Halfway up the ridge I could smell the smoke….?

…but I heard no voices, no chatter of anticipation.
Something was wrong.
The smoke burned your eyes and smelled like oil. The campfire’s sweet drift was not in the air tonight. I sped up a little and tried to keep my heart outta my throat while I jumped over downed trees and pushed aside the sumac. I turned the corner and the world opened up to me and the dusk was on fire and blackness rose from the rafters of the Barn, raping the first stars of night. Flames licked the sides of the Barn as fire forced it’s way outward like a ravaged beast.
I started to run then, on instinct, but the wind said stop, my feet said no, my arms felt frozen, and my mind slammed shut. I fell to my knees and stared. The South wall fell first, crashing into an old oak, sparks tearing at it’s budding branches.
The roof was next. Like an old dog dying it came down on it’s side with a WOOSH and it looked like it was cryin’ I swear to Holy Mother I heard it moan.

I wiped my eyes and headed back home.

REBUILD, rebuild, rebuild. We are all there for the party anyway…we just didn’t get there in time to save it, but we will have an old fashioned barn raising and work as a team to restore it. Dry your eyes, man, Roscoe will lick your tears from your ash covered face. Let’s join hands and get to work.

Love, Roscoe

Of course it is best to not smoke at all, but that isn’t what was asked here. Why all the preaching in stead of answering a simple question? If you have no answer, why start preaching? Here’s a simple solution that does work. 1. Put a small spoon full of bakingsoda in your mouth, take a sip of water with that. 2. Wash / brush your teeth with the bakingsoda in your mouth 3. Brush for 2 min, don’t forget to also brush your tongue and gums, also under your tongue! After brushing thouroughly rinse your mouth 4. Eat something, like an apple. 5 repeat if nessecary

No, don’t give up. Rebuild. It would be too sad to watch it all go away. So many relationships developed at that barn, a whole bunch of laughter shared, many tears shed there too. Sometimes people have left for a while, but often they’ll return, and the spirit of the red barn continues. There will unfortunately always be the mean ones who enjoy destroying what others have, but I think there are many who persevere and won’t give up the concept of what the red barn represents.

Oh! Buk I can’t believe what I am hearing, does everything
we love have to end in tragedy. We all moan with with the
the grand old lady &amp: all the storys her walls will never tell us.
Ah! Son it’s got to be arson, the trolls of found a way to
travel to our most sacred place &amp: simply deleated it like
so many unique &amp: important questions &amp: answers lost.
The fire still burns in our hearts my friend, we can carry
our sparks as long as it takes. To rebuilt or to follow you
like they did Moses to a promise land. I am willing to
spend 40 long years in the P&amp:S wilderness in search
of our potential new place for the kindred spirits of P&amp:S
to gather &amp: laugh, love, sing, dance &amp: throw caution to
the wind in a night of unbridled baffoonary for all of us.
We are not the barn, though the barn will live with us always.

(( Hugz )) OK that’s enough hehe


From the fire comes the Phoenix. The rebirth of what was. Rebuild the Big Red Barn. I’ll help.

Gosh, Buk, you deserve some kind of Award of the Year for this one. I was going to refer to some kind of Yahoo! award but I couldn’t even go there. I’ve been reading the responses from the others and just about all of them have been sobering and touching.

You have to feel like one lucky SOB.

I can hardly add anything to what the others have said except &quot:Amen&quot:. Rebuild!!

Out of the embers a new place shall rise. We’re with you Buk, whatever you decide, I’m willing and able to help rebuild. If you want to move on, I’m sure there’s a new place just waiting to find you.

Was it the smell of hours of liquor blending into a session of demented dreams, or the panicky remembrance of a country boy witnessing his first barn-burnin’, torched with an accelerant, maybe even his own daddy’s, and finding out he was too young to join the bucket brigade, crying on his way back home…..?

The Red Barn will always live in our hearts. the memories are strong and i can hear the laughter. i can smell the applewood smoke. and feel the love and friendship. the rebuilding has already started

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