Writing for Sanity's Sake

As I was carrying around the big plastic “totes” in which we pack stuff to sell, I got to wondering how many years I have been doing this “going to shows…yard sales, etc.”

I looked back at some old pictures last night and found one from 1986 where I was sitting in my chair over at the old house on 9th street, and there were totes of baseball cards sitting behind me in the background. So, that would be 31 years. That’s about half a lifetime. And to think, I was going to “Trade day” and flea markets and going to card shows as a “customer” even before that date. I can remember collecting coins and stamps and baseball cards even as a kid, as far back as when I was ten years old. I think it’s just something inside me that compels me to be that way. It’s who I am.

I remember when Trade day started in Chattooga county, and it was down at the Triangle shopping center out in the “grassy area” Back then, it was mostly trading pocket knives, and some other simple stuff. Nowadays, it’s anything goes.

I think a lot of times that I wish I could snap my fingers and make all of the “junk” go away, but if I did I’d probably just go out and start collecting some more. Ah well.

In any case……Mentone Colorfest is coming up in October, and I’ll be there beside the Mentone Inn that weekend selling “stuff” I hope to see some family and some old friends come by that weekend…….

I developed a strange habit as a VERY young child. I learned to read quite young. At 6 my Dad would buy me one comic book a week. Of course I would read it immediately, then…there was nothing new to read. So, I read the same book again, and again. After many weeks I had many books to re-read. First the excitement of the new, then the comfort of the familiar. I developed favorites which would be read more often..friends so to speak. So, me and my boxes of comics, a familiar routine. Thus it continued all through my school years. I would read a book I liked, and in my mind I would “schedule” it to be read again at some future point. I was a voracious reader, tearing through books at a lighting pace. Many of them strange, books that rarely ever got checked out of the school library: Mika Waltari’ s “The Egyptian” read many times over. Michener’ s “Hawaii” And the classics too: “The Count of Monte Cristo” a dozen times. “Moby Dick” 4 times at least. I liked long books, and experienced a let down..a sad feeling when I finished them. “But I always can read them again” I thought. I have the time to revisit my friends. Now, as I lay here pecking away I realize that I have made too many friends to be able to revisit them all again. Especially with the development of this blasted Social Media, which is addictive and sucks away huge portions of my time. However, I have some time now before I sleep to go back and visit. No more posts or games of hearts for me tonight…I think I will go visit an old friend of mine….

What matters?? Your family matters.

I often wonder how I managed to end up in the middle of so many wonderful people. Wife and daughter. Sons. Grandchildren. Brother. Niece. Nephew. All of them. Good people. Those they have chosen to love and share their lives with. Good people.

Lucky. Good Karma. Blessed if you want to say it. Doesn’t matter the adjective. The tag is immaterial.

I have wonderful memories with all of these, and more wonderful memories from those who are gone which bubble up when my tired memory is on slow simmer like it is today. Mom and Daddy. Grandparents.

On autopilot. With tired muscles and foggy brain. But with good memories.

So if you wonder what life is all about, you don’t have to climb Everest, or seek out a Yogi, or read Socrates and Marcus Aurelius or even the good book.

Just look around you. Close by. Your life is happening close by. It’s doesn’t have to be sought out like a mystery. Just has to be recognized and worked on. Cherished.

Reach out. Put down your phones. Touch. Talk. Feel. Live.

Do it.

You have only the day, today.

Regret is such an empty, hollow and dark tunnel. You don’t have to go there.

I went up and got my stuff this morning from where I had set up to sale some junk and stuff at the “World’s Longest Yard Sale” I was there three days, and thanks to a nice shade tree and help from my son I persevered through the sale. As I drove out and back every day, the roadsides were loaded with vendors and during the day filled up with buyers looking for that “sensational bargain” or a finding an expensive collectible for a “little of nothing” I had to stop for a moment and thing about it, an then sighed to myself and wondered “what point in the future will the government stop us from doing this?” Since the invention and implementation of the “computer” age and especially since the epochal disaster of “911”, I have seen our freedoms eroded, taken from us in plain sight, stolen from us in the dead of night, baffling us with political BS, misdirecting and misleading us about insignificant things while slicing thin, thin slices of our freedom from the rights our forefathers gave us. It wasn’t that many years ago when you didn’t have to worry that much about the government “getting in your personal business” You didn’t have to have a signed piece of paper, or a license to do every dang thing under the sun!

