Gold Mine of My Golden Heart

Garage sales are a double bind. How does it go? "One Down Syndrome guy's treasure are another mother's junk" or something like that. You know what I mean. Taking Forrest garage sailing can be dangerous. Frequently he is given stuff for free. While he is overjoyed, I am thinking, " where will Forrest store that and how soon can I get rid of it?" This morning he was given a 100% cotton 12 foot long American flag made in Valley Forge at a garage sale down the street. I haven't touched one of those since being in the girl scouts. Wow, he was to thrilled to get home to hang it up on our house. My mind was doing a four decade race between the Vietnam war protests with my parents to the recent Obama election. Could I really put this up on my house without feeling ill? My out: It is the forth of July tomorrow! Perfect, for one day. Forrest will be happy.

Next the kind neighbors offered the whole pile vinyl records for 50 cents. He is beyond excited. “It's the gold mine of my golden heart!”. Those are the kinds of prophetic utterances I get blessed with daily from Forrest.
I like to think of it as a Down Syndrome savant- ness he has. He is now home pulling out the dusty portable LP player from his sister's room. He brought it to the kitchen and started playing. Smiling up the heavens, rocking back and forth to Peggy Lee and the like. I asked him to try another record cause I wasn't groovin' just yet. "But mom, these are the greatest love songs from the century!" (he was of course reading the cover of the record to me) Wow, okay, I guess I should get with it and appreciate this "gold mine"of Forrest's. I watched him through breakfast, rocking out to my grandfather's music genre, squinting eyes, doing the Stevie Wonder head wagging thing. Truly he has entered the gold mine of his golden heart.