|Wanda Nelson Borel sent this to me 12-13-00:|
T'was drawing nigh to Christmas
And time was running slim
Everyone agreed let's meet
But no bids for where or when.
A race for space to share old friends
Amidst gatherings by the score
To lift a glass, get a hug,
And reflect on days of yore.
Note was made that those scattered yon'
Would most likely journey back
On that long special weekend--
More by Saturday, in fact.
So word went out, the 23rd
Will be the date or bust
But where are sounds in the old home town For mid-timers such as us?
Then got a call from a fella tall
Who said he'd found a place of plenty
Damon Troy bringing jammin' joy
And room enough for many.
Not a fancy joint, but friendly folks,
Where the northbound highway splits
The Triangle Club on Hwy 171
Just up the road a bit.
So I in my jeans and Maw gussied up
Will roll on out to see whats a' shakin'
Round eight-thirty or so on that evening aglow When the good times are there for the makin'.
Please if you can, squeeze some time in
And at least drop by a while
Seems the more we meet, the more complete Are the 30-year-long miles.
If you're in touch with friends from then Make sure you pass this on There's always room for one more smile Before the chance is gone.