Fire Lake Revisited

We are back at the Lake. The cabin is so nice, and warm. As I look out the window, the view of the Lake is breathtaking. The snow is on the ground, just a light dusting. The trees have a light covering of snow on them, making the pines even more beautiful. The small Creek that runs by the cabin, has water trickling over the rocks. Even in winter, that stream still runs.

It's been two years since I met her, and now, here we are again where we first met a each other. As I recall, that was then the full of the year. Now here we are, close to Christmas, two years later. Time flies, when you are happy. The fireplace is so warm, and cozy. I had A new sofa brought to the cabin. A love seat, if you will. A beautiful hunter green. Of course I still have that old leather wing back chair, and I have added to the old bookcase. I never thought once, that we both could be so happy. She is in the kitchen, cooking something special she said. I don't know just what it is, but it smells really good. I just brought in more wood to get warm, and dry for later. The lake has spots of small ice on it, and with the reflecting sun on the ice, makes it looks like dozens of small rainbows twisting, and turning with the wind and current.


Lunch is ready, she calls. As I go into the kitchen I get a funny feeling, I cant put my finger on it as i sit at the counter she brings me my lunch, and whispers in my ear, surprise, close your eyes and smell. Do you remember? As I close my eyes and inhale deeply, I am shocked to find myself thinking of the first time we met. A picture her flying for cover behind the couch,with her black silken hair flowing wildly through the air, and bingo! It is the same as the first meal we ever had together. She smiles, and nuzzles my neck. Do you remember? she asks. Oh yes I remember, do we really have time for lunch? She Simply smiles and takes my hand then asks, shower first, and then... yes and then hot coco? That would be nice silk, that would be very nice. This cabin has magic in it. That magic you ask? Well that magic only comes from one person her name is simply.. Silk! My love, My life, My friend, Silk, a woman of amazing grace, talent, and most of all, Love.

Perfect Morning

 The morning sun is up thirty minutes ago. Just a bit of morning dew on the grass, and the deck table. I have a old Terrie cloth towel to wipe off the dew from the table, and my old captains chair. Yes, that will do, that's dry enough for what I want.

 The sun is peeking through the old maple, and buckeye tree leaves, spotting the deck, and table with rainbows of light. As I walk back into the house for a hot cup of Irish tea, with a touch of sugar, and grab a book, and magazine. My buddy, old bear dog (half Rottweiler half German Shepard) wants to go with me. He gives me that look, I can not refuse. You know that look. The one that begs to go with you, and makes you feel like a heel if you don't let him go with you. So out we go, just me, and my bud.  

 As he busts down the steps looking for a squirrel to chase, I set my tea, and books down, then head back in to get me some toast, and homemade grape jelly with real cow butter. Nothing beats that for a morning treat.  

The morning air is sweet, and crisp. The lilacs, and tulip trees, are in full bloom, making the air sweet. I have catnip, and lemon balm growing by the steps, that also lend a sweetness, and tart crispness to the mix. Bear is done wolfing, and looking for the squirrel that torments him, and the wife while she is trying to relax, and read in the mornings. It shucks the husk off the walnuts right above her head, and chatters at the dog just to have his morning fun.

 Some day, I will get that furry little knot head, and bear can get his revenge at last. But for now, its just me, and my bud, enjoying this beautiful morning. I think we might go fishing a while after bit, we have nothing else to do today, and that sounds like a lot of fun.
You just have to love a perfect morning, they don't last that long, or come around everyday.

Just A Piece Of Cloth

Several years ago, I was reading a local paper, and in it they had a column that a woman had written called (after all) In this column, she had written about the American flag being burned. She had made the statement that we should not be upset because, after all it was just a piece of cloth, and this was just freedom of expression. This had upset me greatly, and others as well. To burn the American flag, was in my view very wrong. The flag is our national symbol of freedom. The following is how I responded to her published comments.


To the editor: Hello Cindy R. On reading your column, you have made some very valid points. I however do not agree with you, as is my right. I am 50 years old. When I was in school the first thing we did (before we opened our books) was to say the pledge of allegiance. This instilled pride in us, and gave us a feeling of just how great we are as a nation. It also helped us to remember what we fought, and were fighting for, and still fight for today. You do remember the words, don't you? Here, let me refresh your memory. It goes like this.


I pledge allegiance to the flag of the united states of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, One Nation under God indivisible with Liberty and Justice for All.


