Yes, Ozarkians are good people, and I’m not biased!
Fortunately, Meera and I don’t have problems with talking politics… She can’t believe that I’m a conservative, and I just shake my head at her liberalism. Ultimately, we both know she could kick my butt in a fair fight… My only protection is that I could drive over her car without even noticing it…
Hey Meera, Shelley here! I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed your comments - it makes me laugh out loud when I read it. I can’t wait for more of your entries in this blog - who knows, maybe you can bring Ozarkyn over to the liberal side - HA HA HA!!!
Let’s not set our sights on the impossible… Besides, you might be surprised at my definition of conservative. My definition is the old one, and not the Big Brother description that is currently used in the media…
Glad to see you here, Russo! (And a note to my mother---this is not my sister Shelley, but another friend Shelley). I’m already thinking about the next thing to write about… if you have any suggestions, feel free to let me know!
I don’t believe I could kick your butt, Oz. Hold my own, yes, and <s>argue</s> discuss an issue till the cows come home, but kick your butt? Well. Maybe. But I CAN go farther on a single tank of gas. (Literally and metaphorically!)
What Meera didn’t say is that when we lived in the midwest and Meera was younger than Julian and Annie, our wonderful next-door neighbors were Ozarkians. Gary was from Rolla, and his father, Herple, was named after his grandfather’s favorite mule.
Gary and Bev were wonderful people. Had Meera’s father and Gary dared to risk their friendship by talking politics, they would have had creative tension in their conversations. Bev and I talked about important things—raising kids, canning, and the classes we were taking.
(-- the voice of a mom)