Articles from East Texas attorney :: Blake Bailey Law work

I stood on my cousin Jim Bob’s veranda, leaning against the brick wall of his house.  It was a sultry day—well, not all that sultry but I love writing that word.  I think it makes me sound almost novelistic.  Any way, I was attending the wedding reception for Jim Bob’s daughter.  All my relatives and friends of the family milled around in the back yard.  The only time I saw most of them was at funerals and wedding receptions.  In recent years the number of funerals edged past the number of weddings.  This trend was a little disconcerting.  At least I could laugh at a funny joke at a wedding reception without feeling I committed an act of indiscretion. Over the years I had become less enthusiastic about joining in the conversations and more interested in listening and observing.  It seemed as if all chitchat was merely a repeat of the ones at pervious gatherings—same subjects, expressions, facial gestures, and clichés. For entertainment I thought about what was being said and why.  Sometimes Jim Bob joined me in my quest for meaning in the banter.  Cousin Jim Bob sauntered over to me with a half smile on his face.  I knew he was ready to be witty. “Blake, I have heard the expression ‘bless her heart’ more often than at the last gathering,  which means a lot.  My question is this.  Have you ever heard anyone say anything nice after using that phrase?” I thought for a moment and saw the accuracy of his observation—I had not!  “Bless her heart, I think she weighs more now than the last time we saw her.”  “Bless her heart, she doesn’t even realize she has a drinking problem." Etc.  “That’s good Jim Bob.  Let me ask you this, have you ever heard anyone say ‘Well I just think’, who wasn’t about to declare what he just finished saying word for word, or offer a thought that has absolutely no facts or logic to back it up? ‘Well I just think spotted calves give better milk.’  It’s really hard to argue with that statement.  After all he does just think that!” “Okay Blake.  When’s the last time you heard someone say ‘I don’t mean to pry,’ who didn’t go about doing just that?” I had just opened my mouth to best my cousin with another astute observation when Aunt Minny bustled over to us.  Her face was worn with years of living but her eyes still sparkled and danced with a celebration of life.  She wore an old fashion, cotton, print dress and a small black hat perched on a white bun.  She threw her arms around Jim Bob, then me, giving us both a sweaty, bosomy hug.  “Lord I haven’t seen either of you children in almost a year.” She spoke with her familiar melodic Southern accent.  “I love you two.  Are you happy?”  She didn’t ask about our careers, or how our finances were going.  She simply wanted to hold us and ask if we were happy. Jim Bob and I both assured her that we were happy and asked about her.  We both promised to come by to see her—the same promise we made and broke last year.  Then she was gone—back to help with the wedding cake.  We looked at each other.  Jim Bob spoke first.  “Well we’re pretty good at being witty and critical.  Maybe we should take a break and try being as sweet and loving as Aunt Minny and maybe even appreciate some of these folks while we still have the opportunity.  I smiled, “Well, I just think your right.”