Through the Mist

  Years and years ago, I was often allowed to spend the night with my grandmother.  While this was probably more of a way to give Mom a break from an active youngster, I felt it was a special treat.  Being the youngest of five kids, I often felt left out of the "big kids" doings so I found this little outing quite exciting.  My scheduled sleepovers usually coincided with some movie that was being shown on TV.  This, too, was exciting as back on the farm, we had no TV.   It was on one of these sleepovers that I first experienced the musical "Brigadoon".  I was hooked from that moment which led to me being invited each time the movie was shown.  It became a ritual for Grandmother to put on the tea kettle, pull out the "fine" teacups and fix a plate of cookies to be enjoyed during our viewing.  This tradition carried on until I was a teenager and then my heart was broken by the passing of the dear lady.  I could not bring myself to even think of watching the movie for years and years.  Then, at some point, Mom asked me to watch it with her and, once again, the movie entranced me.  Later, my kids and I never missed a showing of the musical but, instead of milk tea and cookies, the kids wanted more "exciting" foodstuffs.  Sometimes we roasted hot dogs in the fireplace while other times, we had an indoor picnic.  The decision was theirs and, more oft than not, their grandmother (Mom) would join us for the fun.  I miss those days.  I cannot say that any current day movie has ever affected me as much as this one did.  Then again, I cannot say that any current day movies can possibly been deemed classics either.  

  This morning, memories of Brigadoon, the mystical city that appears of the mist every one hundred years, came back to me.  The time spent with Grandmother, Mom and my kids nearly brought tears to my eyes.   These memories were all due a heavy fog that had laid in overnight.  The thick mist blocked from view most of the other side of the Bay.  Only one small portion of what laid on the opposite shore could be seen and that vision was short lived.  The fog slowly blocked out the entire city.  The mystical, magical Brigadoon (in this case, Keesler Air Base) slipped from sight for the next one hundred years (or at least an hour).

  One of the best parts of living on the Bayou is that you never know what the new day will bring.  Things change with the drop of a hat and surprises abound.  Each day also brings with it the opportunity to reflect back on things from years ago.  The quietness allows the brain to wander where it may thus making each day, each memory worth a visit.