Monday, May 7, 2012

Those Rotten Kids and the Beets



Now we all know that kids can be rotten....

Close your eyes and listen to the whispers of the midnight wind softly blowing on a warm summer night.  So gently it blows as A small twinkle of moonlight peers in playing shadow puppets as the curtains dance slowly to and fro.

Squinting your eyes, you try to focus on the shadows dancing,  portraying unrecognizable forms, your mind slowly falling prey to the sleep that insists on its rights to your thoughts. The low sounds of the night critters fading into the pillow.

The sounds of gentle laughter sneaking its way into your head. Becoming more than a laugh, the hard infectious snickers drowning out the slow repeated thunking sounds against the door. Wide awake you try to distinguish if the thunking sounds are that of feet pattering against the sidewalk.  Your body crazy without sleep for the third night in a row you jump out of bed to try and catch a glimpse of where the shadows go, but again its to late.....

Tomorrow nite you tell yourself, Tomorrow I will not fall prey to the sleep that calls out to me I will catch them. Tomorrow night


Two doors down the rotten kids giggle and the snickering continues.The last mix was good, but not good enough. It did the job but it needs something, something magical. As the new ingredient gets mixed in, the magic starts to happen. The snickers become painful. The plan had to be executed precisely, one wrong move would end it all. The bowl, red with the color of blood had fluid flowing over the edge as the pitter patter of feet pounded its way up the sidewalk. Again, thunk, thunk thunk as the magical mixture was flung against the door... heart beating in perfect rhythm of the pattering of the feet running away... Running, Running... I cant get caught..

The shouting, the horrible screams! And suddenly were safe inside the shadows of the night...

Running frantically until finally meeting up and finding safety in numbers. Finally finding that I too will soon fall prey to the sleep that calls me....



This story is about my childhood... Children left unattended will be mischievous... I laugh every time I remember this story.. When pranks were fairly harmless and spankings were given out freely (If you got caught)

Our nightly outings were mostly unplanned adventures. No one was safe. We would peck on windows, ring doorbells, Spy on the neighbors and play phone pranks. But one of my favorite tales is the one summer that we pranked the "Mean" neighbor" over and over and over again...

This particular story was about us mixing up a fine "Magical" mixture that turned his pretty White door into a  Beet stained mess... And oh yes,  he was "MAD" but we found humor in watching the Mean ol Drunk trying to chase us down the road... Sometimes he chased us on foot, and sometimes he used his car. We almost got caught once, but we could jump fences and he couldn't. Not so fun for us when we realized that there was a dog in the fence, but hey that's another story.. Well stay tuned because theres more reminiscing to come......



















Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Little Girl

The faintest of sounds mixing in with the wind, I can see something swirling up ahead of me...I'm not sure if its the sunshine, the wind or the dust but I squinch up my eyes as I try to focus, but I cant wait to see what lies ahead.  Only the sound. It holds my attention for a few minutes. I wonder why the bustling of the wind is carrying it away from me.. I want it, I want it to come back to me. It belongs to me. It has me mezmerized.

Suddenly I am afraid. My heart pounds as the unfamiliar sound approaches me again in the wind. Not closer, just clearer... The wind has brought it back and I am drawn towards it. I cant go to it, I just cant. The shackels of childhood hold me to the ground.

The sound reminds me of minutes before. With the swirling of the dust just starting to settle down over the road from the carriage. I have never saw anything like this. The carriage, it moved so slowly.. The ones that followed moving so slowly, so slow.......Slow enough that I got get a glimpse of the faces hidden behind the dusty covers. Tears flowing so slowly.. I gaze into the eyes of the faces hidden behind the dusty covers. Time nearly stands still. My heart pounds.. I am afraid of the tears.

The Sound is back, filling the air with saddness. It makes the mountains mourn. Again my heart races. I face the mountain and I close my eyes. Salty liquid running over my lips making me want to be there, there with the sound. There with the carriage, there with the other tears.

I remember this time in my childhood. A three year old little girl. A poor family child with nothing except the ragged clothes on my back, the tears in my eyes and the hurt in my heart. Standing in the front yard on a little hill in Kentucky. Not understanding that this was my first taste of death I am taking back to this time every time I hear that sound. Everytime I see a fallen soldier. You see, in my little eyes I had just witnessed a hearse carrying a soldier to his final resting place in the mountain and that wonderful inticing music  was a song called "Going Home" a bagpipe tribute to a fallen soldier.

Come go with me back to that day, Close your eyes and hear with your ears what a little girl heard that day with her heart.

(Click the link below)(You may have to copy and paste the link below)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MR87LsmXzBs