Over the mountain.......

The geological trek of life is a nifty, wondrous one.

We start by being, well, pretty shocked at all the light... the noise... the touch...  While we've developed nicely - we're not ready to start climbing the big hill we're faced with.

The struggle for the first 12 months or so is symbolic, really, of the entire quest here on earth.  We're flat.. staring up... much 'up there' is humongous, scary..  but... we strive to be on an even keel - so..  we scoot..then rise to our knees... with the assistance of inanimate objects - we stand.. lean.. and sometimes fall.

Finally, we go.  Of course, oft fall, fail some would call it. But, right back up again.  It's in this 3 year or so span where we learn family, love.  We fall, we get help back up. We're hungry, there's two big folks that assist.  They clothe us.  Diaper us. Lift us up to see things they think we oughta see.  They sing to us.. they coo at us and we coo back.  They smile at us - and when we learn to do that back is somehow broadens their own smile.

Finally, when they say "I love you", we can in turn say it back. Katy bar the door - here we go. As we climb the mountain of life there is much unknown, so we ask.  And ask, and ask.  The perpetual little talkers we've become - lends to half-listining parents.  "Mom?"  "Mom??"  MOM!!??"...  We don't really understand what takes so long in answer, well, for at least another 25 years or so... then, we get it.

Just when we've got that walking, talking thing out - we've stood, fallen, walked, fallen, ran, fallen.  Talked, been corrected, spoke, been complimented - they put us on a dadgum bicycle. Thankfully, there are four of them wheels, thus, when we continue up the hill, we won't fall over.

Huh?  You're taking two off?  And so it continues, up, fall, up, fall. Move forward, slip back a bit.. The struggle, at least on the bike, is real.. at least until we get that fancy 20 speed where we can continue up the hill on whatever gear that easy gear is that it makes you feel like you're hardly pedaling.

What's that big yellow thing?  School starts.  Kinda like the shock of rolling outta the womb, we're forcefully gathered with other folks who were also conceived, oh, 5 years and a few months ago.  But wait!  That guy is huge!  Over there, she's dark.  Another one is tiny.  People are different here.  Whatsup with that?  It's a lifelong thing of learning as we climb the mountain... Despite the best efforts of many, some never break the mold of hatred for 'anyone that's different'.   Sad, it 'tis.

So, we speed this up a little.  Mom and dads fridge proudly has oodles of artwork affixed by little magnets.  As the years progress, more and more and more 'goodies' of our school handiwork is brought home.  Much like the late night wrapping of presents in their guise of Santa - they one night take a kitchen sized trash bag and fill it to the gills with handiwork from 1st, 2nd, 3rd, yada, grade, and off to the recycling bin, ne'er to be seen by us again.

We suddenly, or so it seems, awaken to the opposite sex.  The learning of 'them' starts. Cinchy. It's as easy as remembering every cell phone number of every friend, relative, vendor, doctor, utility, etc we have, every user id password for thirty or so things we log in to..  Inotherwords, it ain't fully gonna happen, this, learning of the opposite sex.  It's like when we were kids and Gomer would come on the tube with "Surprise, surprise."  Climbing the mountain of life, we handhold a partner.  The lucky ones trudge on.  Others, it's like being Goldilocks and it just ain't gonna work - or, woooooosh, "hey, where'd they go?" and they pull a Snagglepuss.

Much like we learned to scoot, crawl, walk, run, peddle - we drive.  Yum.  Across town ain't nuttin. Much of our vehicle endeavors mean great times, great things with friends... then there's the uncomfortable aspect of dating.  Getting to know you, getting to know all about you.  Right.  And the answer to getting to know one, really getting to know one, is akin to that snarky 3rd grade teacher (Mrs. Prescott) and her funny ha-ha final pop quiz question "How many grains of sand are there in the Sahara Desert."  What?  I ain't even learned Sara's sibling's names, her likes, dislikes at the dinner table, whether or not that one laugh is having fun with me or making fun of me.  Up, we must go up that hill.

We find, 'the one'.  We gather, best man, maid of honor, a host of others.  We pick little Johnny as ring bearer even after he's left his bike out in the rain so many times the chain rusted and broke in two.  Suzy is so dadgum cute, tada, flower girl.  Little did we know when the day actually comes we'd be reduced to, under our breath, "Just STOP crying Suzy, walk down the damn aisle and toss a petal or two here and there."  We have a really, really nice, big ole' dollar amount for the whole deal - in fact, little do we know, but it's enough, were we to put it into whatever Edward D. Jones recommends, we could be rich by retirement time, even if that means she's living on the East Coast, and I, the West Coast.

Instead, we find a photographer to take 912 pictures of the bride, all others involved so they can be ultimately lost at the bottom of our Facebook feed, as well as gathering dust in a picture notebook sitting on the table in the den.

