Day 64 CJSM

Day 64

 

Target-shooting. Mom, you

always were the best shot.

 

Yeah! She is! And, I have always been acutely aware of the truth of that---so…I behave!

Lady Candy enjoys shooting; she likes the .22, a lot; when I drag out the “big” boys like the ,44 Magnum which “booms” like a 12-gauge shotgun blast, or the .357 Mag. which “cracks” like a big-bore “cannon” rifle report, she cringes and covers her ears. That .357 will rattle the brain and leave a deafened-ringing in the old ears; I wear ear plugs when I unlimber that sweet baby.

The old .50 cal. Percussion muzzle-loader rifle will clear the sinuses, also. I’m a long-gun fan, also, having reloaded shot shell for 12-gauge light loads for clay pigeons and doves to heavy loads for squirrel or water fowl, Burned powder and gun oil have nostalgia all their own, for me.

When I was into reloading, I would start out with light Powder loads and work up the “hot” scale in small increments; aluminum cases were good for two or three, seldom four, reloadings before they would stretch and crack and then be discarded as unsafe; the brass cases would take at least five reuses, unless the loads got particularly hot, eventually they would all bite the dust as the stresses caused them to expand and stretch to the point where the mouth of the shell would show obvious cracks and could no longer be safely used.

Candy and the girls like the .22 rifle for target plinking; each is a good shot; so is Z. Tyler.

Having my spouse and progeny know how to defend themselves while learning to understand my take on some of the “issues” in life is a pleasant warming-comfort.

I thought it important to teach the kids responsibility; shooting is one sport that demands safety and discipline, as do others. The tradition of the shooting sports, including hunting, are important to me; besides, it is good, clean entertainment and an enjoyable pursuit.

To any of an anti-gun, anti-hunting persuasion? Fine. I respect your right to those opinions. I am “tolerant”! I’d just appreciate a bit of “reciprocation” from you for my point-of-view. For me, personally, hunting does not satiate some blood-lust; it is, rather, a traditional, pristine, fair-chase pursuit within nature. I practiced the sport-hobby with a healthy reverent-respect for my quarry and never allowed myself to violate the parameters guarding value and virtue of my ethical standards. Always, the “kill” was a disappointment to the actual pursuit of pleasure; it ended the hunt. But, the satisfaction of “fair-chase” and a “job-well-done” with the experience,  persist.

Where do I stand on “gun control”? Oh! I am definitely in favor of it---meaning…a dead aim!

 

Amen!

 

Ah! Cookie Jar “Bang! Bang!” Sweet Memories!

 

Day 63 CJSM

Day 63

 

Grandma Dorothy feeding Carl’s fish to

the cat because she thought he was done

 

Well!? Actually, like “all” things in life, this enigma is quite simple: She loved---the…cat!

 

 

Ah! Cookie Jar “bitter”-Sweet “Reality” Memories!

 

Amen!

Day 62 CJSM

Day 62

 

Bapa and Lexi playing chess

 

We started out playing checkers; a “natural” progression quickly led us to chess.

I reckon Lexi was about seven when we undertook the challenge of Queens and knights. The grandchildren are all exceptionally intelligent (must take after their Nanny). Lexi picked up on the game and strategy, immediately. When we spent time together on the red and black chase board of checker champion, the little girl won “every” game we ever played! I was at a distinct “intellectual” disadvantage. Ah! But, “chess” is sophisticated! Right! My turn!? Hmm!

Very soon, Miss Lex had me on the ropes; yeah, I can’t seem to win---anything…ever!

Then, after being humiliated by a seven year old, I had to “show-off” and tell her my “secret” four move “checkmate” strategy! Wow! She beat me with those moves every time we broke out the ole chess board after I had instructed Lexi on that “neat” entitlement. Just couldn’t stop her!

Over the years, Miss Lexli-Lu and old Bapa wore those chess pieces to a frazzle. To this day, I have never been the victor of her challenge---absolutely…never! I’m glad I didn’t teach her golf! I learned my lesson there; I taught her big brother, Z. T., and have never beat him in a match, either!

