Gentle readers, you have all seen those ads on the “telly” that ask, “GOT JUNK?” Then we see a young woman raise her garage door up and it is full of furniture, a kid’s bicycle, and old lawn mower and what ever else she doesn’t want or need anymore.
Now, Charlie Brown, one would believe that all you need to do is gather up your old bent up golf clubs, the broken lamp your mother-in-law gave you 20 years ago and all of the sure nuff junk you have accumulated over the years and the man that comes by in the truck that says, “GOT JUNK?” will load it all up and take it away. NO, HE WILL NOT. He wants the nice furniture that you purchased for your family room eight or 10 years ago. Suddenly, you have grown tired of looking at it and want something fresh and new. He has a place where he can resell that stuff, or “junk” as he would call it, and make a buck or two.
Long ago and far away when we lived at the very north end of Amarillo, was when I decided that at some point and time I was going to be a “cowboy.” I had found a place where I could keep two horses free of charge. All I needed was some horses, right? Remember now, I am as green as spring grass and like Sargent Schultz, “I know nothing,” about what is going to be required of me. I knew this. There was this feller just up the road that had advertised he had a young mare and a saddle for sale. I had Martha take me up there and after a bit, I told her I was going to buy the horse and saddle and ride it home. She left.
The horse was a little sorrel about 800 pounds and the saddle was an antique Fraiser saddle. Actually, I have one just like it in my office as I write. At 6 foot 2 on this little 14 hand pony, riding down the highway to get home, I’m sure I looked ridiculous, but was sure everyone who saw me would know I was a cowboy! HA, HA, HA. The little hoss buckled in the back end and almost fell with me. I did sell her later, however I did take away a man’s junk he didn’t want. Like a lot of folks, sometimes we just don’t know what the heck we are doing! They say one man’s trash is another man’s treasure and I have witnessed that all of my life.
There maybe has been that time when you felt as if you were junk and not worthy of having someone anyone treasure you. God don’t make junk, we are responsible for that.
Trust me gentle reader, there is someone out there that thinks you are the answer to their prayers, and “that’s a FACT JACK.”
We, for sure, need to get the “JUNK” man to stop in Washington and pick up a lot of old, used, bent out of shape, witless politicians and haul them to the dump for us!
As a side bar, I want to run off into the weeds here and share a little poem I wrote some 25 years ago. I call it, Friends:
If you treat yer neighbor poorly,
poor in spirit will you be.
If you treat him like a brother,
a friend to you is he.
For life is like a circle,
we end where we begin,
just like helpless little children
in need of lots of friends.
Stay tuned, check yer cinch on occasion and remember, “if ya ain’t handsome, be handy, if ya ain’t beautiful, be busy,” and I’ll c. y’all, all y’all.
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