We get jobs.  Or, we don't.  We lose jobs, sometimes our fault, sometimes not.  Finding two that go together like peanut butter and jelly is virtually impossible.  You take our son to soccer practice, then you can get ready for work, I'll get off work and grab him on my way home.

WAIT!!!! WHAT?!!!!  A child? We step back a sec...  glance down at how far we've come on the mountain, then take a gander up to take a peek at the peak.  Holy guacamole.  WHAT?  You mean sometimes they'll cry so hard and so often that we cave in to picking them up and holding them in our arms as WE TOO climb this mountain?  Uh huh.  Mebbe you shoulda thought about that before you gave her that silky negligee which coincided with her buying that seductive new cologne.  Oh well.

And another.  Huh?  We only got two bedrooms, now what?  HAVE YOU SEEN HOW EXPENSIVE DAY CARE IS? 

Oh it ain't all about climbing that mountain.  We, thankfully, have boo koo hours of fun, neighbors on the deck... in the cul-de-sac..... former school chums and their snotnoses, playing with ours.  And, thank the Lord for the Night time - as well as that occasional weekend they go to grandma and grandpas.

There's music, laughter, movies, vaca's, going to parks, pools, skating rinks.. Back to school, PTA, selling damn trash bags, the Bombers little league team, and of course dance lessons at ForkOverYourLifeSavings Dance Academy. They've rolled outta the womb.  Scooted. Crawled. Walked. Fallen. Ran. Fallen. to Triked.Biked. Driven. (I wanna shoot that little iguana for proclaiming how inexpensive car insurance is.)

Good Lord he went down on a knee, she said yes, howinthehell do we get money outta our 401K at 40-something to pay for all that?  The tranny is slipping on the SUV, damn insurance guy said "your roof leaks but it ain't because of the hailstorm," there's a huge crack in the basement wall..  That fancy smanchy class in High School they called 'HMRE' (Healthy Marriage and Relationship Education) never said nuttin' about all this?!!!!

"Don't you talk to my granddaughter like that, she'll toss the petals out of the basket when she dadgum well pleases.  Johnny.  Johnny?  WHERE did you put the ring?"

Snap snap, cha-ching cha-ching.  Take those funky pictures bride girl.

The long and winding road.......... that goes uphill. We've noticed grey hair, a few wrinkles, 20 or so friends that have newer cars than us - but hey, we're enjoying this trip. We're only three or four Presidents away from retirement (6 or 8 if the damn Pubs and Dems keep arguing like they are.)

"You know honey, it's been almost a week since we've heard from the kids - they must be enjoying life."  Ring, ring.  "HE WHAT?"  "My dad fell, the ambulance is there to take him to the hospital, let's go."

Mom and dad have had a beautiful, exemplary trip up to the peak, and down the mountain so far.  Now they need a little help, glad we're able to do so.

Mom's been gone ten years now, dad seven.  I only wish I woulda asked them more questions, spent more hours...  I'm in the same boat with my folks honey, but don't beat yourself up... we were climbing the mountain, much the same as they did when their folks started aging.  Life is like learning to juggle three balls, then someone suddenly throws you one or two more and we're sposedta continue as if nothing has changed. It ain't possible.

That peak.  We done it. It is sooooo nice not having to set an alarm.  I love that you have coffee made for me, and that you don't get upset with me for sleeping in after reading until midnight.  Honey we're practiced for that.  We had different jobs, of course mutual friends, but too, our own set of friends.  We're kinda 'the candy cane' of life.  You know, Lucy and Ricky, Fred and Wilma, Arch and Edith...You're red, I'm white on the candy cane, or vice versa if you please.

Can you believe our 50th High School Reunion is this summer?  Looking in the mirror, yes, yes I can.  Traveling in the right lane, at the speed limit on interstate, seeing all the hurried young'ns passing us on their way up the mountain, uh huh, fifty is not hard to believe.

We went thru all that, for this.  Nice.  The steps, they get a tad tougher down the hill.  Ya know, when we fell going up the hill, it wasn't much of a big deal.  Now, we fall, that damn gravity can bring us down in a hurry and it's much tougher.  Agreed - but that, and life has taught us to not sweat the small stuff. To stop and smell the just cut grass, the Douglas fir Christmas tree.. the apple pie in the oven.  Take that back-road every so often where there ain't the hustle bustle, concrete, where there's a little, or a lot of wiggle room between homes, farms.  When we were kids, we really didn't know to appreciate things like that.

They call it over-the-hill.  I liken it more to over the mountain.  Hills are easy.  You get to the top, the view's nice, but it ain't much.  Ya reach the peak of the mountain, you can be proud.  Ya look out and yum, there is a God.

