Freedom and Old Photos

Today’s prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “dom.” We were instructed to “use it as a word, or find a word that starts or ends with it.” and to Have fun!

Ok, I’m going to be honest here and admit that dominatrix came to mind first. One of my earliest creative writing mentors wrote a book about that. A memoir actually. Her name is Shawna Kenney. It’s been a while since I read it, but it seems like it was relatively clean, maybe R rated, but cleaner than you might expect.

But that’s not what I want to write about. No, I don’t need a segue, cause this is the stream of consciousness. Though there might be one to freedom. I suppose a dominatrix would have a lot of freedom…. But that’s not what I want to write about. Why does that keep popping into my head?

Freedom. I have the freedom to make my own schedule in the Great Purge of the house my parents left me. I don’t get bored. No boredom once you get to be my age. I haven’t been bored in years. There’s too much to do and nothing to do would be freedom.

What works best for me is to focus on one task for the day. A primary task planned the day before. For a couple of days it was old photographs. There are, like I’ve mentioned, hundreds. Maybe thousands. I’m tired of that right now, but here’s a treasure I found of my parents on a picnic with me standing by making a face. Yes it’s blurry. It was probably taken around 1961.

Now I want to change my opening to this post, but I can’t because it’s SoCS. Just goes to show you that there’s all kinds of people in the stream. Anything can show up. Aren’t my parents cute?

Yesterday, I worked on my father’s room. The hardest room and the last bastion of the Great Purge. Except for the attic. But let’s not go there. It was hard to put some of his clothes in a bag for donation. Hopefully some one can use them.

The day before yesterday, I ripped that funky 70s contact paper off one wall of the kitchen. It was very satisfying.

Now I get to go look at paint samples to get close to the yellow that’s on the other wall. This is fun. Is it a distraction from working on the photos or my dad’s room? Sure, but it’s hopefully going to make the house easier to sell, and to live in while our other house gets a new bathroom. Is fantasizing about buying a mountain home after I sell my parents’ house – the one they don’t need anymore – is that fantasy a distraction or a motivation to complete the Great Purge?  Maybe it’s both and that’s okay.

So as not to leave you with a messy photo, how about some other old family photos I’ve come across in my work.  These are of my dad in Korea I think. Maybe after Korea. Let’s see what I’ve got. Not planning you know.  Nope this one is from Cuba. He was at GTMO after Vietnam. Where are the Korea pics?

Here are some from Korea. He was at an Able Medical Station after getting wounded. I think it was something like a MASH unit. My dad loved MASH. I found an old copy of the book here at the house and discovered an inscription that I had given it to him for his birthday in 2002. I’ve been reading it. They were crazier than in the TV show. Well, I didn’t mean to run on like this, but I guess I’m really proud of my dad.

My dad is in the top left picture  – the tall guy on the right.

Okay, one more. Here’s a favorite. Here he is getting to know Lobo, the dog I adopted while he was in Cuba (after Vietnam) and soon to retire from the Marine Corps. I haven’t gotten to the Vietnam photos yet….

For more Streams of Consciousness, visit Linda’s Blog:

https://lindaghill.com/2018/09/28/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-sept-29-18/

Here are the rules:

1. Your post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing (typos can be fixed), and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.

2. Your post can be as long or as short as you want it to be. One sentence – one thousand words. Fact, fiction, poetry – it doesn’t matter. Just let the words carry you along until you’re ready to stop.

3. I will post the prompt here on my blog every Friday, along with a reminder for you to join in. The prompt will be one random thing, but it will not be a subject. For instance, I will not say “Write about dogs”; the prompt will be more like, “Make your first sentence a question,” “Begin with the word ‘The,’” or will simply be a single word to get you started.

4. Ping back! It’s important, so that I and other people can come and read your post! For example, in your post you can write “This post is part of SoCS:” and then copy and paste the URL found in your address bar at the top of this post into yours. Your link will show up in my comments for everyone to see. The most recent pingbacks will be found at the top. NOTE: Pingbacks only work from WordPress sites. If you’re self-hosted or are participating from another host, such as Blogger, please leave a link to your post in the comments below.

5. Read at least one other person’s blog who has linked back their post. Even better, read all of them! If you’re the first person to link back, you can check back later or go to the previous week by following my category, “Stream of Consciousness Saturday,” which you’ll find below the “Like” button on my post.

6. Copy and paste the rules (if you’d like to) in your post. The more people who join in, the more new bloggers you’ll meet and the bigger your community will get!

7. As a suggestion, tag your post “SoCS” and/or “#SoCS” for more exposure and more views.

8. Have fun!

The Path to Freedom (Inspired by a Morning Dream)

Walking through gray halls

My daughter and I look for a way out

Not yet frantic.

