Freedom Desk


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December 24, 2005, 01:06 AM
Freedom Desk

Times were hard and money –what money?

Still Great Grandpa had fashioned a desk from Apple Crates. Great Grandpa knew about working with hands using tools and figuring things out. He knew how to ask questions, read books, pretty smart fellow when it came to listening and researching matters.

That desk was sturdy, it had to be, and it served many duties. Sometimes it was there for fountain pen on paper to write about politics, how matters were not following the Constitution. Perhaps to write expressive thoughts in regard to Conservation, game regulations, or just to keep tabs on an old war buddy or two.

That desk had many a time been used to clean and maintain a firearm used to put food on the table, kept handy in case varmints came onto the property as well.

Granddad had used this desk in the same manner. The fountain pen was still used, especially if the ribbon got all messed up, or the keys got to sticking again. Still this desk again supported letters and such for Freedoms sake, fussing at engineers messing up the habitat somewhere and not taking care of habitat elsewhere.

His daddy’s guns were cleaned and maintained, and some newer ones of his as well.

The young lady was all grown up now, she cherished that desk. That desk always kept her sane while attending College in a Tyranny State. She had earned that scholarship, and was going to put that education to good use.

Her daddy had tried to get used to the electric typewriter; she still laughed when she thought of him - on how he seemed to be afraid to hit a key…”damn things just run off on its own”.

Daddy never had a problem getting his guns apart and maintained on that desk, just easier to hand momma and daughter what scrawled by hand and have it typed on that electric typewriter.

Young lady remembered visiting Hemingway’s home in Key West as a teenager; A certain inspired feeling swept over her seeing that manual typewriter, on that old desk.

She always wondered if Hemingway removed that typewriter, and maintained his guns atop it.

She admired the desk, sturdy as a rock; time had not taken its toll. Like many things of yesteryear, it was put together right, meant to last. Some would try to alter she supposed, she appreciated and respected some things were meant to be preserved as built.

She then let her mind drift, looking at great granddad’s guns, and that old fountain pen. Granddaddy’s guns were there alongside his and daddies; and she was so proud to have found someone to fix that old portable manual typewriter.

She laughed to herself, it was so funny the day someone actually answered the ad in the paper for that old electric typewriter, and daddy didn’t bust out laughing until he was sure the folks were way down the road. “They actually liked that ugly shade of pink”.
“Mauve daddy”
“No honey, ugly pink, there is a difference”.

She hesitated a second, then placed her polymer concealed carry gun on the old desk. Afraid she might be being disrespectful, and then she thought better.

She sat the old portable typewriter atop the desk, then her portable laptop next to it. She stood back and had to take this all in.

Great Granddaddy had built a Freedom Desk. Didn’t matter if fountain pen, manual typewritten words or if words word processed.

Makes not one whit of difference if firearms polymer, or metal and wood.

What is important is preserving Freedoms and fighting Tyranny.


Copyright 2005 – Phil Carson

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armedandsafe
December 24, 2005, 05:40 PM
Thank you.

Pops

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