Hey, ya wanna watch a movie?  Scrabble?  Sit on the deck and have a glass of wine?  Well, I was thinking more along the lines of putting on that new negligee you bought me last week.  YEE HAW!  My daddy done taught me right... he said, "whatever she wants... you answer 'Yes dear'.'..  So, YES DEAR, let's go... I'll raceya!  NO!  You might fall, here, hold my hand, we'll walk together.

By Henry Hallmark Gibson

Love, Victurd

(Well aware there are all kindsa ends.  Burnt ends, split ends, tight ends (minda outta gutter, talking football), dead ends, battery ends, skinny ends, no butt ends, fatbottom girls (relax, much like big gut men).. and ends where divorce happens, or, marriage never happens.  The above is but one example.  Many of us are alone, some by our choice, some by other's choice.. the view from the mount, the attitude coming down, much the same.  We make do.  Just know, it's almost as yummy as the story above. Burma Shave)

Worry... don't be happy. or something like that.....

I've always been a tad dyslexic......... (Did I tell you about the guy that walked into the bra?)

I think I mean:  Don't worry, be happy.

It be kinda hard nowadays, but shouldn't be.  It can be like walking agin' the wind, leaning at a 45 degree angle forward (which is hella dangerous at our age) and it seems like ya get noswheres, fast.

The alarm goes off.  Wait!  That makes me happy!  Victor, you're retired, you don't set an alarm.  Oh yeah, forgot.

The newspaper guy throws, paper hits the ground.  Yipee!  Victor, ya read it/?

OK, OK, OK, so I'll login and ketchup on Facebook.   Duh.  Well, there IS fun there sometimes.

Victor, you've got happy meds, ain't that enough?  You mean like "They're coming to take me away ha ha, there coming to take me away?"   Eh, kinda, I guess.

Stymie halt.  I remember back the day, my buddies standing off in a circle, one of 'em saying something about "Good shit, man."  I tweren't real sure what they were talking about, but, pleased to know, in our society, there's good shit.

I ain't written' here much of late....   We're kinda caught up in this "Life, what's going on, is kinda a bummer."  George Harrison might say his guitar gently weeps.  Caretaker at nursing home may be contemplating same, walk around the corner, get a 'good' whiff and exclaim "Depends."  Uh huh, does.

Faith in mankind.  Dyslexia again.  Kind man. Kind woman too.  There's a lady at the golf course where I work a couple days a week, she'sb, oh, 5 to 10 years older than me.  I don't think she's had a bad day in her life. Yum.  Rubby off on me please!

There's a man, well, there are actually plaenty of 'em, they ALWAYS smile.  Is it drugs?  I want somea that stuff!  I jest, a dat (dyslexia again, sorry.)

Victor, I'm from Missouri, SHOW ME this 'good shit' you speak of.  Well, howabout that football player.. JJ Watts I think his name is.  He got wind (no, not Depends), he got wind of someone selling much of his memorabilia so they could raise funds for the funeral of a loved one.  "WAIT! Stymie Halt" he chanted.  "Don't do that.  Keep your stuff, I'll pay for the ceremony" and he did.  That's happy.

And Bo.  Happy knows Bo, or something undyslexic like that, Bo knows happy.  The recent massacre of the 17 school children - he paid for every funeral.

No, funerals aren't generally happy but what I love is good people (mankind, kind man) pouring love on hate, despair.

My eyeballs try to suckup every ounce of happy I see weekly, and thankfully, that's a lot.  Again, where I work.  We gotta golf course, and a pool.  Golfers come into the counter, continue on to the left to play golf.  Swimmers come to the counter, turn right to go to the pool.  As they march in, there's happiness.  Why, just the other day, there was this little curlyheaded blonde, oh, maybe 4... she marched in with a Big Bird floatee wrapped around her and a smile wrapped across her face.. "Are you going golfing?" some old fart (thinking he's funny) asked.... smile got bigger..."NO!!!!!!!"  And she continued on, probably dunked baby brother a time or two, peed in the pool, asked mom for some ice cream.  It's what kids do.

So......... with intention, there's happy where I work.  It's a place to recreate.  Sunburns, stubbed toes on the concrete, sunscreen in the eyes, water up the nose.... lost golf balls, triple bogeys, and sure, even a swing-and-a-miss happen a time or seven. "I'm recreatin'.... you can't wipe smile offa my face."

Still, they happy.  I am 'stuck' in the wedgie (counter) between swim and golf.  That's a damn happy place to be stuck.  On more than one occasion I've heard, after a golfer had just shot 23 over par, "Any day on the golf course is a good day."

