BARTON SURFACES, COVID-FREE FOR NOW, WATCHING THE WHEELS GO ROUND AND ROUND

This is awkward. I couldn't even find my old blog until I just "Googled" it. I'd been watching Paul McCartney's "Chaos and Creation at Abbey Road" for about the third time. . . more creativity in an hour than can be found anywhere. Ana is asleep a few feet away after one of those whirlwind days; Xmas shopping, cooking, clothes washing, all on her "off" day as she puts it, from being a "covid warrior" at a local nursing and rehabilation center. I don't know who to thank for this woman. There are so many Gods claiming to have started this universe, but, if one of them actually did what his followers claim, I'm grateful. Most days I'm tuned in to watching a President nearly my exact age finish his term while violating every rule we were taught as kids. Remember, we were told not to brag on ourselves, lie, put down others or hog the spotlight. This man does all of that daily and yet is loved by many. Did our moms and dads not teach us correctly? Meanwhile, Brownsville is ruled by a diminuative mayor, one inch shorter than me, and a verbose city-management educated city manager, who incorporates phrases from his oollege textbooks into every pronouncment he makes about our city. Actually, the city, like most others, is simply on hold until covid subsides. I'm tempted to wake up Ana to tell her about the snow and ice hitting the northeast or how my mom used to make us snow ice cream. I have several snow stories I will save until she wakes. You might be proud of me as yesterday I listened for an hour to a man at the pool, who described himself as a "born again Christian" and a total supporter of President Trump. Biting my tongue repeatedly, I thought of Jesus' admonission not to "throw pearls before swine" and said nothing. Maybe I've finally learned to recognize a lost cause when I see one. Lately I've been thinking a lot about Hurricane Beulah, the powerful hurricane that hit us in 1967. If we weren't totally prepared, it was because Hurricane Inez the year before got everyone to board up, then, at the last instant, swung toward Tampico. After Inez missed us, my old friend Tom Robinson and I approached Madam Palm on Highway 48 to ask her if she could actually predict the future why did she hwve her house boarded up for a storm that wasn't going to hit. "Oh, Jesus God!" was all the palm reader could say as her head snapped back.