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I know without a doubt that our lives here are akin to that of a caterpillar. We move along through life..taking from it what we need, what we want sometimes irrespective of what really is needed to nourish us for our future.

At some point…different times for each of us, we spin our chysillis and for all intents and purposes we are “dead” to the world, to our families, to all others. And there we remain, undergoing our metamorphosis. And one day when that change is complete we will, we most certainly will, break forth from our cocoons…and we will spread our wings and fly…fly to places we never knew existed, fly with our loves…perhaps even with those we did not know, or with those who hated us or derided us before both we and they were changed.

We will have a new body, a new vision of love, a new purpose….and it will be something we never imagined in our wildest dreams, something with a magnificent and mysterious purpose. That…is my dream and my hope for all of mankind.

I know I sometimes must appear a bizarre sight, walking all over town with my stick in my hand and occasionally stopping and using my phone to snap off a photo. People ride by and stare, and kids sometimes snicker. I really don’t mind.

I suppose they would really think me insane if they knew of the conversations going on in my mind as I amble along. I talk to my Dad. I’ve been known to say hello to the huge oak tree which sits in the yard of the house where I lived as a child. It’s been there my entire life and shows no sign of moving.

The hawk that flew overhead today with his “scree, scree, scree” got a wave out of me.

….and the wind whistled a bright tune on the rim of my hat”

And I just had to chuckle out loud as I recalled Eli tearing down the church aisles today, racing to the bathroom oblivious to the palm Sunday special music. God probably got a laugh out of that one too.

Life is to live, and not always walk in the shadow of our impending mortality. Forget about it for a while on days like today. Too soon you will have to consider it seriously enough, because Lordy how time does fly! Seems the only time it slows down is when I take that magic walking stick in my hand….

Some days I feel like a hypocrite, without a purpose.

A rebel at a peace conference. A teacher in an empty room.

A wanna be spirit without a womb.

An idea without a purpose.

A dissatisfied customer of the happy store.

An unwanted stranger outside tomorrow’s door.

A dreamer who awakes too soon from a sweet dream.

I am finding more and more solace in the fresh air of every day, and the continued ability to be in this world, to love in this world, and to be a tiny part of this world.

My faith in a creator is being renewed within my heart.

I see with crystal clarity how I personally should believe. Not as all people believe, perhaps not how any believe. It doesn’t matter because it is how I believe.

It’s encouraging to find a spark which I thought had gone out, has not been extinguished.

Perhaps it was just hiding and biding it’s time waiting for me to rediscover it, and by gently fanning it, bring back its glow and it’s warmth.

Tick tock goes the clock…..
I have laid my watch down in my driveway several times when I have gone for a walk. It has always been there when I got back. It’s never chased me around the block. All that has ever happened to that watch has been a change in the “hands” on the inside. They move. They measure time. And they always run forward.
For almost four years now Paula and I have been babysitters for Eli and Rue. Any of you who are my friends have seen their pictures. Tiny little tots they were when they first came to us….changing magically into toddlers and budding students.
I looked over at Rue today as she was sitting in Paula’s lap taking her nap. She has always sought solace in Nana’s lap for her naps. She’s being “weaned” off of “sassy” gradually, and she can only have it at nap time. So she’s laying there with her sassy in her mouth sound asleep and I suddenly am struck by the realization that there won’t be many more naps like this one.
Both of them are going to Pre-K next year, so they won’t be here during the day. School is out in May this year, so days of Rue napping in Nana’s lap are dwindling. The days of Eli and me going over to the church parking lot and kicking around his little red rubber ball are dwindling.
Those two have fought like brother and sister, but love each other like brother and sister.
And the hands on my watch are still moving, and won’t stop. And why the heck are there tears in my eyes while I’m writing this? I think I’m getting soft in my old age.
There have been memories with these two that I will never, ever forget. Those days will be one’s it will be hard for them to remember though.
There’s been days I could scalp them, but I miss them as soon as they walk out the door. Go figure.
Ahh well, it’s not as if they are dropping off the planet. They will still be around plenty…and I walk and walk every day to try and lengthen that time, and slow down those hands on my watch. Love will get you to do things you didn’t think you would or could.
Baby Evie will be down next week for a trial run with Nana and Papa. So, a new chapter joyfully begins while one of the previous chapters begins to wind down. And we turn the page, and wait for the hands on the watch to move ahead into the future.

When you become a parent and your children are small, you think: “one day they will be grown and I will not worry so much about them getting hurt, or being sick. I won’t have to worry about the day to day things, or whether they are eating right or taking their Flintstone vitamins.” You find along the way that this philosophy is incorrect. You never quit being a parent. You never quit being a child.

I think I fought my Dad and Mom tooth and nail on this manner of thinking. Yet, up until the week my Dad died, he was still asking me how I was feeling…how was work going? Was I getting enough sleep…was the stress getting to me? “I’m feeling Ok, work is work, I’m sleeping lousy as always, and yes things are stressful” “Well,” he said, “try and take care of yourself” and then the next week, he was gone…..

I guess there is no more unique relationship than that of a parent and a child. It can go good, and it can go bad, and it can be somewhere in between most of the time. It’s like a game of tennis you don’t finish until someone is no longer there to hit the ball back over the net. You find yourself getting so used to that relationship sometimes that you take it for granted. Really, I guess most of the time. That’s something you will probably live to regret…as a child…or as a parent.