The pledge allegiance. Liberty and Justice for all, what a concept that is, but we no longer say that in our schools, such a shame. However, we now have children being taught in school that it is okay to burn the flag. That it is okay to tear away at the government, threaten teachers, spit on law enforcement, steal from someone for no reason just because they feel like it. Hey, I don't like the sound your voice teacher, are you try to mess with my fragile Ego? Please forgive me, sorry I raised my voice to you child. This happens in our schools all the time. Ask any teacher when is the last time the corrected a child without fear of being reprimanded for it. LETS GET REAL FOLKS!!

I cannot for life of me find it in my heart to stand by and let someone burn the flag. Burn the flag in front of me and you just as well call the doctor and the sheriff with the cuffs. Because UNLIKE YOU I WONT TURN AWAY. I will stomp that person in the ground. My son's, my grandchildren, my family, and hundreds of thousands of people like me, have made a choice to support that cloth.

I can just hear you now, what Neanderthal jerk that guy is. Well Cindy, like you said, that is my right. Let's take your comment about the flag in context quote from the papers last five lines quote (on second thought I think everyone who has fought for freedom under our flag was fighting for what the flag represents, not for the piece of cloth itself. If people look at it that way how can they take it personally when the cloth is just desecrated) UN quote.

Cindy let me ask you this. Have you seen a dying man clutch that piece of cloth, to gather his strength from the cloth, and charge the enemy to win the day? Or, have you see that cloth at the top of the hill, and and one man stands alone defending that cloth with his last breath as the enemy tears that cloth from his dying grasp. Have you ever seen someone buried with full military honors, and that cloth is laid across his or her casket till at the end, After the final taps are played, and the rifles crack 21 times that cloth is given to the survivors. Have you ever wondered just why on Memorial Day that millions of little that cloth are put on the graves of vets? I will give you a clue it's not for the fun of it.

Cindy, I Must confess to you, that I find it hard, very, very, hard to believe that you have any pride in your country, your home, or yourself. I can understand not wanting to get involved. For by becoming involved, God forbid, you have to make a choice between turning your head or standing up for what is right I understand it's easy to turn away from things that you just don't want to see.

But ask your self this, that vet in the wheelchair that caught some frag in his back who will never walk again, when that cloth is burned how do they feel the widow the orphaned the man or woman who still waits not knowing their fate of a loved one who is MIA now let's see.... Now most vets from World War I are dead a few are still around from World War II Korea Oh.. that was just the police action Vietnam? OH WHO THE HECK CARES !!! CLOSE MY EYES AND IT WILL BE ALRIGHT. Never mind Honor, Discipline, Character, Common Sense, Bravery, Sacrifice. We need to forget that, and be politically correct.

Morally right, Legally right, Politically correct, to pray or not to pray? Such choices are times hard to make. But made they must be. If by some remote chance I may have stirred some feeling deep down, their is yet hope for this world. But, if not I would like to take one last try.

Ask yourself:

If the American flag is (just a piece of cloth) that is OK to burn, why should we then get upset if a Bible is burned? Or how about the Declaration of Independence? All the books of one kind or another that you find, that is disagreeable. Hitler did that, and people like you turned a blind eye. They thought, like you. I DON'T WANT TO MAKE A CHOICE after all... on second thought, ITS JUST A PIECE OF PAPER.


Just a note from the author:

As I type this out, I have one last note for you. Food for thought, so to speak.

Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) was a great author in his time. His writing of Tom Sawyer is a great book, and I have a first edition given to me by my grandmother, when I was eight years old. His wording, and story, tell of America's past, both good, and bad, and reminds us just how far we have came as a country. Now, because of our times, it is not politically correct to read this book in school as it was written. Such a shame! It is now being rewritten to be politically correct so our children can read it in schools.

Funny? I thought great works of litterateur were to teach our children to grow. At least my grandchildren, and great grandchildren will be able to read the UNCENSORED VERSION.

I wonder who is next? Shakespeare comes to mind, Romeo and Juliet ? Oh wait, to late, its been made a movie.

The Three Women in My Life

Any man who is married, to be happy must have three women in his life. That's right, I said Three Women. Now don't get me wrong, just let me explain what I mean.
First is the wife, the mother of your children, the schedule keeper, and the housewife. She makes sure you have all you need for the day with a smile, did you forget anything, I love you, and a kiss.

The Second is your lover. She is full of passion, and loves you with all her heart. She would do anything you ask of her without question, knowing that pleasing you is the most important thing in her life, and trusts that you would never wrong her no matter what happens.

