Life is filled with "Pop-Ups"

                        It’s July.  It’s Arkansas.  It’s Hot.  Not quite like last summer with the drought, but plenty of heat and humidity. Thus, Arkansas Showers, the “Pop-up” variety. Rather like the Gulf Coast... Well, not much like the Gulf Coast, but an active imagination and any connection to the Gulf, its waves, its sounds, and its breezes help.
                       

Pop-ups bring to mind pop-up campers, which, I must say, have never been used as my Holiday Inn.  Mother succumbed to Daddy’s insistence and once (1 time) agreed to an overnight at DeGray in a camper – not even a pop-up.  Major Acts of God, both tornado and hurricane according to Mother, combined to end the adventure. Daddy never again could cajole Mother into further camping experiences.

              Nature’s beauty is magnificent, but as night falls, spiders and snakes pop-up. I’d much rather experience the sun popping-up while sipping my coffee on the balcony of a Gulf-front condo. Thomas and Lois enjoy camping and answered Colorado’s siren call while on a Pop-Up Camping excursion.  They never returned to Arkansas, especially not in July.

                        Behold: the Surprise Lily.  Naked Ladies.  By whatever name, these beauties “pop-up” where and when you least expect them, all pink and showy, usually in flowery clusters like Vegas dancers, but sometimes all alone with only feathery fans to cover their beauty.

                       The villains in video-games seem to pop-up with a smiling vengeance.  Those ghosts from Pac-Man could capture my gobbling girl or guy from out of nowhere.  My yellow orb with eyes and a chomping mouth could not run fast enough.   That early challenge with Pac-Man and the Mrs. and later with Super Mario Brothers is the only throw-down I undertook.  I’d get very upset when Mario fell to his death in a burning pit of lava, and while I tried to give him wings and a prayer to jump and land safely, death seemed inevitable. 

                                It’s July.  It’s Arkansas.  It’s Hot.  The cotton is in bloom and the bolls will soon pop-up in the North Delta, turning the fields white with unseasonable snow. It’s a gorgeous sight, as far as the eye can see, and white gold to the big-time farmers. Corn is also grown for grain, feed, fuel and some varieties for popcorn.  The chime of the microwave signaling the readiness of Orville’s magic kernels pales by comparison to the anticipation felt as the pan of Jiffy-pop was shaken over the stove’s burner. Watching the dome of foil “pop-up” with delicious, warm, oft-burned but fully expanded kernels of corn was as much of a thrill as Little Joe’s exploits on a TV night with Bonanza.

The best Pop-Up I’ve encountered lately, however, concerns Facebook.  Friends and acquaintances from everywhere pop-up and request “friend” status.  My ’66 classmates and many other Camden Panthers have popped up on my radar and it has been with surprise and pleasure that I have “friended” them, for they have been and always will be special people. I’m so glad they popped-up.   
                  It’s July.  It’s Arkansas.  It’s Hot.  My plan: jump into the pool, trusting I’ll pop-up much cooler than when I went in. The pool is much safer than the ocean, where Jaws might pop-up at any time.  If only those swimmers could hear the music…