Damned Rain

It is in the late of day and still raining as I gaze upon the carnage of the day. Through the rain, the smoldering of cannon fire still lingering in the air. It has a acrid smell of gunpowder, mixed with the unmistakable smell of blood, and burnt flesh. The fences have bodies on them, and the valley has death written on it for all time. I see the wagons overturned, and some are still burning in the rain. The wounded still moaning for help as others are carried away. Some are dead, while others are dismembered. This valley was once a land of peace, till we came here. The rolling hills, and small creek running through this valley with its lofty soft pines, are now littered with broken men, and weapons of war.

 Men can do terrible things to each other in the name of god, and country, and never learn from their mistakes. The land however, heals itself, and re blossoms with life covering, all ravages man has done to it. Nether side won this day. Only death has won. The broken men, and cannons will be covered over with time, and no one will remember this day. It is raining harder now, and the creek is running red with bloody water. I think I will go back in my tent, and rest this shoulder wound. It is bleeding again, and my aid is worried. Brother against brother, father against son. Dam this war, and dam this rain.

The rain has finally let up. It's wet and mucky. Trenches are only good for killing you. The other side is using chlorine gas, and it hangs in the dam trenches blinding then killing you. No quick or easy death here, unless you catch a bullet. Even then, you might just linger on, and die slow, and painful of gangrene. War is a rotten way to try to settle a argument. Politicians never fight. If they had to, their would be less wars, and less lives lost. Dam... raining again. Now its going to get even colder, and the muck in the trenches will stick to us even more. Wait.. an advance on the other side in this rain. Are they nuts? Dam, I hate this damned rain, so cold so wet so miserable. Dam this rain, dam.


How did I get here? God, it so dam hot. This stinking jungle, I think every godforsaken bug on earth is here taking a bite of me. Dam, I hate this place. It's ether to hot or..... dam its raining again. Just great! I can't move from this spot. The bad guys are to close, leaches sucking my blood, rain running down my back, bugs biting, legs cramping, I hope they step into the trap we set for them. Pay back for tony. They got him the other day and..... dam what they did to him was inhuman. Half a click, that's all it was, and we could still hear him scream. We went out, and dropped a round in their lap. Poor guy, I hate this war. I hate this damned jungle rain. Go figure, it raining heavy now. I hate this rain.

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.

Regrets of Life

It seems just the other day my life started. Have you ever felt that way? Felt that time has some how slipped by you to the point you are now at. That you have missed the use of your life. A fact of life is you are born, you live, then pass. Most folks feel cheated, that time has passed so very quickly for them. In truth, that just was never the case.

Time is time! The thing that matters is what you do with the time you have. You can waste it away, or you can live it to the fullest. Simple, right? Well.... yes and no. The real question is what you want from life. Some must always seek a challenge, while others are content with sitting back and letting life happen. Still, others are never satisfied. The only regret I have, is that I could not spend more time with my family and other's in need of help.

Still all in all I have had my fun, and lived the best I can. I provided for my family and helped others the best that I could. I guess that says a lot for my life. Still... I wish I could do more.

I was thinking the other day about time and how we as humans perceive time itself. A old saying goes like this. Yesterday is the past, Tomorrow is the future. But,today is a gift that is why it is called the present. I thought to myself and decided this.

I am not going to dwell on the past or worry about the future. The past is gone and can not be changed and the future doesn't exist. All we ever have is in front of us right now this very instant, and it is always now. So we should be content and at peace with that.

Regrets? No.just a lot of wonderful memories. After all, isn't that what we end up with when all is said and done? As we take our last breath all we can take with us is our life's memories. Sweet or Bitter, that is all we can take with us. As for me... I choose to remember the Sweet.

The Voice

Many years ago in the gray early morning hours, I found myself past the pleasure's of drinking the night away. I was in need of a rest as the dew settled on the fresh green carpet of grass, My new found friend and I had gotten very drunk that night. As we sat and conversed, with my head felling like it was about to explode we were interrupted.
I heard a sound. A sound so sweet and and gentle. A sound so alluring and gentle, I was completely mesmerized by it. My pounding head started to ease, and I was caught in its soft tender web of rhythm. A musical melody you ask? No, such a sound can not be produced by a mere instrument. I was in panic, and loosing control of my very will. In my altered state of consciousness, the sound blended my very thoughts. It was so sweet, so soft, that i started to envision myself at peace. I tried to fight the overwhelming draw,but in the end I was consumed by it. As I turned to face this compelling sound I found what was producing the sound was even more enchanting.

