It was a fond memory, or a dream, either way I know that I'm fond of it. It was a simpler time before life grabbed hold and threw me down a path to where I am, to what I've become.
I loved that time of my life, and I loved often. Hearts were broken, mine and theirs, and hearts were set afire with passion. Or should I say lust. We would walk the railroad tracks to "our private spot" and spent the day encased in each others arms, and the quilt. The birds sang to our beat, the wind played its melody as it swept across us, nature turned off the sounds of the world so we could listen to each other's heart beat.
That is until the train came by, shattering our world, pulling us back to reality. I can still see the eyes of two older ladies who sat in the third passenger car, two rows from the back, as they realized what they were seeing. Was it disappointment in this younger generation that glared back at me? Was it disgust? Was it envy? Was it a fond memory, or a dream, that they remembered from years past?
We laughed, hoping our grandparents weren't their friends, and started back down the railroad tracks to my car. She looked up at me and said something like this, "I don't think I will ever have another day as good as this one." I don't know about her, but life did get sweeter with a few sour spots along the way. What I could tell her now is that love, true love, is much sweeter than lust. That lust, no matter how good it is, lasts for only the moment, love lasts forever and a day.
It may be a fond memory, or a dream, but it is unique to me, for me. One of millions that has piled on day after day, made just for me. And when these memories come flooding back, I smile and once again relive that moment in time.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Monday, July 4, 2011
Review: Give The Lady A Ride
I'm beginning to realize something, I enjoy the work of new authors over the over-published pros. With the old pros you get the same ole same ole. With a new author you have no expectations and usually I enjoy the book more than the pros. I've posted on a couple of other authors who fell into this category that I've had the privilege to converse with, to drop names K.M.Weiland, Michael Snyder and John Robinson, and their books were excellent. Now you can add another name to that list, one that some of you may already know, Linda W. Yezak.
I posted a few months back that her book was being published and posted a trailer for it. Well, it has been out for a couple of months and I finally got around to reading it, and I was pleasantly surprised. I really liked it. There have been too few books that when I finished that last page I wished there was a few chapters more. There have been even fewer books that when I finished that last page I already missed the characters in it. This book did that for me.
I guess I identified with the main character, Talon, because he is a chick magnet. He is also a cowboy, a real ranch hand, cow puncher. Being an Okie and having real cowboy blood flowing through my veins, I quickly and easily identified with him.
I'm not going to give away the plot or the characters, but you can probably guess the plot as it's a romance but you won't guess the twists that Linda crafted so well. The characters, especially the cowboys, are believable and the descriptions of the various locations, from rodeo arena to bunk house, was well written.
Linda, congrats on a good book, and following your dream. I'm patiently waiting on the sequel or whatever else you may put into words. I hope you continue to enjoy your marketing and all aspects of your writer's journey.
I posted a few months back that her book was being published and posted a trailer for it. Well, it has been out for a couple of months and I finally got around to reading it, and I was pleasantly surprised. I really liked it. There have been too few books that when I finished that last page I wished there was a few chapters more. There have been even fewer books that when I finished that last page I already missed the characters in it. This book did that for me.
I guess I identified with the main character, Talon, because he is a chick magnet. He is also a cowboy, a real ranch hand, cow puncher. Being an Okie and having real cowboy blood flowing through my veins, I quickly and easily identified with him.
I'm not going to give away the plot or the characters, but you can probably guess the plot as it's a romance but you won't guess the twists that Linda crafted so well. The characters, especially the cowboys, are believable and the descriptions of the various locations, from rodeo arena to bunk house, was well written.
Linda, congrats on a good book, and following your dream. I'm patiently waiting on the sequel or whatever else you may put into words. I hope you continue to enjoy your marketing and all aspects of your writer's journey.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Hot In Okieland
It's so hot here the egg won't fry on the sidewalk because it's already hard boiled before you can crack it open. It's not the heat that is so brutal, but the 30 and 40 mph wind that seems to never die out. I now know what a blast furnace feels like.
