Hi. Youre ak Blue laminate for trade?

I got a feeling
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good, good night
A feeling

That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good, good night
A feeling (woo-hoo)

That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good, good night
A feeling (woo-hoo)

That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good, good night

Ole cousin Price was the kind of man who could make you laugh even when life was anything but funny. He grew up with rickets, his legs bowed and frail from years of poor nutrition. But if you ever mentioned it, he’d just shrug and say, “Ain’t nothing wrong with a little extra character in your stride.”

Price had dreams bigger than our small town, though life kept him tethered close. While the rest of us ran wild in the fields, Price would sit on the porch, whittling sticks or sketching ideas in his worn-out notebook. “One day, I’ll have a job worth talking about,” he’d say with a sly grin.

But life doesn’t always make room for big dreams. When he was old enough to work, ole cousin Price took a job at the gypsum factory on the edge of town. It wasn’t glamorous—hard work in choking dust with long hours and little pay. Most folks only stayed long enough to move on to something better, but Price? He stuck it out.

At first, nobody thought he’d last. The factory floor was no place for someone with weak legs and a limp. The other workers teased him, calling him “Twiggy,” but Price never let it bother him. “They’ll see,” he said, puffing out his chest like a rooster. “Ole cousin Price’s got more to offer than they think.”

Turns out, he was right. Price had a mind like a steel trap, quick to figure out how things worked—and how to make them work better. He started noticing inefficiencies in the way things were done, suggesting changes that made the factory safer and more productive. At first, no one paid attention. But when his ideas saved the company money, even the bosses started listening.

Before long, ole cousin Price wasn’t just another worker; he was the guy everyone went to when they had a problem. The factory might not have been the life he’d dreamed of, but he turned it into something meaningful.

“Work’s work,” he told me one day, wiping gypsum dust off his brow. “But making it better for the folks who come after you? That’s what matters.”

Ole cousin Price never left that factory. He stayed until his knees gave out and they threw him a retirement party, complete with a plaque that read: To Ole Cousin Price, the man who made this place better for everyone.

Some might say he deserved more, but Price wouldn’t have agreed. “Ain’t about where you end up,” he’d say, “it’s about what you leave behind.”

And what ole cousin Price left behind was a legacy of grit, kindness, and a stubborn refusal to let life’s challenges define him.

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