IT IS MY BALL AND I MAKE UP THE RULES


Memories from my childhood include playing games with others in different places. At one kids house third base had to be straightaway from the homeplate because the neighbors wall dictated a physical barrier. Play on we did because that was the way it was.  Shift the grounds to another location with a a larger lot and the bases could be more symmetrical, but a ball in the tree at the far left corner was a ground rule double, and we accepted that. On a legitimate ballfield standard rules would apply, unless the owner of the ball ended up on the losers side. “It is just not fair” he might declare,”If I can’t play my way, I am taking my ball back home.” Anything sound familiar?

Where have I been?


Even though the force of youth no longer drives me up lifes path, my more mature mind and the weight of the years adds the inertial  momentum to help me climb an amazing distance up lifes road.[At what point do the gears of youth kick out and years of maturity kick in?] Have you ever driven up a long,long slope, then turned around to see where you have been and realized that the fog you see is really the top of the clouds you passed during your journey thus far? An expedition back down that trail already blazed, and before long all the memories of the acts you have done,all the missions accomplished, the people well met,  others not so well, pitfalls entered then worked around, the fights that were fought,victories won, battles lost, loves that seemed once so pure, now experience tainted, minor loves of the time now missed most of all, threaten to overwhelm, but suddenly, with the weight of the future laid to rest, the brakes of memory grab hold. So the past becomes clearer as we approach our beginning.Now my journey takes me back to a place where the purist thrills to be found are simple yet satisfying. Learning to tie my shoes, ride a bike, how to read, fly my kite: these focal points of life shine through the clouds of the past. I can trace my trip back a bit further than most, or so I was told by my father and mother, who were proud of how far back my memory could meander. I hate to brag, but the sight of the big porcelain bowl approaching my skinny white butt, while I tried to make my deposit into a grownups throne still gives me a fright, even though the memory of how my out thrown elbows caught the edges and saved my mission to my mothers delight, still casts the light of a candle in my minds deepest well.  Well now I have wandered off the course of my tale, my original thought was of persuing my future, so I will retrace my steps to the present  I think, but a few stops ‘long the way will delay my restart. A lot of places in the history of my life, need revisited from time to time in order that dreams created along the way do not get mixed up with real memory. It helps to keep the path clear.

Boy am I Glad I DID NOT get POLIO


Small pox nearly wiped out the Native American a few hundred years ago. The US government exacerbated that little episode by handing out blankets contaminated with the virus. The blankets came from hospitals where the blankets were used to keep European settlers warm while they rested and allowed the antibodies in their blood kill the virus. More Native Americans died from smallpox than from battle back the,because they had no antibodies in their blood to fight off the disease.  When I was very young, I went to school with several kids who suffered with polio. Some died, most were crippled,and carried a badge for the rest of their lives to show they had “won” the battle”;{ twisted, crippled, useless, limbs or spines} Dr. Jonas Salk came up with a medication called a “vaccine”. The vaccine caused the body to develop antibodies to fight the polio virus and eliminate it before it could cause permanent harm, and worked very well for the most part. My daughter and my grandkids have never seen anyone carrying the effects of polio. Countless lives were saved. This method was then used to create vaccines for many other common Childhood diseases, such as pertussis(Whooping cough) Rubella (measles) mumps.Before vaccines those who survived these childhood diseases, did not get them again because their bodies had developed natural defenses to the viruses that caused them. The remainder died.         Just because these vaccines worked so well, many parents assumed the diseases had been wiped out and decided to forego vaccinating their children . Unfortunately since enough children have gone unvaccinated for a while, these old childhood diseases are making a comeback. Perhaps if enough new parents do not get their children vaccinated, my grandchildren will get their very first look at a polio victim.                    I wrote this piece as simply as I could, so that everybody can see what a simple process this is. If anyone would care to debate why these people saving procedures should not be fully utilized please comment.

