Archive for the ‘Kenneth Randolph Taylor 2016-2019’ Category

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
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