Stop yelling at me!

Not really pro or con. They are just words. It really only bothers me when people teach small children swear words ONLY because they really don't know what the words mean or when not to use them. Other than that...sticks and stones.

The first few paragraphs of my memoir, if I were to write one.

It's funny the things you remember from child hood. A smell here, a sound there. My most vivid memories are of living grandmother's house. She lived on a hill of sorts a good ways away from the road with a long gravel driveway. I can still hear the crunching of the gravel as I would walk with her to the mail box each day. I can still see the tiger lilies that grew like weeds along the small creek that we had to pass over to get the mail.

In the summer, that creek would swell and burst out of it's path during thunderstorms often making the bridge impassable. All my cousins, my sisters and I at some point or another, would always search for crawdads and tadpoles in that creek when it was calm and barely trickling.

I remember sitting on the front porch on the swing and watching the creek angrily try to wash the bridge away. Her porch was like many other old houses-nice and deep with chairs and a swing. It was a place for social gathering, not just the step up into the house like a lot of porches on newer houses.

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