The third is your friend. You can tell her anything. You can sit for hours and talk about what bothers you, how your week went, your triumph's, and your disappointment's. Or you can talk about nothing much at all. You know she will listen and understand.

Yes, I have three women in my life. Over the years (thirty nine to be exact), I have had the pleasure of knowing, teaching, and learning from all three. It is a curious thing, having these three women in my life. When I got married I never expected the have this happen. The love, Devotion, Comfort, Passion, and Understanding from these three unique, and separate women, is astounding to say the least. Let me give you a example.

My wife Knows exactly what I love to eat, and makes sure I get it when I least Expect it. Oh, yes, and I better eat it because she fixed it special for me, if you get my drift.

Now my lover on the other hand is something else. She can be the most vexing woman in the world just to get me started, and then laugh and get me so hot and bothered I can not help but laugh and hold her close. As I look into her eyes I see the sparkle of devilment, and her deep heated passion of life for me.

Now as to my friend. What can I say? She understands all my moods, and has a kind word of understanding, and hope. She listens to everything, knowing I just need someone to talk to. You know.. I think that's why I love her so much. She never judges me, and always is their when I need to talk.

By now you must think me a terrible cad, cheating so on my wife. But you miss judge me as well as all the men who know about and have the joy of the three women in their lives. Are we wrong to have such joy in our lives? No, we are the lucky ones. For not every man is as lucky as us to have a wife lover and friend in one woman we married. That's right! I am talking about my wife. God I am so, so very lucky that I found her. Or maybe, Just maybe She found me. Either way, I feel blessed.

The Last Leaf

I have often wondered throughout my life what it would be like to be the last leaf on the tree so to speak. Now in the Autumn of my years growing nearer, I come to realize that it is no fun to be the last. You have no one to talk to about the things you know about. Moreover no one cares, or can relate to what you are talking about. I come from a small town and most of the people I knew are long buried that includes some of my class mates in school.

A gas station owner George, strange man with the gift for gab, always had time to talk, and gave me the best financial advice as a boy. Freddy, he would say, If you ever want to have any money when you get older, pay yourself first. A dollar a day, and in twenty or thirty years you will be amazed at how much you will have. I wish I would have followed that advice. Then the older folks I mowed lawn for,like miss Crouch. Always made the best gooseberry pie with ice cream and black English tea. Or miss Carter, she lived about thirty feet away from the T.P. an W. tracks. Her husband used to work for them as a conductor, and she gave me his old railroad lantern one day, it may have been a bit rusty but it was a great lantern. the lantern had a handle on the back you could hang it from that also. the globe was about six inches tall and five inches across with a concave mirror in the back to shine even brighter. I took it fishing a lot.

And then miss Rosenboom. I will never forget her she could not speak much English. One Christmas her granddaughter wanted to go to church services. Joyce asked me to stay with her while she was gone. I never felt it right that she should miss out so I got a song book and sang Christmas songs to her. I'm not much of a singer but she enjoyed it. Then lets see, Abe Richart had the grocery store, Earhart the sheet metal, Belands the tavern, Leo Shibe the other grocery store, Jim Payton the restaurant, John and Robert Hoffmaster, the hardware store. I will never forget Herman the old guy with the glass eye who worked for bob and john,  William Bruniga Sir the Plymouth garage.

The town main street area was destroyed by a train wreak years and years ago on fathers day. Funny thing though, I remember the town like it was yesterday. I remember the smell of the smelt Fry's on Friday nights at Leo's. The dim street lights with a soft glow all their own bathing the town with a Erie light in the early morning fog. How the curbs were two feet tall, and a concrete ramp at one end of the block that gave you the best thrill riding your bike off of it into the air. The old Texaco station at the junction had a flowing well with the best tasting water and it made your soda sooo.. cold, you would get a brain freeze if you drank it to fast. The old wood floors would creak under foot, and were easy to walk on. Minors idle hour restaurant and bar. Now that place, I learned to shoot pool, and to read peoples actions. And lets not forget the old bank, It was fun to play in. The old T.P.W. depot was a fun place to play. I remember the over sized wooden office chair. The leather seat was torn with stuffing's hanging out, but it still sat comfortable. Sitting in the chair at the telegraphers post you could see both way's. When the train came blasting through, the echo between the elevator and depot was deafening to say the least, but the thrill of being so close to the train and still safe was awesome. Then their was the two grain elevators, and the big corn cribs. My best friend Tony Walker, and me climbed all over in them catching pigeon's. Pigeon's, now that is a story all by its self.

