Afterthoughts

     During World War 2, when I went to town with my grandparents, Grandmother would point to a lone tree in the middle of a cotton field and sing, "Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree  with Anyone Else but Me."      After my grandfather died, in 1975, periodically  my husband and I would drive to West Texas to check on my grandmother.  On one of our visits, I looked at her and said, "Let's go see the tree you used to sing about."        She frowned and replied, "What tree?"      After getting permission from the owner of the farm, the three of us drove down the turnrow to our destination.  Once there, we stood in the shade of an old apple tree. Half of it was dead while the other half had a bounty of apples pulling it's branches to the ground.                                               ...