I am reminded of the poem by (I think) Edna St. Vincent Millay:
The bustle in a house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted on the earth.
The sweeping up the heart
And putting away the love
We shall not want to use again
Until eternity.
Don't know if that is all correct, or not. Somebody may want to provide a correct rendition, but you get the idea.
My stepdad never rode in the truck with me, although we had opportunity. Somehow, we were always in too much of a hurry, or it was too hot, or too cold, or......
He drove a lumber truck flatbed sort of truck, a GMC of about 1946 vintage in the late '40's and early '50's about the time I was just getting old enough to not want to ride in a truck like that (here I begin kicking myself). Now I would gladly have ridden in a NEW truck, but the lumber company didn't have a NEW truck.
So I only remember one time, as a 4 or 5 year old, when he lifted me up into the driver's seat, told me to crawl over to the passenger seat, whereupon I rode with him from the main yard to the storage yard out back.
He never rode in my truck--he should have asked to take a ride, but more importantly, I should have suggested and insisted that we go for a ride. :mad: Hell's fire, I know, beyond a doubt, that after about a mile down the road, I could have pulled over, told him to get out and go around and he would have.
Would have enjoyed drivin' an old stovebolt again. I know he would have enjoyed it.
Moral: Don't be puttin' off 'til tomorrow what's best done today.
What was I thinking of!?!