It's so hot here that the other day the farmer that runs cows next to my place lost his herd. He had planted popcorn, it got so hot it all popped, the cows saw all that white popcorn on the ground, thought it was snow and froze to death. I tell ya, its brutal here.
The weather report might as well be a recording: Hot and sunny. It's been too hot to do anything for two months and the weatherman says it might really warm up next week. Doesn't it ever rain in this barren desert? We've had 2.88 inches of rain this year. The grass is as dead as in winter, at least I don't have to mow.
A buddy missed his cat sneaking into his car the other morning. When he went out to lunch the cat had swollen up to the size of a shopping bag and exploded all over his Lexus' leather interior. He told the kids it ran away. Now when you walk by his car it smells like Kibbles and S@%#.
Tried to run some errands after work. Wore shorts and sat on the black leather seating in the ol' car. I thought my butt was on fire. I lost two layers of flesh.
If someone else wise cracks, "Hot enough for you today?", I may be calling you for bail money.
A little update:
The Southwestern part of Oklahoma has been put into the "exceptional drought" category. That's about as bad as it gets on a climatological scale. 33% of the State is effected in this category. As you move east it is less severe. According to the stats, this is the driest year since 1921. Dust bowl was in the 30's after years of drought and over farming of the land.
It's so hot here that the other day the farmer that runs cows next to my place lost his herd. He had planted popcorn, it got so hot it all popped, the cows saw all that white popcorn on the ground, thought it was snow and froze to death. I tell ya, its brutal here.
The weather report might as well be a recording: Hot and sunny. It's been too hot to do anything for two months and the weatherman says it might really warm up next week. Doesn't it ever rain in this barren desert? We've had 2.88 inches of rain this year. The grass is as dead as in winter, at least I don't have to mow.
A buddy missed his cat sneaking into his car the other morning. When he went out to lunch the cat had swollen up to the size of a shopping bag and exploded all over his Lexus' leather interior. He told the kids it ran away. Now when you walk by his car it smells like Kibbles and S@%#.
Tried to run some errands after work. Wore shorts and sat on the black leather seating in the ol' car. I thought my butt was on fire. I lost two layers of flesh.
If someone else wise cracks, "Hot enough for you today?", I may be calling you for bail money.
A little update:
The Southwestern part of Oklahoma has been put into the "exceptional drought" category. That's about as bad as it gets on a climatological scale. 33% of the State is effected in this category. As you move east it is less severe. According to the stats, this is the driest year since 1921. Dust bowl was in the 30's after years of drought and over farming of the land.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Why I Don't Write Poetry 2011-4
They tell me its all in the eyes,
Truth or maybe lies,
In the eyes are no guise.
Differ I will, differ I must,
With much disgust, distrust.
For my belief is honorable and just.
The eyes are noble and able.
They cause trust, can disable,
One look and know if you are stable.
So look me in the eye if you will,
What do you see, a thrill or a chill?
Maybe the skill to kill?
What you see today may differ tomorrow,
They could be filled with joy or sorrow.
What will the soul borrow?
For in eyes beauty can be seen.
Sparkling, bright, and clean.
Whether in a dinner gown or blue jean.
The eyes are what we gaze upon.
Judging whether a swan or a Khan.
What do you trust on?
Truth or maybe lies,
In the eyes are no guise.
Differ I will, differ I must,
With much disgust, distrust.
For my belief is honorable and just.
The eyes are noble and able.
They cause trust, can disable,
One look and know if you are stable.
So look me in the eye if you will,
What do you see, a thrill or a chill?
Maybe the skill to kill?
What you see today may differ tomorrow,
They could be filled with joy or sorrow.
What will the soul borrow?
For in eyes beauty can be seen.
Sparkling, bright, and clean.
Whether in a dinner gown or blue jean.
The eyes are what we gaze upon.
Judging whether a swan or a Khan.
