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The Golden Years
If the “Golden Years” are having all my ducks in a row, my mortgage paid, a huge nest-egg in the bank, romantic cruises every year, no more worries, grey hairs or wrinkles, then I haven’t arrived yet. And from the looks of things, I’m not getting there any time soon. But if the “Golden Years” are having peace of mind, good health, a growing, loving family and friends, a faithful husband, and a dog, then I’m there. And I can tell you from years of experience, it’s a wonderful place to be!
Maybe it was the clothes they wore, or the beautiful feathers, or their glistening, smooth-as-satin skin that attracted me to them. Maybe it was the rugged outdoors, living in tepees, the Indian Chief, his  old, leathery face etched with hardship and pain. Maybe it was the young men on horses, their faces painted for battle, or the hardworking squaws they left behind. Whatever the reason, I, that little red-haired, fair-skinned, freckled-faced child of the past, wished to be an Indian. Their eyes, their wisdom and strength reached out and touched my soul. I hope my bookmarks convey to you the heritage, honor and strength of the born and bred true American!
It may be small, but there’s plenty of room for anyone who enjoys a good laugh, spiritual insights, and down-to-earth fun. We’ll walk through the vallies of hope, climb the mountains of strength, and cross the bridges of courage. There is no age limit here, no judgement or ridicule. Best of all, God is here, teaching, leading and guiding us every step of the way. So, if you’ve lost your way chasing dreams, searching for love, honesty and truth, well then . . . welcome to my world!
