Welcome to My life in the shadows

 

PART ONE

 
Childhood.
 I was born at 4 A.M. on January 28th,  in the L D S Hospital in Salt Lake City, Utah. I was an only child with 12 brothers and sisters, all of whom were half brothers and sisters who I had never met at the time.
I grew up poor as a little church mouse, broke as a joke and on the wrongs side of town. I would end up spending much of my growing days nibbling my way through the streets of what is known to the locals as Central City (downtown Salt Lake), where because of the bad behavior of a slightly overweight and perverted Scout Master I caught an early onset of alcoholism. It just seemed easier at the time to drink than to think about it.
I am an ex-cowboy who spent most of my teen summers working on my brother-in-law’s cattle ranch in south-central Utah. These were some of the best days of my life.
I am an ex-United States Marine and Vietnam Vet. who still believes in Simper Fidelis (Always Faithful) and I will always love my country, defending her at every turn. I believe those friends and brothers in arms I left behind in the stench and mud of that awful place, who gave their all for this country, never seeing family or friends again, demand this of me, at least, in my nightmares they do.
I am an ex-smoker who now is hooked on nicotine lozenges, and ex-junkie and alcoholic, who thanks to methadone and years of counseling have been lifted up by the grace of God which is a mouth-full  for an ex-agnostic who the love and grace of God somehow found at death’s door step and lifted up. This was truly a miracle, a miracle that anyone can have for the asking on bended knees.
I remember black and white Television, the birth of rock and roll, watching Elvis, the Beatles, and the Rolling Stones on the Ed Sullivan show. I remember when 89 cent candy bars only cost a nickel. I remember 24 cent a gallon gasoline, and typing in triplicate with carbon paper. I also remember watching “I Love Lucy, Captain Kangaroo, The Lone Ranger”, and Sky’s niece Penny, who I had a boy hood crush on as I watched her on the “Sky King Show” in the mid-fifties. I remember when folks lined the streets for polio vaccines on sugar cubes, and I also remember other things on sugar cubes as well, but it’s all a little fuzzy now.
I have learned to like fake Christmas trees, hard candy, hot chocolate, thick books, politics, golf, sports on TV,  broccoli…Sort of and the late news on TV.
The only hobbies I have left now are gardening, wood working, writing, and loving my wife of 30 years, and I love them all dearly, maybe too dearly.
If I had to do it all over again…I would start with grandchildren.

                                                                  
THE FAITH OF PLUMS
 
I remember quite clearly the day of my birth,
listening to father
as he drove mother to hospital
(ready to pop at any minute)
wondering out loud
just what they would do
with this little pup of theirs.
Quite a handful I agree,
at the age of fifty-three.
 
Then mother’s stroke came
driving father even steeper up the ledge
of a more slippery slope
than age and love alone can tame.
  By the time I showed up
the oldest sister had to be corralled into the suckling,
when mother had no strength left,
and another brown eyed girl, charmed into the changing
when the mess was just too much for the old man,
which left one green eyed winch
for the torture of the little toad.
 
Sometimes I still
 remember the nightmares
when I was five,
when she bound me
many times
with rope and twine
to the top of the coal hopper
which feed the fire breathing monster
inside our furnace,
(the green-eyed girl did).
Always leaving a purposely cracked door
so I could see the old red devil himself
waiting inside
flicking out his fire tongue.
And I can still smell the fear
of those days and nights
as I waited hours on end for her return,
always moments before the old folks
came home
and the beatings so I would know
what happens to little toads
and tattletales.
 
 
 Ahhhh,
but sometimes
there were those brightened days
when the sun shone so brightly
upon the world around me
as to melt such fear and pain away
with just one taste
of Mr. Pipers purple plums,
and with each juicy bite
the black and white
 of those awful days
ran down my checks and chin
in such a way
that brought smiles to life.
Big smiles that become
etched forever within a young mind.
And though these days were rare indeed
they were enough
to make me believe
in tomorrow,
and sometimes…Sometimes
believing is enough.
 
Summer 1955 I was 5

uTAH jAY

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PART ONE THE FAITH OF PLUMS