Categorized | Opinion

Just Plain and Simple

By Otis GriffinOtis Griffin pose

At one time only a few decades ago memory reminds me things seemed to work a little better as simple entanglements were the structure.
As one gets older is our brain fodder clouded to such a degree we had the perfect life or now so disgusted with the current transmitting of technology that we have forgotten how to enjoy what the Good Lord entrusted us to keep manageable?
Sitting under a shady Maple tree in the front yard dreamily recollecting how the purple hull pea rows in the garden were straighter and hilled just right?
Step over a few furrows and sight the ideal height and military style of English pea canes criss-crossed on tensioned wire and tied with hand ripped Martha White flour sack strings anticipating the bounty in a few weeks.  Plain and Simple!
If you were traipsin’ across the back yard totin’ a five-gallon slop bucket from the well headed to fill the cow barrel, maybe you would just reach down and adjust the rock on top of the chicken coop holding down the anxious incarcerated layer.  Might as well nudge the oyster shells tin pan closer so she can continue a peckin’.  Simple and Plain!
Keep the spout curled just right so the pure, sweet, clear rainwater funneled off the saggin’ roof and directly into the tilted barrel at the end of the house.  Don’t forget to loop the balin’ wire and dangle the shoulders, middlin’s and hams up high on a sixteen penny nail off the smokehouse rafter so the rats and alligators can’t gnaw through the now greasy drippin’ paper bags.  Just redneck Simple!
Friends, did you ever wonder why some self appointed Harvard liberals had to take sumpin’ simple and make it harder than an ex-mother-in-law’s heart?  Ever since I could ease a wiggly, slickery red ground worm on a bent safety pin to snare a creek perch we got our mail everyday and on time, rain or shine.
Mr. Robert Williams carried the mail in our neighboring country communities from downtown Rosemark, Kerrville, Bolton, Barretville, Haley’s Corner, Mudville and quite a few more.
Mr. Robert, as he was affectionately referred to by all, was a highly respected pillar of the community so endeared in our beloved South.
In some of our front porch talks over the years, Momma and Daddy ushered back time to remind me how it probably should still be in our modern chaos.
Daddy enjoyed tellin’ when we moved into our new community and didn’t know anybody, especially the mail man.  He said, “I flagged down Mr. Robert one day and got acquainted.”  Daddy continued, “he was good to talk to.”  “When I asked how he wanted the mail box situated; he took the time to stick his arm out of the car window and did a little stretchin’.”  “We agreed on the height and the location off the blacktop.”  You’ve got to remember back ’en the hard workin’ farmers had to watch out for swingin’ plows, especially discs on the back of tractors or extended steps on the sides of cotton wagons.
Also, “he reminded me the red flag up meant to stop for mail, but I already knew that.”  Simple!
Can anyone remember when it was not complicated to receive your mail?  But you know whenever the guv’mint gets involved they gonna’ mess it up.  That’s just plain and simple?  It would be easier to straddle a mud hole with a wheelbarrow…GLORY
— What do you think? Send Letters to the Editor to

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.


February 2015
« Jan   Mar »