April 29, 2013 By Leave a Comment

re: Just sitting there…

I was just sitting there, not really thinking, without a care. Oh, I had the sense of I , and me, because, well, I carry them most everywhere.

I wonder what it would be like to have been completely shaped by me? Without a culture, society, or even family. I wonder if I would even know that I, was I, or even me. The things you think when you are just sitting there.

I like the sound of laughter, I can hear it in my ear. I can also feel it in my soul, and sometimes, even in my heart. I don’t know if it sounds good because it feels good, or feels good, because it sound good. I like laughter, it comes in more dresses than a High School Prom.  I think of laughter when I am just sitting there.

I know a lot of people, some think they know me, and I am not sure that even I do. Yet, I am more certain that I know who they are- and how can that be true. Sit there for a while, just sit there, and you may wonder too.

Wonder is another thing I do when I am sitting there. Both kinds of wonder. First the Wonder, of a sky filled with stars, galaxies, and tiny points of light, so far back in time, that even my weak old eyes can see for at least a billion years, maybe more.

The second kind of wonder, is: who lives out there? What does it all mean” Is there a reason? I mean I wonder if my life meant anything except to the folks I knew. I wonder what it would be like to live on another planet. What would my body look like? Would I even have one? Would I be sitting some where – up there- just sitting there?

I wonder how we know what love is. I mean if you are just sitting there, you know if someone loves you, usually. You even know the different kinds of love that surround you, even when you are alone, just sitting there. Love is even cooler than laughter, because Love can make you act. It can make you do. It can make you alive. Laughter , especially if you are just sitting there, lets happiness in.

So, if you are just sitting there, how much of you is present? Or did you go for a quick trip to your past? Or maybe, you are in your future? Pretty nifty trick your mind can do, move through time, while just sitting there. Physicist can’t figure it out, and we do it standing still. Maybe you even lived your life over, or made it different in your memory. Maybe some folks were left out, and others left in, as you chose to remake what made you – you. All, while you were just sitting there.

Me, too. I think I will just sit here a while longer. Or, maybe I will shift a bit, and just sit over there. Ahhh…..

April 28, 2013 By Leave a Comment

RE: Flash Fiction: “My name is Bob.”

I know. I know. Everyone calls me : “God.” Oh, sure, they have different names for me, ever since that tower thing, what a Nimrod he was. I think I may have made a mistake by letting everyone babble on. But, then again, I can’t make mistakes, so somewhere down the line, it has to turn out to be  good thing. Anyways, I don’t want to be called “God” anymore.  You know: “Guilt by association.”  I don’t want to be associated with people who testify they believe in me, and then go out and kill folks, or hate people over an interpretation of “my words” (which they aren’t, by the way. A bunch of Greeks, Latins, and then seven guys in Scotland- of all places- decided what I said, or what I meant).

So, my new name is: “Bob.” Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? People aren’t afraid of Bob. Bob, well, Bob, is a guy- just like you – someone you could talk to, and listen to, and even disagree with, but not strongly, because, well , you like Bob, and it would be just mean to be nasty towards him. You sure can’t use Bob as any kind of curse: “Bob, dammit.” See? No weight behind it. “Oh, Sweet Bob.” See? It just kind of makes  ”Bob”, more endearing!

“Bob will smite you!” Really? Bob? Come on. “And Bob so loved his people, he told them to wander in the desert for a couple of decades.” I don’t think so. Yep. Bob. That is my new moniker. Not a trace of the Old or New in it. No killing of children, or of entire lands, no virgins, or Angels, or need for constant validation. No living in sin, unless “God Forgives you.” You wouldn’t ask Bob for forgiveness- you just wouldn’t do Bob any wrong in the first place.

Bob is reasonable. It is the name of a Math teacher, or History professor, or the guy who couldn’t quite make the Varsity. It is the guy everyone knows, everyone like, and no one speaks badly of. Nor he, of them. Yep. Bob.

You can’t make heavy pronouncements, or predict dire consequences like:  ”Bob shall rain fire and brimstone down around your puny heads.” “The Wrath of Bob is at hand.” See? No fear. No damnation.

So, please, if you believe in me at all, call me: “Bob.”