It was about five foot tall, and covered with a dark heavy blue cloth, to shield it from the morning chill. A ivory colored top was exposed as a hood fell back, then, a long soft entanglement of bright copper red hair flowed down her shoulders to almost her waist. A young woman standing on her fathers porch, looking with concern at her brother and I. She asked if I would like something to eat, and I replied yes, yes I would, thank you. Would you like some coffee, she asked. No thank you. I would take some tea if you have it though. Great she said, I like tea also.
As she busied herself cooking and making the tea, I watched her with great interest. she was three years younger than me, with a nice figure from what I could see. She was full Irish, you could see that in her freckled face, and bright red hair. As she served me breakfast, we sat and talked. After we had eaten,she offered me the couch to rest on till I felt better. I excepted with many thanks.

When I awoke several hours later, I looked over to find her curled up in a large chair across the room watching me so I would not fall of the couch. We talked some more, then I left , with the promise I would be back to see her again. Little did I know that this was the start of many adventures we would have together.
We have been married thirty eight years now. And that young girl with the fire red hair is older now. Her fire red hair has turned to amber. We have both grown older, but I still see that young girl on her fathers porch calling to me. A perfect vision for the rest of my life. It is rather funny in a way. Thirty eight years later, when I look at her, I still see that fiery red headed girl. If I am very lucky it will be the last thing I see when I close my eyes for the last time.

Foolish Heart

After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and calming a soul.
You learn love does not mean learning and company does not mean security.
You begin to understand that kisses are not contracts, and presents are not promises.
You begin to accept the differences with the grace of a woman wise, and not the grief of a child. You learn to build on the road of today, because tomorrows ground, is to uncertain for plans, and the future has a way of falling in mid flight.
 
After a while you learn even the sunshine burns you if you get to much. So you plant your own garden, and decorate your soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers. You learn that you can endure. You find you have worth, you are strong, and you learn. You learn with every goodbye that your heart has turned to bitter ice, that even the best things seem tasteless.
You wither and fade loosing hope that you will ever find love. To late you realize that you let the years slip by, and now you see, you finely learn.
 
The present is what slips past us, while pondering the past, and worrying about the future.
Your last and finale lesson has a bitter taste. You built your walls to protect yourself you said, but in truth you were afraid. Afraid of taking what life had to give. The joy and the sorrow. You console your self with fact that you protected your self from all things.
Then you think, as you watch the old couple in the park walking, and holding hands. A tear comes to your eye. That could have been me. That could have been me, but for the walls, Dam those forlorn and forsaken walls. Dam my foolish heart. I am alone, so alone....

The Road Home

It' is early morning and the sky's are gray with rain. I am sitting in my rocking chair on the back porch. I enjoy a good rain. It makes the air fresh and clears the mind. A thought comes to mind as i turn back in time to when i was a kid, and played hooky from school on such days. I had a cabin behind my dads house I played in. I would hide in their and sneak into my grandmothers next door, and get home made oatmeal cookies with butter on them, slip back out and curl up with a old blanket. Close my eyes eat cookies, and listen to the rain. I have never been at peace as much as I was then. Simpler times, safer days. I don't get to relax like that any more. Except on days like today. No work to do today, and nothing pressing to do. Just sit here and relax. Maybe once a year if I am lucky.

I am soooo... relaxed. Just taking in the smell of the air, how clean things feel. Tilted back in my rocker day dreaming. Suddenly, I am jolted back by a racket bounding up the porch, chain and all. The neighbors dog, a half Shepard half Hinze 57 has broken loose again. The varmint is soaked to the skin, and coming under the back overhang. Wait, stop, Oh man, now I'm soaked. Dam dog ruined a perfect time. I start to get up, when he jumps up on my lap with a paw on either side of my shoulder, pushing me back down. He is wagging his tail to be petted. I raise my hands to push him off, and get a big Slurpee lick across my face. Ucko, dog slobbers, nasty. He does it again, and I cant help but laugh, and he knows it. All I can do is pet him. and rub his head. He lays his head on my shoulder, and the smell of wet dog floods my senses.
 
