|  "This world ain't good enough for the caring man," Cousin Jed said, his dishevelment a cause for concern. The last week or so, he's been out of sorts--bedraggled and doleful--his outlook on life once again shadowed by too heavy a look beyond the periphery. He threw down the old Time magazine, got up off the barrel and limped over to the tree to relieve himself.
Mammie was tending the fire; Little Sis taken serious to the two squirrels chasing each other around the base of an Oak tree. The Mayor was down at the frozen lagoon, most likely in reminiscence--his talk often includes a few snippets of the boyhood--framed in memory for the evermore. "Yeah, Pappy and me would get up before the break of dawn and we'd go down to the crick and before the sun rose high enough to arouse the roosters we'd already have our daily catch."
Cousin Jed had returned to our makeshift encampment, muttering still: "This world ain't good enough for a caring man." Mammie turned from the fire and gave Cousin Jed one of those looks--the one that says, "Come on now, it ain't that bad. You're among friends." Cousin Jed limped over to her, shook his head, and then threw the old magazine in the fire.
"That's more like it," Mammie replied. Little Sis agreed, clapping incessantly at Cousin Jed's sudden surrender. Mammie handed Jed her cask. "Here, warm that blood of yours."
Although I understood very well Cousin Jed's disenchantment with the world; the senseless of all that bore bereavement upon the staunchest of souls, I knew it'd be best if I voiced not too high an opinion on such matters. Our encampment depends on equanimity--because, as the story goes, it is we who've been purported to be teetering on the edge. Surely, a few of our nervous breakdowns may have been attributed to the extraneous circumstances--those, in which we fought to control.
Mammie threw on the fire a few Spam Steaks, peppered and spiced--a few gifts of recompense from the Soup Kitchen, where I had been bartering my time with the clean-up detail...sometimes doing an extra run upon the floor with both bristle and brush.
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