 

April 21, 2013 By Leave a Comment

re: Words, by Kevin Hughes. A song? A poem? Or, just words?

Words

some whispered and carried on the wings of memory

spoken, or giggled, or quietly breathed on the neck or face of a close one

Words

hanging like a necklace of things to be savored, fingered and prayed over, like a Rosary beed chain, of things heard

Words

some biting, some chafing, some filled with anger, or remorse, shifting and settling into different parts of your heart

Words

still wet with the soft lips that spoke them at the that moment, or dried up by the withering blast of time

Words

kept close, like a four leaf clover in a hidden pocket, to be brought out again, on those moments of repose, where the past sits quietly in front of you.

Words

Promises, and vows, and hopes, and dreams all contained in words that weren’t carved in stone, but lasted lifetimes

Words

ones that can’t be brought back, once uttered into the sounds of one’s life, even the ones you wish you could

Words

Some can bend your soul to the breaking point, or fill your heart to overflow, or stop your breath for a minute, as you realize someone said: I love you.

Words

From some folks, they flit, leaving little marking of their content or path, other folks fling them with abandon, causing you to cry, or laugh, or hold a grudge

Words

even written in a soft calligraphy, can mount the power to slice through a heart, or soul, or country with equal aplomb

Words

when you hear the ones you are meant to hear, your soul becomes crystal clear, your heart beats pure, and your hand finds comfort in the speakers hand.

Words

 

April 15, 2013 By 1 Comment

Bullied and Beautiful, watch this amazing Canadian Poet put it in wordsss…

Aloha Everyone,

I sent this onto as many people as I could. I have watched it three times in a row. If you were ever bullied, sad, or just couldn’t figure out where you belonged, this young poet hits it. I cried openly, and laughed, for like a lot of folks who made it- he has a sense of humor. I think, some of you will see yourself, I did.

His questions as a child…well, they are some of the ones that are bothering me now. It is only ten minutes long…and lasts a lifetime. Kevin

April 11, 2013 By 1 Comment

Flash Fiction: One paragraph stories…except for one….

It made a clinking sound. Like two wine glasses bumping up against each other. That wasn’t a bad description either, considering that the creature, or thing, or whatever it was that he was looking at, was made of glass. Maybe crystal. It had angles and facets all over its body; like a diamond or something. It clinked again. It was moving towards him.

She liked her legs. Everyone did. They were smooth, supple and strong. She laughed as she slid the silk stockings over them. “Most people’s legs support them, ” she thought: “but mine truly support me. ” She laughed again, as she looked around the surrounding luxury. “Oh yeah, my legs support me, but not while I am standing on them.” She laughed again.

The tiny creature stared at the tiny boy. Both lost in that curious place where no movement happens, because you are simply fascinated enough by just looking. Because the tiny creature had multi faceted eyes, it saw many more of the little boys, then the little boy saw of it. Both continued to stare, until a warning chirp, and a sharp: “Timmy?” made them both return to their moms.

She watched him sleeping. He used to be so strong. He used to have thick hair. He used to have clear skin. Not any more. He still makes her laugh. He still holds her close. He still confides in her. He still listens to her- when she talks. She doesn’t really miss the hair, or the strength, or the clear skin, but if he ever goes away…she will miss Him.

He was lucky. He always was. He watched his wife play with their children, and he thought he was lucky. Heck, he thought he was lucky when she chose him to marry, all those years ago. He watched as she played with their grandchild- and he thought how lucky he was. He knew how lucky his children were to have her as their Mom. He knew how lucky his grandchild was to have her as her Grandmother. Oh, yeah, he is lucky to this day.
The gunfighter stood stock still. He gun was level, it didn’t tremble at all. The other man looked at his bloody hands. A bullet right through the thumb, on either hand. He hadn’t even had time to reach his gun. Smoke came from only one barrel, that of the gunfighter. The crowd stared, not a breath was drawn. The gunfighter said: ” I could have ended your life, instead I changed it. You will never lift a gun again. Maybe now, you can learn peace.”

