Some stuff from the past

singing "Sunshine on my Shoulders"
pretending to be John Denver or some Rocky Mountain explorer

the grass was long, thin, deep emerald green
softly tickling your toes
if you wandered far enough north
you would tread underfoot
deliciously plump purple berries
never knowing until you tracked them indoors

back at home
the flavor put you in a trance
made you forget everything for awhile
except the soaking
the stewing of your tender toes
in a tub of Clorox water

to the south was a briar patch
a scratchy maze of thorns and bushes
only the bravest ventured within

we had a fort out back
on one end of the evergreens
broke half the boughs off
so we could climb through the branches
high up to the sky
until the tree trunk became a bending wisp

the little evergreen buds
hard as rocks, big around as marbles,
made good missiles
we lined them up on bricks in rows
and were glad the big kids were on our side

beyond the trees the fields
gave way to a dirt road
the farthest we dared was a hill
in the distance a train whistle blew

before there were circles in the wheat
rumored to be made my aliens
we made little homes by rolling around
room by room

in the spring a dad made a paper kite
out of the funny papers
we plod through the clods
the wheat plowed under

Almost 40

I turned 39 this weekend. On a Saturday. Just like the first day I appeared on this earth. I remember another Saturday birthday. I was 11. Had spent the night with a friend in the small town of Burrton, Kan., about 30 miles away from home. 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover was spinning on my friend's turntable. Of course it was a 45 record. We were too young to be able to afford an entire album. Even if someone gave you a fiver, you had to beg change off your parents for the tax.

Once we grew tired of hearing Paul Simon tell us how we could dump someone, we walked downtown, climbed in a dumpster behind the local tavern, and scavenged for empty aluminum beer cans.

Back in those days, you had to pick up a can to tell if it was aluminum or the old, unrecyclable kind. It's kind of interesting, being 11 and smelling like a brewery. I went home Saturday morning and opened a long tube that came through the mail from my sister. It was a poster of The Fonz. For those of you too young to remember, Arthur Fonzarelli was THE coolest guy on the planet. Never mind he looked several years older than the high school crowd he hung out with. Today, he might get arrested for what he did. Back then, everything was innocent.

Like being 11 and smelling like a brewery...

In the beginning

In the beginning, there were words. And the words were good...

This is a new blog about the deeper moments of life. When they're so thick, you can pick them up with a fork.