Then I remember all the dogs I have had in my life. Patty my first. She was a black cocker, and kept me constant company. Always at my side, and ready to play till I was thirteen, when she passed.
Then ginger. A high strung beagle always ready to go hunting. I will never forget that howl type bark she had. I could always tell when she had a rabbit on the run, and when she caught it. We hunted together for years then one day she vanished without a trace. Dad said the Carney folks got her.
 
Then Benny. As I think back now, he must have been part lab, as much as he liked the water, when we hunted the michuchan ditch line. He would always be in the water after the muskrats I shot, and even enjoyed soaking me when he got the chance. I swear that dog had a sense of humor.
 
Then rusty a full blood black and tan Shepard. My fondest memory of him was when we were at the old bridge, and he cut his paw real bad going after a ground hog, across the bank. He was soaked to the bone, I had to put him over my shoulders an carry him home, about a mile or more. I don't remember who enjoyed it more, him or me. I do remember mom getting mad because now I stank like wet dog, and my shirt would never be the same.

 Then there was duke, bad to the bone. I was working private police in Florida at this one hotel unit. Word got out that a full blood Shepard was to be destroyed because he bit to many people. 34 to be exact. I got hold of the owner and asked if I could see the dog, and maybe have him, if I could control him. Sign this wavier of liability , and you can go for it . I warn you, he is bad mean. I went to the back found he was in a fenced in area , around a thousand gallon propane tank. He stormed the fence when he seen me, and I ordered him to obey a command, and he did. Did I mention that he was professionally police trained, and that his handlers did not know the proper commands to control him. I took him home that night, and my wife loved him from the start. He protected her and or new baby son right away. If we put the boy on the bed, duke jumped up and made himself to home. Did you know that a dog wet with sea water has a different smell than fresh water? Funny I should remember that. We had him for many years of joy. 

Then, lets see, little girl was next. Full blood doberman, black and tan with a white star on her chest. Runt of the litter, she never got full size. But she was aggressive as a dog twice her size. I loved that dog. she went with me every place.
 
Then the last, Bear. She was a cross between Shepard and Rottweiler. Fawn in color, she looked like a young deer. She loved the water, and riding in the boat. Had to pull her in the boat the first time. After that, I could not keep her out of it, even if it was on the ground in the yard. She loved to go fishing. She would sit and watch the end of the pole. Then, when it moved, she got all nervous and started to whine and fidget.

I wont have another dog. I'm to old to have a big dog and I don't want a ankle biter. But this varmint, this big, muddy, wet varmint in my lap.He is stirring something inside me. With his wet coat and good humor, I just cant stay mad at him. He took me home to my friends. Home to my best friends over the years. Maybe, hell maybe I'm not as old as i think. Just maybe I just need another friend to help me remember just how much fun a wet dog can be, muddy paws and all.
Come on boy ill take you home, the rain will do us both good.

Threads

Ever wish you could change your past? I did, till the time master showed me what would happen. He came to my door the other day, I was just in the area and heard your thoughts. Are you game for a go? Why not, I thought. I could change my life for the better, just eliminate a few thing from my past, and bingo, all would be good, or so I thought
 
OK, what if I never married my first wife? He bent time and pulled the thread. I found myself alone, unemployed, living on the street. How can this happen? He simply said, if you had not gotten into a fight with her and cut your finger you would have never met your second wife. Well how about if I never had gotten shot when I worked as a Private security officer. Again, time bent, and the thread was pulled. Again I found myself alone. This time, I was bitter, old, and ill tempered. What happened? He said, when you were shot you realized that life was short, and made changes you had a family. You had grandchildren, and soon, great grandchildren to keep you happy.

This went on for hours. A thread here, and one their, till at last I found just what I wanted. And I was very content at last.

OH, the change you ask? Well, that's the rub. For you see I finally found that I wanted nothing changed, at all. Why? It is simple really. I am who I am. To change that, would be the greatest mistake of all. I may not be happy with some things that happened in my life. However, I found that the journey is half the fun. Getting anything changed makes me less of the person people see and enjoy. Life has it's ups and downs and that is the most important part of living. To feel the full range of human emotion, only then can we feel truly alive.

Change is the only constant in life that helps you grow. No, I must accept the bad with the good. Only then can I be whole. Only then can I be fulfilled, and satisfied.