The old stock yards, that was always fun. Barn swallows were so many in that place, and so tame. You could climb the gates, and get within inches of the nest to watch them feed the babies. Back then, we had two of everything in that town for the most part. Two grocery, three restaurants, two bar, two hardware store, two sheet metal, two welding, four gas stations, Shell, Texaco, standard, Sinclair. A feed store, telephone switch board, and post office. And yes, it was a party line.

For the ones reading this, a party line was, every one in town was hooked up to a switch board operator who controlled all town calls. You had a certain ring like two shorts and a long and you answered. BUT... if you wanted to know what was going on in your block you waited till the other person picked up then listened in. I caught a good whipping if I made noise while mom was listening in on someone. Now times, most cordless phones can be picked up with a older scanner. Yes, my mother has a older scanner, and still listens.

The last leaf. I wonder.. I guess that means we have lived longer than most and remember the more simpler, and trusting times, before the world got so, Oh so , very crazy. Know what? I have knowledge and memory's of a lost world. When things get hectic, and others are lost, I can find comfort in the knowledge of the past remembering simple times and passing on what I have learned to my grandchildren. It just May be I am Not the last leaf after all. Passing on my knowledge to my grandchildren, will make them the last leaf on a fading tree of the past.

Simple Times

The years fly by and you become nostalgic. You wish times were simple again, and your life not so complex. You withdraw to your inner mind, to find the peace you so badly need. You remember your childhood, and growing up. You fondly remember your grand parents, spoiling you with love, (and sugar) and teaching you new things. New to you, but passed to them from their grandparents with care and love.

Passed from old to new, new to old. The cycle of life, and how we learn, never really changes that much, just the form. I remember one grandfather teaching me how to milk the cows, feed the hogs, collect eggs, and use the heck out of that man or beast salve in a yellow can from Watkins. Grandpa used that stuff for everything on the farm, from cuts to greasing a gear. The stuff stunk like sulfur, but worked great. Grandma loved to make cakes and popcorn for me. And that home made cake icing just could not be beat.

My other grandpa taught me how to shoot, and fish. How to build a box trap for rabbits, set a snare, and how to hunt rabbits with only a stick in the winter. Grandma used to make the best oatmeal cookies, with raisins and walnuts. God, those were good with real cow butter on them, and cold milk. She kept them in a granite pot, with a tight lid, and a slice of apple to keep them soft. On a cold wet rainy day i would skip school and sneak in the house and butter a few, grab a glass of milk, and go hide in my cabin out back. I would curl up with a comic book and a old blanket, and dream. She loved to cook on that old cobs, and coal stove. She had gas, but to cook in the winter you could not only cook your meal, you could keep your house warm, and save money too. Folks were a lot more thrifty then, not like today's throw away style of living.

Time was simple then. On summer vacation, I would climb grandpa's apple tree to the top. I had a old burlap sack my dad gave to me, nailed, between two branches like a hammock. Can you just imagine how that felt, on a warm summer afternoon in the top of that tree. Your eyes closed, swaying with every cooling breeze. It was like you were adrift in the clouds, and one with the universe. Sounds corny don't it. I used to tramp the old munchkin drainage ditch line through town. Hunting and fishing in that old ditch seems kind of silly now, but not then. My fondest memory's of some of my friends, are in that ditch line. Patty, Benny, Ginger, Rusty, my good friends, how I miss you.

Patty, a cocker spaniel, loved to run with me but would always stop at the fence line and stay on top of the bank. Benny, a mix of lab and Heinz 57, was a short slick black haired dog, game for anything, and would chase muskrats all day if I let him. Ginger, a beagle, was a dog you could hunt rabbits with, without a gun. Just listen for her last yelp, and you would find a rabbit. Rusty, a Shepard, was always on the lookout for something to chase, dig out, or fetch what I shot. I remember one time we were trying to get this groundhog, and he looked so funny with his butt sticking straight up in the air ninety degrees, tail swinging in circles, and half way in the hole on the top bank.

As much as we would like to have simpler times, unfortunately, it is not possible now days. The closest we can come to that now, is to unplug, turn down, and just sit still for a few minutes.

No, wait, If we do that we might miss something. Too late, I am in my memory's, off in another world of my own, with my friends. Please take a note, I may be gone for some time. My friends, my friends want to play.