“There goes your old boss,” she says.

“He just went around that corner.”

“He must be presenting at the workshop,” I reply.

I coulda been a presenter.

But I wanted freedom.

 

Up ahead are steel doors.

We push through to the sunlight,

Take a left turn, and climb up out of concrete walls.

 

We can walk on the pavement and risk traffic

Or  walk on the path beside the road

Leading to narrow ledges

Beside dark pools with lily pads.

That wouldn’t be so hard,

knowing we’re good swimmers

In case we fall off.

So we choose the narrow path

Leading us along mountain overlooks

With steep drop offs – scary but beautiful.

We long for the mountains, my daughter and I.

There’s fence to keep us from falling over the edge.

But what if the fence ends?

 

…

(I’ve been fantasizing about a mountain home. Yet I don’t want to have to drive on twisty, steep roads.  Freedom often asks for a certain amount of courage.  Adventure calls!)

 

“Freedom For the Stallion”

I’m sharing two versions of this song from the early 1970s. “Freedom for the Stallion,” has a smooth sound and powerful lyrics written by Allen Toussaint. Here’s my favorite line, timely as ever:

Oh, Lord, you got to help us find the way

 

 

 

For more information and more songs about freedom, visit:

https://helenswordsoflife.com/2017/07/01/song-lyric-sunday-theme-for-7217/

Burial Mounds on the Natchez Trace

 

A song unheard by my ears

Called to my being

and invited me closer.

My friends would wait

As I walked toward the mounds

through itchy grass

wondering what bugs I might disturb

To nibble my ankles

And thinking sneakers

would have been better than sandals.

But I had not known the song would call me.

 

They told me it was okay

not to come all the way

Because I was close enough

To feel the song.

They met me halfway

And I felt the energy of their spirits

 like a soft breeze

that raised the hair on my arms

yet the air was still.

 I danced to the spirit song

unheard by my ears

And for a moment,

I was free of the world.

∞ ∞ ∞

 

As I was about to leave the site of the Pharr Mounds, I spied a dragon fly:

It did not fly away as we got close, and I wondered if it was injured

or just reminding me to be still.

Then, as we headed to the car, I found a single butterfly wing in the parking lot.

A gift to help me remember my freedom.

 

My visit to the Pharr Mounds showed me that I do not have to work so hard to receive gifts. As our bodies slow, our awareness grows, and our spirits are more easily lifted.

I only saw a small portion of the Natchez Trace.  Just enough to wet my appetite. Next time, I’ll bring sneakers.

The Soldier

 

A Poem by Robert Frost

He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled,
That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust,
But still lies pointed as it ploughed the dust.
If we who sight along it round the world,
See nothing worthy to have been its mark,
It is because like men we look too near,
Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere,
Our missiles always make too short an arc.
They fall, they rip the grass, they intersect
The curve of earth, and striking, break their own;
They make us cringe for metal-point on stone.
But this we know, the obstacle that checked
And tripped the body, shot the spirit on
Further than target ever showed or shone.

∞

I memorized and wrote an analysis of this poem in high school. I can still remember writing that the words need not apply only to wars of belligerence, and that the soldier could have been fighting social injustice or in defense of a worthy cause. In spite of my pacifist leanings, I am thankful for all those who gave the ultimate sacrifice of life in defense of freedom and justice. I hope they and their families know our deep gratitude. May their spirits rest in peace.

∞

(The photo was taken at Arlington National Cemetery and is from Pixabay.)

Take No More Prisoners

Take no more prisoners.

Teach them the skills

Of their ancestors

Who thrived for centuries

In icy blue waters

Living in freedom

With dignity.

Watch them live wild

Leaping for joy,

For their own reasons,

Not for our entertainment.

Ask their forgiveness

For the depravity

of their captivity.

Listen to their songs

Rising from the depths

Of the wide ocean

Not from concrete misery.

Learn from their truth,

Untarnished

by human manipulation.

Those who prosper by keeping orcas (aka, killer whales) as prisoners may tell you they live 25 to 30 years in the wild, and that living in captivity is better for them.

Granny, a 103 year old orca recently spotted near British Columbia, would disagree, if you could understand her language, that is.

The following article  states, “According to the Whale and Dolphin Conservation project, whales born in captivity only live to 4.5 years old on average. Perhaps it is because the whales are forced to breed continuously and at perilously young ages that they experience such reduced lifespans.

Read More: http://www.trueactivist.com/bad-news-seaworld-103-year-old-orca-spotted-thriving-wild/#.VhPsjQnKHFc.facebook

Photo Source: NOAA/Robert Pittman, via Wikimedia