Showing posts from December, 2020


  They say its progress. I suppose they’re right. Growth and all. And yes, the hum of commerce and more neighbors are reflective of human needs. Supposedly reassuring in their sameness. The forests are gone though. The fertile farm fields too. Now just rows of commerce and sprawls of home tracts. You wonder if anyone really has a master plan or what their vision is. Not long ago, deer visited our small forest across the way. Giant birds sat on tall trees and looked out, liking what they saw. Both are gone now, pushed farther back to the remaining trees far away. Now just remnants of open spaces remain, crowded by stretches of retail buildings, forests of apartments and unending homes. All our fields of folly. David Young


THE LAST EXIT The miles finished. All the memories still there. Scrapes, winter cold, endless rain. Driven way past its years. At the exit it stood, Wanting one more Ride. It had continued to serve, To carry, to pay bills. Deeds not to be left behind. Until fate and time says no more. David Young


The rich farmland of the Piedmont stretched for miles in every direction from a small one street southern town. Far enough away from a major city and a Walmart, the town enjoyed its own economy and a railroad spur for farmers to ship crops from. A fixture of the town was Oak Hardware. It had been there for ever started by Fred Oak. The store prospered in long time clients. Farmers who needed everything from bolts to an extra bag of feed from the back warehouse. It surprised everyone, when Oak retired and sold his store to his long time hispanic employees, Peter and his wife Lupe. Rumor about town was that he sold it on a handshake and an exchange of a $100 bill. If you really knew Oak though, you would know this had been in the works for years.  Oak first hired Peter as a runner, answering calls from farmers who could not leave their fields, but needed some hardware item. Peter would go and in doing so got to know all of the clients.  Lupe always worked in the store keeping shelves sto


  Opportunity Under the Rainbow Two vastly different economies have emerged. One is the well to do. The other the rest of us trying to adjust to rapid changes, keep our lifestyle or just hanging on to survive. 45.6% of the population in the US have household incomes less than $75,000. We are programmed by nature to look at the best of our economy. After all, we are Americans, why should we not strive and long for the best slice of the pie. It floats above us like a tempting rainbow. Often our business efforts focused on it. We live in a time of mixed messages, where sorting out the best opportunities moving forward are difficult. The appearance of wealth is not always true wealth. The Mercedes next to you may be paid for, but it might have a stack of payments due, be on a lease or about to be repossessed. Then there’s the people just striving to survive. Ones that once lived in less traveled areas of the city or at obscure food banks. Now they are near you in homeless camps. Ones dotti


  They call them ghost malls, I’ve heard. This mall, The Great Asian Mall, seemed well on its way to becoming one. The parking lot looked like a vast unending museum for potholes, most of the markings on parking slots worn away. The mall looked like a giant white whale, faded and beached by time. Life still held onto this place though, there was a large Asian market, a kitchen supply company, a dollar store, a nail training school and the Dragon Court Restaurant keeping the lights on. Each separated by long hallways and closed smaller shops with paper over windows.  I walked the mall many times just to try and get a feel for the place. Mostly, it seemed it had become a shopping spot for the growing asian immigrant community in the area. The place had changed hands a number of times, the yellow and red striped flag of South Vietnam flew next to the American flag at the end of the parking lot. I suspected the mall owners were from there. Many years had passed since I fought through the j


  It’s so easy to feel lost these days. Things are so different now. Nothing is or looks the same. It’s all a confusing blend, lines crossing everywhere. We try to read between the lines, to find the truth, to sort things out. The masks hide so much. The eyes though are still filled with hope, wanting to relate, searching for the new bindings of life.  David Young