Sung late into the night, the words stayed with the boy who didn’t think he was listening. I have reached a place in life where I do not think clearly about the present, or the future. What I do, mostly, is remember, my thoughts triggered by some flyer flapping on a telephone pole, or a scrap of a song.
You can keep your stuffing. My favorite Thanksgiving side is just that—on the side—and we call it dressing. The word “stuffing” had a lot of connotations when I was a boy. None of them had anything to do with food.
I bemoan the day the zombie usurped the punkin as the unofficial mascot of Halloween. Halloween used to be simple. You got a punkin, cut off its top, gouged out its stringy orange insides, and carved a face on it that looked like your brother. But that just wasn’t good enough for some folks.