Thank you, Yorkshire Pudding!
In my last post, which basically was about Texas, I said the following:
“The Catholics or anybody else may have you until you’re six if they like, but if Texas gets you when you’re six and a half, you’re pretty much
“This is true even if you move away when you are 20 and hardly ever go back. I speak from personal experience. Even if you try to put Texas out of your mind, you cannot. I think it has something to do with bluebonnets.”
Yorkshire Pudding straightened out my thinking with the following comment:
“No, you are not a Texan, sir. You are a fully fledged Georgian. You may need hypnotherapy to expunge all thoughts of Texas and the hallucinogenic blue bonnet from your shingles-affected mind, so sing after me:
Other arms reach out to me
Other eyes smile tenderly
Still in peaceful dreams I see
The road leads back to you.
Georgia, Georgia, no peace I find
Just an old sweet song keeps Georgia on my mind.”
Singing along with Yorkshire Pudding definitely has a certain purgative/cathartic effect, but for the real deal, you have to
SING ALONG WITH RAY CHARLES!
That would make a Georgian out of anybody, plus Ray’s physical movements while he sings serve as the hypnotherapy Yorkshire Pudding suggested. For those of you wondering whatever became of Ray Charles, you will be happy to know that he has found part-time work as a metronome.
Here is a summary of my life, timewise:
I spent 6 years in Rhode Island (1941 - 1947)
I spent 14 years in Texas (1947 - 1961)
I spent 2 years in Florida (1961 - 1963)
I spent 2 years in Nebraska (1963 - 1965)
I spent 3 years in New York (1965 - 1968)
I spent 7 more years in Florida (1968 - 1975)
I have spent (so far) 38 years in Georgia (1975 - 2013)
That adds up to 72 years, which is right on the money, my 72nd birthday being only a few days away.
Since I have spent over half my life in Georgia, and it happens to be the most recent half, the only conclusion I can make is that Yorkshire Pudding is right.
I am a Georgian.