In the old farmhouse, there was a front room - had a big, round table made of orange formica. I spent a lot of time in that room growing up - there was a beat up old two seat couch in it, and I played a lot of guitar on that couch. Spent time learning chords there, all the way up til I could run up and down the fretboard in a decent approximation of a skilled guitarist. We all spent a lot of good nights in that room - the grownups played cards, the kids did too when the old folks weren't there. We listened to a lot of radio in there - that's all we had. Electricity was in short supply, but battery powered radios pumped in songs from radio stations all across the North Country and Canada. I played along to a lot of Neil Young. Sometimes, they'd play old "Firesign Theater" re-runs. I can't hear Firesign without thinking of that camp in the old farmhouse. I can't play my guitar without feeling that room, and remember the people who inhabited it. A lot have passed on now, but their memory lives inside me and sometimes inside my fingers as I play songs still. I'm getting older now, and it's funny to think I was ever a child inside there. I heard some Firesign Theater earlier today randomly, and I thought about that room. I cut my teeth on a lot of things I still find joy in, and now all I have are loved and precious memories of that room and the people I knew from it. Life is good, especially in the small moments. I try to remember times like this when it all seems so futile. Time seems to be bearing down on me - I get stuck in points where 5 minutes can seem to last forever and hours are not enough. I guess when I was young I figured I had all the time in the world - but now as I get older and my health grows dimmer and dimmer with each passing day... I really see how finite what I have is. It's sad in one way, but at least I can say I lived moments like this and they shaped me into a person I like and sometimes enjoy on occasion. Cliches are cliche for a reason, but Warren Zevon was right - enjoy every sandwich. Every one.
The Adventures of Kidney Boy
A Journal About Living With End Stage Renal Disease. Dialysis. Transplants. Love. Family. Friends. The Unsung Donor. This is my life, from the end of a needle to the bottom of a pill bottle.
Monday, May 9, 2022
The Front Room
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