It was dark, the air was heavy and thick, as only humid swamp air could be, the grass was heavy with dew as it led the few feet down towards the dock in the swamp, there sat the man. He sat on top of two small steps. A small toddler, maybe three years old, maybe four years old, opened the battered door and sat down next to the man on the step. The toddler leaned into the man’s side. The man slipped an arm around the toddler. Neither spoke. The frogs croaked, the crickets chirped. The night made its own noises. The toddler and the man, sat in comfortable silence; listening to each others hearts.
The two aliens locked horns. It was a ritual greeting. It would have frightened any human who saw it, since the locking of said horns took place more than 20 feet off of the ground. No human would have seen it as a gesture of mutual respect, and a deep seated sign of peace. That is why the aliens were meeting… how could they approach the Humans and say: “Hello, we are back. We left a few hundred million years ago, because Earth was going to be hit by an astroid. We never expected to find YOU here.”

The Devil was a busy…well, man. He hated interruptions. Especially during wartime, and dictatorships, since so much Evil is done then- and he had both going on all over Earth. For such an out of the way planet, it sure provided him with a disproportionate number of souls. Hitler was turning out to be a great secretary, and Stalin and Mao , are learning from Pol Pot about percentages. ” I can’t even count the number of CEO’s and Senators, I have working for me now.” Thought the Devil.

“What?!” he yelled at the cowering being who had opened his office door. “Sir…eh…er…Hitler is showing signs of remorse, and well, he is telling others that he was WRONG.”

The Devil stood in rage. “Oh, no, HE is not taking my best secretary after all this time.”

A flower stood alone, patiently waiting for a bee to come along. He wasn’t near the other flowers, he had been blown much farther away. He could see them, but he wasn’t near them. He liked it that way. He appreciated their beauty from afar, they did blaze with color and scent- and were, in fact, quite lovely. He rather liked that he stood apart, where someone might leave him alone, rather than pick him, yet still admire his beauty. A bee should be along shortly.

Smiles, Kevin at sea.

March 30, 2013 By Leave a Comment

Why can’t you just be you? (By the way, I use Religion as a human organization , not as a Spiritual Journey in this Blog)

To Quote one of my favorite author’s: “Your hate mail will be graded.”  Spiritual People will have no problem with the thoughts expressed in this Blog- Religious People may see themselves and stop reading.  I learned long ago, that belief systems outweigh any “facts” that might be presented.  This blog is intended to show how many systems control who we are “supposed to be”, while preaching “Free Will”, or “Free Choice.” In either case: free will, or free choice, it seems we are only free to chose what others have already chosen for us.  This Blog is just a seed of some thoughts, and trends I have noticed over my sixty plus years- and as such, is  not  a fully formed argument for my case. More of a …” I wonder.”  Read on- if you dare. LOL

Okay,
Earlier today, Kathy and I had a marvelous conversation over marriage. Why do we even get married? And how come only one person at a time? The roots go way back, to when only the Kings got the girls, and everyone else had to hope. Then they invented marriage, so that someone other than the King , Chief, what have you, could have a chance at having a woman.

Then, we kinda tied it in with religion so that your “love” became official, and permanent. Then we got jealous of folks who had many wives, and could support them, so, we made it so you could only have one. Again, Religion convinced the State to make rules to support their dogma.

So, as we talked we realized that like the nuclear family – which is by far the minority family in our country- blended families and single mother families- are way more common, and have been for decades. So the idea of marriage for life, falls into almost the Myth category if you are under fifty, the same as the Nuclear family…a hope not supported by real life.

So, that led to a couple of insights- every single Male that started a Religion, or giant Social movement – was either Single- never married: i.e….Jesus, Buddha, Ghandi, Mohammed, or they were promiscuous ( Think about that word for a second. If you have sex , just because you want to- well, it has a negative connotation) : Martin Luther King, Mandela, JFK, etc…funnily enough, the same goes for the powerful women of History- they were Either Single like Queen Elizabeth ( the first one) and had many lovers, or they were married ; Like Catherine the Great of Russia but had lots and lots of Lovers.

The Popes, are all single, and in the Earlier years, had lots of lovers. The trend seems to be for people of import: Single and Single minded, or Married and free to wander. Now that women can decide to live on their own, they do. The fact that they are having sex, because they are 30 and single, doesn’t seem to be a big deal for most folks. Unless your particular religion labels them as living in sin, or harlots, or whatever.