What do you trust on?
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Why I Don't Write Poetry 2011-3
A fly
On a window screen
Working to get out,
After working to get in.
Spending it's short life
Within a fraction
Of it's goal
A man
In a cubical
Working to get out
Forced to get in
Spending his short life
Insignificant
A shadow
The difference
May not be clear
Similar destiny
A fly lives
With wings on earth
A man get wings at death
And flys
On a window screen
Working to get out,
After working to get in.
Spending it's short life
Within a fraction
Of it's goal
A man
In a cubical
Working to get out
Forced to get in
Spending his short life
Insignificant
A shadow
The difference
May not be clear
Similar destiny
A fly lives
With wings on earth
A man get wings at death
And flys
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Feeling Profound Today
From an e-mail and unknown author:
READ THIS VERY SLOWLY .... IT'S PRETTY PROFOUND.
Too many people put off something that brings them joy just because they haven't thought about it, don't have it on their schedule, didn't know it was coming or are too rigid to depart from their routine. I got to thinking one day about all those people on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful night in an effort to cut back. From then on, I've tried to be a little more flexible.
How many women out there will eat at home because their husband didn't suggest going out to dinner until after something had been thawed? Does the word 'refrigeration' mean nothing to you?
How often have your kids dropped in to talk and sat in silence while you watched 'Jeopardy' on television? I cannot count the times I called my sister and said , 'How about going to lunch in a half hour?' She would gas up and stammer, 'I can't. I have clothes on the line. My hair is dirty. I wish I had known yesterday, I had a late breakfast, It looks like rain' And my personal favorite: 'It's Monday.' She died a few years ago. We never did have lunch together.
Because Americans cram so much into their lives, we tend to schedule our headaches. We live on a sparse diet of promises we make to ourselves when all the conditions are perfect! We'll go back and visit the grandparents when we get Steve toilet-trained. We'll entertain when we replace the living-room carpet. We'll go on a second honeymoon when we get two more kids out of college. Life has a way of accelerating as we get older, the days get shorter, and the list of promises to ourselves gets longer. One morning, we awaken, and all we have to show for our lives is a litany of 'I'm going to,' 'I plan on,' and 'Someday, when things are settled down a bit.'
When anyone calls my 'seize the moment' friend, she is open to adventure and available for trips. She keeps an open mind on new ideas. Her enthusiasm for life is contagious. You talk with her for five minutes, and you're ready to trade your bad feet for a pair of Rollerblades and skip an elevator for a bungee cord.
My lips have not touched ice cream in 10 years. I love ice cream. It's just that I might as well apply it directly to my stomach with a spatula and eliminate the digestive process. The other day, I stopped the car and bought a triple-decker. If my car had hit an iceberg on the way home, I would have died happy.
Now...go on and have a nice day. Do something you WANT to...not something on your SHOULD DO list. If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?
Have you ever watched kids playing on a merry go round or listened to the rain lapping on the ground? Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight or gazed at the sun into the fading night? Do you run through each day on the fly? When you ask 'How are you?' Do you hear the reply?When the day is done, do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head? Ever told your child, 'We'll do it tomorrow.' And in your haste, not see his sorrow? Ever lost touch? Let a good friendship die? Just call to say 'Hi'? When you worry and hurry through your day, it is like an unopened gift....Thrown away.... Life is not a race. Take it slower. Hear the music before the song is over. Show your friends how much you care.
Life may not be the party we hoped for... but while we are here we might as well dance!
READ THIS VERY SLOWLY .... IT'S PRETTY PROFOUND.
Too many people put off something that brings them joy just because they haven't thought about it, don't have it on their schedule, didn't know it was coming or are too rigid to depart from their routine. I got to thinking one day about all those people on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful night in an effort to cut back. From then on, I've tried to be a little more flexible.
How many women out there will eat at home because their husband didn't suggest going out to dinner until after something had been thawed? Does the word 'refrigeration' mean nothing to you?
