mobile home on Atlanta’s south side on steamy nights in the summer of 1970.
Both topics have been on my mind over the past few days, though I have to admit not equally. Fact is, I’ve given quite a bit more thought to those steamy summer nights!
Anyway, as I often do in preparation for writing an article, I turned to YouTube in search of a video that might complement the piece. I’d decided that my topic would be determined by my video search. If I came first upon a video illustrating my thesis about the Civil Rights Movement, then I would write about that. If, on the other hand, my first find was a video capturing even some small part of the sweet tension of those summer nights of long ago, I’d write about the things that went on in that trailer.
It should have come as no surprise that my YouTube searches for material relating to both topics led me to the same videos—Staple Singers videos and the music that made up the soundtrack to my life from the late 1960s to mid-1970s.
So, my plans were completely upended. I forgot I was working on a blog article and spent the next five hours watching and listening to Pops, Mavis and her sisters as they brought back into present reality the sweet smell of those unforgettable nights that are never far from my thoughts. Like a man in a trance I sat staring not at, but through, the iMac screen, once again wrapping my arms tightly around my prize, that beautiful young woman of whom I have never for a moment let go.
Now it’s late. Too late to write either of the articles I had planned. Both can wait for another day.
What cannot wait is what’s left of this night. In a short while dawn will break and this night will never come again. Well, at least not until some evening years from now when I’m again sitting in my study, listening to “Let’s Do It Again” and reliving those hot, steamy Tennessee nights in the summer of 2010.
Never miss a chance to make a memory.
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You old dog! Trying to stay young by continuing to make memories. Mary Ann is very lucky – or very tired. Keep on keeping on Prentice.
See… that’s what happens. At the very hint of a rendezvous in a trailer park people start making up scandalous stuff in their minds. For more than forty years it has been my unwavering position that the only thing that went on in that trailer were political discussions and a variety of harmless card games. It’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. As you know, we still discuss politics, and we still like to fool around with playing cards.