I am struggling with this, because there is a seed of something deep in there. I like being married.  I know, when I was younger, I would have done a lot more , and made much riskier choices – without a full time woman in my life.  I know many women who once passed raising their children, would have a different life without a man in theirs. Who said the man has to be in charge? Or either of you? As one of my Western Ranch friends said:
“Married people build: towns, communities, and bring Law- Single guys build: Legends, dreams, and the future.”

I wonder if the age of the Individual, is more than just a stage that we went through over the last four decades.Where is seemed we  were/are almost narcissistic at times. I think it is  more than a stage,  it may be the beginning of a Society, that respects all individuals, and their right to live a life of their own choosing.

I wonder if the law isn’t trending towards removing moral restrictions, or limits on individuals choices – because we may finally have found a way that individuals can actually form a society. Still have children, still have “love”, but not as many rules, and not as few choices. To each their own, as long as they aren’t forming a group under duress, or fear, or control.

So what if a three girls like the same guy, and they are comfortable with that? So what if she never wants to marry, or have children? So what if anyone, does anything, that doesn’t hurt another person? So what if three guys like the same girl, and she spends some time with each of them, as her choice? Like widows and single people do.

So, this got me to thinking, maybe there are folks like me,who are comfortable with being married, then another group that has to do serial monogamy, with a third group that just likes women! (Or Men) LOL What is jealousy other than thinking that other person is MINE? Maybe even that emotion was a genetic or societal construct, because we wanted to prove heredity. Only a “true son”, could inherit.

One of the ugliest words in the English language to me- is bastard. Because someone decided that you weren’t a full person, because of who fathered you? I hate that word. Every human being was simply born. Period. There are no illegitimate children, there are only babies. The Law, and Religion, are the only two places that exist that could even come up with that concept. That a child was born already guilty, or with some stigma not of his doing. It is just a baby.  Life is tough enough, without being labeled before you even took your first breath. All children are just that- children.

I think the internet, has made (in combination with the globalization of business) a society with many webs. No pun intended. It allows us through Social Media, to have as many, or few, connections as we would like; and as much, or as little real contact as we would like. Most of the younger people are opting to live in small groups- four or five folks sharing a place as roommates, or as single folks living alone.

Yet, they do manage to form societies. And maybe that is the future. Maybe by giving up our privacy, we have regained it. I may sound like I am babbling, I don’t mean too…but, there is a thread in here. I can feel it, just like a missing word on the tip of your tongue. I think we may be entering the future of individuality, and that is why Religions, and Governments are fighting so hard to regain control. Because if you don’t believe in them, they have no power.

Okay, I think I shall stop there…and wonder some more.

Kevin the sheep?

March 27, 2013 By Leave a Comment

Flash Fiction: Stories in a few sentences….

Spring stood in the door way, sweaty and cool at the same time: unable to decide if it should enter and stay, or step aside to let Winter have a last breath.

Love stumbled into her heart, tripping over lost loves, and old broken promises. She reached her hand out to help balance Love, until it could find its bearings.

The child was held. The child was loved. The child knew this. The child didn’t remember any of that, but the child inside- did.

In his anger, words poured out that would come back to wound him. And here, he thought, he had hurled those word to hurt her.

The Alien stood on Earth, looking at the edge of the jungle and the beginning of the sand. “What an Alien landscape!” thought the Alien. And isn’t that what anyone thinks who hasn’t been here before?

She leaned against her husband. She knew his smell. She knew his heart. She knew he loved her. So what if he was short, fat, and old? She was young in his heart, and that was what mattered.

The stone sang. “Marvelous!” Said the brook, and danced over another stone to hear its song.

“Are you coming out?” Asked the Sun.

He couldn’t make his little tricycle go any faster. The little streamers: pink, green, blue, yellow and red, fluttered in a hurry to keep up.

The young mother held her baby. It was a quiet moment, as both leaned lightly on the other. Only their breath gently brushed up against each other.

He made it. He was five years old. The bucket of sand turned upside down, was the greatest castle ever made, even though only two thirds of it withstood his tiny fist on the little pail. He leaned back and smiled. I made it.

