It’s Santa Saturday in
Mother Asphodel, a novella by Edward C Patterson, bubbles with the secrets of a raging entertainer, who has rubbed elbows with the famous. Still, time knows no friends and Mother cleaves to life’s ornery path on a bleak wintry evening when hope is as sparse as bread crumbs thrown to the birds. The possibilities are endless on the road least taken - a kaleidoscope glimpsed only by those who take it.
“I was just rambling, dear - reflecting on the word gay. Just when did they give us that name?”
“I think we took it when no one was looking.”
I love my mister man,
And I can't tell you' why
Dere ain't no reason
Why I should love dat man,
It mus' be sumpin dat de angels done plan.
I got to love one man till I die.
Can't help lovin' dat man of mine.
Tell me I'm crazy, (maybe I know).
Can't help lovin' dat man of mine