Seasons

It seems as if everyone has a favorite season. Is it spring, summer, fall, or winter?

Some people do not like cold weather, or the white stuff... and so prefer the hot weather. Give me summer all year round, they say. Who needs grass and green stuff? You can swim in the pool year round. And, so, they move to southern Arizona.

Some people just don’t like the season they’re living in. It’s either too cold, or too hot... or “I sure wish the snow would get here” or “I’m ready to go swimming, but it’s not warm enough yet.”

For me? Well, like anybody else, I do get tired of the winter, if it’s been a long couple of months of sub-freezing weather. Or tired of the summer after a few days of 100+ degree weather. But, basically, I love all of those seasons.

As I am writing this, it’s winter. It’s been a little cold lately, and a warm break would be nice... but I am not ready for the snow to leave yet. It only just started a few weeks ago. I would love to see a nice four-foot storm come through and dump on us. I know – that’s a little overkill. But gosh, what’s winter for, anyway?

But, when the snows begin to melt, and springtime starts to come, I sure do love it when those seeds that were covered all winter, seemingly dead, all of a sudden “spring” back to life. I like to put my bare feet in freshly turned soil – putting some seeds down that will soon be row upon row of some vegetable or flower or fruit. Then the trees begin to bud and blossom and fragrance fills the air.

And then, before you know it, summertime hits. If you’re lucky, you continue to get periods of rain... Grass and flowers and trees grow like crazy... until it dries up, of course. You can get outside and work, soaking up the sunlight... or hike.... the days are long and nights are warm.

Toward the end of summer, a few fall storms start to form. The nights begin to frost over, and then – next thing you know, there are beautiful colors all around you. It’s like driving through a painting – at least for a week or two. This is really one of my favorite times of year... just like the others!

And, at last, we’re back at winter again. The first few snowflakes lazily drift to the earth, and soon everything is painted white.

No, in my book, there’s no bad season. Sometimes the weather in one or another tends to do bad things, but overall, I love them all!

Believe It or Not

I do not particularly believe in ghosts, nor do I particularly believe in other supernatural phenomena. On the other hand, I don’t disbelieve, either. I have never really been convinced either way. Where is the evidence? However, there are some events that cannot be easily explained. I know this to be a fact.

My family has always been rather close-knit. Even when spread across miles - even a half-world away, there seems to be connections between members of the family. I grew up listening to stories of things that had happened in my family... things that could have been ‘coincidences’.

One such story was the tale of my uncle. As a teen, he had spent the night with some friends. He grew sick and they brought him home. My Mother and Grandmother had left to go shopping before he arrived home. But for some reason, my Grandmother said, “Something is wrong... we need to go home!” So they turned around and went home. There they found my uncle, with a ruptured appendix. If they had not returned home when they did, chances are he would have been beyond help, if not dead, by the time he was found.

A few years later, his younger brother was drafted into the Army, and served in Vietnam. In a time of crisis, when many men in his unit were killed, he cried out in anguish for his mother. Half a world away, my Mother (his second Mom growing up) and his Mother (my Grandmother), living in separate states, woke up in the middle of the night, hearing him call out....

I grew up hearing these stories... and believing them. But, it’s like the Grand Canyon. Part of you can believe it, but ... it’s not the same until you have seen it. You see the pictures, and you hear the stories, but you cannot possibly imagine the truth of the enormity of the place until you visit it in person.

A few years ago, I was working a late shift, and sleeping during the day. I had a very vivid dream about my brother, one which shook me up, badly. In my dream, he was driving a farm tractor, pulling a bush-hog (something that he does do). In the dream, the bush-hog struck a fallen log, causing it to go forward and hit him in the back.... All I, the observer, could see, was that he was laying across the steering wheel of the tractor, unconscious, while it continued down it’s path. I can remember running after the tractor, but then I woke up. It was so real – so vivid. I didn’t know if he was dead or hurt or what.

I had to get ready for work – and I went... but at my break-time that evening, I made a call to my mother. It seems my brother had been in an accident. The details were nothing like those in my dream, but.... At this point in his life, he was working in a mine. Part of his job was to double-check connections to explosives before they were detonated. He went down in the ‘hole’ to check things out, and came across a bad connection. He disconnected the wire while working on it. Along about that time, the other miner called all clear, well away from the hole (where he couldn’t hear), and ‘pushed the plunger’. Explosive charges went off all around him, but the one he was at, luckily, was still disconnected – and so did not explode.

For a few weeks, he was hard of hearing – almost deaf for a few days. That was the worst of his injuries. The various charges which had been set did their work – but whether it was luck, or divine intervention, or whatever, my brother’s life was spared.

I actually had my dream the morning after the explosive events occurred. At the time of my dream, my mother was writing me a letter, telling me of the events surrounding him. Was there some ‘connection’ between myself and my brother – or my mother, for that matter? Or was my dream simply a coincidence? If it was a coincidence – why was it so real to me, that it scared me, making me go back and call her? I do sometimes remember dreams, even vividly – but I’ve rarely ever had a dream that shook me to my core the way that one did.

Well... call me crazy, that’s okay. Maybe I am. I am not trying to convince anyone that either myself or any of my family members have any sort of psychic abilities. We’re just ordinary folks. We don’t bend spoons, or talk to each other mentally, or see the future. But, what happened was an interesting phenomenon, at least, to me.

The part of me which likes to see concrete evidence before I believe in things – the ‘Doubting Tom’, as it were, still thinks, “Yeah, right....” But, I have seen with my own eyes that sometimes things cannot be explained with science, with hard evidence. Some things just have to be accepted or rejected as they are.

