A Mommy Blog About Raising Men, Not Boys.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

I Can't Talk To My Mom

Not because she doesn't understand me.
Or because we don't get along.
But because of this.

And this.

Natural disasters do not care one whit if you have talked to your mom at least once a day every day of your adult life and you're about to climb the walls because she doesn't have phone service. If you're worried even if you're relatively sure she's OK. Natural disasters do not care at all.

And here is a little sentimental something, which means nothing to anyone but me, and possibly my mom.
See this bridge?
My Grandpa Drake opened this bridge when he was the mayor. It used to have (if it is not washed away) a little brass plaque with his name on it and the date the bridge opened. This bridge is now destroyed, a great testament to the temporary state of the works of man, eh?

I wonder if the plaque is still there? I wonder if they would give it to me before they tear down that silly old bridge. I have no idea what I would do with it. I just don't like the idea of it being trash.

Vain and pointless, I know.


Rachel said...

That is in no way vain or pointless. It's a piece of history, not only town/state history but your family history. Few people have something like that. A true piece of memorabilia, history, production.
I bet they would give it to you.
Hope everyone is okay.

Michele Dawson said...

You really should try to get it. Such a great piece of history to have for your family. Hope you get in touch with your mom real soon.