Hawks and Crows

In my ancestry, in my blood, there are traces of many people.  Thousands of people.

I have a heavy dollop of English, Scottish and Irish, followed closely by Western and Northern European (Viking)  I didn’t know that until I did the Ancestry DNA test, but after having it done….now I know!

I have an affinity for finding things in nature which have been left behind. Many are times that I walked the trails behind my Grandparent’s home in Blue Ridge and found arrowheads and other implements. I still have on particular arrowhead which I still keep in my little keepsake chest which is a white quartz point with blue and red veins running through it. I find sticks of different shapes that look like things to me. I am always on the lookout for different plants and animals.

I have always felt a special affinity for the birds. Anybody who has followed me on Facebook for any amount of time at all has seen bird photos.

Hawks seem to always be sitting on trees and power lines watching as I drive down the road, or walk by the rivers.

Lately I have been attracting Crows. Lots of them. They follow me around like they have something to tell me. Cawing and talking to me. I think they are telling me that I am doing the right thing. “Stay in shape” “Keep on keeping on” “Live long and prosper” Oh wait…that’s Spock, never mind.

A lot of people don’t consider crows good luck. They actually represent death in some cultures, I guess probably because of their dietary habits. (They eat dead stuff…for Gosh sakes) The Hindus believe crows are the link between the worlds of the living and the dead, carrying messages.

The Scottish have a saying about “going away up the Crow road” denoting death.

But…my spirit tells me differently. Something inside says they are special. I’ll go along with the Native American belief about the crows.

Contrary to popular belief, crows do not symbolize death in Native American culture. Instead, they are seen as omens of good luck, with their intelligence being their defining characteristic. This is why they are often portrayed as tricksters in Native American folklore. Omens of good luck.

I choose to believe in the good luck. I choose to believe in being a trickster.

I’ll keep the crows as walking companions as long as they want to come along…..

Did I do the Right Thing

With this damned pandemic hitting in mid March, my wife and I went into isolation in our basement apartment. It was on a doctor’s recommendation because of the new novel Coronavirus disease which has been sweeping the globe causing many deaths.

On that day in March, now closing in on two months, I stopped hugging and kissing my children, and started staying 6 feet or more away from them, and them from me. Not quite two months yet, but it has forever changed my life and my character.

I have always lovingly touched, kissed and hugged my children and their children. It’s who I am. Not just as a turn of a phrase either. It is literally, physically and emotionally, mentally and spiritually Larry Bowers. That aspect of me IS me. To lose it for any amount of time is almost worse than death. Damn the Coronavirus and whoever, whatever, or wherever it came from. To have taken almost two full months of love from many of us “older” people is an affront to our being. And, it is not even over yet. Who knows when that will be?

The numbers of dead in this country don’t paint a hopeful outlook. Over seventy thousand dead…..and still going. In only two months….seventy thousand. Oh God. Those families, I’m so very sad, so sorry. I cry every night. I pray again for the first time in years.

I realize what the virologists and specialists say is true. I’ve read the descriptions of what the disease does, and I’ve seen the film clips. I know it’s for our own good. We’ll get through this…they say. When this is behind us ….they say. When it’s safe to physically able to show our love to our loved ones again….what will we do?

I see notes and posts on social media from people who are my age, or nearly so…who say they have continued to be with their families and have continued to be a loving family unit, and they aren’t dead yet. It makes me wonder: did I do the right thing? Have I given up two months, which has changed me both physically and mentally, for nothing? When and if I can hold my babies again, will I go into it without a single thought about it…or will I be timid?

The torturers from hell couldn’t have devised a more sneaky, malodorous painful method of punishment than this for a person like me.