Along those lines, I'll add one last comment. Maybe - just maybe... this is all fictional. Maybe I made it up. You decide. Just like ‘Ripley’s Believe It... Or Not”.

Binary Digits

The "current" version of this article may be read at the following link (it's an "edited" entry in the online encyclopedia Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy hosted by BBC).

http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/classic/A5771973

A Riddle

I recently read a book which would not be for everyone... It was a suspense novel, set in modern day Earth, but with an element of science fiction. But, for the first time in a long while, I had found a book that kept me awake at night - until I should have been long asleep. This is not a review of that book, but rather, just a discussion of a ‘riddle’ that was asked in the book.

In the book, a question was asked of one of the main characters. The question, or riddle, was this: “What lies behind the door that is beside the doorway into heaven?”

Stop and think about it for a little while, before you go on reading.......


A couple of quick answers might be, of course, that it is a doorway into Hades (aka the Underworld). Or just, darkness. My six year old daughter thought that maybe there are clouds behind that door (after all, heaven is in the sky, right?)

But none of these answers are quite right... At least, not what the poser of the question intended.

The real answer is not very simple. A hint might be to ask you: “How exactly do you make it to heaven? Or even, how can you find peace within yourself – the inner peace that is required for entry into heaven’s gate?”

The answer is twofold. First of all, if you open the door with a closed mind and closed heart, you will find nothing of value to you at all. So the ‘quick answers’ above might just fit. Maybe you will find darkness, or some form of Hades.

But if you open the door with an open heart, and an open mind, you will find exactly what you need. You will find other souls, searching for the same answers that you are. Only by finding others like ourselves, working with them, sharing some part of ourselves and becoming united with them in our quest, only then can we find the correct path to happiness, to inner peace, and yes, to heaven.

When I first read the answer, I didn’t think it was a very good one. I got the message – sort of. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this is a profound statement.

It may be possible to live with a closed heart and mind, and be perfectly happy with your life. I am not one to quote the scriptures too often, so I won’t here. But the Bible does make reference to congregating with others to strengthen our faith. By uniting with others in this way, we can become strengthened in our faith, and eventually, become at peace with ourselves and God, and therefore will be able to find that elusive doorway into heaven.

From a non-biblical perspective, this riddle has many other meanings. From my own personal experience, I do not feel that I was meant to live alone. I cannot imagine a life without having someone with me to share the joys and the sadness, the trials and the triumphs. My ‘doorway to happiness’ on Earth has been the through the love of another.

For other people, there are other answers. I know one person, in particular, who is in his forties and has never been married.... as far as I know, he has never even been “in love”. But he is not alone. He gives of himself to his church and his community – even to lonely travelers broken down beside the highway. His care and love is given at every opportunity, and the blessings that are returned to him are wonderful as well.

My interpretation of the riddle and its answer may be different than yours. My interpretation suggests that happiness, personal satisfaction, indeed, even heaven, can be obtained only by listening to your heart, and opening it up to others with the same focus, and striving toward that end goal – whatever it may be. Living with a closed heart will eventually cause it to wither and become pale, instead of allowing it to blossom into something miraculous.

Winners and Losers

My last couple of posts have been a little sober. This time I am just going to relate a few facts about somebody that I heard about.

I ran across a story about a man who was a failure - but too stubborn to quit. He lost at almost everything he tried to do, but as the old saying goes, he believed that "If at first you don't succeed, try and try again".

He was born to a poor, farming family. At age seven, he went hunting, and shot a turkey. But he felt so bad about it, that he never went hunting again, as long as he lived. At age eight, he was kicked in the head by a horse, and for a short time, everyone thought he was dead. He only attended school every now and then.

When he was twenty-three, he decided to try politics, and ran for the state assembly. And lost. He and a partner opened a store. Which went under, leaving him in much debt. At twenty-four, he ran again for state assembly and won this time. But the next year, his former business partner died, leaving him even further in debt. Also, even worse, his sweetheart died.

At twenty-seven, he was re-elected into the state assembly, followed shortly by an episode of severe depression. At twenty-eight, he proposed to his new girlfriend, who turned him down, ending the relationship. Over the next few years, he was re-elected a couple more times, got engaged to someone new, broke up, and had another episode of severe depression.

At thirty-three, he quit running for the state legislature. He got re-engaged to his former fiancée, and finally got married. At thirty-four, he decided to try to run for US Congress, but failed. A few years later, he tried again and became a member of the US House of Representatives.

A couple of years later, he decided to leave politics to practice law. The next year, his son died, and the year after, his father died. Four years later, he decided to run for the US Senate, but again, it didn't work out. The next year he ran for vice-president. Didn't get that, either. But, he kept trying, and three years later, he did get back into the US Senate.

The very next year, he was nominated as a presidential candidate, and, despite all the odds, won. Of course, that's when the Civil War broke out.

Most people think of Abraham Lincoln as one of the greatest presidents ever. And, I have to agree. He did many things to try and heal our nation’s problems, and led through the worst crisis in our nation’s history.

But to get there, he worked hard. Many times he failed, or faced other adverse events in his life. But each time he fell, he dusted himself off and tried again. I wonder how many of us would be able to overcome the obstacles that he did. I see so many people now who have the “I can’t” attitude, and it truly aggravates me. I do not have high ambitions, but I think that if it’s doable, I can probably get it done. If I can’t, I can probably find someone who can help me to get it done. If I could combine that with enough ambition, I’d surely be a success in anything I chose to do.

