Playing is something I do quite well, if I do say so myself. I enjoyed it ever since I was a kid and don’t see how I could truly enjoy my life if I didn’t incorporate some sort of play in my daily living. Continue reading
I’m stuck in the middle of the Vietnam War and I don’t know how to get out. I got the beginning and the end of the story completed. It’s the middle that is causing me problems. I want to show how I got to where I was, and then what happened when getting out of there alive.
I want to be like a Billy Pilgrim, the main character from the book “Slaughterhouse Five” by Kurt Vonnegut Jr. He would travel from the past to the future and then back again to the present which was smack dab in the middle of World War ll when the Allies were freeing persons from Dachau. (See Dresden calls out for Vonnegut!)
I have abandoned the story I wrote last year. Well, I haven’t looked at it for some months now is what I really mean. But I know it is still there, hidden away in an attic room of my house where I hear a noise banging about every now and then. Perhaps my writing about it here can be the incentive I need to travel to that sore spot and relive those days from a prism of youth and my maturity over the years.
Yeah, that’s the ticket. Be authentic from the start to the finish from age five until age 65 and older. There’s got to be some interesting views on the war from those perceptions, don’t you think?
I’ll tell of the kid who fought against a bully who called me a “displaced person” when I was not yet enrolled in first grade. He made me cry and I then made him cry when I punched him. (See: Name-caller gets buck kicked in the end.)
I’ll also talk about Plato and how I met him after the worst day of my life and the best day of my life while opening his book in a bunker on a hill in a base camp while serving with the Americal Division, the army unit that provided the world with Lt. William L. Calley and the My Lai massacre.
Forgiveness will then come into play as I tell of escorting a Vietnamese woman to Ithaca, NY, where I experienced a mystical uplifting.
That’s when I’ll put the story to bed finally disregarding all the bad ideas I had while saving only the good ones my writing instructor told me to create before crafting this Blog post.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just thought you needed to know, that’s all.”
Peaches said nothing as we sat on the floor of her vestibule. I saw her eyes water up a little and I wanted to cry myself.
“I still love her” I continued without looking at the young girl I had shared such an intimate moment with at the young age of 19.
“I guess I never stopped loving her, if you want to know the truth.”
“You were her best friend in high school and you knew her as much as anybody did” I said, asserting a belief that neither one of us could deny. “I would break up with her, but we’d always got back together every time. You knew that when we first dated.”
“I should have been honest with you. But I liked you, I still like you. And wouldn’t hurt you for anything. But I don’t love you. I love Peggy, and I guess I always will.” Continue reading
I cried when I saw a woman comforting a black police officer who was helping others get hospital treatment from an assassin’s attack in the streets of Dallas last night. The cop was like many I knew in the legal profession, good guardians of the peace who laid their lives on the line every day to protect us civilians, particularly those of us in the inner cities. Continue reading
Can someone become the “muse” of another?
Could my reckless and often unabashed “agitation” be the instigation for another person to find the voice she needed to speak directly from her soul?
I like to think so. I believe I might have sparked a keg of memories that were waiting for the right moment and touch to manifest and explode for the world to finally see. Continue reading
“You can’t replace Trouble, no matter what you say,” I said to Wendy. “He was my favorite cat, the only one that could not only catch those dirty squirrels, but also behead them and leave their carcasses behind, sans their squirrely little heads. There’ll never be another one like him.”
‘No, I’m not trying to replace Trouble,” my wife answered me. “It’s just that our son Nicholas could use another pet, and the one we found at the Kitty Cottage is so adorable, I thought that any pet lover would welcome her into their home. Give her a chance. I know you’ll warm up to her and treat her as a member of the family in no time.”
Sundance is now this cat-lovers’ most lovable feline ever!
(For more, please see: Unconditional love from a cat.)
It was Saturday morning, May the 19th of 2012. I awoke that early morning feeling well rested. Since the beginning of the new year I had started working Monday thru Thursday, having Fridays off. In the past, when working a full week my Saturdays were spent sleeping in and catching up on the many hours of sleep lost during the week. Continue reading