Glory to the ones that maybe do, maybe don't play golf/swim, and their actions speak out "Any day in life is a good day."

Buck.  Buck O'Neil.  YOU COULD NOT wipe the happy off that man's face. AND, they wouldn't even let him in to play the game!  God Bless you Buck, you were an example for us all.  He would become the first ever black coach in the Major Leagues - but, his take on playing, life, etc... "I was right on time."

We just can't let life wipe the happy off our face.  Victor, are you preaching?  If you're tithing, then hell to the yes I am, ha, but no.  It's a thought in all of our brains.  I admit to struggling with it sometimes - then, I cuss myself out, go grab the Breyer's Butter Pecan outta the freezer, then, hell to the yes, I WILL BE HAPPY!

The KC Star.  Ha.  Watch this!  Sure, I see page one, two, all about Biden, Congress, this, that, most, makes tummy churn (no matta what side you're on)... I scroll thru really quickly (Victor?  Didn't that one lady say you demonstrated 'avoidance behavior'?  Huh?  Couldn't hearya, sorry,  I've got The Rolling Stones Live cranked on Youtube while I type this crap, couldn't hear.)  Where was I?  Oh yeah, the paper.  Then, pages 3-5 are all about shootings, muggings, lawsuits, housefires, yada..... so I pray.  I scroll pretty quickly, as I pray.

I runs to the Sport's section, quickly pass by the article about the Left Tackle who wants a contract large enough he could buy Delaware... jump over the guess as to how many games that one quarterback will be suspended for all the civil suits that have been brought upon him by women...  I dive into reading about WITT JR, PRATTO, MELENDEZ and however you spell that Vinnie Pasq-one-tino. THAT, makes me happy, even if it's an occasional 0 for 4.

Done with Sports so I Sudoku, then Crossword.  I'm better at Sudoku, but, ha, if I don't get the crossword completed, I cheat (Google, which is fancy for 'learn'... 'learn' is happy, 'cheat' ain't) and fill that sucker out.

Sudoku, Crossword, Golf, Swimming = happy.

Your life?  I can guess.  Things that keep you sane:  kids, GRANDKIDS, music, lasagna (Victor, I think that's you... oh yeah, sorry)... sex.. (VICTOR!  Well damnit, do you ever frown during?  Uh huh, what I thought, it's a happy thing! I think I remember.)

Birdies, doggies, kitties.  Nature.  The rain, from inside.  The snow, from inside.  The sun, out in it. Gorgeous cars, gorgeous people, gorgeous smiles, mowed grass, potholes patched, traffic cones put away - there is much, to be happy about.

Why hells bells.  (I hate doing laundry.)  Just the other  day, as I proudly struggled to carry the basket of 3 loads of washed, folded clothes, shirts on hangers in to put them away - I was whistling I was so happy.  Then, I remembered I forgot to remember to add laundry detergent when I washed them. VICTOR! NO!... Si, it's true, it's reawwy true.  Eh, passed the sniff test, they'll never know, I was happy.  VICTOR, WHY do you post crap like that? Because if you can't have fun at your own expense, then life must really be poopy.  (Victor, i think I woulda used a different word than poopy.)  Eh, whatever, my word choices run in streaks.  Oops.

The point is, none of us get out alive.  YOLO, which is very yummy with ROLO's.  Golf.  Swimming.  Sudoku, Crosswords.  Scoffing at cross words.  Smiling at ones that have obviously forgotten their Xanax.... That attitude "YOU CANNOT, WILL NOT, wipe the smile offa my face."

I hope there's lots that makes you happy. I list my crap, I hope your list is longer and even happier.  It's a choice ain't it.

Since I last blogged I've been to two funerals and read the obituaries of two or three acquaintances. Life's too short to be stuck on yuck in everyday life.  Trust me, I know all to well it can be hard.

With advance apologies to everyone I'm related to, I've ever coached/taught, gone to church with, yada, life is good shit..... if we let it be.

Let It Be sounds much yummier than While My Guitar Gently Weeps.

Piece out. (I cant spell niether.)

Love, Victurd

LHS Class of 1970, when we grow'd up.......

 (This is what happens when one has insomnia, 2:45am hits, boredom strikes deep, so one writes. Victor, we don't wanna read all this crap.  Then don't.  Hehe.  Or do, your call, hand ain't forced)

First couple of years.  That be 1951 and 1952 for some, 1952 and 1953 for others. Long ago.

I Love Lucy premieres on CBS.  The first direct dial, coast to coast phone call was made.  Wouldn't you know the damn phone had to be all-center already in our life.  The Birth Control Pill was developed, swing and a miss daddy, we're already here.

