Goodbye Ole Okra

My old lover of hot summers is about to fade as the sunny hours grow fewer and the hot begins to turn toward cold. I am a son of the South, so I love okra, that odd vegetable that fills our summer plates and occasionally takes some space in our soups. Our Louisiana cousins put it in gumbo, and we love it too.

Our regional preferred dish is breaded and fried. I am one of the odd ones who also loves it boiled, leaving it slimy and slick. It chews easy and goes down quick.

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Angel Feathers

On my first trip to Haiti, a family loaned me their video camera. At that time, they were extremely expensive, but they insisted I take it. Unknown to me, the camera had a loose screw on the eye piece. In the middle of about a hundred school kids or more, it fell to the ground. This little fellow about seven years old tugged on my pant leg and held it up to me. God gave me an angel feather.

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Enough

I have never understood why many words in different languages are not spelled as they are pronounced. “Enough” is one of those words in our English language. I would write it in my phonetical brain as “Enuf”. But this post is not about phonetics—I’m just chasing another rabbit.

Enough means different things to different people. So, from a hoarder to a minimalist, the word would have a wide swath of meaning. Sufficient is a good definition.

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