"The probability that we may fall in the struggle ought not to deter us from the support of a cause we believe to be just; it shall not deter me." The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln edited by Roy P. Basler, Volume I, "Speech on the Sub-Treasury" (in the Illinois House of Representatives, December 26, 1839), p. 178.

"I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go. My own wisdom and that of all about me seemed insufficient for that day." Lincoln Observed: The Civil War Dispatches of Noah Brooks edited by Michael Burlingame (Johns Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, 1998), p. 210.

"I am rather inclined to silence, and whether that be wise or not, it is at least more unusual nowadays to find a man who can hold his tongue than to find one who cannot." The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln edited by Roy P. Basler, Volume IV, "Remarks at the Monogahela House" (February 14, 1861), p. 209.

"Leave nothing for tomorrow which can be done today." The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln edited by Roy P. Basler, Volume II, "Notes for a Law Lecture" (July 1, 1850?), p. 81.

"I happen temporarily to occupy this big White House. I am living witness that any one of your children may look to come here as my father's child has." The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln edited by Roy P. Basler, Volume VII, "Speech to One Hundred Sixty-sixth Ohio Regiment (August 22, 1864), p. 512.

Facts provided by: http://www.historyplace.com
Quotes provided by: http://home.att.net/~rjnorton/Lincoln78.html

Important Things

I have had a good life, so far. If I am lucky, I am only about a third of the way through it, although I am probably more like halfway. And, I cannot predict the future, so I could be much closer than that.

In my lifetime, I have suffered the loss of several people, very near and dear to me. Born to older parents than most of Generation X, I guess mortality became an issue at a younger age for me than most, which may have something to do with why I am so serious most of the time. As a young child, a knew a few people who passed away, including a couple of the uncles who helped raise my Dad, and were therefore like grandparents to me.

Then, when I was fourteen, my brother-in-law unexpectedly came to school one day to pick me up. I was called into the hallway, and he said, "I don't know how to say this, but your Dad is dead." Numbly I stumbled back to my desk and picked up my stuff, mumbling something to the teacher as I left.

My first thought was, "I wonder how badly the truck is mangled up?” I had gone to school that morning. He had gone to work with my brother. The next thought was, "I wonder if Ted is okay?" I could picture them in the pickup, pulling the trailer behind it with a tractor on it... and getting hit by a semi-tractor.

When we got home, turmoil filling me, I saw the truck, untouched. And my brother was okay, too. It seems my Dad told him that he was feeling a little sick to his stomach and walked away. A little while later, my brother went to check on him and found him there, victim of a massive heart attack. He was 55 years old. I was 14, and my brother 16.

I went back to school after only a day or two out - I couldn't stand to sit around home thinking about what had happened. My school was a small school, where everyone from seventh to twelfth grade went to school in the same building. And, for the most part, everyone knew everyone, at least, by face. After about the hundredth, "I am sorry about your Dad", I really felt like slugging someone. Of course, I just mumbled my thanks and went on. As time went by, the grief grew dim. Years later, I'd have a dream that I woke up in the middle of the night, and he was there, talking to Mom. It had all been a cover-up of some sort. But - it was only a dream.

A few years later, as an adult, my wife and I together experienced a painful loss. Our second child was stillborn. She was in her ninth month of pregnancy, and started having labor pains. We went to the hospital, expecting that we'd go home a day or two later with the baby. But, when they connected the monitors and related apparatus, they couldn't seem to find a heartbeat. Benjamin had gone to heaven before he even saw this world. He was born on Mother’s Day.

The days and months following that seem a blur to my memory now. We were living in another state, far from home, but made arrangements to return to my home for the services. We somehow stumbled through and life went on.

On my son's ninth birthday, my grandparents flew to Pennsylvania to stay with us for a couple of weeks. That evening, after the birthday party was ended, and most of the kids gone home, my Grandfather started having some severe pains. We ended up calling 911, and an ambulance came and took him to the hospital, where he was diagnosed with an abdominal aneurism. The doctor advised us that without surgery, he had a matter of time to live, measured in minutes - or if lucky, perhaps hours. With surgery, he still had a 90% chance of not living.

I will always remember him taking my grandmother's hand, before the surgery, telling her that "We've had a wonderful time together." It was the last time we saw him alive. He was the best inspiration for all of those around him, including the many kids, grandkids, great grandkids and even a great-great or two. He was always striving to be a better person – and closer to God.

Along the way, there have been other deaths of people loved, from older folks like Ms. Florence, Glenn and Ruth, Roy, and just recently, my first grade teacher, Miss Christine. Even my high school classmates that are no longer alive... T.J. and Willie, and then my classmate and cousin Chet.

All of these people meant something to me. They were a part of me.... and now, their bodies are gone, but their memories remain. They have gone on to fulfill their destinies beyond this life. It has been said that I am a little too serious sometimes. I do joke and play with my children... sometimes I let my daughter put girly things in my hair, giving me a 'makeover'... but oftentimes, I find myself filled with a seriousness, even a sadness at the memories of times gone by.

A friend recently told me of someone who died. I didn't know this person, or anything about him. But, there were people who loved him. I wonder if they voiced their feelings. One lesson I learned long ago... that is best expressed by Garth Brooks when he sings, "If Tomorrow Never Comes"... is never to get too busy to tell the ones you love those three little words. I love you. I try to remember to tell my loved ones each day... and if I do forget, my daughter puts me back in line. Because, of all the pain endured when I was fourteen... the worst was the misery of never being able to say goodbye... and I love you.