I’ve taken on most of the challenges life has to offer, maybe invented a few nature never got around to concocting (maybe), had “fun” in the endeavors but never boasted stellar success. Some of us just need to keep trying---harder…I reckon! Wonder if “practice” might help?

Yes! I think so, definitely! People conclude that I am a “bum”; I practice at it---regularly!

In the final analysis: I wouldn’t have it any other way where the kiddos are concerned. Amen!

 

Thank you! To my girls and grandchildren for your Love and “infinite” patience!

I love each of you more than life, itself! Bapa

 

Ah! Cookie Jar “King’s court” Sweet Memories!

MDay 61 CJSM

 

To my new readers:

CJSM is an acronym for Cookie Jar Sweet Memories!

Our children gave us a cookie jar filled with 365 notes

reminiscing events in our lives for the past 50 years; it

was for our fiftieth wedding anniversary and we open one

each day. I write a story about the event and will publish

the entire compilation in 4 books, one each quarter.

 

Welcome to my daily blog posts;

please check out my book offerings:

visit: Amazon books; search: Carl Schuler

 

Enjoy! Let me hear from you:

trinitytrace@gmail.com 

 

 

 

Day 61

 

The night Monte swung his

driver so hard the head popped off

 

Not much amazes me or catches me off-guard---not much at all, but…sometimes.

Once, this one actually left me speechless; “that” my friend is one unique experience!

Daughter Becky had a friend in Oregon and they trekked down to the Blue River in the state to go “bunge” jumping! Wow! Supposedly, there is still gold to be panned there, also.

When little Rachel came home from her “trip”, she had a secret surprise for good ole dad: Seems she got her bellybutton pieced at the behest and instigation of ole Forrest! Thanks, Buddy!

They still laugh at me saying it was the only time I was absolutely speechless when I found out; I honestly don’t remember it that way, but, C’est la vie! (If it makes ’em happy? Okay!)

Hell! I went right out And got myself a bellybutton piercing (not really, but it makes a good story); trouble is, my belly grew over it and I can’t find the damn thing! Ha! Ha!

The only other time I was caught unaware was one day when the family trekked to the driving range to hit a few golf balls. Now, I am not any great shakes when it comes to golf; I am a consummate “hacker” but, occasionally, I hit a “long” drive (Two or three in my lifetime!).

Well! Ole Monte, six foot five and two fifty decided to show up the “old man” so he started rocketing his drives out to two hundred and fifty yards-plus; he didn’t say a word, but, I took notice. So, I unlimbered a few shots and passed his “puny” effort. Then, he swung even harder and was beating my drives.

Well! Now, I couldn’t allow such “disrespect’ so I dug deeper and reached on out to the “next count”, so to speak, laying one out to two hundred and seventy-five yards at which point I simply stopped, leaned against my driver in a nonchalant manner staring at my nemesis with a “gotcha”-smile on my face and a satisfying gleam in my eyes. Ole Mont got it and wasn’t happy.

He avoided eye-contact with me on the driving pad right next to him. As he teed up a ball and stretched his long arms while staring downrange willing to hit the ball all the way to Texas! He flexed his muscles and took a deep breath, obvious “revenge” and “success” on his mind.

As Monte took the war club back, in a mighty arc, he paused very slightly at the apex and uncoiled his massive body as the driver’s huge head started its downward acceleration. Uh! Oh! I thought as the blaze of the flashing club descended toward the waiting ball.

“Ting! I heard as the streaking club head contacted the pathetic golf ball; I closed my eyes.

The ball flew out some hundred yards as I watched; something else flew past the ball!

“What was that?” I queried as it struck me that something was truly amiss. Looking at Monte, I saw him standing five feet from me with an astonished, confused look on his face holding a silver steel shaft in his hands---absent…the driver club head!

I said, “Oh! My God! He sung so hard that the head of the club flew off of the shaft!”

We called the “match” at that point; I had never witnessed such “power”!

