icons

I was back home last year. Stuff was going on in Ft Smith. Important things were happening, I guess. Among other things, the city's legendary Lincoln Highschool was having its bi-annual reunion.

It so happened that both branches of my family were having their family reunions the same weekend. It was a huge weekend, and since I was disconnected from all these groups, I was exploring.

Ft Smith is home, but a rather unremarkable town. Yet, I was standing in a hotel made for San Fran. As the glass elevator rose and fell, I met a former classmate (Jatawn) who gave me love and much respect despite my idiocy toward her years earlier. I had been forgiven or she had not remembered.

Where am I? is this a dream?

I met her aunt. Classy lady.

I took a picture.

A picture I shared with the most favored people I know. Connie and Debbie. They laughed. Poked fun.

At my friend who'd showed me love. And that one's beloved aunt, were the brunt.

I didn't understand the poking fun by them I respected the most.

At that very point I reconfigured what my name meant. Jones. what does it mean, really. At that point, not too damn much. For the first time in my life, my blood, as "great" as they are, were cool with laughing at "ugly" people

never going there, and i lost major respect for some icons of mine