Little symbols of desire


Today I feel completely overwhelmed. For some insane, or logical confluence of the streams of antiquity and the future, I have absolutely no grievances to bear, nothing particular to celebrate; in short I feel a calmness not enjoyed by me for a very long time. Today there seems to be nothing to hurry after, nothing to wait for, and certainly “nothing to get hot about” (Strawberry Fields?) The truth of the matter, perhaps lies within the chasms of my mind, wherein the chasms of my mind are truly wider(ie the space between the left and right cerebral lobes) than the average.This configuration ,I say, gives my words time to play before they get committed to an eternity of order that they might not naturally wish to stay. Tough luck words,I think I gotcha where I wantcha! Now, that being said, this narration must continue, if for no other reason, to rack up my word count for this evening. Todays’ research involved Valentines (saint or secular) day, and Cupid,(who interestingly enough has more or less the same depth of history) and whether or not they corraborate  our modern version of personal like and/or love. My research seems to show, not surprising to me, that the mixing of the two entities is definitely a modern invention.(most probably concocted in the cellars of “Hallmark”)Now Valentine, who we know is a Catholic(no offense,but he is a Saint and in modern days maybe not,or depending on my sources he may be an undersaint, (who to the best of my knowledge means he is a saint as long as his day does not interfere with a “full” saints day)It seems there were several Valentines throught the first A>D years but it seems that most of them ended clubbed and/or stoned to death, and /or beheaded, after restoring a blind girls sight before becoming a friend to the king of the time, or restoring her sight just after Valentine tried to convert the king to Christianity. Over the next couple of hundred years it seems a few more Valentines, Valentinas,and Valentenies popped up now and again, until”Hallmark” took control of his destiny. (Can St Valentine survive”Hallmark?”) Now the crux of the situation rears it’s ugly head. Years and years,(lots of them) before Mr.Valentine was thought of, even in a wet dream, two Latin gods (well a god and a goddess) hooked up and had Cupid.Or if you spoke Greek his name was Eros{hence erotica} I could not find in my research how long it was before Cupid became the foremost archer in the land, but eventually the lad developed a penchant for targeting would be lovers in the heart and turning them into real lovers.(ie see Cinderella)FYI under the guise of Eros, some ancient Greeks, said that Eros/Cupid was indeed a primordial god who being a product of asexual conception,thus ranking third in the current vernacular, (their current, not ours) had power to divide other gods power, though I cannot think of why he might.Other newer folk passed the story around till there were three different Cupids, but  I digress.Now, back to the present world, where “Hallmark” has designated that the Fourteenth of February{neatly placed twixt Christmas and Easter}shall be the time when lovers, and wannabe lovers, purchase massive amounts of flowers{better be a rose} candy, diamonds, ID bracelets, and lots and lots of Valentine cards. All of these objects, intended to replace Cupids arrows and St Valentines good intentions {Ever since Hall mark bought their copyrights} continue to be the crux upon whether, and to whom’each of us will bond. THE END LOVE YOU ALL

The beginning of my season


The beginning of spring,though the true arrival is some weeks away,lies upon my mind as smoothly as my line will soon glide through the eyes of my favorite fishing rod. The cold of the morning standing ready to chill me to the bone, will fail to dissuade this man from stepping into his boat. Trolling battery hot from the charger freshly disconnected,should maintain my position, through current and wind, while my favorite lures spin the line from my reels. The clothing that is chosen depends on the weather of the particular day when I can drop my chores and get away. Years of experience have guided my options, excitement will build as the outboard starts right away and gives voice to the onset of my opening day. The twocyle oil the old motor burns, will give way soon as the engine warms. A quick thrust on the throttle brings the bow up, and we turn the boat toward where we think that the monsters will lay. After the initial chill of a ten to twenty minute ride, My now tearing eyes will scout the water from side to side till I stop the boats forward momentum. Over the side goes the electric motor I will use to keep the boat in a  position that I believe just right for beginning the fishing . My partners first cast will fetch the first bite, but ’cause of rusted  reflexes slowed down over the winter; the first fish is missed. I as the skipper will encourage”set the hook ” quicker”. My first hurried cast toward the exact spot my friend had just hit, will miss  very badly and wrap round a stick. Both first casts are wasted, one hundred more thrown, then it is time for a short travel to the next honey  hole. This time we will set and approach with care, the jigs will be worked slowly as we approach the aquatic lair; and lo and behold two strikes will felt, my partner will boat the first fish of this year. My hook will set. I will grab for the net while my line breaks. I will find a way to keep my buddy in position, to keep him in play, as  I strip off old line from yesteryear and replace it with new, embarrassed that I had forgotten.  Reset I will feel finally,my first bite, my first fish of the season. The thing will turn out so tiny ,my face will flush, embarrassed and shiny.Fortunately about then, my watch will ring ten, and back to the cabin we will fly. Then with some hot breakfast within us, and a fortifying jigger behind, we will look at each other and agree. The fishermans calendar will ascertain that on the morrow the catching gets better. For today we will drink off the pain.

hills and valleys


I just spent some time reading poetry. It seemed many writers were stuck in a hole. Every one seeming to try to write something down,that could lift the soul up, just one more rung. Supposing perhaps when the summit came near, nothing left in life could cause trepidation or fear. I cannot see for the life left in me, that the pinnacle of mine bears any resemblance to a line. Life seems to me a series of arcs, some falling sharply some long and smoothly up. The end of our life is not for us to see, but belongs to the remaining whose memories,slowly add up to the average me. I am not trying to be pessimistic you see, cause I love life here and would love to stand tall, from wherever my place in the line when finally I fall.

I am simply too tired to write tonight


I am simply too tired to write tonight, not enough words to put into flight. I got nothing to swing or soar, without leaving some chance reader waiting for more. Today I did see two eagles in flight over the clear blue waters of the mid winter lake. Then just around noon it seems to me now, there must have been two hundred robins cross the field (think they must have been lost given the time of year)There were some old fall leaves the pin oaks finally gave up, along the bottoms of stone ledges that keep the dirt on the hill. Behind the laundry, and along the drive, tidied them by burning, or letting the western breeze blow them to my neighbors, not as bad as it seems cause I always end up helping clean what the wind does not blow into the forest that lies to the side. I did notice the lake level starting to get low, not having so far this winter much rain or snow. I very nearly went to the dock to get in my boat, to fish or to float, But too far to walk, too near to drive, I drank a cold beer and wandered inside. I searched my antennae tv, twelve stations in all, but could find no distraction so I stretched out on my bed. Napped clear to dinner and the sun going down, Now I am simply too tired to write tonight.