April Rain Song
Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your
head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a
lullaby
The rain makes still pools on
the sidewalk
The rain makes running pools
in the gutter
The rain plays a little sleep
song on our roof at night
And I love the rain.
Langston Hughes
April is here. April is the month of hope for me. January, February and March are all months of endurance. By the time we get to the fourth month I just start feeling better about things. It is a month of rain and thunderstorms, with the green color coming back in the woods, and plenty of critters coming out of hiding, like my old friend the big groundhog who lives in the dump. How did he get so fat in winter? The rabbits will be out in full force soon in the back yard, too.
The color is coming back in the Japanese maples out front. And the color may sometime return to my own cheeks without the help of Maybelline. It's time to battle the jaggerbushes near the grapevine (over 8 feet tall!)
April means The Masters is on TV starting next week and I can see the beautiful Georgia golf course with the magnolias and beautiful landscaping. And of course this year, I'll have some good-natured arguments with friends about whether women should be allowed to join the golf club. Old Hootie can't live forever. He was the face of "NO" several years ago when all this flared up. The latest issue is whether IBM's new CEO, who just happens to have breasts, will be able to join. I'm thinking No, again. Hell, they didn't let blacks join until 1990. It's become more about power and money, TV sponsorships, and PGATour Event hosting than it is about women actually golfing.
I'd personally like to see her join if she actually wants to. Maybe it's because I'm still pissed off about having to eat on the porch of a local country club because women aren't allowed in the grill room. That was where participants had dinner after the golf event I was in. I golfed in a club hosted event at the time with my other golf partners, (who did not have breasts, so they were welcome in the grill room). They decided they would rather eat with me on the porch. It is a situation that I never thought I would experience, and I admit I was quite taken by suprize to be barred from a grill room. Do the men eat naked in there or something?
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