Later, I learned that Monte’s brother-in-law had borrowed his clubs and had bent the driver shaft and then hand-straightened it without telling the owner about the damage.

When Monte took that aggressive swing, the weakened shaft let go and the head flew off!

The event was a humorous tale after that day---at least…for some of us.

 

Ah! Cookie Jar “Angry!” Sweet Memories!





Day 60 CJSM

Day 60

 

Maeystown Octoberfest---Becky’s stand

selling pumpkins, gourds and Indian corn

 

 Yeah! Baby! I raise good little “capitalist” girls and boys! Yes! Siree! Bob!

Our girls are great workers; always have been. Not afraid of any challenge and do as good a job when they volunteer as when there are monetary rewards. (They obviously take after their mother!) But, in “fairness” I love work! Yes! Siree! Bob! I could watch it all day long!

Becky insisted that we have a garden; I had sworn never to garden again after I left home; my dad had literally “acres” of vegetable gardens. Every time one of the neighbors got tired of all the work and gave up the “hobby” my dad would volunteer to take over the land---Hell!...Why not? He had an able-bodied son to do the work. And, I did; he was one “great” supervisor!

Again, in fairness, he did explain and instruct and would plant a few seeds or plants and then turn the “operation” over to No.1 Son (me), I reckon it kept me out of trouble---somewhat!?

Guess his “plan”, if that’s what it was, worked pretty good, I don’t have a prison record that anyone might find. I absolutely love that government “Witness protection program”! Oops!

So much for the clandestine concealment and surreptitious secreting of the “invisible” man!?

Becky would arrange with the people who put on the Octoberfest to set up her little wagon and a few straw bales alongside the other vendors for the annual Sunday celebration in our fair “metropolis”, population 52! (the cemetery had more bodies than the village.

On these display “shelves”, little Rachel would exhibit her wares from a long, hot summer labor experience offering pumpkins, ornamental gourds and Indian corn. The buyers loved it---and her…quickly purchasing her entire inventory within a couple of hours. She operated this “business” for several years and prospered quite nicely. (She really rawhided the market with her cattle interests and “fleeced” mutton diners with her sheep herds.) Oh! That’s another story.

As soon as Becky “closed” shop at the Octoberfest after depleting her inventory, always complaining that she wished she had more shew would count up those many “shekels”   and head off to the other craft stands to shop for Christmas gifts for the family Not a selfish bone in that girl’s body! We still have her offerings, one being a very nice fired pottery pitcher sitting on our hearth with artificial flowers in it. Thanks! Bobi!

We could not be more proud of our girls and their children---Perfection!-personified!...All!

 

Amen!

 

Ah! Cookie Jar “Octoberfest Sweet Memories!

New book publishing release plus Day 59 CJSM

"Golden Anniversary"

 

 

Carl Schuler released his 8th book for publication

on Amazon, yesterday. The work is a compilation

of "love-devotion" rhyme to his bride,

Lovely Lady Candice Leah, my angel!

 

visit: Amazon books; search: Carl Schuler

 

contact info.: trinitytrace@gmail.com

 

 

 

 

 

Day 59

 

Bapa and Zachariah playing catch with a

football over the shelving at Sports Authority

 

Yeah!--Guilty!...Again! But, it just wasn’t my fault! Where were the adults!? I need help!

One of these days I will get that long-needed white coat with the long arms and brass buckles.

Everything just has to be a game? Really? You are an immature-irreverent! Yes! Thank you!

Sure, we played toss the football over the shelves in the store; first one aisle, then two…etc.!

When some old gal complained to the store manager, he caught us “playing”. Immediately, I shouted toward Z. Tyler with a look of utter disbelief, “I told you not to throw that football in the store, Z.!” This little “un-truth” I quickly covered with a sheepish look and an “I’m sorry! Sir! That boy will be severely chastised for his reckless behavior in your fine establishment. I assure you.” Z. Tyler just laughed and said, “I’m innocent! I was just watching!”

