Memories of being eleven, lists that have eleven positions on them, collections of eleven similar objects -- hey, whatever you want. As long as the number eleven is somehow involved, it's all good. For those of you thinking about being sneaking and using binary notation: no "11, base 2." We're talking binary number 1011 here, pal.
HOW ABOUT ELEVEN THINGS I MISS?
1. Real farms: these days a farm has only two crops: corn, and soybeans. When I was a kid, a farm consisted of milk cows, beef cows, hogs, chickens, and all sorts of garden crops. (Thanks to Uncle Leo and Uncle Carl.)
2. Babies: My youngest grandchild is five years old (or is it six now?) and she's in Georgia. I sure do miss having a drooling, helpless baby around.
3. My family... grandma, mother, daddy, uncles. Yes, I am in touch with my kids and some nephews and nieces. But it SUCKS being part of the oldest generation in my family. All I have of Mama and Daddy and Grandma and my aunts and uncles is memories.
4. Energy. Why am I tired all the time?
5. A sense of awe. Oh yes, when I was in the Rockies last week, I felt it. But in the old days, I was in awe of everything around me. I miss that.
6. Lightening bugs. Yes there are a few around. But when I was a kid, they were everywhere, and I could put a bunch of them in a quart jar and it would make plenty of light.
7. A church family that really cares about me. Enough said.
8. Youthful ideals. Remember when ANYTHING was possible? Dang, I wish it was like that now.
9. Playing music with a group. I would love to have somebody to pick and sing with.
10. Home-made ice cream
11. The camaraderie you get from having a job. My job got pretty heavy at the end, but I miss the people.
Extra credit: Grab a book, open it to page 11, and write out the 11th sentence.
""She knelt beside the woman Marceline, touched her lifeless hair, bent close."
That's from "Thicker Than Water", by Linda Barlow and William G. Tapply.