Class of 2028

Today, the twins (now 6 years old all of a sudden) graduated from kindergarten. There was a short celebration event outside the school in the 87 F heat.

The kids, separated into their three different class groups, and walked in a procession to the front of the seating area. They sang some songs, received their certificates, and listened to some remarks, all after we all pledged allegiance to the flag. Listening to myself recite the words to the pledge made me think of many stories that have made recent headlines around the globe. I will leave it at that for now. The ceremony was brief and it was adorable. 

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Someday, From This Debt, I Hope I’m Never Free

Are you a parent? Did you have parents? Did someone ever give of themselves toward your betterment in such a way as to change your life? Do you owe anyone for the piece of them they gave, just for you? Have you even thought about this? Should you do something about it? Do you need a push in the right direction?

Well this is what I have come up with, so far.

As time rolls on, the memories start to fade, with their edges frayed, the vibrant colors wash out some, and the family unit bends but doesn’t break. Time removes me from the places where we once went about our daily life knowing only what was there, sheltered in our little world. Distance puts time in between us, even if we want otherwise. What was once just down the hall, now requires a plan, accounting for all. The sweet, trusted security only separated by a flight of stairs, is somewhere in the past, or at least not so easily found, or fast. The supported now strain to support, and one longs for it all, again to be the other way around. Examples ran across our view whether we watched or not, and it seems so many times now, the lesson I forgot. I recall the good, and the things I suppose I want to see, and how much love did it take for it, that way, to be. Then the age added up but the character never changed, just the love and lessons somehow rearranged. No one kept track, as it should be, but from this debt, I hope I never feel free.

We live. Hopefully we love. We wander but never lose center. We look back, I hope, more than we look down. We look ahead, I hope, never disconnected from the past. We help, I hope, remembering from where we came. We make time, I hope, because minutes are fleeting. We linger, I hope, how much has been vested in us. We leave, better than we found, I hope, for that’s how we were taught.

I think on this matter a lot. I wonder at times how much is left in the well. When I take stock I am always astounded at how much more there is to give. It is then that I know how it once felt for those who have come before me. Then if there’s a push I need, a shove I crave; I play this song (Kayla Reeves, TSO) and listen to the emotion that is impossible to keep from spilling over all within earshot. I stir in the message shared amid the words that roll into my own personal movie playing just behind the portals I use to see. And I am reminded that, from this debt, I hope never to be free.

SOMEDAY

He won the war, in a foreign land
That was no hero, that was my old man
And he came back home, where he met his wife
And he raised his kids, while he made a life
Now he never preached, though he always knew
And we watched him close, just to pick up clues
And sometimes late, in the dead of night
I can see him there, in the pale moon light
I am trying
And I don’t know how
And I don’t know when
But I’ll have to tell him someday

And as for this woman, my father wed
We knew we were loved, with the words unsaid
And when we were young she taught us all to read
And then one by one, she would watch us leave
Never saw her cry, for she hid her tears
As one by one, we would disappear
But of course we’d write, and of course we’d call
Just to hear her voice, whenever we would fall

I am trying
And I don’t know how
And I don’t know when
But I’ll have to tell her someday

So I wrote these words, and I hope they last
For the years have come, and the years have passed
Think of all they gave, think of all the debt
But can’t find a way, to repay them yet
For the days still come, and the debt still mount
And do words unsaid, ever really count
But sometimes still, in the dead of night
I can see them there, in the pale moon light

I am trying
And I don’t know how
And I don’t know when
But I’ll have to tell them someday

Kayla Reeves with Trans-Siberian Orchestra, Boston 2015

Beautiful Innocence

I sit here at my keyboard tonight, trying to procure rationale from the chaotic swarm of thoughts swirling in my head; In doing so, I try to separate the thoughts of anger that bubble up in my attempts to understand the how and the why events like this can happen. Somewhere over time, I have tried to be better at facing the things that bind my mind and twist my intellectual limits to the maximum, and just think on them, inside and out, backward and forward. And sometimes I win, and peaceful rest finds my cranial capacity for a time, and another battle is won at least for that night. Sometimes I write and let the words go where they take me, hoping that the vastness of constant thought presents itself in a manner that is legible, understandable, and worthwhile. Lest I waste more time not getting my thoughts out in the form of words strung together, I move forward, not sure of what will show up on this screen next.