That line he learned early on as “the boy” and I would get caught in various recalcitrant annoyances like throwing a ball in the house or playing “gun-fight” with “pop” guns and putting a hole in a bedroom door (Oh! Yeah! That was me and the girls when they were younger---and…so was I). Anyway, we were observed in some shenanigan, or another, one (or many) days and Z. Tyler blurted out, before I (the “adult”?) could utter any cognizant defense for our “childish” behavior, “I was just watching!” That boy is smart---he never failed to use that line!

Once, when Becky was babysitting Z. Tyler, he hit a golf ball in the living room and broke one of Nanny’s “pretties” trinkets; when Nanny got the story, our “boy” age 5, promptly announced, “It was Bobi’s fault! She shouldn’t have let me hit it!” (A tangential “I was just watching!” defense. I do believe that boy has the makings of a ‘politico” or a “lawyer”!

Another great story is Z. Tyler and his ir-reverent Grandfather in the mall one fine night.

They have theses vending machines where you put in a quarter and out pops a two-inch super ball. Well! We had four of them going, just tossing it in an uncrowded area of a side mall, bouncing it back and forth, making it hop once before catching it, then twice, and so on and on.

Finally, the “child” of the pair gets the bright idea to send his cohort scrambling down the busy main aisle of the mall filled with shoppers. So!? I threw one of the balls down the floor; Z. Tyler’s eyes got really big and he set out on chase; soon as he retrieved the escaped projectile, I let go with another colorful orb, only harder and further. I only had four balls, but, Z. made the mistake of throwing them back to me when he was returning from another recovery expedition.

O!M!G! The “old” people in the mall felt so sorry for him chasing the loose balls; they tried to catch the escapees to no avail. Funny! ’Til Nanny caught us (me)! He said, “I was just watching!” Right! How come she never caught on to his deception? I didn’t teach him that!?

He never forgot that “fun”. When he was in high school, he and some friends went to the mall. Z. Tyler came home with his tale of the group buying 75 super balls for arcade tokens they redeemed; he put them in a large bag and as he got off the escalator on the main floor---he “accidentally” tripped spilling the entire contents,,,scattering them across the wide aisle and down the mall. Laughing, he told how pedestrians in the shopping area tried to gather up the elusive orbs and voiced their apology to the young man for his misfortune!

Wow! Wish I’d have thought of that---Hmm!...Nah! I’m too old! They’d probably just hit me!

(Come see me---one day…in the mall!) Careful! Don’t slip on a loose ball! Ha! Ha!

 

Ah! Cookie Jar “escapee” Sweet Memories!

 

Day 58 CJSM

Day 58

 

The hours of riding---

New Hanover, Dixon’s, Ritter’s, Avalon,

Kraus, Baskin, back to Avalon, Devinwood.

That’s just the grandkids, not including all

the hours we rode before they came along!

 

So? When? (If?) I get to those “Pearly gates” and St. Peter asks, “And, what Son, did you do with the generous time and ample space which was granted to you?” What Truth! might I say!?

With focused respect which I seldom allowed any fellow earthly creature, save, on very rare occasions when I encountered a “saint” or even, an “angel”, I shall reply with pointed polite preciseness, ”Practiced Christian generosity through Charity laced with Love! Sir!” All stated with confident conclusion that I have spoken “Truth!’ when it might really matter.

And, the confession of a synopsis of my life in so few words does, in fact, state my case. I can only hope that the great saint is listening with a forgiving and redemptive ear. I pray!

We spent a lifetime making life simple and excitingly adventurous for those around us and for the children entrusted to our card. If I had a dollar for every hour we invested with love in our dear progeny---Well!...I might actually finally get out of debt! But, no complaints; I enjoyed it.

The “horse” is my favorite animal; like a good friend---forever. (They smell good, too!)

I often confess that I think I may have been born a hundred and twenty years too late; 1820-on might have better suited my personality of the enviable Independent-Individual; I had no say!

Certainly, I have no legitimate complaints; my “attitude” sees me through, pretty much.

I do not take things, especially, myself, very seriously; my importance is: negligible.

