a few hours I spent in jail

a few hours I spent in jail

fiction
edward w pritchard

Truth is stranger than fiction; hopefully here it's more interesting because readership of this blog has fallen recently. It must be a spin off effect of the falling oil price on world markets.

When I was eighteen me and a few of my good time pals spent a few hours in jail for carousing about and accomplishing no good. I didn't learn anything from my experience and I didn't change my philosophy because of it.

Sometimes when I am put off with my children for something they have done I have to remember that to date none of them have been in jail, at least that I was aware of. Of course they had the advantage of coming from a good family, myself included despite my few hours behind iron bars.

Got a harmonica from the grand daughter for Christmas today. If I had had the harmonica back in 1970 in my jail cell I could have played a little blues music, that is if I knew how to play a harmonica.

In any event like Saint Augustine, let this be another of the nefarious sins of my youth that I am confessing.

When I sometimes become impatient with my children let me remember that I too have my faults.

Soon I will recant my adventures of getting robbed at gunpoint in a similar confession of times long past of one long past his prime.

Nothing much happens to me anymore but ah in me glory days, those were some times, let the record reflect it for all to hear.