So, if you have someone near you that you love, tell that special someone. Even if you don't use the words above, it doesn't hurt to at least say, "I care." Don’t assume that there’ll always be tomorrow. Because usually there is, but sometimes there is not.

Perfect Moments

I have heard it said that there is nothing like waking up in the predawn light, and taking a stroll down a deserted beach. The waves come crashing onto the sandy shore. Amongst the shells and other debris washed up overnight there might be hidden a few treasures. The salty smell of the ocean, the early morning dampness, a small breeze, and the quiet solitude of a beach that later in the day will be bustling with traffic from people hurrying to catch a few hours in the sun... all of these things combine to form the “perfect moment”.

For me, I have been to the beach a few times. But, it seems, I’ve only been there when everyone else gets there... with the beach umbrellas and blankets and towels – and the masses that accompany such things – already in place. It’s still beautiful and an awesome thing to see those massive crests come rolling in.... water around your ankle one moment – then up over your waist, about to bowl you over. But so far, I have missed that “perfect moment” at the beach.

I have seen much of the United States, from the roadway. But I haven’t yet visited the wide expanses of the west, except for a single venture as far north and west as Colorado – which by itself has hundreds or thousands of beautiful locations...

One place that I have read much of, but seen little of, is the lands of western New Mexico and Arizona. A lot of people drive through and think of what they have seen as a barren wasteland, a desert. And there is some truth to that... but even in the vast stretches of land where civilization can hardly take hold, there are many, many beautiful places. The red rock hills, the flat-topped mountains known as mesas, places where cities were built hundreds or even thousands of years before Christopher Columbus set sail... now empty with no traces of where the occupants disappeared to...

The Navajo have rich tradition that explains where their world began and how it was created... and whether, as with the Bible of Christendom, we believe or scoff, the stories are steeped with tradition and there are many lessons to be learned by all of us, if we open our minds. To be at one with the land, to open our hearts and our ears to better learn the lessons of the Creator, we can find a “perfect moment in the perfect place”, even in the deserts of the world.

I never even saw a beach till I was an adult. And I have only seen the deserts of the Southwest through the eyes of wonderful writers... But I have learned that there are “perfect moments in perfect places” all around us – sometimes where we least expect to find it.

I grew up in hill country. Sitting in solitude in the middle of the wilderness... hearing an occasional rustle in the dried leaves covering the ground as a bird scratches for worms, a squirrel chattering and scampering along the branches... The breeze blowing through millions of treetops, making a steady roar that sounds as loud but somehow nicer than the hundreds of cars whizzing by on an expressway... and depending upon the time of day, the buzzing of cicadas can be louder than anything else... Sometimes the forest, far from the city highways and crowds, is one of the noisiest places to be... But, to be alone out there, at one with Nature and God, no one else within miles, it seems that has been my “perfect moment”.

A few years ago, I read a newspaper article about joyriding teenagers, armed with a pistol and a video camera, who went on a drive-by shooting spree in a large city in Texas. Of course, filming yourself committing felonies is not the wisest thing to have ever done... and they are safely locked away now. But I remember thinking, and even saying, I will never like or want to live in a large city like that.

And even now, the thought of living in a large city makes me cringe, but the time and years have taught me that “perfect moments” can be found in even the most unlikely places. There is beauty outside of nature... Examples include the Golden Gate Bridge, even the New York City skyline or the Statue of Liberty, the monuments in Washington DC.

One of my favorite city “perfect moments” actually came in a city that I don’t care too much for, New Orleans. Walking around the city, in the French Quarter near the Market, I was overcome by the multitude of smells, many nice, including wonderful aromas wafting from corner cafes... and the sounds of music from here and there, from the lone musician sitting against the wall on the sidewalk, playing the best New Orleans jazz, and even sounds drifting out of the clubs... and a few footsteps away, the great Mississippi River as it flows past – walking on the levies that keep the city dry... That was a “perfect moment in a perfect place”.

Whether wandering through a crime-ridden downtown area, or lost in an arid, dry wasteland, in a wilderness far away from the nearest shopping mall, or a chilly pre-dawn beach before it’s warm enough to get wet... we have the ability to see the best or the worst in the world around us. Many times we complain bitterly about the bad... and never even realize that our complaints have blinded us to the perfect moment that life has presented to us. Maybe it’s time that we should try to “slow down and smell the roses” – find a moment to enjoy where we are and what we are doing... Maybe we should stop looking at the bad, stop rushing through to the end of wherever we are headed..... and just relax. Take the co-pilot’s seat and see what the Pilot wants us to see.

Government Issue

Long, long ago, in a far away place.. you know, back when I was a teenager, I had the preconceived notion that I would never, ever go into the military. I had a grandfather who fought in WWII, uncles who fought in Vietnam. Two brothers that spent time in the service. One for a couple of years in the Army, and one who had more than a decade of time in the Navy, and who was still in.

No, I would never be 'Government Issue', or a GI. Basically, this term means that the United States Government owns you, to do with as they please. I am not a quitter, but I like to have options... and once that contract is signed, buddy, you're stuck with whatever they give you.

Of course, eventually, high school graduation came. I did pretty well in school - although with just a little nudging, I could probably have done even better. I was able to get a full tuition scholarship at the state University. Which was around a hundred fifty miles from home. The thought of leaving didn't bother me at all... But I didn't even have a car. I had worked small jobs for a few years already, so I could have gone and worked my way through college, bumming a ride here and there. But then what? What did I want to be when I grow up? A teacher, perhaps.... Of all the people that I knew in my formative years, the ones who made the biggest impacts were my teachers.