I live “simple”, “honest” “humor”, “humble” and “truth”! Easy enough for me---Perfect!

I humbly offer “everything” I do, as small an item even as, breathing and sleeping. I try my best to be polite in manner and action; always make “me” the butt of any joke; blame only me. I am forgiving but suffer the evil sin transgression of having a sharp and very long memory though I have, mostly, managed to be non-retrobutional, if that’s a word. I am not God; just a sinner!

Horses play an important role in our time and space; we all ride and genuinely love the equines. If you think a cat or big dog is a great pet, give the fabulous horse a try. Magnificent!

Our girls and grandkids ride like the wind and each would “rodeo” the wild terror of a tornado to a standstill---if…only Bapa could figure out how to tack up the swirling recalcitrant. Yahoo!

“So? St. Peter! I spent time in space seeking awesome events living their adventure. Always!”

I wouldn’t have it any other way---nor…with any greater pool of compadres! Guilty! Lord!

Happiness is not a goal to strive for; it is a Peace to conclude! And, I surely have! Thank you!

 

C’est la vie! Mon Amie! I love life! Amen!

 

Ah! Cookie Jar “equine” Sweet memories!

Day 58 CJSM

Bapa-Always crafting things from wood

 

Yeah! You can bet that I did just that including several homes! Just give me a “hammer”!

I love making things; even took up painting; you know, like with oil and canvas and such.

Like everything else in my time and space, not to “professional”-of-quality as adequately displayed on several “masterpieces” adorning our office walls, but, if the reader is curious, I direct you to Amazon books, search: Carl Schuler and view the cover design for “Creed of the Mountain Man”; that is a picture of my mountain oil painting attempt. (okay---so…laugh!)

I never claimed any “talent” at any endeavor, just child-like “innocence”-of-curiosity and not enough sense to be embarrassed by my “failings”. I’m okay with that. C’est la vie! Mon Amie!

Daughter Rachel picked up my “knack” at creativity and she was always making some “treasured” art project. She was about six, or so, when I constructed our house at Maeystown on the farm, at the end of the day, after the hired help had fled the scene, little Becky picked up my brick trowel and started “laying” bricks. Always there to lend a “helping” hand! Bravo!

She never let a scrap of wood go to waste; she would paint some “masterpiece” depicting a flower or horse or herself; we still hold these “treasures”, to this very day.

I built houses, barns, excavated for and installed swimming pools, constructed a bridge across a stream, did heavy equipment operations, built several ponds and did more than a bit of “real” farming; love those big old 150 hp tractors. I most enjoyed working the fields at night with the lights on and the stars and moon as my companions. Also, I planted a tree, or two, in my time!

The “fun” things I built include all the aforementioned and several others.

As a kid I constructed several “pigeon” coops; since I have built houses for doves, ducks, dogs, cats and other critters. We had sheep and horses for which I made shelters.

One of the dove cages I built turned out to be a two story project; the lower elevation for the captive birds, the top floor a “play” house for Becky complete with built-in ladder and a roof.

It was located on the other side of a small creek from our abode, so, I built an arched bridge over the stream for the kids (me, too) to utilize crossing the “raging” river! (Uh!---Um!...”poetic” license!) Some “kids” just seem incapable of ever “growing up”. I reckon that’s true enough!

Never a dull moment!? God! I pray---Not! I’m willing to do my part! Amen!

 

Ah! Sweet Cookie Jar “creative” Memories!

Day 57 CJSM

 

Thought provoking

 

If you are not willing to die for it---

maybe your spirit is already...dead!

 

 

 

 

Day 57

 

Feeding the Grass-carp from the deck

on the pond with an island in Tennessee

 

 

One of our many sojourns around this great country led us to my birth-state of Tennessee.

Beth had two years of Law School under her belt and, at my suggestion, applied for and was granted a “visiting” student leave from Oregon’s Willamette University to conclude her legal education at Vanderbilt in Nashville. We loaded up and headed east. Ah! Sweet gypsy blood!?