How often have your kids dropped in to talk and sat in silence while you watched 'Jeopardy' on television? I cannot count the times I called my sister and said , 'How about going to lunch in a half hour?' She would gas up and stammer, 'I can't. I have clothes on the line. My hair is dirty. I wish I had known yesterday, I had a late breakfast, It looks like rain' And my personal favorite: 'It's Monday.' She died a few years ago. We never did have lunch together.
Because Americans cram so much into their lives, we tend to schedule our headaches. We live on a sparse diet of promises we make to ourselves when all the conditions are perfect! We'll go back and visit the grandparents when we get Steve toilet-trained. We'll entertain when we replace the living-room carpet. We'll go on a second honeymoon when we get two more kids out of college. Life has a way of accelerating as we get older, the days get shorter, and the list of promises to ourselves gets longer. One morning, we awaken, and all we have to show for our lives is a litany of 'I'm going to,' 'I plan on,' and 'Someday, when things are settled down a bit.'
When anyone calls my 'seize the moment' friend, she is open to adventure and available for trips. She keeps an open mind on new ideas. Her enthusiasm for life is contagious. You talk with her for five minutes, and you're ready to trade your bad feet for a pair of Rollerblades and skip an elevator for a bungee cord.
My lips have not touched ice cream in 10 years. I love ice cream. It's just that I might as well apply it directly to my stomach with a spatula and eliminate the digestive process. The other day, I stopped the car and bought a triple-decker. If my car had hit an iceberg on the way home, I would have died happy.
Now...go on and have a nice day. Do something you WANT to...not something on your SHOULD DO list. If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?
Have you ever watched kids playing on a merry go round or listened to the rain lapping on the ground? Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight or gazed at the sun into the fading night? Do you run through each day on the fly? When you ask 'How are you?' Do you hear the reply?When the day is done, do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head? Ever told your child, 'We'll do it tomorrow.' And in your haste, not see his sorrow? Ever lost touch? Let a good friendship die? Just call to say 'Hi'? When you worry and hurry through your day, it is like an unopened gift....Thrown away.... Life is not a race. Take it slower. Hear the music before the song is over. Show your friends how much you care.
Life may not be the party we hoped for... but while we are here we might as well dance!
Sunday, April 24, 2011
I Heart You
Since I haven't posted since the last time I posted, I thought I'd better post something. Here is a resurrected story, a retread, so if you've read it before, I hope you enjoy it again.
Six grade was a hard year for her. Helen was the class out-cast, being overweight and from the wrong side of the tracks made her the brunt of many jokes. Now the worst day of the year for her was coming, Valentine's Day. She knew they would decorate some shoe box to sit on their desks so that everyone would put their store bought Valentine's cards in them. She knew that she wouldn't be given any cards, just like last year and the year before, and so she didn't ask her mom to buy her any cards to give. Tears soaked her pillow that night as the dread of another day and more disappointment loomed before her.
He was the rich kid of the class. Born into money that his ancestors made on the backs of slaves and convicts. Somehow Patrick was different from his family. He loved life, not because of what he had, but because he enjoyed the creation around him. He would sit for hours on Saturdays watching the birds feed and water in his back yard. He would take photographs of the changing seasons and then paint magnificent works that even impressed his father. "Not bad for a kid, but don't think that you could make a living at that. You need to start preparing yourself for the real world, to follow in my footsteps…." yada yada yada. He believed in passion, even at his young age, and knew in his heart that he would follow that passion. His favorite time of year was approaching, Valentine's Day. The day that he would get a card from his parents that told him that they loved him. He would wear the card out looking it over and over throughout the year.