So, I sat on the scholarship, and started working full time. This still did not buy me a car, because the bills had to be paid and food put on the table... and admittedly, I blew a lot on junk. But after working at little better than minimum wage for a few months for someone who was less than pleasant at some times, I was beginning to get restless.

Somewhere, the thought occurred to me that perhaps that military thing wouldn't be so bad after all. I talked to a couple of people at work who had been, at one time, in one branch or another. I talked to my brothers who had been there, done that. I talked to people I ran into on the street. Every person, save one, who I spoke to, said, "Go Air Force," or maybe, "If I had it to do over again, I'd have gone into the Air Force." They reputedly had the best training, the cushiest jobs, the best food in the chow halls, and the best women, as well. Oh yes, the one who disagreed? He was former Air Force, in the security police. He advised me, "If I were to do it over again, I'd have gone into the Marines. I wanted to tote a big gun..." Uhh, yeah. Right. Consider the source.

Finally, after a few months of indecision, I approached a recruiter, and started talking. One thing led to another and pretty soon they were asking, "You did pretty well on the tests. Just what do you want to do?" "Uhh... got something in computers?" And the choices were, Computer Programmer (6 to 9 month waiting list) or Computer Operator (2 to 3 month waiting list). Either was a six year enlistment, but the good side, was you get a promotion out of basic training to E-3 instead of having to wait like the 4 year enlistees.

I didn't really want to wait for more than half a year, so I became a "Communications Computer Systems Operator". I left Arkansas, flew to San Antonio, Texas, went to basic training, then flew to New Orleans and took a bus to Biloxi for technical training. Then back to Texas, this time in Del Rio, for my first 'permanent duty station'. I spent almost four years there, then to Montgomery, Alabama, where I eventually separated.

Along the way, I experienced a number of firsts. First airplane ride. First 'city bus' ride. First (actually second) contact with someone ethnically different than I (I had actually spoken to a very nice black lady during one of my summer employment sessions at the high school). I saw the ocean (yes, I consider the Gulf of Mexico to be a part of the ocean). I went into a new country (Mexico), and even ventured into another time zone once (layover in Atlanta). I even got to carry a gun as a security police augmentee.

But, despite all the firsts, after six years in the military service of our great nation, I had still not left North America (and still haven't, for that matter). More funny yet, I had never been stationed outside the central time zone, and had never crossed that Mason-Dixon line.

If I were to do it over again, would I become a GI (Government Issue)? Without a doubt. If I were a young man with no future to speak of, the military could give me training and a future career. It can take a child and form him into a man. Are there risks involved? Certainly. With the world the way it is... with our nation’s ‘war on terror’, it might be that a young man that who enlists today just might be dead next year. But, like a couple of my high school classmates who are no longer with us learned - bad things can happen at home, too. Do I, personally, have any regrets about my military career? Not at all.

Be all you can be. If that means that you need to go to school and study, or find a job and work, or join the military, for whatever reason, then so be it. Do the best you can do.

Why Arkansawyer?

The title of my blog spot is 'Arkansawyer', an obvious reference to the home of my youth. "They" say (and no, I do not know who 'they' are) that "You can take the boy out of the country, but you cannot take the country out of the boy."

There is a lot of truth about that, when it comes right down to it. I grew up on the old family homestead, settled about a hundred fifty years ago by my direct ancestors. There have been members of the family, over the last hundred and fifty years, who moved away, obviously, or it would be a terribly crowded place. Somehow, I have become one of those.... but my roots are still tied to that plot of ground.

Within the next week, I will have my 12th wedding anniversary. There were really only two conditions that I gave my wife. First was, that we had to get married for a temporary time.. a 'trial period' as it were. My suggestion, to which she readily agreed, was a period of 60 years. Short enough that we both had an 'out' if we were unhappy after a time, but long enough to suggest the seriousness of the bond of matrimony.

The second condition? That she had to accept the fact that one day we would return to 'home'... where my roots are... sight unseen.

Somehow, over the years, it hasn't worked out yet... First we were in the military, with the expectation to seperate after my six year enlistment and return home... and as that time grew nearer and nearer, the plan was to go home, somehow squeak by - maybe on unemployment - while I went back to school... but we had a child and bills to pay, and when the guy offered me a job out of the blue, doing what I had been doing, how could I refuse?

So I walked out of work one day, in uniform, and back in the next in civilian attire. I switched desks, but that was about all. The next year, I changed companies, and started working for my current employer, and have moved twice in that time - from Alabama to Oklahoma to Pennsylvania.... the great 'up north' of our childhood myths.

But, I haven't yet moved 'home'. Over time, the yearning grows stronger, then slowly wans away, like a slow, steady heartbeat. My current job is a good one. No complaints, I suppose. The pay is pretty good... Pennsylvania - despite being 'up north' or 'back east', depending upon your perspective, is actually the closest thing to 'home' that I've ever experienced since leaving 'home'.

I am from Arkansas, my wife from Louisiana, our son was born in Texas and our daughter in Alabama, we lived for a while in Oklahoma, and now for the past almost five years, we've been in Pennsylvania. And in a few days, we'll have been married for 12 years. Now that I think of it, that was quite a bit of moving in a short amount of time, considering that we've been here the last five.... Pennsylvania is closest to home in a number of ways.

I grew up in the Ouachita Mountains, which we were taught was a seperate range, south of the Ozarks. Here, our children are taught that the Ozarks stretch from Missouri to Oklahoma and Arkansas, and there is no talk of the Ouachitas. Oh well. From afar, the Rocky Mountains are one range, but in reality, there are many - but that's a subject for another day.

