Tonight Buck felt his hometown street's timeless heritage and imagined how the present moment would impact his future. Buck quickened his pace as he walked toward the Wekiwahatchee as if to burn off some of his excess energy as he contemplated how the universe might be playing with his emotions.

Buck stopped to lean down and pluck a Bahia grass seed stalk. Seventy years of practice enabled Buck to expertly remove the blade of grass at the base of the stalk before sticking the succulent straw between his lips and resuming his journey down the Adams Avenue sidewalk. "I'm sure glad Bahia grass ain't toxic because this po' boy has chewed up a few bales of this stuff along the way." Crunching on his piece of greenery reminded Buck of how much Bahia grass was a big part of his life story due to his family's pioneering work in establishing Bahia grass as the preferred pasture cover in the Wekiwahatchee Valley and just like the name "Adams Avenue", it brought him back to the disturbing memories of tonight's Youtube video with Gene Rayburn talking about the 1939 formation of the Wekiwahatchee Cattlemen's Association while his Grandma Lewis played the piano. That video clip had bypassed all of his psyche's defenses and triggered an unprecedented emotional release that had both stunned and embarrassed Buck.

  The typical flow state stream of consciousness Buck usually enjoyed had been interrupted by the emotional interference produced by the aftermath of his mysterious catharsis and he knew he had to do something about it. If ever Buck needed to practice his daily personal rebirth rituals on the riverbank, it was tonight. 

"Another wonderful evening down by the riverside searching for what to think as I restore my uncluttered mind." Buck mused.

As Buck strolled north toward the river, he recalled a line from the 23rd Psalm, "He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his namesake." In a moment Buck experienced a sudden flash flood torrent of thought that produced such distress he was forced to dig deep within the long suppressed memory files of his inner reality in order to seek contact with the roots of his humanity.

"It's those flash drives," Buck exclaimed. "Damn, that's it! Those flash drives had a lot to do with turning on my waterworks over at Jake's house tonight!"

During the previous week, Buck had received a small carton in the mail containing a dozen flash drives, thumb-size personal electronic storage devices, that some guy found in a box of computer parts he bought at a Panama City garage sale. One of the flash drives was labeled with Buck's address and when the guy in Panama City saw that the drives contained family photos, he'd mailed them to Buck out of common courtesy. Buck figured that the drives ended up at the garage sale because they had been in his estranged late wife's possessions which had been disposed of after her death by her live-in boyfriend.

Many years before her death, during the conflict that preceded their permanent separation, Buck thought the flash drives had been destroyed when late wife piled all of Buck's photos, color slides and personal documents into the backyard barbecue pit and burned it all. This unexpected arrival of the electronic documentationBuck had little time to process this new task before him. He thougt he'd lost the flash drives along with all his other personal pictures, color slides and documents that went up in flames during that disastrous conflagration.