In Canton, Texas

 76 degrees with bright sunshine and wind 11 to 20 mph out of the south here in Canton, Texas at the Civic Center in the 1st Monday Trade Days Park.  The Trade Days aren't on now, but we are on the grounds.  CLICK HERE to read about the Trading Days Flea Market.

Today we drove around Canton a bit, and stopped at Schlotzky's for lunch.  We had gotten here to Canton yesterday afternoon and set on the site they had assigned us, which happens to be only about 40 feet from the front door of the Civic Center where the Van Zandt County Bluegrass Festival will be held Thursday evening through Saturday evening.  CLICK HERE  for lineup on the Festival.

We had been to the 1st Monday trading days in the fall of 2011 and again in the spring of 2014.  It is huge--covers much of the town.  I read somewhere that it covers over 340 acres.  We, in both of those visits, didn't cover over a quarter of the grounds.  We drove by many of the area for the flea market today, and some along the highway are open, with a lot of antiques, old stuff, etc., today.

After we got here yesterday and set up we spent a little time in the big Civic Center, listening to some jamming and getting lay of the area.  This morning we took our folding chairs in and set up in the third row from the stage so will have good seats during the festival.  There is just jamming this afternoon, a catfish fry at 5:00 pm and then gospel music at 7 pm today.  The full blown programs start tomorrow at 12 Noon and runs through 9 pm Saturday.

We had slept in the trailer Monday night so had house all cleaned up and insulation panels in all the outside windows.  Tuesday morning we actually closed up the house, turning all the electricity off except to the Air Conditioner and furnace for the fan.  Shut off water to the place, rolled up the 3 cords I had laid out a week ago to the trailer, and pulled out of Kenwood RV at 8:15 am.  Phyllis kept her eyes on the road, most of the time to guide me.

I had read about Sam's Restaurant in Fairfield, Texas,  on the internet, which was on our route.  We stopped there yesterday noon.  Web site was rite, friendly people, good priced food, and well prepared.

I had their fried chicken livers and Phyllis had fried chicken.  They had quite a spread on their buffet, but it was some $5 more than our meals and we ended up with enough that Phyllis got a to-go box.

I would guess the huge room would seat several hundred people.

Took this photo of the construction site just across the fence behind our place in Kenwood as I was going around to turn off the water.  Looks like they are going to fill that whole field with buildings.

At left is photo of an unusual store-front

in Schulenberg, Texas which was across the street from where we were getting gas.  

With the  price of gas (Credit shit-for-brains Uncle Joe and his kibosh on American oil) just under $4 most of this trip so far, has been a little more than planned.

In my last blog I wrote about the quilt Phyllis made and donated to the Men of A-Chord Barbershop Chorus to raise money in the raffle I could not locate a photo of it.  But, here it is as it was set up at one of the performances.

(Here is something I copied from a Facebook post)  I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes... I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas.

I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes.

Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.

'Hello Barry, how are you today?'

'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good'

'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'  

'Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time.'  

'Good. Anything I can help you with?'  

'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas.'  

'Would you like to take some home?' asked Mr. Miller.

'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'

'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'

'All I got's my prize marble here.'

'Is that right? Let me see it', said Miller.

'Here 'tis. She's a dandy.'

'I can see that. Hmm mmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?' the store owner asked.

'Not zackley but almost.'

'Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble'. Mr. Miller told the boy.

'Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.'

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.

With a smile she said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever.

When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.'

I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado, but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.

Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one.  Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.

Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket.

Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one; each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.

'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about.

They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size....they came to pay their debt.'

'We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho ...'

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.

The Moral:

We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath.

Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles ~ A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself...

An unexpected phone call from an old friend.... Green stoplights on your way to work....

The fastest line at the grocery store....

A good sing-along song on the radio..

Your keys found right where you left them.

Send this to the people you'll never forget. I just did...

If you don't send it to anyone, it means you are in way too much of a hurry to even notice the ordinary miracles when they occur.

It's not what you gather, but what you scatter that tells what kind of life you have lived!

 Hope everyone is getting along fine.

More later, Lynn