I used to roam, wild and free. Nothing but National Forest land surrounded us. I would climb an Arkansas-sized mountain, or go wading in the creek (a 'stream' here), and look for crawdads (crawfish or crayfish, here). We lived down a dirt road - the last house before the forest consumed everything. From our house, in the evening, you could look west, down the valley, toward the setting sun. I took lots of sunset pictures as a teen... even won a blue ribbon at the county fair for one.

You could listen to the 'locusts' (or 'cicada's', here), buzzing late into the night. We used to take the empty shells that they left behind, and amass great armies... and if you really got bored, you could always turn them to dust and start over again....

And there were whip-poor-wills, early in the spring and on into summer, just a little ways into the woods. At times, you could hear coyotes yipping... it would sound like dozens, but I was taught that there probably weren't many at all ... they are just very noisy... and we'd see the road-runners running down the road - sometimes even flying up onto a post or branch.

All of these things are a part of me - never to be removed. But, yet, I live not in a natural world - but rather - a man-made one. I earn my living by typing on a keyboard. The last few years, I've returned to my 'roots' but once per year. My children - even my wife - are different. We go home, and when it is dark out, with no city lights in the distance lighting the horizon, like we have here, all is dark - but not quiet. There are the cicadas, of course, and at least one other noise, that is interesting... My wife, a city-girl, says to me, "We're not that far away from civilization... Hear the cars on the highway?" I turned up my ear, a puzzled look on my face... then started to laugh. "You silly girl... that's the breeze, blowing through the leaves in all these trees." And of course, teasing or not, I was right.

At night, we could find a dark spot, and look up and see the Milky Way. I understand, that in the desert southwest, it's a bright road through the sky. In the hills of western Arkansas, it is not quite as clear, but yet, the children are still facinated by it. And I've driven them down the road, further into the National Forest, to a parking spot at the foot of a trail, turned off all the lights and made them get out and stand in the dark... and all of them are terrified...

I feel bad. Not for making them scared in that moment of darkness. But bad because that moment of darkness means they are not at one with the darkness... with nature. It's not really dark out there. Sure, no city lights. No glow on the horizon... but there is light. Through the clearing of the parking area, in between the treetops, you can look up and see millions of stars, and the thread that is the milky way. I point it out and they say, yeah... really neat... can we go now?

And here I am, raising my children without that bond to nature that I had as a youth. They are 'city kids', even though we live in a rural area surrounded by farmlands. Where we live is nice, of course, but that ever-present glow on the horizon.. all the conveniences of a modern home. They've rarely sweated on a hot evening with the windows open, and have never gotten up half frozen to stoke a fire in the heater - thanks to central heat and air. They'd rather play a video game than go for a walk, any day.

I don't know if that is good or bad. I rather think it is bad, but, who am I to judge? I am, after all, a product of my upbringing.. and of course, my opinions must be slanted to favor that life. I still till a garden in the spring... more to feel the earth between my toes than to grow anything productive. And my daughter, the younger child, has developed some of my love for the outdoors. Maybe my best bet is to continue to try and teach them the best that I know how... to share my experiences where I can and let them have their own experiences when chance allows.

Or maybe... I should tell the almighty that I am boss (by the almighty, I mean the one and only Dollar) and give up my keyboarding and head home for them thar hills. Those big heavy duty cardboard boxes, coated with a nice wax, are pretty weather resistant. Who really needs a job, money, house, or a car anyways? And really, who needs video games or cable/satellite? I think we'd do okay... except during ice storms....

Answers

They say, if you want to write, then you should start writing.

Sounds sorta silly, to me. But then again, there is truth to it.

If you do not start writing, then you'll never have written anything. Which, really, is a shorter way of saying what you'd be saying if you just started writing but had nothing meaningful to say.

Which, really, is what I am doing here.

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Since i have started writing, finally, I thought about something that bears discussion. Although you, the reader, may find this topic tedious, it really does have some thread of ... ummm.... seriousness in it, no matter how thin the thread.

A lot of years ago, when I was a teenager, I started reading a book. It sounded pretty good by the title, but I had never read anything of the sort before. It was The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. In it, Douglas Adams (also a writer for Monty Python, coincidentally) started a trilogy of books, that finally grew into a set of 5, even though a trilogy is only 3. In my youth, I only ever read the first three.

They were very formative for me... by the end of those stories, I learned, according to Adams, that the answer to the question of life is... "42". So then they had to figure out exactly what the 'question of life' is.... Come to find out, it was something along the lines of "What is 9 times 6?

Which, as we all know, is not 42. There was a flaw in the calculations, apparently.

Skipping ahead quite a few years....

As an adult... I decided to go back and re-read the books, and finally finish up by reading the last two books of the five book trilogy. There were misadventures galore, and by the fifth book, I was wanting to know exactly how this was going to end. Did the main character(s) find peace and happiness? Did they learn the true answer and question?

Well... not to spoil the ending for any of you who have not read but do intend to someday read this series of books, but.. (so if you intend to read it, please do not continue reading this)... but.... I was disgusted by the ending. I threw the book down in anger. How could that stupid-head write such an ending to the series and then go off to his corner and die????

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I have learned, actually deduced back while I was still young and smart, that the true answer to the question of life is not 42, but rather, as everyone should know, fifteen. Yes, 15. Actually it is quite a good answer to any question. If you say, "What, my son, is the answer to 4 times 2, and he answers 8, you can correct him. Obviously, to a simple mind, 8 would appear to be the answer. But, in reality, it is 15.

