I Heard, I Saw , I remember

How much do I recall, well I...remember;

The time Kennedy was here, Martin to was near, then there was Janice, Bobby and me. Yes, and I  heard 'em all.

Roosevelt walked when I was young, but died be­fore I knew of him well, the War ended then, but another in a land called Korea began, I was scared of that one, I  knew a  man who left but didn't return. Grandpa died about then, I was ten.

First time at school was scary too, as I re­call the time back when I roamed the halls wonder­ing about it all. "Ginger" died around then, she had distemper. We moved not long after then.

The house smelled so new, built in '48, I sold it in '94, after both had gone, one 15 years, the other four years be­fore this time.  I've written of both, perhaps you've read of them by now, I miss 'em, those two I called dad and mom not so long ago.

Sputnik circled the globe, Glenn flew across the earth, Allen walked on the moon, Diana sang about puppy love, marriage came and later went, that's sad, or maybe not. I saw a lot.

Camelot was and then not, Johnson said he wouldn't, Nixon said he wasn't, Ford didn't, Reagan said I will, Carter tried but couldn't, and Bush, well he got lost somewhere 'round that time back then.  I wasn't sure I fitted in or not.

In '76 most said it wont be done, oth­ers said it's bound to fail, but the plan did unfold, take hold, bloom, grow, and go where none had be­fore, the kids liked it, those still around proba­bly remem­ber it well, it was their home for a while. I was proud of that.   I left it there, back then in 19 and 87.

So what do I remember, well I recall when he and I walked together across this land, we talked, and laughed a lot as adoles­cents will do, probably cried a little to, but not as much as I when he left not so long ago, just a while back, cancer was the cause, that still hurts to talk about. I cant just now. 

The notes rang in my ears, the sounds blend­ing with soul, carrying me places never thought to go, I often wish I could sing again, strings  vi­brating across the  bridge, bounc­ing in har­mony as though no one was there ex­cept me, neck, bow and box, that was a long time ago. I surely do re­call.

We caught fish, bagged deer, snared rabbit, dug a clam or two, trapped crab, and dined on har­vest feasts of roots, ber­ries and bark, all were back there when this time is recalled.  I dont any more.

They were near, but now are gone, the ones I loved as my own.  We traveled to strange lands, saw folks in different places, tasted the scenes and went on our way, we  had joy, we had glad, and then too we had sad, a cove­nant failed along the line between them and me, a test of time out­lived it's perma­nence, but then, that's what life is about.  Though I am not always so sure of that, ... but then, I dont have any clout.

When in after hours shots were heard, screams followed, tables, chairs and me went to the floor, crawled away on hands and knees, one was hurt, none were dead. Then he died, my friend, had hopped a ride, the driver's blood alcohol to high, he wrecked.  Some­thing's... I wish I missed and did not recol­lect.

In May of '69 the fanfare sounded, we had done it all, we marched in hooded magenta across the stage, a degree of mas­tery now in hand, our des­tinies not quite yet clear, that would appear in a future year. Something's... I think are worth it after all.

The holiday times in our home, were best of all, cheers, shouts of good tid­ings, and songs filled the halls, folks coming and going, some staying for a spell, all sharing the meal, es­sences of cooking food floating in the air, the aromas capturing us all. Once a couch caught fire, but nothing more.  No fire engine came, I remember it all very well.

'53 or so was a big year, a new novel thing was here, it came in a square with an oval face, showed pictures from the air. I don’t watch TV much anymore.

Somewhere along the time I lost a twin of mine, she filled him with greed, bred him, taught and turned him, such a sad, sad horrid little tale.  He can not be, this man, once twin to me.

Now I've found a writer's hand, its strange to see words appear where none resided in ear­lier times, passages to new journeys now unfold­ing. That's  nice, I of­ten think.

Still, after all this time I am more com­plete since then, I listen and look for the best and ignore the rest.  I think, feel more, act less, and I am ...thankful I Heard... pleased I saw...and grateful I Remember...these that made not a no­table person, but a better soul of me to be .