Now they use spy drones in Minnesota to take pictures of a baby fawn at an animal shelter before sending a dozen armed officers in the kill it. (true story…Google it and see..go Scott Walker..) Anytime you get “online” and do anything…what you do is subject to inspection by somebody, somewhere “up there” Officers of the law and Homeland Security Officers are being “desensitized” by practicing to shoot “zombies” so that when the time may come they won’t think anything about shooting real people. (yep, that’s true too…) Our way of life…our current way of life in America…is going to change drastically at some time in the future. I don’t know when…I don’t know how…maybe against all odds it will NOT happen…but until then I going to continue to enjoy the “world’s longest yard sale” and all the OTHER more important freedoms our country stands for, and continue to try and do everything I can to keep those freedoms.

Porcupine porcelain,

Portable pork,

Red regression,

Before New York

Penniless peasants

Romaine lettuce,

What remains

Is what upset us.

Warmongers, Whoremongers,

Who shut the door mongers

Lower and lower,

Descending Delights.

Check it out, Checking in.

Let me know when the end

Begins.

Our brains are extremely complex organisms, which are still largely unexplored in many areas. One area that intrigues me is the subconscious or unconscious thought process which takes place when we sleep. I guess most people call it “dreaming” There are dreams, and then there are DREAMS. I think they take many different forms and possibilities.

I surely wish I could remember everything I had ever dreamed. Sort of like having a little “hard drive” built in to my brain where I could push the “save” button every time I start to go to sleep. I also wish that I could dream some of the things I WANT to dream about. I wish we could dictate to our brains the “script” of what we want to start out with in our dreams, and let them go forward from there. One thing I really wish I could dream about is running.

I have been exercising quite a lot lately. I started about 5 weeks ago and I have worked my way up to 45 minutes on the treadmill at 3.1 mph and an elevation of 1.0 I know that’s not much for most people, but for someone who’s had two heart attacks, 4 bypasses and one stent….it ain’t bad. I still have to be careful and not let my heart rate get above a certain point, so there is one treadmill that I always use which has a really good heart monitor. So, I’m walking pretty quickly but not running.

I would just love to be able to run across the country, sort of like Forrest Gump did. Running on and on and seeing things that I have never seen before. Taking the time to appreciate things which I have never appreciated before. Chances are slim of me ever running again in real life. Not for very long anyway.

I have started sleeping better since I have been exercising, but I used to lay awake for hours previously.

My wife and I always listen to music at night, and a few weeks ago as I was trying very hard to sleep, I began to actually see the musical notes in my mind. I was listening to Enya I think, and on all of the notes I saw silver and gold patterns in my head. The chords were like sunbursts and moon glow. The voice of the singers, which was angelic in nature, flowed through my mind like a deep blue river, rushing towards the ocean. No, I was NOT on anything! This was dreaming, and it was the strangest and most wonderful dreaming I can remember in quite a long, long time. I wasn’t deep asleep; I was just sort of in a land somewhere far enough away from reality for things to be ecstatically good. I am not sure that I will ever get a repeat of the “unreal” concert. I didn’t want to “wake up” I finally snapped out of that vision…even though I could have stayed in it for a long, long time.

On a very rare occasion, I dream of times past and of people who are now gone from this life. You would think this might be a more common type of dream. But, for me at least, it is very uncommon. I think maybe you have more and more of the dreams like this as you get older, because more of the people you have loved and known in your life start to leave. I dream of my Grandmother occasionally, most of the time in the kitchen cooking! I can still smell the biscuits cooking, and in the back of my mind wish I had gotten her to teach me how to make them! My mind yearns for a trip back. For just one more day, as Mitch Albom has so sweetly expressed in one of his books. One more day to say things that should have said, but which I always thought I would have time to say.

I used to help my Grandma sometimes and it was during this period of interaction that I learned a great deal about here philosophy of life. A lot of hard work mainly, but a lot of love for life too. When she had here 100th birthday, I asked her if she had it to go over again what one thing would she do or not do. She told me simply “Worry less, because worry never did change nothing!” It still doesn’t Grandma, it still doesn’t! Since Grandma died…Dad and Mom have gone on also, and occasionally I still see them in my dreams.

It’s just a shame that we can’t step into these kinds of dreams anytime we want to, and visit with our loved ones who are no longer with us. It’s also a shame that we don’t realize that some of the loved ones who are still with us now, may soon be a memory. We should tell THEM the things we need to, before it’s too late, and we can only visit them every once in a while in our dreams.

