Progress like it or not

The old homestead ain't what it used to be.The road named for great-grandfather Richard Ball is now Tymber Creek Road and yes, that's Tymber with a Y and Grandma Rose the schoolteacher would not stand for this kind of spelling no matter how high-and-mighty the home builders want to be. The road is four-lane instead of two-lane beat-down blacktop. The sign at the entrance reads Tymber Creek Riverside with no attempt to change any other innocent i. A few car-lengths in is a guard shack flanked by lighted gates and a sign "Residents only!!!" and another one "Protected by Simpson Security." Mary leans forward, "What kind of nonsense is this?" I say probably rich man's nonsense. The driver behind me honks. I look through the rearview at a long-haired teenager in a big SUV. In the old times, drivers didn't honk to move you along because it could be Uncle Wilt, R.I.P., who drove a rusty red GMC equipped with a fully-loaded rifle rack. We forget our visit to the old house site where three generations of Balls grew up. Our youngest, Tim, says from the backseat that his pal Ron's dad has a fancy drone he uses to scout for Civil War artifacts and we might be able to see the contours of the house's foundation or the barn or maybe the dock on the Little Tomoka you used to fish from. Tim always has good ideas and sure we might see the house's ghostly outline but what's the point really? Things will change like it or not.