America's Heart Land

Somewhere in the depths of the American heartland two men sat on the stoop that was flanked by a tree that seemed to be an aging prop from the movie From Here to Eternity.

“Isn’t Indiana Grand,” one said to another.

“It sure beats Arizona,” the other responded, “that one went down in a blaze of glory.”

“Yes, it did,” Tom agreed adjusting his United States Air Force Veterans hat.

Suddenly from across the street a Trans Am with its roof down came to a complete stop and the red headed diva took her arm and waved to a friend who needed a ride.

“Such is the young,” John started another conversation.

“Yes, they have a lot these days,” remarked Tom thinking of a long-lost love from days past, “you know I once loved a red head like that.”

“Was she a diva?”

“No, she was an entertainer who really could sing at The Ebony Hare,” Tom clarified about a local talent, “a man name Roger played a piano in the shape of a carrot.”

“Did you ever get a nibble or have a glass of carrot juice,” John inquired.

“Actually, I did, and I never had better eyesight,” Tom grinned knowing the carrot cake dessert was the true reason to pay the club a visit.

As the two girls flirted around the four wheels the one could be heard saying “flash it a lil bit,” and a few seconds later after the red head pushed the button parking lights twinkled on then off in the same way if someone hit a home run at the semi pro stadium down the road.

Before pulling a way two boys the same age as the girls pulled up in another expensive car and when one got out of the passenger side Tom was astounded at what he looked like, “Heza shot of Jz,” was the comment after observing the looks to the individual, “Whose Jz,” was the question from John.

“My grandson,” Tom was brief,

“Hi Grandpa,” Jz yelled from the distance as a clap of thunder was heard over head.

“Well, it is time to go inside,” John suggested, “it is those days of thunder you know Tom.”

“Be careful,” Tom screamed a warning, “it is going to rain.”

“We will be back for dinner,” was the adolescents answer.

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