I really haven’t had any BAD dreams recently. Nothing which I would call a nightmare, or anything even resembling a bad dream. My granddaughter who is now a High School Junior, used to have them. Occasionally when she was little and would spend the night, my wife and I would wake up with her standing next to the bed: “I had a bad dreams…” she would say sleepily as she climbed into the solace and comfort of our bed. “It will be OK” I mumbled. And, I knew it would. Most of the dreams we have, we never remember, and I was pretty sure she would not remember her bad dreams by the time she woke up in the morning.

Last night I was awake until 1 am in the morning, and I was wishing so badly I could sleep. I sneakily turned my Kindle fire onto Netflix and pulled up “Forrest Gump” and fast forwarded to the point where he was running out and back across America. By the time he said “Just like that, my running days were over…” I nodded off slowly and slept dreamlessly through the night.

IT’S ALL in your MIND…..(or…What’s on your mind, as this blank space always asks when I come to it.)

What is the first thing that you can remember? That’s my question for now. What’s your first memory? Our mind is a funny thing and they say we only use about 10% of what we have. But just humor me and try and frame a mental picture of your first memory. If you can do it that will eventually lead me to my other question.

See, the reason it interests me is that I often wonder if everyone else’s brain functions about the same as mine. Most of my childhood memories are rather fuzzy around the edges. Do you know what I mean? It’s sort of like trying to look at something right after you have just woke up, and you still have a ton of “sleep” in your eyes. Either that, or maybe it’s like trying to remember a dream which you had the night before. The dream is really clear when you first wake up, but if you EVER want to remember it, you should take the advice of dream specialists and write it down right then. If not, it’s going to be fuzzy in the morning. Fuzzy around the edges, just like those really early childhood memories. Sometimes I wonder if some of my “memories’ are not really dreams. Is that possible? I think it might be. As we go through life, and we live through so many different things, it may just be that some of our more vivid dreams get mixed up in our brain with reality. That would be a hoot wouldn’t it? I really think this is a good exercise though, because the more I have consciously thought about the past, the more memories starting bubbling to the surface like bubbles on a pound full of snapping turtles. The more I try and separate reality from fantasy, the more sure I am that it’s not always possible to do so.

Well for starters, the very first thing I remember is having to go potty really, really bad. We lived in a house back in 1953, when I was three years old that was originally a duplex that had been turned into a regular house. I remember that it confused me, because both sides of the house seemed to be the same, except the living room furniture was in one side and the bedroom furniture in the other. I remember thinking that the rooms were the same and that when I blinked my eyes, or went to sleep (especially if I got carried from one side to the other during that time) that the furniture was rearranging itself! Strange, right? But, back to pottying. I had to go really, really bad, and nobody was around to “direct” me to the correct place, so down went the pants and…..well..you can guess the rest. The part I remember the most, was getting my rear end tanned by my Pop! I never, ever did that again!

I also remember having a pair of Easter bunnies that same year. Dad brought them home in a box, and we took them out back to eat grass and they got away from us and ran up under the car. It took Daddy forever to catch them, and I didn’t know what some of the words he was using meant, but I used one of them later on when I rode my tricycle down the front steps. My Dad was secretly tickled I said it to the Dr. who was sewing up my head, but he still blamed it on my Mom. I can’t remember what happened to those damn rabbits though. I think Dad probably got tired of them making a mess and got rid of them one night while the furniture was changing itself around.

Another vivid thing during that same year I believe was during the summer we would catch “lightning bugs” (fireflies to a lot of you) We would put them in a jar and I would take them to a dark place and try to use them like a flashlight! Usually, we would let them go before going in for the night, but once we forgot and I came out the next morning, and couldn’t figure out why the bugs wouldn’t light up. I didn’t realize that after being in a closed jar with no hole all night long, they were NEVER going to light up again! My Dad told me that they were not sleeping, that they were dead forever. That was my first realization that things sometimes really cease to live.

I know that I lived the first two years of my life at my Grandparent’s house. My Dad didn’t get out of the Navy until 1952, so my Mom and I stayed with them. I have seen pictures of myself at that age, but try as I might, try so very hard, I cannot bring up any memories of any of those times before 1953 when we moved back to Trion, where I still live today. I wish I could remember those times. What would really be neat would be to be able to remember anything and everything that ever happened to you. To just be able to sit down and say, “Now I am going to remember December of 1956 when I was six years old, and what happened at Christmas that year!” That would be a miracle wouldst it? Scientists say that everything is stored right up there in that little 3 pounds of gray jelly we call our brain. That wonderful, misunderstood and not fully understood organ that runs us. I have tried everything from meditation, to “commanding” my brain to remember, to closing my eyes and straining and squinting but I still can’t make it happen! Are all of you folks like that, or is it just me!!! I would like to know, so I can claim a deficiency if I am the only one.