The snail couldn’t stop. It was on a side walk. Every snail knew the dangers. The green grass was only a foot a way, but the sun was trying to find him. He didn’t know they were hands, but the snail found himself in the grass, and heard the giggling of a small child- fade.

The bird looked through the window, as it often did. It liked the smiling face looking back at it. Often, the bird brought friends to watch the humans; they are so cute.

She let her robe slip to the floor. She tested the water with her hand, and again with her foot. As she slid into the soft water, a moment before her head surrendered to the bubbles: “This is what it means to be free.” came unbidden into her thoughts.

He was big. Burly. Hard. Only his heart was kind. Only she noticed, and for that , he would kill.

He looked at the car, the way most men look at women; with a look of longing, and a determination to own it. The car, like wise women, ignored him.

“You are my sister, would you like a flower?” “Oh! Boy! It is sure pretty.” And they kept playing.

The Church squirmed. It didn’t like the crowds at Easter, the pretty clothes, and fancy hats. No. Not at all. It much preferred the lone person, hat in hand, humble, asking in words that no poet could match: “I need help.”

The smile was plastered on her face. Her three year old hands could barely hold the ice cream. Most of her face took the first lick, but the smile held.

I had something to say once, but because I didn’t do it, it wasn’t heard.

Water calls to some people: “Come. Live near me.” Mountains call to some people: “Come. Live near me.” Even the Desert calls to some people: “Come. Live near me. ” But only people call: “Come. Live with me.”

The hamster was dead. The three children, tears reaching all the way to the floor, stared at the towel where he lay. Mom and Dad, were quiet, letting the children say goodbye. It was a chance to be a Mom and a Dad – and they took it. “Goodbye,” they said: as someday they would too.

The Sun packed up its Golden Rays, and gathered some purples and pinks too. The earth squealed with delight. “The sun is in a good mood today, this ought to be grand!” Even the night, usually disappointed by the appearance of the sun, wanted to linger a little longer to see this one.

The boy’s shoe lay on the floor, half a sock hanging from his foot. His other hand held a toy, which just moments ago was a rocket, a plane, and a monster: which only the toys of four year olds can be. His sweater bunched up a bit, so you could see his tiny ribs breath. His mom closed the door, and smiled.

 

March 27, 2013 By Leave a Comment

A few words about Love…

Love is amazing. Like addition and subtraction – it can go either way.  You can never run out of love, but, you can be done with a love. Love is like math, no matter how many people are doing math: adding, subtracting, dividing, or multiplying- with pencil and paper; they will never run out of numbers. Ever.

Love is like that. No matter how many times you have loved- you can love some more. No matter how many times you lost at love, you can love again. There is no end to love, and there is never ending love. The more you love, the more love there is, and you can never run out. You can stop loving. You can even stop being loved. Yet, love still exists. Everywhere.

Don’t try and save it up, there is no need. It is completely recyclable, always. Love gets deeper and broader, and more special, as your learn to love more. So, love on. Isn’t that lovely?

March 12, 2013 By Leave a Comment

RE: Three Conversations: China, Old Age, and Disabled….

Aloha All,

I ate breakfast with a Chinese Couple, and we ended up talking for about three hours. I mentioned to them, that on a News report about the Forbes Richest People List, I heard one of the talking heads say: “….China has a new millionaire every 22 minutes.” They both laughed.

“We are BORN millionaires !”

I asked them what they meant. They told me that because of the Chinese “One Child” Policy- all your eggs are in one basket so to speak. They said that when you get married, you are the only child, marrying an only child- so you have all the assets of the four in laws, plus the grandparents, plus your assets. When you have a child, it now has the assets of the Eight great grand parents, four grandparents, the two parents, and when it has a child- it now has the assets of a whole bunch of grown working adults behind it. In just five generations, you have almost 30 incomes supporting just you!!!

They explained to me, that when they got married, they received more than 100 apartments in High Rise Buildings in Shanghai, as wedding gifts! They rent them out to people who actually work for a living. So they have equity, and a cash flow, and that is just from friends and family members. They also have stocks, and bonds, and cars, and what have you.

She said that men and women of her generation, are much like members of the Royal Family. Educated beyond belief (her and her husband had to start learning to play musical instruments at age two! They are fluent in Chinese, Russian, English, and French. They had to Master Calculus by age ten (We don’t even teach it until HS!) and they are expected to get at least a Masters Degree. So, they are spoiled in one way, beyond belief- in another, they are driven to excellence- and forced to succeed.

