Tales of the Ordinary Days

Day 12 | 30 Days of Writing In text exchanges with my father-in-law, Larry, I often get this response when I ask what he is doing... "Porch time!" I had never heard this phrase before, but totally get it. For him, it means sitting on the porch late afternoons with neighbors. Watching the cars go by, possibly enjoying a libation, and taking in the action of a small town. This was no different from my days growing up in my small town. Most homes in Remsen had porches, many with porch swings or rocking chairs, either the wood or iron models. And walking through the town meant waving to the occupants of these outdoor posts. The picture above that showed up on my FaceBook feed is a mirror to my childhood memory. When visiting my Grandma Gib, she had an enclosed porch where we often sat and talked about whatever struck our fancy. At the farm of my other grandparents, we skipped the fancy chairs and just sat on the cement step of the porch. We spent many summe...