This picture of Gordon Cotton was taken several years ago at a dinner on the grounds at the Old Lebanon Presbyterian Church.
My first Market!!
This was my selling space at the market...I need to work on my merchandising skills...Next time I will do better
Another view of the market...
My first Market!!This was my selling space at the market...I need to work on my merchandising skills...Next time I will do better
Another view of the market...there was near 30 vendors...all did well!
May 22 2008
Hinds County Gazette, Christiansen’s Comments
I have had a revelation!!!….You know those old ladies that wear the white socks with their sandals, you probably thought they didn’t know any better didn’t you? So did I, until quite recently , but it is not that they don’t know any better, it’s not that at all…they simply do not care how it looks…I know because I have begun doing the same tacky thing….The mornings have been holding a chill, so I put on socks, and slip into my faux Crocs….but as the day warms up, I change to a more airy sandals but I do not pull off my socks…Too much trouble.
I took some of my cement leaves to sell at the Farmer’s Market in Clinton Saturday; I was wearing the much maligned socks and sandals ensemble…. However I don’t know as many folks noticed, because all of my white socks were in the laundry basket with the rest of last week’s dirty clothes. so I put on a pair of John’s heavy dark hunting socks to keep my feet warm….I left my black faux Crocs in North Carolina and the bright green ones, I wear to do my outside work are hopelessly soiled…so I slipped my socked feet in to my sandals, and off I went. The Sandals were Clarks. The Clarks I am thinking may make my tasteless choice in foot wear a bit more palatable… I did pay full price for them…..but the shipping was free!
New thought…
Awhile back I received through the mail, an article, when my eyes landed on it, immediately my gut told me, what I was holding, in my hand, was a genuine relic. As I was staring down at it I went to wishing I had saved a few of them….Thousands passed had through my hands over the years…I envisioned them framed, hanging in the hall….Lighted like art.
It is strange isn’t it, how we do not notice change? Not until whatever it is completely gone…. I guess it happens so slowly that we do not notice its leaving.
What I was holding was a letter… the address had been typed on a real typewriter… I knew who had sent the relic…it could have only been one person, Gordon Cotton, he had told me he does all of his book and newspaper writing, the old fashion way, on a typewriter. He and I do occasionally correspond, but up until this letter, his notes had been hand written.
I ripped open the envelope to see if the message was typed too. It was! I feel I have custody of a remarkable piece….In this age of cyberspace, text messaging and email, a handwritten letter is becoming less common, but a typewritten letter, they are rare to the point of extinction….
.
I would not have thought you could still buy ribbon for typewriter…I do see old typewriter occasionally in peoples homes…but not as a utilitarian functioning machine…but as decorative/ conversation pieces..
I will not call my friend, Gordon Cotton, a relic…But I could with out fear of reprisal from him…he would almost certainly think it a compliment, indeed a term of endearment. Mr. Cotton is not unlike the artifacts pulled from our Southern soils. Gordon southern roots run deep…Born of the south, and barring an act of God, will die contented in the woods of Warren County, down Campbell’s Swamp Road where his life began.
Love to all
Hinds County Gazette, Christiansen’s Comments
I have had a revelation!!!….You know those old ladies that wear the white socks with their sandals, you probably thought they didn’t know any better didn’t you? So did I, until quite recently , but it is not that they don’t know any better, it’s not that at all…they simply do not care how it looks…I know because I have begun doing the same tacky thing….The mornings have been holding a chill, so I put on socks, and slip into my faux Crocs….but as the day warms up, I change to a more airy sandals but I do not pull off my socks…Too much trouble.
I took some of my cement leaves to sell at the Farmer’s Market in Clinton Saturday; I was wearing the much maligned socks and sandals ensemble…. However I don’t know as many folks noticed, because all of my white socks were in the laundry basket with the rest of last week’s dirty clothes. so I put on a pair of John’s heavy dark hunting socks to keep my feet warm….I left my black faux Crocs in North Carolina and the bright green ones, I wear to do my outside work are hopelessly soiled…so I slipped my socked feet in to my sandals, and off I went. The Sandals were Clarks. The Clarks I am thinking may make my tasteless choice in foot wear a bit more palatable… I did pay full price for them…..but the shipping was free!
New thought…
Awhile back I received through the mail, an article, when my eyes landed on it, immediately my gut told me, what I was holding, in my hand, was a genuine relic. As I was staring down at it I went to wishing I had saved a few of them….Thousands passed had through my hands over the years…I envisioned them framed, hanging in the hall….Lighted like art.
It is strange isn’t it, how we do not notice change? Not until whatever it is completely gone…. I guess it happens so slowly that we do not notice its leaving.
What I was holding was a letter… the address had been typed on a real typewriter… I knew who had sent the relic…it could have only been one person, Gordon Cotton, he had told me he does all of his book and newspaper writing, the old fashion way, on a typewriter. He and I do occasionally correspond, but up until this letter, his notes had been hand written.
I ripped open the envelope to see if the message was typed too. It was! I feel I have custody of a remarkable piece….In this age of cyberspace, text messaging and email, a handwritten letter is becoming less common, but a typewritten letter, they are rare to the point of extinction….
.
I would not have thought you could still buy ribbon for typewriter…I do see old typewriter occasionally in peoples homes…but not as a utilitarian functioning machine…but as decorative/ conversation pieces..
I will not call my friend, Gordon Cotton, a relic…But I could with out fear of reprisal from him…he would almost certainly think it a compliment, indeed a term of endearment. Mr. Cotton is not unlike the artifacts pulled from our Southern soils. Gordon southern roots run deep…Born of the south, and barring an act of God, will die contented in the woods of Warren County, down Campbell’s Swamp Road where his life began.
Love to all
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