How far is the distance between the Sun and Earth. Why, 15, of course. and so on....

It now escapes me why it is that 15 is such a wonderful answer to all that ails us. But, I am positive that it is a good answer. And even Mr. Adams' ending to his series of books, has a happy ending after all. Because despite the awfulness of that writing, I am consoled that there was good that came of it. Because no matter what, I know... the answer to the question of life.

The Evil Empire?

About two or three years ago, I had a little extra money in an online investment account. I looked around at the available options for investment, and didn't know a lot.. but I figured, it's only a couple of hundred dollars. I looked and looked, and saw KMART. A struggling company - their stock was down significantly over the last few years. Rumors of bankruptcy were abounding. But, looking at their stores, and the significant changes their management was making, I thought, why not? I purchased 50 shares or so, at what I thought was a bargain price. Somewhere around $1.50 per share, so I was only out $75.00

At about the same time, I saw another stock, an airline stock, that had the same patterns, way down after 9-11... A virtual bargain, although not as cheap as the KMART by any means. I purchased 40 shares of that stock, as well.

Within 6 months, my brokerage statement showed a '0' balance for both stocks. It seems both companies declared bankruptcy, wiping out all or most of the debts in one fell sweep - including writing off outstanding stock shares held by investors. I guess my bargain-hunting, in this case, did not turn out for the best... the good news was that I didn't spend a lot of money....

Now jump ahead two years. I take a look at both of those companies. One of them, the airline, is still struggling... trying to stay alive. Day by day we hear news of their struggles to keep employees paid - albeit with lower salaries, but still employed. The other... KMART... hmmm.... they just bought out Sears.... for about $11,000,000,000 (yes, eleven billion).... Excuse me? Now... something is wrong with that picture.

I don't really have a problem with the davaluation of the airline stock... That company is still facing hurdles. But how can a company be in such financial turmoil that they write off all their common stock, not to mention a lot of other debt, and then just a few months later buy out a much bigger company - for eleven billion dollars? The share price of KMART Holdings (KMRT) recently? About a hundred dollars a share. If my 50 measley shares were still alive, I'd have about $5000 in company stock - not a lot to most people, but surely a lot to me....

I live in the modern America. Where even the penniless can spend money, thanks to freely available credit. Yes, I am guilty of having some maxed out credit cards. Way too much debt to be able to pay off anytime within the next few years, unless - maybe - my home value increases at a much faster rate than it has in recent years.

Perhaps... perhaps I should follow the path to wealth that works for corporate America. Just say, I am overwhelmed with debt... Sorry - can't handle it. File Chapter something or other bankruptcy... write off all of my debts, and then go on with my life, with a clean slate (minus the credit report... but who needs credit if they have no debt?). There have been a lot of lessons learned over the years... We've learned that it's not a good idea to buy on credit. Instead, save it up then pay in cash. Not too hard, unless your monthly expenses are already exceeding your income.

But yet, somewhere in the back of my mind, nags the question of conscience. Who spent all that money? Should I just 'write it off'? Basically, that's like saying, sure I'll do that... and then walking away and never touching it. It's a lie. So, I guess I'll continue to struggle... maybe find another source of income to make ends meet.... I am not the cold corporate giant who has no conscience.

My friend refers to one big computer company as 'The Evil Empire', but I think... companies like KMART, who can play financial games that hurt the public in addition to their investors... maybe they are representative of the true 'Evil Empire'. Yes, all levels of corporate America play those games, but at least some companies attempt to be somewhat ethical in their practices.

Thanksgiving

Although Thanksgiving is past, and even Christmas, and now, the first day of the New Year is already upon us, and gone. I have been thinking about Thanksgiving, and what it means. I am just now getting around to writing my thoughts down.

Going back to my childhood, from my earliest years, the two times of year that we always looked forward to was Thanksgiving and the Family Reunion. Yes, Christmas was good. And Easter. But, Thanksgiving and Reunion time were the times that, year after year, did not change.

In August, we always went to the family reunion (or it came to us). We would have our extended families, from Texas sometimes, always eastern Arkansas and Mississippi. Earliest memories include family reunions at Granny Rosie’s – baked sweet potatoes and fried pies. But, we could always count on one thing that was better than the food. Most years, our cousins Greg and Joel would show up – and we always loved to play with them. Even Tina – although she was a girl. I can still remember hanging out of the top of the shed (there was a kind of hole under the peak) and shooting at the Japs outside. Or making tunnels in the haystacks in the barn. Or, just exploring.

As much fun as all the kids had with each other, though, I think what I liked best was having Uncle Wilbur and Aunt Roxie around. Greg and Joel called them Grandma and Grampa. But, we always called them Aunt and Uncle…. But, on Dad’s side of the family, they WERE our grandparents. Uncle Wilbur was older than Dad – although Dad was no spring chick himself. I used to love visits by my Granny and Pop, but I loved Wilbur and Roxie no less. When I got old enough, I used to love harassing Roxie with my camera. But, even before that, she was my Grandma, even if she really wasn’t.

Which is what made Thanksgiving the ‘other’ special time. The two facts of life was that the Mississip’ Gang would come in August, and we’d go there for Thanksgiving. I can remember many evenings of play around the old homesite in Mississippi. I remember chickens clucking around in the back near the barn. Remember Ernie in his horse days, riding and roping. Running down the road to Greg’s or Joel’s, or just playing in the front yard, near the big old oak tree, chasing lightning bugs. Some Thanksgivings were just like summertime – we played outside like midsummer. Some were cold – I can remember the house being closed up and curtained off to keep the drafts out.

