A minimum of two each hour 24 hours per day. In the front part of the
house, they are a minor sound on the periphery of the mind. In the back
part, they sound like they are crawling in bed with us. The Wabash Cannonball
lives on with all its jingle, rumble, and roar! The Norfolk-Southern
mainline is closer to the house than I suspected; in fact, only about
100 feet away from my bed. The worst is the air horns; there are grade
crossings not too far from each end of the house and the trains blast
coming and going. Everyone says I will get used to them and not pay the
racket any attention, but it is difficult to believe anything that loud
can be ignored. For some reason, there have been far fewer trains this
weekend; I suppose they also have holidays. However, the number is
steadily increasing as this day wears on.
—-
The moving is basically over; all the big stuff is here and mostly what
is left are my boxed-up books. Just in time, too; our first threat of
eviction came in the mail Saturday. Life is good in hard-working middle
America.
—-
Like Tammy said, there is not much to celebrate for America’s working
people. Jobs are still being lost at a much higher rate than new ones
are created and more people are depending on their already stressed
families for support. Foreclosures are once more on the rise as home
values fall and banks are putting the pinch on small businesses. No one
seems to care except the people most affected.
—-
It is a wet Worshday in East Tennessee; have a good one, my friends.
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