I think of any smooth-faced five-year old boy who shows up at his school not because it was his plan or thought, but because that’s how his parents have explained to him that his days must be spent, for now. Nevertheless, he shows up, smiling, trusting, and innocent; looking forward to the days’ promise as explained yesterday by, some larger than life figure, known as his teacher. He believes all will be well because each day he’s left at this place with a kiss and a promise. And the beauty of his human spirit, instilled in each of us, develops a little bit more every single day, and his innocence is both beautiful and sought after. For innocence is purity, debased not, and nothing is more beautiful. Sought after, only because the beauty of purity is tarnished for all time once it has been contaminated or otherwise compromised. And knowing these things the boy’s well being is entrusted in this place day after day in hopes of his safety certainly, and the maintenance of his fragile, lovely innocence. He doesn’t know he carries this innocence, he just knows he is, and in being him, he smiles, he loves, he feels, and he learns. He openly displays his lack of fear as he knows no difference, and his purity glows about him as adults watch in the blur of warm fuzziness while recalling their own youth and wishing for that pure innocence once again.

Then one day, it was today maybe, that innocence was stripped away. And worse yet, the little boy with no fear learned to fear in an instant. Maybe he had seconds to process the feeling, this new thing that he wasn’t familiar with, this feeling that his parents hoped would only come in appropriate doses, as needed, but maybe never be completely developed. And this precious little face, where nuzzling, hugs, and kisses were never far away, fell silently, forever to sleep. This little boy’s life was taken away. The boy who, now would be denied, the chance to learn why the adults looked at him with silent smiles and sparkling eyes, all because of a random act of selfish cowardice. The boy rests next to Our Lord tonight.

Here on Earth, we have more questions than we have answers. Investigations will uncover all that they can in order to explain the things that can be explained. All I can surmise is this: The act is one of selfish cowardice.

Selfish: devoted to or caring only for ones self; concerned primarily with one’s own interests, benefits, welfare, etc., regardless of others.

Cowardice: lack of courage in facing danger, pain, or difficulty

Perhaps my words are an understatement, perhaps they sum it up. I know it’s not that simple, but it also may not be that complicated either. A young man, who may have started his life, not much different from the five-year old I have described above, was the reason that innocence was plucked from its beautiful place, and life was taken. I will not dwell on the reason, cause, or my interpretation of the dark, ugliness presented in human form in Connecticut today, as his choice to live life as he did today, renders him as completely insignificant in my book. Any and all attention devoted to this evil act should be replaced instead with thoughtful prayer, loving communication, and the spiritual commitment necessary in taking the road to heaven, and all its promise. Heaven welcomed several children today, sent along their way by the evil that is capable of dwelling within us if we so allow it, and those children; who are loved, cherished, adored, deeply missed, and mourned, will also be waiting in all of their glory for any and all of us who join Our Lord one day in heaven.

I wasn’t sure how to start this, and I am less certain on how to end it. I have cried many, many tears over the hours I have taken to untangle the mess in my mind. I will hug my children tighter, kiss them a little bit longer, and notice them in their beauty a little more alertly, like many parents around the world. I will again cry as I try to place myself, mentally, into the shoes of parents and survivors from the horrific scene in Connecticut today. As my parents have taught me, and as my family, far and wide, have reminded me, when the questions come faster than the answers, and relent is nowhere near, just pray. Pray.

Dear Lord I come now to you in prayer. I pray for the strength, wisdom, and direction to be a positive difference in every way I can, in hopes that many, maybe thousands, or even millions, will stomp out evil where we can by being the difference in someone’s life. As I have written many times before, it’s important to remember that we don’t know when we are being the example that other’s need to get through this battle or another, so it’s better to be the example as a matter of the way we live our lives. Lord, I pray that I will never be the example of human nature that let someone clinging to one last hope, fall, stumble or fail. Lord, I realize this may be a massive responsibility, but I believe that we, all of us, need more examples of responsibility in the hopes of making differences all around us. Amen.

I honestly cannot share effectively through these typed words how emotional it has been to write these thoughts out. I sob, in tears, thinking of our future, these children, who have been slain, especially in the places where we have been taught to feel safe and nurtured. I sincerely hope this hasn’t been too much for anyone to read through. Many of the images and thought patterns I have tried to compose here, have been gnawing at me since I first heard of this tragedy earlier this afternoon. I feel sickened by the evil that manifested itself today, and my emotional response is sincere and is as thoughtful as I know how to be. I observe. I think. I write. And tonight I cry, and I pray for all of those folks affected by the tragic events in Connecticut today. But mostly I cannot free myself from the thoughts shaping the pictures in my mind’s eye of that most beautiful innocence and its unauthorized loss.