Memory and the brain. They really are a strange thing. I remember one time when my Grandfather was in his last year of life. He didn’t know anybody, or anything much. He was afflicted with some type of memory loss which was permanent and very severe…as a result of a stroke perhaps, or of hardening of the arteries. When we went to visit him, he would just sit around and kind of “babble” like a tape recorder randomly playing back snippets of conversation recorded over years and years of time. Nothing made much sense. He always seemed like he was glad to see us, and sad to see us go…but…things were just not perking right. My Grandma was sitting there one day and talking about one of their relatives, and Grandpa spoke up all of the sudden and said: “Cleve’s dead” (I think it was Cleve….it might have been Pierce…my memories not so good….) My Grandma answered him back telling him how crazy he was, because she had just talked to Uncle Cleve that morning. That afternoon when we took Grandma back home, she found out that Cleve had died right around the time we were all at the Nursing home. So, the brain’s funny isn’t it. I would have bet you a million dollars that Grandpa couldn’t count to ten anymore, but somehow, someway he knew his old hunting buddy had died.

Maybe not being able to recall everything that has ever happened to us is a blessing. We might NOT be able to be selective and just remember the good things. We might also HAVE to remember the bad things too. There are a LOT of those things that I would rather keep shoved back into the tiny recesses and crevasses of my mind. Yes, my mind. When all is said and done, our mind IS what we are isn’t it? Even when Grandpa’s was taken mostly away, he was given a gift of sorts to replace what had been taken from him. I guess our spirit sort of resides there. I suppose the part of us which is our personality and which makes us us resides there. It’s about the only part of us they can’t replace with a transplant still! Shoot, you can have a ticker transplant and go right on being yourself, but a diving accident can turn you into something you would rather not think about! It makes you wonder about all those people who do have that kind of damage. Have their souls, what made them who they were, already fled the premises and just left the empty shell behind? I suppose there are many who doubt there is a soul…but I still believe in it. I still believe that “spark” of creation is still there.

Well, there’s the challenge for those of you who want to think about it. Can you remember everything? What was your first memory? Would you like to be able to have total recall? When our old brain is gone, like Grandpa’s was, are we still us? I think so….what do you think? Most of all I would like to know…how are your memories…are they as clear as a wonderfully taken photograph, or as gray around the edges as an out of focus picture?

Oh by the way. Does anybody remember a Science Fiction thriller from the 50’s named “Donavan’s Brain?” It was about this guy whose brain was taken out of him while he was still alive, and put into this thing that looked all the world like a ten gallon fish aquarium! They had all kind of wires hooked up to it, and had it connected to a computer looking thing. Ol’ Donovan’s Brain could still “communicate” and eventually took over some folks, if I remember right, making ‘em do things they wouldn’t ordinarily do. It was a hoot! I hope to heck they NEVER learn to do that. I personally hope they never learn to “store” our minds on computers either. Never able to “download” the electrical impulses from our brains onto some kind of infernal storage unit, to be put into a program so we can still communicate with the living. I don’t wanna’ be a machine.

I know for sure a lot of really rich people are planning on something happening. Walt Disney is on “ice” as is Ted Williams and quite a few other folks with the dollars who thing there’s a chance for a human resurrection one of these days.

When it’s time for me to go, I want to go. I wonder, what will my LAST thought will be? Whatever it is, I won’t be able to share it with any of you guys that are left behind, so I guess I better concentrate on sharing what I want to now, while I still can!! Love and Peace to you all.

Going down this winding road since October 1950, I’ve seen many things and done plenty more.

My opinions on life have stayed pretty much the same all along, at least in my deep down, secret heart of hearts.

I think on some days perhaps I should evolve, and try a different philosophy, but then after some additional thought I say the hell with that. I am who and what I am, and that’s pretty much it.

Where I used to be a gripey young man, now I’m a gripey old man.

Where I used to be a collector, now I’m a junker ( some say I’ve reached hoarder status, but I don’t think I’m there yet).

Where I used to barely scrape by, now I scrape lower.