She said if you go by some of those big buildings, they only have 10% occupancies, because there aren’t enough workers to afford to pay rent, and most of the Units are owned by the latest child. Wow. This couple was doing four two week cruises, each in a different part of the world- so they could get a taste of each continent. No money worries, and they are enjoying it immensely.

When they took the ukelele classes, they practiced every day for four hours- force of habit. They guy who teaches it, says they are already at the level, where they are pushing him! In just two weeks. They told me that they cannot fail to learn- it would be socially unacceptable where they are from. Can you imagine the pressure to have Master an instrument in just two weeks, while on vacation? Because of peer pressure? Sheesh….
Okay, then I talked to a couple in their nineties (he is 95 , she is 91) He was at Pearl Harbor, and is in the ship documentary about it, they made him give a talk- and he put on his old Navy Hat, and talked for about an hour and half. Anyways, I was eating lunch with them, and when he left to go get something …she said this to me:

“You know Kevin, I have been married to that man for more than 70 years, and I wish he would let us die. ”

I said: “What?” ( I can be quite clever at times.)

“Kevin, I am tired. I want to rest. He needs me, that is the only reason I am still alive. He just is one of those folks, who never wants to die. I was ready years ago. If it wasn’t for him, I know I could just go peacefully in my sleep.”

He came back with his tea, and we chatted about other things. I didn’t bring up what her and I talked about. I guess at a certain time of your life, it does get (pardon the pun) old. She is living because she is needed. Lots to think about there. Because one of my Aunts, said something very similar to Kathy one time. So, one lady at 91 is ready to go, and yet another guy at 95, isn’t.

I am learning so much about aging – and the varying attitudes that go along with aging – some days, you have fire and vim and vigor, other days, well, why get out of bed? LOL Some days you can leap out, and other days, you just can’t get out of bed, not because you don’t want to, but because of a cramp, a bad back, or you just don’t have the energy. LOL

And lastly, a guy in a wheelchair came over and thanked me for making eye contact when I said : “Good Morning.” He told me that most people don’t even look at him, or his three buddies ( I think I told you about them in an earlier email, the four double amputees, who are traveling in a group). Well, that led to another conversation. And this is a part of that one:

“You know Kevin, when you become disabled, the able bodied partner gets a new role- caretaker. And man, that screws everything up, because they have to switch back and forth, between the professionalism of a nurse: cold, clinical, and routine; and the quiet soul support of a loving partner. If you aren’t careful, you stop being a couple, and become Nurse and Patient. No joy, no laughter, no quiet moments. One is demanding and has needs, the other has to meet those needs, and hide their own.

Luckily, all four of us couples figured this out after a few years. It made all of us men become more independent. We wanted Wives, not Nurses. Our Wives wanted to be Wives , not Nurses. So, we forced our selves to stop the self pity (Think about that for a second my friends). We took over control of our lives again. We made sure that physical therapy did not take place in our home, but at a gym, or rehab place. Our home is our home!

We forced the insurance companies to give us actual Nurses for our recovery periods from operations and the like- our Wives were freed from 99% of the Caretaker roles. About the only thing they have to do, that we can’t, is put the wheelchair in the trunk (boot, for you Europeans) of the car.

We started dating our Wives again, and learning how to match up what physical things we can do, with what they need. For example, we all have pools now. Because in the water, legs aren’t really necessary- and we can play with our wives. We all have hot tubs, because it is very close to a bath, and what woman doesn’t like a long luxurious bath?
We watch movies a lot, so they can cuddle on the couch, and we all play Canasta once a week, rotating between the four houses. ”

I was amazed. He told me it took them all years to figure out what was going on, and how to fix, or find an alternative to correct their relationships. Trying to put all the things he and his wife told me, in a short email, well, I can only hit the highlights. I think I will close with this statement he made.

“You know Kevin when you stop thinking about you, and start thinking about her, she gets more of what she wants, and you get more of what you need. ”

Isn’t that the truth?

