When Pigs Fly

It had rained all day. Actually, it had rained all week. The rain was a steady, penetrating rain. But, as often happens during the Spring in the river valley, the changing temperatures of the late afternoon provided a window of sunlight. To the west dark clouds were looming again, but there would be a few dry hours.

I was enjoying the breeze and staring into nothing while refueling my car. I hadn't paid much notice to the man on the opposite side of the pump. He spoke loudly on the phone, but my mind was far away. Suddenly his words smashed through my peaceful East Tennessee moment.

"I always said we'd have a black man as president only when pigs fly, and now we got this swine flu." He chuckled to the person on the other end of the phone call. He seemed very proud of his wit.

Well, I thought, that's progress, I suppose. At least he said "black man."