Where I used to respect a lot of people, now I respect fewer. (A lot of good ones have died).

Where I used to be religious, I am now spiritually independent.

Things I used to be super afraid of, don’t scare me much anymore.

Where I used to love music, I now need it to survive.

Where I used to be insecure, I still am…..

I could go on, but I won’t. This self examination is over for now.

I think it’s worthwhile for everyone to look at themselves and be honest with themselves about their status as a human being. As you can see, I’m certainly no saint. Not even close to a Nobel peace prize. But, I do still love.

I love my family, my friends, those who used to call me friend but now don’t. I love life, nature, fresh air, good food, little kids, play dough, “The Secret Life of Pets” baking with my wife, going to the beach, ice cream….and so much more.

In spite of my failings and foibles, I love this life.

I hope all of you do too.

by Larry Bowers.

A wise man was charged with the duty of selecting a new chief for his tribe. He had the two most qualified men follow him to a beautiful pristine pond which was fed by pure mountain streams.

He called the first man over to the pond, and bade the other wait while they spoke.

“Look into the water, and tell me what you see” he asked the first man.

This man, who was the war leader of the tribe gazed intently into the pond. The sun had not been long risen over the horizon as he looked.

“I see a strong and wise leader” he said. “I see a man who has his weapons, and is prepared to defend his people or lead them to war against their enemies” he continued. “I see a man who knows no fear and can persuade others to follow him” he finished and turned back to the wise man.

“Thank you” said the wise man. “Tell the other man to come”

The second man came and the wise man asked him to look into the water. “What do you see?” He asked

The second man, who was a hunter and farmer, looked deep into the water.

“I see wonderful clear water to drink and use for bathing, and to water our plants” he said.

“I see the fish and the turtles which we catch to eat, and from which we make our needles from the fish bones, and our utensils from the turtles shell. I see the slope on the opposite shore where the buffalo and antelope drink, and the beautiful flowers growing on the shore where our people come to eat and talk. I see the fowl of the air, whose eggs are a delicacy to us. I see the rocks which the stream has exposed from which we make our tools” he finished and turned back towards the wise man.

“Take the other, and go back to the village” he said.

That night with all the tribe gathered around the ceremonial fire the wise elder, the wise shaman, signalled the drums to stop.

He called the second man over from his place at the circle and spoke: “This is your new leader” he said. “This man will care for all of the tribe, and with help will be able to provide for you, and you will prosper” The wise man placed the ceremonial eagle feather on his head. “Now go and celebrate” he commanded.

The first man was angry and spoke loudly to the elder after the group had left: “I am the strongest warrior, and greatest leader in battle and would have led our tribe to glory” he fumed. “Why did you not choose me…my Father?”

“My son,” he said sadly. “What you say may be true, but all you saw when you looked into the water was your own reflection….”

And so it was the tribe got a new and wise chief that night.

When I was a little kid, I consciously decided I would not let my life be controlled by my impulses. I was a big kid, big for my age, and at first I wanted to “be tough” and beat people up.

I got mad at a neighbor kid one day, and busted him in the nose. The amount of blood he shed scared me. My impulse had been to lash out in anger and that is what I did. Not long afterwards I got in a fight with a boy who spit on me. I wrestled him to the ground and hit him repeatedly in the head. I was only 8 or 9 years old.

As I lay on the ground one late summer day and watched the white clouds floating overhead, I decided that I did not need to beat up people in order to live. I decided that there was a malevolent spirit inside me which took over my actions when I acted on impulse without considering the consequences. I thought I might actually really hurt someone badly at some point. I decided I would not physically attack anyone anymore. That’s been 55 years, and I never have. I have only ever just defended myself if absolutely necessary. I did everything in my power to avoid conflict. I let myself be called coward sometimes. Yet, I am still here.

I know of several who took the path of giving into their impulses who are either in jail or dead. I know a lot of guys who fought at the drop of a hat, but they never benefited from it. I know people who were bullies that were the most hated and despised people.

I tell you this so you will know that it is possible to be peaceable, and to be at peace if you wish it to be so. There are very few people for who this is not true. There is only a very small percentage of people who cannot control their actions, due to disease and medical problems.

“I think, therefore I am” said Descartes.

Thinking comes first. After that, you will be able to do things you never thought possible to prove to the world who you really are. You don’t have bloody a person’s nose for them to know you exist. Just be thoughtful, and you will find balance and a solution.