Above:  An Empty Lot in Vidette, Georgia, December 26, 2019

From June 1980 to June 1982 I lived in the house that was on this lot.

Photographer = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

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I stood on a vacant lot

in a very small “city”

I left many years ago.

I stood on a spot and thought,

“My bedroom was here.”  Sunny

was the day I chose to go

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and revisit the same spot

I used to reside.  Gladly

I toured Vidette.  I strolled

through my past as I sought

to sate curiosity.

I did.  Then I returned home.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

DECEMBER 27, 2019 COMMON ERA

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Below:  A photograph of the house,from 1980-1982 (from a photo album)

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Above:  A View from Railroad Street, Vidette, Georgia, December 26, 2019

Photographer = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

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Two decaying commercial buildings

stand opposite where railroad tracks were.

There had been five such structures on that

corner.  Now the two remaining

former stores testify to former

economic life long ceased.  Exact

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details may be lost.  Understanding

the past of this small town may never

be possible fully. Where once sat

the tangible past, now collapsing

buildings tease.  Decay destroys records.

This is a most unfortunate fact.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

DECEMBER 27, 2019 COMMON ERA

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On the afternoon of Easter Sunday, April 21, 2019, my front door was open.  Sunlight cast shadows against a wall, creating shadows of burning taper candles.  I noticed the flickering of the reflections of the flames and took this photograph.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

APRIL 26, 2019 COMMON ERA

The blatant abuse of the English

language is, like, you know, a cause

of much irritation–anguish,

even.  This is the truth because,

basically, I’d rather banish,

you know, disrespect for usage laws.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

APRIL 16, 2019 COMMON ERA

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https://neatnik2009.wordpress.com/2019/04/16/abuse-of-the-english-language/

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Please, do not misuse “impact,”

substituting it for other

verbs, such as “influence” and “affect.”

Nobody has impacted me, or

else I would have known the effect

of the collision.  No crater

or wedging in someplace, “impact”

is not properly a good verb.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

APRIL 16, 2019 COMMON ERA

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https://neatnik2009.wordpress.com/2019/04/16/impact-2/

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“I want to thank you,” the message

began.  I guess something or

someone prevented such a sage

from actually thanking, or

else one poorly wrote that message.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

APRIL 13, 2019 COMMON ERA

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https://neatnik2009.wordpress.com/2019/04/13/its-the-thought-that-counts/

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Above:  Sunset, June 16, 2018

Photographer = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

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I just saw a most

beautiful sunset behind

old, tall, verdant trees.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

JUNE 16, 2018 COMMON ERA

 

Photograph by Kenneth Randolph Taylor’

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Blackie finds tissue

paper most entertaining;

typical of cats

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

DECEMBER 24, 2017 COMMON ERA

Technically this is early autumn,

but it feels like late summer to me.

The temperatures my energies drain

each time I venture outdoors daily.

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I long to wander in the woods again

for longer than an hour at a time,

but I cannot do that yet, for the heat

deprives me of that pleasure sublime.

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Autumnal temperatures, my dear friends,

where are you?  Please speed, like Mercury

the winged, to us, and deign to remain

until winter comes gloriously.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

SEPTEMBER 23, 2017 COMMON ERA

Above:  My Desk, June 21, 2017

Photograph by Kenneth Randolph Taylor

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To recognize (at least partially) what one has and to give God thanks for it is to pursue a positive course of action.  Too often we human beings become grateful only after the fact and mix gratitude with regret for not having x anymore.  Frequently that regret overshadows our gratitude.

I have been spending perhaps excessive amounts of time with Google Earth recently.  I have been looking up places used to live, examining street views, and stirring up old memories, some of them faint because they come from my early childhood.  (I have consistently clear memories from about seven years of age forward.  I have sporadic memories prior to 1979/1980.)  I spent much of my early life in a series of United Methodist parsonages scattered across the South Georgia Annual Conference.  Often my family and I lived in small, provincial communities–sometimes in small towns, sometimes outside them, in the county.  This annoyed my father, who expressed himself frankly in private, in journal entries, as he complained about how small many minds were.  The experience of having to muzzle himself in public frustrated him.  The lack of intellectual stimulation outside my bookish home certainly frustrated me.

If, for some reason, fate will ever be so cruel as to require me to live in any of these communities again, I will not join any of those congregations, which will have nothing to offer to me.  I am of a particular spiritual type (Anglican-Lutheran-Catholic), which a rural Methodist church cannot satisfy.  Also, I abhor Southern Gospel music.

I am preparing to commence my thirteenth year in Athens-Clarke County, Georgia, and at St. Gregory the Great Episcopal Church in early August.  These places are where I belong, at least for the time being.  I acknowledge the possibility that perhaps I should leave both of them one day and pursue opportunity and spiritual fellowship in another location, but I have no desire to relocate needlessly and foolishly.  As of now, grocery stories are plentiful and adjacent to my home, I lack no intellectual stimulation, I get to speak my mind freely in church without anyone accusing me of having committed heresy, and I take communion twice a week.  (I have long felt closest to God in that sacrament.)  I am the parish librarian, presiding over a splendid collection of books in a room I have transformed into a sacred space, complete with Marian iconography.  Also, no longer do I live in a proverbial glass house, living under the expectations of others that I at least appear holier than they.  Life as a layman and just another member of the congregation is wonderful.

I know at least some of what I have and thank God for that of which I am aware.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

JUNE 22, 2017 COMMON ERA