Patrick worked on his Valentine box with the artistic ability that he painted by. Everyone was amazed at how beautiful it turned out. "Typical," Helen thought, "the rich kid gets all the good paper and glue and stuff to make his box beautiful. All I had was some worn out fabic and a few buttons to dress mine up with." Patrick placed his box on the front of his desk and stared at it the rest of the day, content in what he had created. During the lunch break he walked around the classroom and admired what others had done to theirs. The last one he looked at was Helen's. He noticed the worn fabic and the chipped and broken buttons that covered the box. He also noticed that the corners were neat and folded like how his Christmas presents was wrapped.
"Helen did a good job with what she had." the teacher said startling Patrick.
"Yes she did." Patrick replied. The words "what she had" echoed in his mind. "What she had." Until that moment he hadn't realized how blessed he was compared to the rest of the world. He decided he would try to brighten Helen's world somehow.
That night Patrick laid out the construction paper, crayons, glue and glitter. He found his favorite pair of scissors and sat down to make a card. Not any Valentine card, but one that Helen would remember her whole life. The next day was Valentines Day and he wanted to make it special for Helen. This year there would be no store bought card for Helen.
Time came for the Valentine's day party. Recess was over and the kids came back into the room to find cupcakes on their desks and balloons tied to their chairs. The home room mothers had transformed this classroom into a fantasy land during the short recess time. The kids all ran to their desks, except Helen, and she slowly walked to her back row corner desk. She liked the way her desk was decorated and that uplifted her mood. She slid into her chair and waited on permission to eat her cupcake. She decided that she'd take half of it home to her mother, as she rarely received any such treat.
"OK, class. It's time to enjoy your goodies. Go ahead and open your Valentine boxes and you can eat your cupcakes too." The noise level increased as the kids talked and laughed together. Patrick turned to see if Helen had read her card yet, but she just sat there slowly munching on the cupcake. He then noticed that she wrapped half of it in her napkin and put it in her lunch pail. He stood and walked back to her desk, "Helen, would you like to take my cupcake home. I'm not supposed to eat sweets much and I'd like you to have it."
Helen looked at him with disbelief. Someone was actually talking to her and not making fun of her. "I'd like that," she said.
"Good, here ya go. By the way, I made a card for you last night."
Helen about tore the box in half trying to get to his card. To her surprise her box was full of cards, all hand made. Some were well done, some were just thrown together, but they were all given to her. Her eyes filled with tears and as she looked up, the whole class was looking at her. Ronnie, the brat of the class, walked up to her, "Helen, I'm sorry that I've been such a jerk. You're pretty cool to have taken all the ribbing that I dished out." One by one the class passed by Helen and gave her a hug, or some kind of encouragement. She looked at her teacher, whom also had tears streaming down her face.
"Class, I'm so proud of you. That is what this holiday is all about, love. Patrick realized the hard time Helen was having and mentioned it to you. You didn't have to do anything, but you did. Now Helen knows that you like her and I can tell by the tears in her eyes that you have touched her heart. So class, Happy Valentines day, and thank you for teaching me the true meaning of loving one another."
Helen ran home after school and excitedly told her mother about what had happened. She showed her the cupcake and each card and repeated word for word what each one had said to her. Her mom smiled as her eyes teared up at the change she saw in her daughter. Helen spent the rest of the evening looking over her treasures. Her mother spent the rest of the evening thanking God for what had happened.
Helen and Patrick became close friends and grew up together, but that is another story for later.
Six grade was a hard year for her. Helen was the class out-cast, being overweight and from the wrong side of the tracks made her the brunt of many jokes. Now the worst day of the year for her was coming, Valentine's Day. She knew they would decorate some shoe box to sit on their desks so that everyone would put their store bought Valentine's cards in them. She knew that she wouldn't be given any cards, just like last year and the year before, and so she didn't ask her mom to buy her any cards to give. Tears soaked her pillow that night as the dread of another day and more disappointment loomed before her.
