Still Stewing

i do not expect everyone to like everything i post. but it gets somewhat frustrating and tedious, when not getting much input, the one input you do get is from a jerk in Alabama that blasts everything I wrote in prose form about the place we once knew. i would not have been as upset had he given constructive criticism, but to go off on saying i of had a troubled childhood to like the things of old, to make fun of the creak of the porch swing, to say, who would build a porch of lighter wood, and on and on. way too on and on. it miffed me to the point i blocked him from my facebook. the only other person i did that to was the girl in lakeland who totally did not get humor or sarcasm or double meaning and went off on me, calling me all sorts of things.
i suppose had the fellow knew the circumstances that led to the loss of the home place, of not having a place to call home, never able to go back, then perhaps he would have been a bit more sympathetic. i did not keep him an acquaintance that long.
i am not one that relished the old ways, i did not personally have to live through the hardships. we did not have hot water at the old place like home, we boiled water on the stove for baths. it was no hardship. it did not have central heat and air like home, but the wood stove was fine. and so, it was like going to hunting camp, or camping out, it was not our way of living, it was week-ends, vacations. we went back to the modern conveniences. \