Loaf'a bread 16 cents, gas 19, hamburger 50 cents, bacon 52 cents, eggs 24 cents, new car $1500, Average wages $3,510.00, trike $14, but the big one, life expectancy of one born in 1951 = 68.5 years, oh shit. We got trouble, right here in River City. Well, kinda. We were a River City until 1949, that's when the Liberty Bend was cutoff and the River was moved one mile to the South.  And FYI, there was a very important feller (and his spouse) that normally lived not far across that river, but from 1945 to well after we were born Harry S (for nothing) Truman and Bess lived in Washington, DC.

Some folks that played dodgeball on the playground long about the time we did but would later become famous = Kurt Russell, Mark Hamill, Michael Keaton, Robin Williams, Wonder Woman, Kirstie Alley, Ben Carson, Sting, Dale Earnhardt, John Mellencamp, The Incredible Hulk, Patrick Swayze, John Goodman, Mr.T, Superman, George Strait, Vladimir Putin (yuck), Pee Wee Herman, Jimmy Connors, Bill Walton, Bill Bellichick, Jill Biden (thereyago, another name [cradlerobber] to add to your list!]), 

Whilst invented years before our birth, there's a very good chance your cloth diapers hung out on the clothesline as dryers didn't become commonplace in US homes until the 60's.We undoubtedly suffered many a diaper pin stick.

The Census shows our fine City had a population of 4,709, whilst 'Liberty Township's was 7,436, whatever in the heck that is. If you're like me, the sign you remember on the edge of town spoke "Liberty, Population 8,909."

It's likely our parents dumped us at Grannies to go see 'A Streetcar Named Desire', 'The Day The Earth Stood Still', 'The Greatest Show on Earth' or 'Just Singin' in the Rain'at the Theater.

Our parents, generally children of the Depression, would often tell us they were "Po' but didn't know it."  I guess we were kinda sorta "WalMart, but didn't know it." Huh?  Yeah, everything (almost) under one roof, as in, The Square (or, just off the Square). Bank, Doctor, Pharmacy, Restaurant, Shoe Store, Jewelry Store, 5 & Dime, Hardware Store, Bus Station, Grocery Store, Car Lots, Car Mechanics, Churches, Undertakers, even the Cemetary was close.  Narrow, 2-lane roads brought folks into and out of the Square.

A few Birthdays before we would get a ball glove, thankfully Negro Leaguers were accepted into Major League Baseball.... The Monarchs and the Blues (KC's Minor League team) left around 1955 and the A's, our first Major League Team, moved to KC in 1955.  Just about every neighborhood in Liberty had a kid that owned a dark green KC A's bat, that, from usage, undoubtedly had a few screws put in it to keep it together as well as being covered up by electrical tape to keep our hands from getting all cut up.

By the time we walked to Franklin Elementary, Ike had beaten Adlai Stevenson twice, Ray Krok agreed to franchise a chain of restaurants owned by Dick and Mac McDonald, The Korean War had ended... the segregation of Linda Brown in Topeka was ruled unconstitutional, Rosa refused to give up her seat (bus segregation also ruled unconstitutional).. The Supreme Court ruled 'all schools must be integrated with deliberate speed.'

Speed happened just before we got into the 60's...first jet service NY to Miami in 1958, as well as The Daytona 500 inaugural running in 1959... and even FASTER as the Mercury 7 astronauts were selected in 1959, and Alan Shephard was the first to go in space in1961.

As kids, if it was raining, Winter, too hot, we'd play inside with marbles, checkers, Go Fish, Old Maid, 'army guys', dolls, then Scrabble.. Crap, we have to spell already?

Nice weather?  Of course we're outdoors.  Cars weren't as plentiful, most were allowed to ride a bike to the Square to get a Pixie Stick or one of those disgusting wax coke thingys. Oh gosh, what did you play?  Our 'hood' was big into Whiffle Ball, Kick the Can, Red Rover, lightning bug collecting, climbing the mulberry tree to eat them until we got a belly ache... taking our sister's old roller skates, having dad saw a small piece of plywood, affixing (with help) the skates to the board, jualah, a skateboard. Crawdad hunting...

When the TV was cooperating, we'd catch Captain Kangaroo, Howdy Doody, Leave it to Beaver, Gunsmoke, Father Knows Best, Bonanza...   Johnny followed predecessors Steve Allen and Jack Paar in 1962, and, pretending to be asleep at 10:15pm, that show produced the very first kinda risque' kinda thing I ever heard anyways. When the TV wasn't cooperating, Dad would have us grab (and hold) a mirror out front, so he could check every bulb inside the TV to figure out which one was out. Once he did, off to Breipohls we went to get a new bulb. (Yes, TV bulbs available, along with cinnamon oil, at the Pharmacy.)