He was the rich kid of the class. Born into money that his ancestors made on the backs of slaves and convicts. Somehow Patrick was different from his family. He loved life, not because of what he had, but because he enjoyed the creation around him. He would sit for hours on Saturdays watching the birds feed and water in his back yard. He would take photographs of the changing seasons and then paint magnificent works that even impressed his father. "Not bad for a kid, but don't think that you could make a living at that. You need to start preparing yourself for the real world, to follow in my footsteps…." yada yada yada. He believed in passion, even at his young age, and knew in his heart that he would follow that passion. His favorite time of year was approaching, Valentine's Day. The day that he would get a card from his parents that told him that they loved him. He would wear the card out looking it over and over throughout the year.
Patrick worked on his Valentine box with the artistic ability that he painted by. Everyone was amazed at how beautiful it turned out. "Typical," Helen thought, "the rich kid gets all the good paper and glue and stuff to make his box beautiful. All I had was some worn out fabic and a few buttons to dress mine up with." Patrick placed his box on the front of his desk and stared at it the rest of the day, content in what he had created. During the lunch break he walked around the classroom and admired what others had done to theirs. The last one he looked at was Helen's. He noticed the worn fabic and the chipped and broken buttons that covered the box. He also noticed that the corners were neat and folded like how his Christmas presents was wrapped.
"Helen did a good job with what she had." the teacher said startling Patrick.
"Yes she did." Patrick replied. The words "what she had" echoed in his mind. "What she had." Until that moment he hadn't realized how blessed he was compared to the rest of the world. He decided he would try to brighten Helen's world somehow.
That night Patrick laid out the construction paper, crayons, glue and glitter. He found his favorite pair of scissors and sat down to make a card. Not any Valentine card, but one that Helen would remember her whole life. The next day was Valentines Day and he wanted to make it special for Helen. This year there would be no store bought card for Helen.
Time came for the Valentine's day party. Recess was over and the kids came back into the room to find cupcakes on their desks and balloons tied to their chairs. The home room mothers had transformed this classroom into a fantasy land during the short recess time. The kids all ran to their desks, except Helen, and she slowly walked to her back row corner desk. She liked the way her desk was decorated and that uplifted her mood. She slid into her chair and waited on permission to eat her cupcake. She decided that she'd take half of it home to her mother, as she rarely received any such treat.
"OK, class. It's time to enjoy your goodies. Go ahead and open your Valentine boxes and you can eat your cupcakes too." The noise level increased as the kids talked and laughed together. Patrick turned to see if Helen had read her card yet, but she just sat there slowly munching on the cupcake. He then noticed that she wrapped half of it in her napkin and put it in her lunch pail. He stood and walked back to her desk, "Helen, would you like to take my cupcake home. I'm not supposed to eat sweets much and I'd like you to have it."
Helen looked at him with disbelief. Someone was actually talking to her and not making fun of her. "I'd like that," she said.
"Good, here ya go. By the way, I made a card for you last night."
Helen about tore the box in half trying to get to his card. To her surprise her box was full of cards, all hand made. Some were well done, some were just thrown together, but they were all given to her. Her eyes filled with tears and as she looked up, the whole class was looking at her. Ronnie, the brat of the class, walked up to her, "Helen, I'm sorry that I've been such a jerk. You're pretty cool to have taken all the ribbing that I dished out." One by one the class passed by Helen and gave her a hug, or some kind of encouragement. She looked at her teacher, whom also had tears streaming down her face.
"Class, I'm so proud of you. That is what this holiday is all about, love. Patrick realized the hard time Helen was having and mentioned it to you. You didn't have to do anything, but you did. Now Helen knows that you like her and I can tell by the tears in her eyes that you have touched her heart. So class, Happy Valentines day, and thank you for teaching me the true meaning of loving one another."
Helen ran home after school and excitedly told her mother about what had happened. She showed her the cupcake and each card and repeated word for word what each one had said to her. Her mom smiled as her eyes teared up at the change she saw in her daughter. Helen spent the rest of the evening looking over her treasures. Her mother spent the rest of the evening thanking God for what had happened.
Helen and Patrick became close friends and grew up together, but that is another story for later.
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