“Where is Your Getaway?”

Less Is More

I stare at the vast array of topics I could blog on, overwhelmed by too many choices.

Do I address the shootings of service members in Chattanooga, followed by the bullets that fly every time Donald Trump opens his mouth?

Should I tackle a controversy that's blown up my Facebook feed: same-sex marriage, the Confederate flag, or that Planned Parenthood video?

I think I need my bucket.

My Bucket List

Recently my wife and daughter took me to do something I’d never done before. We drove into the country to pick blueberries. This farm sells a gallon of fresh blueberries for less than half what we’d pay at a grocery store.

Our shirts grew damp while our fingers gently plucked fruit. As we moved down and across the rows, I reached for the taller branches while Mary Ethel and Molly Kate picked the lower ones.

As my bucket began to fill, my fingers changed from clumsy to confident.

Reaching past still-growing berries for ripe ones, I thought of my roots. Some of my fondest memories are of the Brannock farm in North Carolina. Among other crops, my grandfather harvested grapes, potatoes, and tobacco.

For a few minutes, my mind took me back to a good place.

Away from the dark valleys overshadowing people I love.

Away from the deposition nails driven into the coffin of Bill Cosby’s reputation.

Away from offers to watch this AMAZING video (before they pull it!) and follow this AWESOME guru and attend this ASTOUNDING seminar so my message will reach millions and make thousands. (Or is it the other way around?)

Sometimes, the best thing we can do for ourselves is pick up a bucket and disappear in a blueberry patch.

Where do you like to go for a local getaway?

David