The City Park was the center of everything.  July 4th Fireworks, Carnivals, of course ball games..  Horse Shows..  yuck, remember the dog pound there? THE SMELL!  I'm'a guessin' many very first flirtations happened in/around the baseball fields of Liberty. We BrillCreme haired dudes proudly wore our Junior Sheriff's badge awarded us by Sheriff Curt Hay, and if that didn't win a fine lass over, we'd play tag and always chase the same girl!

ROAD TRIP!  Family Trips were a thing.  With no IPads or DVD players we were forced to do battle with our siblings, thus, driving our folks nutso. Our 'SUV' was the station wagon - and we'd draw straws to see who got to sit, sleep, where.  If you didn't get the comfy 2nd seat, next best was the very back all to yourself, whilst the youngster was almost always relegated to lay on the floor behind mom and dad. Food was packed and Highways had places to pullover and spread it all out at the roadside area on a picnic table. If we had to pee it was usually at a rest stop, but if one couldn't be found, it was then off to Stuckey's where we'd pester Dad until he caved in for either a full size Snickers (hey, we're on vacation) or a yummy pecan log roll.

Destinations varied, granny and gramps place, a cousin, one of dad's friends from the WWII, the Lake, the Ozarks (remember spending half of your life in traffic on Highway 76?)...a jovial time, we were lucky if we got a motel and even luckier if it had AC, and even LUCKIER if it had a pool. Mom 'helped' Dad with his driving, passing other cars wasn't real common, but it happened.. and we were completely unaware of the dangerous nature of it all.

OK, I'm bored again. Which is fancy for I wrote from 4am until 6-something am it's time for breakfast out.  You'll have to grow up the rest of the way yourself.  Or, maybe we could simply continue being childlike for the remainder of whatever time we're blessed with here.

Tune in next time for Levity and Puberty in Liberty.......

or.... On a Sunset Hill of Glory see the typewriters fly out the window of Mrs. Digg's class.

Love, Victurd

Getting to know you......... getting to know all about you.........

This thing called life.  Getting to know one.

It ain't no roll outta the womb, milk only, soft food, rock, crawl, flavored bottles of mostly yuck with an applesauce thrown in occasionally... stand.. .tilt..  apple slices.. finally walk a bit.. then a lot.. then pee pee in the potty... word... 'mama' usually... then two, then seven... then 672 questions a day... then preschool.. mama, clean off the fridge, go to Sams and buy magnets, tons,  I'm bringing home crap you're gonna keep forever....

And whoop, there it is....... we know this person.

Well, huh uh.

OK, then.  So, K-12 it is.  I've been "Bend me shape me anyway you want me" - I am now me.  I sucked at this, did ok at that, hated that one subject, loved this one.  Seen me a perty girl or twenty. Know me now. You do right?

Well, kinda.

Then, a job.  That defines us eh?

Well, mebbe.

Gotta buddy, annually, on his work anniversary date, he posts a picture of his very first paystub from, ahm, I think like 30 some years ago now.. he's still there.. same job...  we know him right?

Hmmmm....  Then

Then there's me.  I've had almost as many jobs as ball cards I've bought.. .yards I've mowed... cars I've owned...  girlfriends I've had... oops..  Chapter 11's...  A 'take this job and shove it' or three..  So, this defines me eh?

Well Victor, it does sound habitual.

But...but... but.. Ray Charles sang in 1962 "You don't know me."

Let's backtrack to.... oh... somewhere, kiddygarten, first grade maybe..  we sit at a table... all these rectangular slabs of clay infronta us.. 

As life rolls on.... we have all these classmates... siblings, folks, aunts, uncles, granny, gamps's.. next door neighbors.. mailmen... milkmen..  now, FedEx, UPS, Prime... little league coaches, scout leaders, custodians, vice principals, business owners, friends, friend's parents..

We take a little bit of clay... and we mold... each..  this classmate looks like this, talks like this, walks like this, I'm finished molding, he (or she) must then, be this.

Well......

If only we all felt like James did in that song.

 You've got a friend?  Well, that tweren't the one I was thinking of, but I like that.

Sweet Baby James? Rockabye sweet baby James?  Does sound comforting eh, but nope, tain't it either.  And it ain't James Taylor.

Crap, I was hoping for "Don't let me be lonely tonight."  Eh, comprended, there's plenty of feel good in the world though.

Etta?  Is it Etta?  AT LAST?  Oh, I like that song..  Yep, me too but.. .well.. I was referring to.........

I FEEL GOOD.  THAT, James.

Oh, I see.  And just why do you feel good?  Tons of reasons, but, for a sec - I'm up before the break of dawn - some would find that yucky, I happen to love it.  (And therein lies a point, there's different strokes for different folks.)  Victor, you're so smart.  Ahm, hello?  I ain't even sure if I ever made an Honor Roll in school.  I did make it (6 year plan) thru college, but, my GPA was a closer to a 2 than a 4.  In fact, REAL close to a 2.

