Matching green fabric lazy boys rock away upon the gold shag carpet, keeping tune with the nightly news. Central America is a hot topic, the Shah is flying around looking for  country to land in and the hope of country for an end to cold war grips us all. I was delegated to the floor. I loved the floor. I was even given a huge brown throw pillow to make the shag upon subfloor much more comfortable and entertaining. I was awash with news and could only imagine how another world lived through such grief but was oh so safe here in the states. What was the point of it all? Major powers at will, pushing each other around waiting for the other to blink. The Smiths seemed OK, the Jones were always solid and yet I never knew a homeless family, or one without a job. i guess that was the twist family asking for yet another bowl of food. The Twist family never came around our neighborhood. I saw them on the news on the streets and or in the dirt in some third world country but never suburbia. The Twist wore clothes that never fit nor matched, probably found at the goodwill store or wherever, but it never drew close to my life. I was one of the lucky ones. I was a Smith but as with any good Smith, you still look out the single pain aluminum window and wish the Jones were within reach but the Grant family blocked the way.