 Taking “poor” advice from a quasi-relative in the “Volunteer” state, we purchased a property in a small town with a large house, a barn, five acres and a pond with an island and a fishing dock. When we sold that piece of “goods” a few years later the “bad” advice became evident.

 Always making the “best” of any situation, we pushed forward and enjoyed out “Rebel” stay.

 I taught Z. Tyler to ride his two-wheel bike on that property, installed a putting green where he and I chipped and putted, honing our “skills” (his skills; my ineptitudes). We fed the fish from the little pier jutting into the water of the pond. All-in-all: just another fantastic life experience.

 Daughter Beth completed her law studies and Becky went to the Volunteer Community College where she took up the challenge of golf. We returned to our beloved Oregon for Beth’s commencement exercises at the end of her final year of study at Vanderbilt. Everybody gained an “education” from the implementation of that little hiatus, especially me---and…my bank account. Oh! Well! Live and learn---hopefully. It wasn’t the best of times, nor the worst.

 Still, we kept smiling and continued in our efforts for adventure.

Maybe? I should just settle down?---Hmm! Let me think about that for half a second…Nah!

 

Ah! Cookie Jar “education” Sweet Memories! Amen!



Day 56 CJSM plus Transgressor's Prayer-Plea (blog post)

Day 56

 

Kites at Lincoln City, Oregon

 

We had vacationed in Oregon a few times when I decided that if the opportunity to live there ever presented itself that I would most assuredly be “all-in”! It did and I was; August, 1989. And, what an awesome and exciting adventure (from my point-of-view) from the very inception.

Seems I can never do anything in the “natural” manner of “simple” human conclusions; always some tangential latitudinal vector to navigate the “simple” strategeries of function; why this phenomena becomes pervasive in the life of a “simple, humble” being, I will never know.

Colorful Colorado won my heart and we spent myriad vacation days under her seductive spell; she claimed my heart for years. Then, on a whim, we trekked on out to the Great Northwest to sample the taste of her delights; Oregon stole my spirit. I had to live there!

So, when daughter Catherine graduated from High School and entered college with the ambition to study law, I had her apply for Law School at several institutions, including Willamette University in Salem, the capital of Oregon. They accepted her and we began packing.

Now, there absolutely is NO gypsy-blood in my lineage, but, I sure live like I do have some.

We may have actually moved more times than I have changed jobs---well, considering…NO!

Our abodes have offered our family the very “best” share of the “American dream”, fabulous homes, unique sites, swimming pools, pets, horses, and all manner of entertainment festivities. Each time we completed the construction of one of these “dreams”, I’d sell it to move on. (Hmm! Maybe that there “gypsy-blood” is real, at least, more so than I am willing to admit).

Off we’d go, as a family (Yeah, my Lady Candice is an “angel” to tolerate my shenanigans). In my ventures out and about the countryside, I would, on “many” occasions, spy a property which I determined to be appropriate for my “next big deal; we’d sell and I’d construct our next abode from a sheet of graph paper on which Candy had penciled the design. Then, as the project came together, we would re-design the plan, adding here and deleting there. Then, I’d sell, again.

Our family summer vacations basically amounted to my search for a new venue in which to reside; I found nirvana in beautiful Colorado; Oregon stole my heart and lifted my spirit. Through all of that, we discovered the Pacific Northwest which precipitated our relocation.

In the space of a couple of years tenancy in the lovely Oregon we managed to explore a great deal of the new region finding the awesome coast very much to our liking; to assuage my injured loss of “heaven”  when we trekked back eastward, I often write about my infatuation-love.

Lincoln City on the central coast became our first stop on the scenic beach; here, we encountered the majestic Pacific Ocean---Awesome! I spent a small (very small) fortune at Kenny’s IGA grocery store buying loaves of bread to feed the sea gulls along the city beach.