Getting off subject here.  Yep.  I Googled.  NO, imagine that, you Victor?  Si, did.  I actually Googled things that make you relax, thus, I surmised that relaxation equal I FEEL GOOD.

Meat.  Huh?  Meat, get to the heart of the matter.  We're in a hurry here.  Can't slow down.  Must get to grocery store in 12 minutes.  If I stand in line there for more than three minutes, I'm a crabby ass.  If I have to park in the next County, even crabbier.  Meat, as in, if I watch a TV show, I don't need 72 commercials to get thru an hour show.  Inotherwords, what relaxes us, hop to it.

The first thing they listed was Meditation.  Oh crap.  I remember back in the day The Beatles sang on that really big show Ed Sullivan had... sold out stadiums across the land..  were more popular than.... Than?  Than the funnel cake guy at the State Fair. They changed the course of the land.  THEN.  Then that Maharishi dude showed up, they practiced that Transcendental Meditation and they kinda wierded out.  Help, they needed somebody.  Help, not just anybody. Then Yoko came along.. OK OK OK, i get your point.

To me, Victor, meditation is the closing of ones eyes, on the couch, easy chair, laying in bed, front porch, in your car (preferably not whilst driving) and think happy stuff. You can do it however you want, but a suggestion would be to start when you rolled out of the womb, remember back to fun, wonderful people along the way, all thru growing up, grown up, overgrown up, to now.  That should giveya plenty to meditate on - and to me it does. Yum.

Hark, or do tell - what else does Google say relaxes us?

Breathing deeply  Ok, I reckon.  I know anyways when I take my blood pressure if I sit a bit and breath deeply before taking it, I get better scores, so yeah, maybe it does make one relax, thus, make one FEEL GOOD.

Next they listed "Scan your body."  Is this a joke Victor?  No, and I agree with you, I wanted to upchuck when I read it... but.. I guess it makes sense.. the idea is to get to know every inch of  your body... they say you can learn what part(s) feel good, and what parts have pain, tension, aches - so you can concentrate on how to maybe manage it.  OK, onward.

Listen to music.  Shut the front door, NOW you're makin' sense.  Let's play I FEEL GOOD first....and then what suits your heart, mind, taste, mood, yada...hell, music even makes housecleaning palpable... that the right word?  I dunno, sounds good to me, I got your drift. Good suggestion Google.

Try Hydrotherapy.  Really? OK, they explained like a quick splash to the face with cold water.  OK, I get that.  Has made me FEEL GOOD in the past.  Next.

Get some sun. We be different, some might no likey, some may live where their ain't much sun, but, for most - getting sun = yum = relaxing = FEEL GOOD.

Laugh.  Hell to the yeah Google, good one. So just close my eyes and laugh? I guess that would work, or, you could go to Youtube and have boo-kuu sources.. baby's laughter.. old codger laughter.. funny things hounds do.. you name it, laughter is there.

Chew gum.  OK, I get that.  It does kinda relieve stress.

Massage your hands for five minutes. Hmmm, never tried it, will.

Stretch.  This one is oh so skipped over.  Just yesterday, golfing, buddy jumped outta cart, went right to tee, hit, OUCH.  Then remarked, "I guess it's pretty stupid to not stretch awhile first."  Yes, and we all (OK, 99%) skip stretching when there's remarkable good that can come from it.

Eat the right food. That sounds stressy, not relaxing.  I think they mean like dark chocolate, honey, green tea, stuff like that. OK.

Then, the remainder of the list:  Take a walk. Take some alone time.  Look outside. Sniff oranges (I'm just the messenger).  Pet a furry friend.

I bring this subject up because......... there's battle lines bein' drawn..  young people speakin' their mind (and old farts too)... paranoia strikes deep.. into your life it will creep.  At least that's what Buffalo Springfield says.   ie, sometimes the water is poopy.  Life is hard.  Many appear NOT to be happy, NOT to FEEL GOOD.

We gotta change that crap, one person at a time, and I think it would be ideal if we started with ourself.

WOW, I('m gonna) FEEL GOOD.

Forward by James, HA, GOOD GOD Y'ALL, Brown

By Henry Mahesh Yogi Gibson

Love, I FEEL GOOD, Victurd

What goes up, must come down.

Or so says Sir Isaac Newton...  or Blood, Sweat and Tears... somebody....

Maybe the grades on the grade card the kid is handing his dad..