Smiles, Kevin

 

February 22, 2013 By Leave a Comment

RE: Walking in the Snow. Thank you, Old Man Winter…

Old movies show the snow and cold, as an enemy to be combatted. A few, like: “It’s a Wonderful Life- show both sides of Winter: one side, bleak, dark, cold, and heartless; the other: Soft, velvety, quiet , with close knit families, sipping hot chocolate, or drinking in the Spirit of the Season. I like all the faces of Winter. I also love to walk in the snow. Why? Here is the answer, written as a letter to Winter:

Dear Old Man Winter,

Thank you for the blanket of white cotton, the sparkle of light on both water and ice- with the diamond like glitter of snow. For the cold that makes your cheeks go bright and red, matching the glow on good old Rudolph’s nose.

Thank you for the muffled world sounds. Where quiet becomes a sound of its own. Where your footsteps lay muffled or hidden- or they snap with crunching, icy, minor quakes. Where your footsteps behind you, are deep but not lasting, as they fight a losing battle to the wind…as moments go by, they disappear, as do you, into the wizard shield of blowing snow.

Thank you for the solitude granted a solo walker; a peaceful meditation piled up against the wind, as you lean into the wind which braces your soul. Thank you for the companionship granted a couple, as they brave the deep drifts, each hand a balance point, to hold the effort, the smiles, the chuckles;  for laughter comes with each footstep- until you reach a barren spot. There, you both smile, stomp your feet, glorify the depth,and  feel the chill dripping into your boots.

Often a moment is taken to kiss, as a cold nose brushes against an ice covered cheek, lips find a way to bring some fire to the ice. The embrace is always one of mutual need for warmth, for affection, for contact-  when you lean back to see the ice covered eyebrows, or the fogged up glasses – or just the incredible cuteness of a frozen happy face- a reflection of your face is seen. A face covered with cold, but warmed by love. Another kiss, soft and snowy, lingers, as you both turn to link hands and brave the snow.

Thank you for the ice castles, the snow caves, the snow angels, the wild rides on cardboard, toboggans, and sleds. The graceful speed of metal edges sliding over the ice, or the funny stumbling steps of the beginner on ice skates. Again, hands reaching for each other- as winter offers many ways, and many chances to seek contact.

Thank you for the hot chocolate, with marshmallows, and whip cream. Strong chocolate. Strong enough to hold the moment, as you blow gently across the top of the cup, while cupping the cup itself with your hands. It is the Universal joy of warming up the wrapper – your body- because your soul, and heart, are already warmed by beauty or companionship, or both!

Thank you for the frozen tableau’s of rivers and lakes. For the giant leaps of deer in deep snow. For the little open areas made by ducks in the water. For the snow, that falls like soft gifts of butterfly kisses, the snow that bites like little ice vampires, the snow that makes giant flakes that cover the ground, the trees, and you – in only moments. For the blizzard driven snow, that uses extreme cold, and its friend the wind- to make you find shelter, forcing you to find the comfort of friends, family, or just a respite from the cold.

Yes, Old Man Winter, I want to thank you for the memories of the people who held my hand in the cold. along with the memories of people who’s hands -I held -in the cold. The walks that Winter granted me, both by myself, and with that special someone. The buddies who stood by me, battered, frozen, snow covered, and – triumphant; as we stood on giant snow mountains in the School parking lots during recess: Kings of the Mountain. And we were.

Old Man Winter, I shall miss you. Until next year, when you show up, like a long lost relative: with a different face,  familiar, yet unknown. I shall miss you, the walks you granted me- as you let me leave my world, to stroll through:  a picture, a fantasy, a magical display of the colors of white, silver, and clear. Yes, clear is a magic color, when combined with ice, frozen water, and the surfaces of creeks, rivers, lakes and streams.

Bundle up Old Man Winter- your days are numbered, but never forgotten. Soon, you will seek the comfort of a Spring Day- and thank her for letting you have the extra few days to finish your charms. So goodnight, Old Man Winter. Grab an afghan, or a comforter, put a chair against the window- hold your cup of hot chocolate, turn off the lights, settle back and sip- as you watch the glow of light, snow, and love, you mantled the earth with. Good night, old friend. See you next year.

Kevin Hughes

 

Snow can make you smile!

Snow can make you smile!

«Older Posts