History being made every day
Donald J. Trump is the President. Publix is coming to town and the chocolate melted on my Moon Pie.
The order of significance of those events in my life, I’m not sure.
The world has known for months that, the Good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, “The Donald” would be The President. The advent of the coming of Publix has been a certainty, even longer. Only the melting chocolate was unexpected.
“The Donald” has his work cut out for him, as my granny would say, and add that the world is going to hell in a handbasket. To that, I would say amen and amen.
Back in October, I was in historic Jonesborough, Tennessee for the annual National Storytelling Festival, which will celebrate 45 years in 2017. Ironically, “The Donald” took the Oath of Office as the 45th President of the United States of America in 2017. One has nothing to do with the other, other than it’s just interesting.
Back to Jonesborough, I was taking a short cut from one storytelling concert tent to the other, and was pleased to see a huge sign that read, “Donald Davis for President.”
That “Donald” is the premier storyteller in today’s world.
The New York Times reported that Donald Davis’ stories often leave listeners limp with laughter at the same time they struggle with a lump in the throat.
I thought back to the first time I heard “The Donald” on stage. It was on a cold and rainy day in J’boro 15 years and more ago. Already 1,500 people packed the tent to hear the master storyteller. People were standing four-deep around the tent, sheltered by rain hoods, umbrellas or anything else that would shed water.
My first thought was that nobody or nothing is worth this. But that thought never got down as far as my feet. For the next hour, I stood mesmerized by “The Donald” and something as simple as a story.
I have a plaque with a little pig-tailed girl hanging by her feet from the limb of a tree. It reads: Remember how simple life used to be?”
Life used to be simple – as simple as hanging from a tree or hearing a story well told.
Today, life is not simple. It’s complicated. It’s chaotic.
The simple things of life seem to be passing us by.
If we could all just stop for a minute and, as the old adage says, stop and smell the roses instead of throwing rocks and temper tantrums every time things don’t go our way. If we would just sit down and listen to a story or savor a moment spent with those we care about instead of yelling mean and hateful words and spitting hate and distrust. Then it wouldn’t matter if Donald Trump is the President or Publix is coming to town. It would only matter that the chocolate melted on my Moon Pie.
Jaine Treadwell is features editor of The Messenger. Email her at email@example.com