Vocalist David Clayton-Thomas... the author of the song Spinnin' Wheel.. said he was playin' with the guitar, founds some chords he liked... it was 1969, around the time the Beatles asked "You say you wanna Revolution"... so, he basically wrote this letting people know "Lighten up people, take it easy (Kinda like Jackson Browne and Glenn Frey wrote in 1972).. it's all going to come full cycle."

They became 'somebody'.  They went to Woodstock, as did Jimi.  Jimi was to be the highest paid at $17,500, then, BS&T at $15,000.  The ticket booths went up, but they musta come down because virtually everyone got in free, there tweren't no money, none of the artists got paid.

I shot an arrow into the air, it fell to Earth I knew not where, said that Wadsworth chap.

Yes, even Joltin' Joe Dimaggio will eventually go hitless.  Cal Ripken will sit. Your IRA will go up, but it must come down.

The painted ponies, they go up and down.

Much.  Much goes up and must come down.  Moods.  Hunger.  Belly fat. OK, scratch that one. The price of gas, VICTOR I CAME HERE TO RELAX DAMNIT, NOT FLIP MY LID.  Take it easy, it's all going to come full cycle. What goes up, must come down.

Except astronauts.  Ain't it cool to watch them in weightlessness?  I'm thinking that might be the only way I'd EVER be able to do a flip.

Golf clubs.  What goes up, must come down.  Well, most of the time. Playing behind a foursome, feller hits a real bad hook, ball went right to left into the next County I think (it did come down, we/he knew not where.)

So...... he hit anudder... and it took the exact same path (what goes up [in Ray County] must come down {and we think was in Ray County])

So.... he threw his club up into the air, it fell to Earth he knew not where.  As he threw it up, the three remaining members of his group (understanding Spinning Wheel, gravity, Joltin Joe Dimaggio going hitless) covered their heads for fear of a Big Bertha oversized clubhead, coming down upon them.

Except.

I guess golf clubs can be like astronauts. They ain't gotta come down.

It's twue, it's reawwy twue.  Golf club stuck up in fir tree.  Take that Sir Isaac.  Screw your hyphen Clayton-Thomas, you speaky with forked tongue.  Take it easy Jackson and Glenn, but howinthehell are you gonna putt for dough whenya ain't got no driver for show?

Dejected, said golf club thrower trudged on.  One has more control over a 3 wood anyways, he figured.

We, the foursome behind, had our laughter volume go up (Big time).. realized maybe golf club thrower heard us (ya know, it's kinda like flippin' someone off on the Interstate, ya never know who's 'carryin' these days, anger sometimes goes up and has a hard time coming down)...

So...  our laughter must, and did, come down.

After a couple of more bogeys, OK damnit, one bogey and one double bogey, we'd basically forgotten about Isaac Newton, Clayton-Thomas, Glenn/Jackson, Joltin' Joe Dimaggio, the golf club in the coniferous tree.

Then here comes golf club thrower. Nope, not on a painted pony (although his red face did look painted).  He was walking AWAY from the clubhouse, so he ain't hangin it up. He ain't even carrying his golf bag.

He musta ciphered, "Lighten up feller... take it easy.. .it's all going to come full cycle" which is either fancy for help I've fallen and I can't get up - or, whatinthehell was I thinking, I'm going to swallow my pride, climb the damn fir tree and get my club back. (Pride is hard to swallow but it will go down.)

We, the foursome of bogey-making old farts, ignored him in his trek to the fir tree, again, the conceal/carry fear.

What goes up, must come down.  Spinnin' wheel, got to go round.  Talkin' bout your troubles it's a cryin' sin, ride painted pony let the Spinnin' Wheel spin.

What goes up, must come down.

Republicans.  Democrats. Taxes. Gas Prices. Laughter. Quietness. A juggler's balls (mind outta gutter). A red rubber ball.  Joltin' Joe Dimaggio.  Cal Ripken Jr.  Pride.  Ego.  Toast, kinda sorta the opposite, but you know.  Tom Brady. Nancy Pelosi.  Mitch McConnell.

I love the Merry Go Round.  Sooooo beautiful.  So serene.. the painted ponies that go up.. . down.

What goes up, must come down.

The sun.  Tides.  Pennies from Heaven. Writer's thoughts.  Scary eh? Dentures.  Depends.  Blood pressure.  Heartbeats.  Green in the wallet after payday, green in the wallet right before payday. Tubthumping.  Bowling pins. A toddler's seemingly never ending energy (calm down Granny, Gramps, they'll come down.)

Fly balls, Hail Mary's, punts, kicks, bullets, arrows and yes,

Even Buzz Aldrin. Even golf clubs.

Lighten up World.  Take it easy.  It's all going to go full cycle.  What goes up must come down.

Ride a painted pony let the spinnin' wheel turn.

Good day, Paul Harvey

Love, Victurd