May 1st 1957

It was 51 degrees in Carrollton, Missouri when I took my first breath that began this incredible journey called life. Although I have no recollection of the first 4 years of it, so I can safely say that in my mind, my life started on one warm spring day…you know what, let’s save that for another time.

It just took a little bit of one finger typing into Google to easily bring me up to speed on those early years. It was 8.40 PM on Wednesday when doctor Everett L. Smith slapped me on the ass and proclaimed me a healthy baby boy. By that miracle of childbirth, I took my place in the world as the 7th son and the 14th child born to Arlie and Sylvia Brotherton. At least that’s the official information from my birth certificate, but there will be countless times over the course of the next twenty years or so that I will swear that I was adopted.

My Zodiac sign is Taurus (the bull headed), ruled by Venus (beauty and creativity). My mythical Animal is the (Rooster), my life Path is #1; supposedly that makes me a born leader who insists on making up my own mind and demanding freedom of thoughts and actions. My birth stone is emerald, my flower is the Lily of the Valley and my perfect match, January 7th, 1961.

According to the internet, my psychological profile says I am bound to think, study, reflect and develop inner wisdom. In a past life, sometime around 950AD, it seems that I might have been a judge in France. My strengths were the talent to understand ancient texts, magical abilities and perhaps I might have been a servant of the dark forces.

In this life though, to my family, I was merely the fourteenth competitor for the attention of my parents. To the rest of the world an ordinary baby boy, nothing more than just another name among the 279,640 children born on that day.

A Peaceful Place

Each of us needs to find that peaceful place in our lives. A place where the outside world doesn’t dare penetrate. Somewhere we can recharge our batteries. For me, I love my wife, nature and Autumn in particular ( depending on the situation, not necessarily in that order).

I love that time of year when I can see my breath in the early morning air.  When nature is giving me that one last display before the big death scene of winter. The crispness of autumn tingles my imagination and makes me feel more alive than any other time of the year. I’ve always said that I can put on more clothes when it gets cold but I can only take so much off when it’s hot.  So sitting on a river bank on a cool autumn morning, the fog just starting to lift as the sun peeps over the hill top. With every minute that passes, something new comes into focus. Nature starts off with the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. Downstream a bullfrog croaks out a single bellow. As the sky lightens, birds join in and by the time the fog has cleared, a concerto fills the air. That’s as close to heaven as it gets.

But I think those peaceful moments can be found pretty much anywhere. Even late at night, with my wife’s rhythmic breathing lulling me to sleep. I’m just on the verge of dozing off but not wanting to give up a single second so I just lay there in the dark, half dreaming and half asleep.

Or after all the deadlines are passed and I’m sitting alone at my writer’s chair, free to write anything that pops into my head. Just for the fun of writing. No pressure, no hassles. With my headphones playing my favorite play list. Not caring if any one likes my work, whether or not they’ll share it, or even if anyone knows it exists.

Visiting the grandchildren and having their stamina penetrate and lift my spirit. Oh how they can wear me out with their never ending energy. But each moment is a treasure.

Shoveling the snow off the driveway early on a Saturday morning. My gloves, stocking cap and scarf tucked into just enough layers to keep me warm but not overheated. The world is so silent on those mornings. Neighbors all tucked away inside their houses. Not a single car on the street. Maybe a little laughter from a few brave children with the courage to defy nature.

Walking hand in hand with my wife, down a tree lined street with no place to go and no set time to get there. Talking about anything that comes to mind. The soft breeze blowing away our worries and the days problems crumbling under our feet.

Whatever your peaceful place happens to be, take the time to visit it often. Don’t wait until your batteries run empty to recharge them.

tbyp

Got a Minute?

Got a minute
We need to talk
I was at the doctor
Lump
Biopsy
Malignant
Don’t cry
Too early to tell
I’m scared
Take care of them
I love you
Goodbye

Happy Mother’s Day Moms

I’ve said this a thousand times and still I can never say it enough. Being a mother is the hardest and most thankless job there is and yet they do it for free.

In my mother’s eyes, “the needs of the family would always outweigh the needs of the one.” After all the bills were paid, the groceries bought and safely stored away in their larders, you might see her in the store, eyeing that new dress, or new pair of shoes or whatever items that she would have like to have. She would even go so far as to pick it up, turn it over in her hands and possibly even put it in her cart. But by the time she left the store, it would still be setting on the shelf. Because, in her words she could get by with what she had. Besides, one of the kids might need something between now and next payday.

I think that most mothers are pretty much the same. So this is why we have a special day set aside just for them. So pick up the phone, give them a call. They don’t want fancy presents or flowers. They just want you to tell them you love them.

Trust me one day you’ll wake up and find that there’s no phones in heaven.

 

A Beautiful Soul

To my wonderful wife on her birthday (happy 30th dear).

A Beautiful Soul

Your beauty
Does not need to wear a skimpy bikini
Or hide behind a painted mask of vanity
Your beauty
May bulge over the edges of the mold
But that is a mold, cold men created blindly
Your beauty
Does not yield to the encroachment of time
But transforms to embrace reality
Your beauty
Is in a smile with crooked lips
The tears shed in sympathy for others
Your beauty
Is in arms outstretched for a hug
And in a heart filled with dignity
Your beauty
Reads my words before they are written
It inspires my poetry, hopes, and dreams