I can remember, either at our house or theirs, but mainly at theirs, Dad and Wilbur – sometimes another uncle or two, setting on the front porch, rolling a Prince Albert, telling stories. I can’t say that I can remember any details (I sure wish I could! If someone remembers tales told by the old folks in your families – please write them down – we need to remember, for our kids and grandkids). I can remember that Wilbur and Roxie had an ice machine – that was cool. I’d get a glass of ice and go sit out on the porch while Uncle Wilbur was out there, and crunch ice. He’d act like it really bothered him – I don’t really know if it did, but he’d tell me to quit that crunching, and I’d do it all the more. And, the only liver and onions that I remember really liking were Aunt Roxie’s.

I remember going to see Pat and Stacy – and how Stacy would drive to Tupelo to save a nickel on butter. And going to see Sue and Jerry – I remember the big semi-truck, and seeing the kids, even though they were older than us, was always fun. And Jimmy and his kids. They used to play with my older siblings a lot. Of course, there was (and still is) some family there! Tony always had something going…. Debbie who, like Pat, was another ‘Mom’, and Ernie, who thought that the canned meat in the fridge was awfully good till his Mom asked him the next day where the Alpo was! And last, but not at all the least, I remember the little old Chihuahua, Mousy, who fiercely guarded the biscuit, even if he couldn’t eat it. Used to nip at us whenever we even got near that biscuit.

Thanksgiving, Christmas, and now New Year’s eve is past. But, I am thankful for all the things I have. I have two wonderful children and a wonderful wife. I have lots of other family members, who I do not have the chance to see all the time, but whom I love no less. And, strange as it may seem, I am very thankful for some things that I no longer can see or touch. I really miss my Mississippi Grandma and Grandpa. But, I am very thankful that I have the wonderful memories of my childhood, and that my parents took the time to teach us that family is so very important. Although much has changed – I am now in my thirties, not 7, Wilbur and Roxie, Dad, Sue, Jimmy, and Pat, even Greg, all gone – I still remember – and I still love them all.

I told my wife the other day, that I am not a ‘resolution’ person. But, I think I’ll make an exception. The resolution, if you want to call it that, is to make an attempt to go back and remember my family, those still with us and those now in heaven. And reach out to those people that I remember, even if it’s just to say ‘Hello’ and ‘I miss you’, maybe share a memory or two. I have been away from home now for a long time. I have missed a few family reunions, when it just wasn’t possible to be there due to work or life events. I am not the only one. Our family reunions have gotten smaller over time, although some recently were pretty big, considering. As the family grows, it inevitably grows apart. Dad’s generation is all gone. I can barely remember some of his brothers, and some not at all. But, now their kids are all grown, some with Grandkids of their own. The family reunion is a place where those kids go and think, who the heck are those people?

So, maybe the next part of the resolution, would be to work on that family tree that I started a couple of years ago, and create a ‘Where do you fit in?’ document. I could start at my grandfather’s level, since that’s where I remember people from. He passed on before I was born, but several of his children will be forever etched into my memories.

And, last, but most important. Whether we go to or miss a family reunion is not the point. What we should all attempt to do is to teach our children the importance of understanding who we are and who our family is. In this day and age, we may not be able to see our Grandparents or cousins more than once or twice a year (I know. I live 1200 miles away). But, even so, our children should know their family, even if it is only twice a year. A family reunion or Thanksgiving is a good goal to shoot for. For me personally, as described above, the family reunion and Thanksgiving (which was, essentially, another reunion) were the two times every year, that all us kids were together, and when we were always near our Grandparents and other’s who loved us. Our kids should have some of that, too! They may treasure those memories in later years.

Shakeup

As the Earth turns, day by day, more and more countries are becoming “civilized” and consuming natural resources. As a result of the increased industrialization, to include the burning of fossil fuels, we have the much-talked about “Global Warming”. So far, much of the discussion pertaining to Global Warming has revolved around rising temperatures (or lowering ones, depending upon what part of Earth you are on), and rising sea levels as the polar caps begin to melt.

There are more potential problems, perhaps, of much graver consequence. Consider this: The ice caps at the north and south poles continue to melt, over hundreds of thousands – maybe even millions of square miles, even an inch per year or less. Think of the weight that is being lost on those poles. And, at the same time, immeasurable volumes of water begin to fill the great reservoirs of Earth – the Oceans and seas. Sure, California may lose a few inches of coastline – eventually a few feet or even, maybe, miles. But what of the added weight on middle Earth?

The weight of the additional water in the oceans and seas of Earth, combined with lightened poles, makes for the potential of the ‘squeeze’ effect. What happens when you squeeze the middle of a lemon? Of course, the middle gets smaller, and stuff comes pouring out of the end. Earth is no lemon, but might we, one day, begin to see plate movements (i.e. Earthquakes) on a grander scale than ever before?

As recently as a year ago, in Iran, we saw a major quake that killed tens of thousands of people. In late December 2004, a quake in the middle of the Indian Ocean, which caused Tsunamis that, in turn, created havoc around that whole region of the Earth, killing more than a hundred and fifty thousand human beings.

Is this only the beginning? A foreshadowing of things to come? Or, perhaps, history repeating itself?

Scientists theorize that the dinosaur age was ended prematurely by a major shift in the Earth’s axis. They do not know what might cause such a shift... but when the Earthquakes of a week ago happened, it shifted the Earth’s axis by a few inches. Just one quake. 4 inches isn’t going to make a big difference in our weather patterns, they say.... but what if... that were just the start of some exciting changes.