PONDERIN'

   Four generations under one roof. We're not talking family reunion here. We're talking necessity borne of tough times.

   We took advantage of the Spring weather last night and sat a spell with the old folks, discovering that I've been taking these far too few moments for granted. Grandpa talks his treasons and we all willingly indulge in Grandma's reminiscence. We are lucky people to still have the grandparents with us - Grandma says we are, with a twinkle and a chuckle, and well, she 's right. Because it's her house we are all living in - and, you know, you just don't argue with Grandma.

   We have our lives going on here. And in regards to our family, it has never really been about the politics or the religion, it's about something you just can't explain - but can't do without. Maybe like Grandpa's tales.

   "Not tall tales," says Grandma. "Grandpa's stories are too crooked to stand tall. They're more a fishing stories, I'd say." And she does say. "The young'uns love them yarns, but you can't believe a damn thing that old man says."

   Grandma is from the old country - Arkansas to be exact. Her family migrated to Oregon when she was just three years old. Grandpa and his were from Utah, arriving in the Northwest at just about the same time as Grandma and her kin. They met as teenagers at the Grange Hall Dance, way back when they still had Grange Halls around here. Apparently they were quite the combination. Grandpa rode rough and raised hell, Grandma always at his side, always holding his hand through the vastness of the decades.

   I believe that pride is a privilege. We all eat and argue under one roof now, just regular folks trying to get through the tough times. We didn't plant up a holler of weed, and we aren't cooking up any chemistry out in the barn. We stick together, through fame and failure and sit a judge of our own selves. If we have to fight, we'll fight for our rights, not for a cause.

Our family's name has never been cursed upon and I am proud of that. I hope my country can find it's pride again.

   Last night Grandma told me that the trick is to not let the hard times define who you are. So, as the sun sank lower behind the hills I listened, and I learned and I didn't say a word because that's what you do it when you're on the front porch, lucky enough to still have the old folks and hear their voices. I'll always have their spirits, to embrace and behold, but I won't have their sound in my ears forever.

   Grandma said, " knowledge is of the world. It's weather, and whatever crop you plant there. It must grow quickly in order to survive. Wisdom is from the soul."

   She said no more. She merely walked over by the steps where Grandpa was standing. They still hold hands and watch the sun go down from the front porch whenever the rain allows.

   Wisdom takes time to cultivate. Just ask Grandma.