I have done fairly well since my folks died back in 2010…I have stayed conscious of the fact they were gone up until one day last week. I was thinking about one of Dad’s cousin’s wife having passed away, and was wanting to go see the cousin. “I’ll have to ask Dad how to get to his house…” I started to think….and then…I found that I had slipped up. “I don’t think he would answer me” I muttered.

But..you never know, as my wife told me. Not with that man. He might answer me still! A lot of times we have things that are moved around out of their “normal” spot, or something is running that we are just SURE we turned off. My wife will say: “Tarpy did it” “Yep,” I say “playing another practical joke” He loved to tease and poke at ya’, and would laugh like mad if he got you.

So…as I child or as a parent, take all the chances you have to talk. Just talk. It doesn’t have to be anything monumental or deep. Just conversation.

I remember saying to myself several times in the past year that because of all the walking I have been doing, that I’m in pretty good shape. Maybe I could even go back to work…get a full time job.

My balloon is shot down yesterday as I get out in my yard and do some digging, and leaf raking, and moving bricks and rocks around. I find my heart racing a couple of times, and had to sit down and take a couple of breaks. Mind you, there was no pain. The four new vessels my heart surgeon sewed into my chest five years ago still seem to be working well. But, the dream of doing “real work” anymore is just that…a dream. The truth is that I could probably actually DO the physical parts, but it’s the stress which I couldn’t take. Let me explain.

My jobs over the past 20 years before I was forced to retire for health reasons, have been ones where performance at the highest level was required. I was in charge of the quality of products going to demanding customers. I was constantly under pressure to make sure things were perfect. There were always tense meetings with company executives and customer reps. Looking back now, I firmly believe the thing which actually caused my heart disease was being under constant anxiety, which recent research has proven to be true. I would have therefore been better off digging ditches, and exercising my heart muscle than I was doing what I was doing.

But…that’s water under the bridge, because I did what I did…what I had to do in order to “make a living”. My advice to anyone out there working now though, is to try anyway possible, no matter what you do as a job or career, to somehow to reduce your stress.

You don’t wanna end up like me…sitting at the bottom of your steps with your heart beating out of your chest, knowing that the best you can do is to maintain the status quo. There is no miraculous way this body of mine is going to “improve”. Only working diligently every day, walking and meditating is gonna keep me living. That, and perhaps the increasing skills of the medical world. The funny thing is, that without the previous anxiety I had, I feel pretty good about my chances of staying around for a good bit longer. I want all you younger people out there to know about the dangers of anxiety though.

Do whatever you can to reduce it…you will live longer and healthier.

A Tribute to Life.

Walking into the warm westward blowing wind this afternoon early, with the sun breaking through the thick gray clouds, I have never felt more alive. Yet I thought if I could let my soul slip away, in that one tiny silver of a sublime moment, I might do it.

But I still have much to do, and many to hold. I still can give of myself without regret, so I will wait for that one day in the future when the same wind blows and the sun shines bright and I am truly ready to go.

This is March 2017. In March 2010, my Daddy was still alive, and although in an assisted living care home, was still ok. By ok, I mean that he was still communicating pretty well even though he had Lewy Body’s dementia…or rather, he was dying from it…had been dying from it for several years.

I was talking to him about possibly getting out once the weather warmed up. It had been cold that winter. “I’d like to go fishing, at Billy Locklear’s lake”. He said.

“Maybe we can manage that, about May,” I said. “It’ll be warmer then”.

Of course, work got harder. The second shift an hours drive away from home, kept me hopping. Leave at 2pm to get there by three, and get home after midnight. Recover on the weekends. Of course, that’s just an excuse. There was one weekend in April that was splendid. I visited Mom and Dad, but we didn’t think about going fishing. We talked about other things. Time got away.

Daddy died from complications of that Lewy body dementia on May 22nd. So, we never got to go fishing that one last time. It bothers me still every time I think about it. It was a pretty simple request, but one that I should have made a better effort to do.

So, about four years later, after I had gotten over my heart attack and surgery, I bought a fishing license and a rod and reel, and went down to the Chattooga river and caught a couple of big bream. I didn’t keep them, but just caught them and let them go. As I released the last one, I said: “this one is for you Dad”.

I cut the fishing hook off the line, and drove to the cemetery and laid it on the top of Dad’s tombstone. I hope that sufficed. That’s the last time I went fishing.

There’s a photo of that fish somewhere back on my timeline. You might have seen it. I was holding it up still on the hook. If I find it…I’ll add it to this post. It was a fine little fish….

I’ve known some honorable people in my life, but not as many as one might think.

Many people have some honor, but not many have great honor.

When an honorable person speaks, they speak the truth, even when what they say is not popular. They do this while trying to be kind.

An honorable person is also loyal, even when they are tempted by money or other types of personal rewards, to be disloyal. Honor trumps dishonesty.

An honorable person has empathy for others, even if they are an opponent, or someone with whom they have little in common. No one with true honor thinks that anyone is beneath them because of any physical, cultural, financial, or religious differences.

A person with honor will give of themselves or their resources with no expectations of receiving anything in return. Many times they give anonymously.

An honorable person will stand up for what they think is right, but will listen openly to the opinions of others, and may be convinced to change their mind, if enough good evidence is presented. Being honorable does not mean being intractable.

A truly honorable person will be able to forgive others for almost anything, while seeking forgiveness when they have wronged others. Being strong does not preclude forgiveness or contrition.

It has been said that the “knights of old” were the most honorable of men.

While there are still “knights” of honor in our day and age, they are few and far between, and getting even more rare with every passing day.