Kite flying seemed to be the main hobby of the Lincoln City inhabitants; with a strong breeze, the kiters held tight as the high flying “wind-catchers” hydroplaned the flyer down the beach. A sight as colorful and exciting as the kite-clan members is windsurfers at The Dalles, Oregon; they look like flittering flutter-byes challenging the wicked waves of the Columbia River in the windy gorge. All-in-all, a most entertaining and exciting enjoyment. Fabulous!

Yeah, I’m easily entertained; probably die to my childish irresponsible immaturity. Oh! Well!

Though this might seem trivial to an outsider who never witnessed the treats, it was truly enjoyable and entertained us for hours. It is so much “fun” to be simple and childlike!

Don’t like my attitude? “Go fly a kite!” If---I like the presentation…I’ll watch!

Ah! Cookie Jar “high-flying” Sweet Memories!

 

 

Plus: Transgressor's Prayer-Plea

 

 

Transgressor’s Prayer-Plea

 

 

 

Pinnacle-summit dark turmoil near it

Lightning-flash echo-thunder hear it

Embrace deceit live cold-dead spirit

Pervasive sacred-Truth proud cheer it

Live! Love! Laugh! Space-time sear it

Dream-on colossal-“big” never fear it

Troubles, snares and toils simple veer it

Quick-navigate maze-trials must gear it

Tender-heart reveal with Happy-tear it

Faux Royal-elite politico fiat just jeer it

Perception-bubble cult-popular spear it

Self-obfuscated reality purpose clear it

Fear not! Follow Me! Each day year it

Faith! Family! Freedom! Appear it

Crave Justice? Live Peace! Here it

Life-Love! Awesome beauty! Leer it

Allow un-conditioned Love! Endear it

To celestial Salvation humble revere it

Sacred-litany progeny-elite adhere it

Cleansed soul white-glow to peer it

May simple-I succeed-true time rear it

 

Amen! In Humble! Humor! Honest! Spirit!

Day 55 CHSM plus part 6 of 6 "Mountain Stirrings"

Day 55

 

Jogging on the levee with Dad running

behind the car as Mom, Beth and Becky

drove, blowing the horn every ¼  mile

 

Yeah, there came a time when I needed to slim down---somewhat! It happens.

In spite of being quite active with horses and sports, swimming, farm work and my remodeling and construction projects, along with a “day job” that seemed to run 24/7 including weekends and holidays, I managed to pack on a “few” un-needed pounds. But, to my credit, over the collective decades I have probably lost an aggregate total of around 720 pounds; to my detriment, I have managed to gain back about 750 of that determined loss. But, good ole Mother Nature has a way of leveling everything out, in the end; a little heart ailment beginning in earnest at age 60 demanding five Barnes Hospital visits (and, stays) in one year and a full decade of some aggravating “troubles, snares and trials” to confound my “leisure” days, I seem to have settled in around the 165 mark; all of it lean, mean muscle (at least, between my ears!).

Back-in-the-day, as the modern-techno-“hip” generation likes to say, I dieted, jogged, starved, strained and sweated my way to “thin” only to eventually relent to my old habits and regain the “loss”, usually with some added “comfort”. C’est la vie! Mon Amie!   Oh! Well!

I am not the “gluttonous”-type eater; I am a “grazer”, but, I tend to graze all day long!

Medical issues preclude sweets, now; before that dreaded diagnosis, I didn’t even like sugar treats. Surely, I drank my share of Coke over ice (’Mm ’Mm Good!). Now I defer to Diet Coke.

So? To the subject of this “memory”: A co-worker who had about ten years on me, chronologically, and about fifty pounds on me, by the “scale”, went on a starvation diet and took up jogging; in about six months he slimmed down to his U.S. Marine Corps weight, looking trim and fit. I caught the bug and took on another “diet” attempt and started jogging.

We lived on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River with an astounding view to die for; I still miss those awesome sunsets firing the western horizon with a grandeur palette. Spectacular!

Beyond our abode and below the limestone cliffs ran a creek encased by earthen levees which served as a venue for our monthly “full moon equine trail rides” which we hosted quite often.

Those levee roads also offered a place for me to jog as I endeavored to re-capture my youthful sculpted body from too many years hence. We would “drive” down to the levee (Well! It was about a mile to get there by road) and I would exit the chariot; Candy would drive ahead of me as I jogged behind in an effort to trek one mile. The girls cheered me on through the rear window as Nanny blew the horn every 1/4 mile to measure my progress.

That little escapade actually lasted a couple of tedious months before I gave it up.

Yeah! I lost some inches and looked fairly “Good”, but, reason won out and I quit torturing my poor old body! Soon enough, I gained back those inches who brought along some relatives!

Certainly, I am not so old as to fail to still “enjoy” a youthful body---spied several lithe female sculpted-tan supple specimens…at the pool just the other day! Hell! I’m old, not dead!

Ah! Sweet youth! Seems quite the un-intended purposeful waste of good ole Mother Nature to endow youthful beauty and passion---on the…“young”! Damn the luck!

Still (words of wisdom from an old man)---Hope!...springs eternal!

Amen!

 

Ah! “Shapely” Cookie Jar Sweet Memories!

 

 

Plus: Part 6 of 6 "Mountain Stirrings"

from Station Master book (Amazon books)

 

 

 

 

 Plus: Part 6 of 6 "Mountain Stirrings"

 

 

 

 

 

Civilization might, and, does, impose its “higher” order upon the culture in the name of “progress” toward the determination of “Good” for the collective society; yet, that march to “Nirvana” prescribed by the “Royal-Elite”, so christened by status, money, power, comes at a very steep detrimental consequence to the envied spirit of free man. Wild things cannot be naturally tethered to a formal garden; such are out of place, save for the errant beauty of a colorful volunteer wild flower which the prudent gardener erroneously decides is an unwanted weed and quickly removes the blessing. A bound spirit withers and eventually dies when it is deprived of its destiny: To soar among the eagles above the peaks where untamed swirling winds of time and space develop them. And, for the very few, these rebel, rascal, rogues are all too willing to challenge the accepted, the tried, the true. Just, “what if?” the “genius” is wrong, once again? Does blind acceptance of “any” lie validate the transgression as---Truth!?

A poet once declared of flight that man has “slipped the surly bonds of earth…” Who might have dared imagine, or propose, that lowly man could escape the binding tethers barring him from soaring where his feathered friends dared go? The “elite” had that one right: If God wanted man to fly, He’d have given him wings! Wow! Such arrogance! Idiocy! Erudite sophistication!

Dare challenge---All! Beliefs: religion, motivation, love; most of all: Thyself!

In the end, materialism is a demon-vacant lie! Un-truth can never prevail!

Revelation ascribes the tale: In the end, the Good guys win! Amen!

Late April of any year found that rebel, rascal, rogue prostrate on his back lying in a verdant green of spring red clover delight, peering heavenward to view a Red Tail hawk riding the currents generated by the sheer abrupt rise of three hundred foot limestone bluffs rising from the river bottom while his counterparts labored diligently behind cubicle desks completing projects and pouring out “special” reports mostly obsolete upon their final revision; they, of course, and, of consequence, climbed the corporate ladder rungs to reach obsolescent retirement, sometimes. Our vagrant hunted wild Morel mushrooms and fished the deep secret pools of the lake for hybrid Red Ear and wondered at the Red Tail independent hawk-flight; offers for promotion poured in to him, also, but, he chose to be too busy!? And, in truth, was---with…life!

Such irreverent reply stating humble blatant reverence for importance: Live! Laugh! Love!

The “Then” is history; the “next” may never come; “Now!” Lives eternally present. Enjoy!

Challenge brave the steep summit reach; observe the eagle from above upon yon Unicorn!

Taste that special Freedom which life affords through Liberty. Dare savor sweet such delicious ecstasy where freely thee dares lick honey-sugar fantasy simply humbled with exotic pleasure through sacred premises necessitating one proper conclusion---Love!

Please! For thou own sake: Don’t miss any instant of life’s offered pleasure!       

 

Amen? Amen! And, again---Amen!