...continued see the small children...

Never really knew who had the idea first to swing from that old rope, whether it was Jimmy or Herman; never knew how long that rope hung there or even who put it there; but never was there a rope there after that night; all the years later when I was growing up and even when I went back as a grown man, there were still kids swimming and playing baseball, but never did a big, thick, old sturdy and twisted rope swing from the old Poplar tree ever again.

It wasn't like we ever used that rope much, in fact hardly at all, actually almost never. None of the girls ever used it, most of the time the girls wouldn't even swim, just use to sit on the edge of the creek with their feet in the water; and us guys we use to just splash around, hiding behind the rocks teasin each other; sometimes if somebody had the baseball, we would grab it from em and throw it in the water and tell em go fetch it you dog and we'd laugh.

I guess that's what brought us all to the creek's edge the night Herman Miller mounted the rope. Herman went first. Thinking back his small, thin fingers grabbed the rope, and one after the other in rapid succession his hands clasped hand over hand til he was just about half way up the trunk of the old tree. For many years I could still see his smiling face excited and proud he had scurried so quickly up the rope, like a spider crawling the ropes of his web, his slight body, but sturdy muscular legs wrapped round the rope, just hanging there, ever so soft and gently, swinging back and forth, ready to swing out, jumping to the cool and restful waters of the creek that were waiting below for him.

I remember just before he pushed off the rock with his foot for his big swing and jump, he glanced over at Emily Anne and smiled with a hint of sarcasm, as if to say watch this and she blushed and of course looked at the ground and he was off. He swung out and jumped, we heard a loud splash and we waited -- and waited -- and waited--, but Herman never came up; turned out the water wasn't as deep as we thought, or I guess we really never thought much about deep the water was. We found out later Herman had hit his head and drowned. He was only one month from his fourteenth birthday.

I can't remember who told us Herman was gone, if it was the police, the neighbors, mama or who; that part has never been clear to me.

Nothing was ever the same after that. We all finished eighth grade together and all prayed for Herman every time we went to church. Mama said he was in a better place and God would take care of him; but we began to scatter. That final year in eighth grade we didn't go to the field to play football or baseball and none of us swam in the creek that summer. Emily Anne spent all of her time in dancin school and with her girlfriends.

...continued see the small children...

Bout six weeks later, when it was closer to gettin back to school it was a real hot summer night, the kind where ya feel like your skin is sticking to itself and ya get so thirsty all ya can think of is water, drinkin it, swimmin in it and playin in it. It was windy that night too, the kind of wind that plays tricks on you. The kind that's peaceful one minute, and fore you know it, it kicks up real hard and could pretty near knock you over, the kind of wind that usually makes you think one of those rolling thunderstorms are marching their way toward you. It was the kind of wind that always made the creek mean and looking like it was ready to eat somebody.

We were all at the baseball field; guys weren't really playing, just tossin the ball around, practicing their swings, no real runnin or anythin. There had been a lot of tension between Herman and Jimmy. Emily Anne and Herman seemed to be gettin along real well now. Kids would see em around town together, gettin ice cream, sittin on the porch, there were rumors they was kissin and stuff and I heard Herman was even thinkin of asking Emily Ann to the 8th grade winter dance. I was just glad they could finally look at each other, always seemed so stupid before, sneaking glances at one another. Anyway Jimmy didn't like Herman much anymore, didn't even talk to him; this made Emily Anne real nervous, because even though she use to get on my nerves with all of those girlie ways of hers, I guess she was a nice enough person. She had a lot of fun with Herman and all the kids liked her, cause she was always helping somebody; they would laugh and when she would come to the field she would actually sometimes try to toss the ball around. Now more times than not it was Jimmy who was either sitting in the bleachers, or moping round the field, or gone off swimming by himself in the creek and Emily Anne was always trying to include him in whatever it was all us kids was doing. That made him mad too.

So on this one hot summers night Herman and Emily were playing cards in the bleachers, I was close by talking to Jason about everybody else, a couple kids were having a catch, when Jimmy drippin wet from swimmin in the creek, looking so handsome and muscular for his young years walked up to Herman and asked wanna go for a swim. You could have heard the grass grow; no one breathed or said a word. It had been awhile since Jimmy said anythin to Herman let alone wanna go for a swim. Just as surprising, Herman, eyes glancing toward his feet said sure. None of us knew at the time that a swim would change our lives forever.

Let's go now Herman said fore it gets any later; my folks will be worried if I get home to late. Let's try that rope that's hanging from the big old oak tree.

Continued from July post...See those children down there ...

But the Spring came and I didn't feel anymore like battin a ball than I did throwin a football in the fall weather. Daddy was alright with it though; he'd pat me on the head, grab his whiskey glass and say, well maybe your mamas'right; just go play in those books of yours. Every once in awhile - and I hated this - he'd say why don't you call up that cute little girl that's always hanging around the baseball field, what's her name - Emily Anne and ask her to come over to help you with that math homework of yours. He'd always slap his hand on mama's shoulder, give her a kiss on her cheek and chuckle when he said this. Mama would laugh too and say oh hush up daddy and let the boy be.

Now I just down and out hated Emily Anne. She reminded me of Mrs. Cumberlink. She had a similarly sick sweet smell; not like that Lily of the Valley though, more like burnt carmel coated popcorn. She was the smartest girl in the class; but to hear our teacher and the principal talk you'd think she was the smartest girl in the world. She was good at science, never forgot a date in history, knew the capital of every state and knew everything there ever was to know about math. She would help anyone and everyone with their math homework and I mean everybody. She helped the girls and she helped the boys, and I think she helped the boys more and the boys helped her. Why prett-near every time we went to the baseball field to practice for a game she was there. She'd bring her books and her girlfriends and they'd sit in the bleachers a yappin. One was either too hot, or too cold, or wanted to catch the baseball and above all they all wanted to talk to Jimmy. Come to think of it she even looked like Jimmy. She had that pretty blond hair just like he did; only he seemed more interesting to me than she did.

Of all the girls, she probably was the least interested in Jimmy, although she had no trouble askin him to help her with her shoe, or fetch her sweater or whatever else she cold think of; but I really think she liked Herman Miller. Couldn't prove it by no one though; every time Herman looked at her she looked at the dirt by the diamond on the field and Herman well he'd look right away at the same time. Seemed stupid to me; but guess that's because I was trying to get some sort of interest in the dumb game by watching Jimmy. I couldn't help but wonder how'd Jimmy's hair get as long and curly and pretty as hers when she was just a stupid girl.

Now the problem was Jimmy; the problem was always Jimmy and that temper of his. Ya see, I use to watch Jimmy at those games; and Jimmy, when he wasn't watching the baseball, use to watch Emily Anne. Seemed to me Jimmy use to look at Emily Anne the same way daddy use to look at Mrs. Cumberlink; but Emily Anne - when she wasn't yappin with the girls, or pickin at a fingernail, or somehow getting her homework done, well - she was watching Herman Miller.

Now Herman Miller ... to be continued

Continued from July post...See those children down there ...

A Tribute to Mom

I believe that one day when I turn on the computer, go to my favorites and click on the link to The New Life blog , one day I will have several hundred followers. I believe this not because I am positive, not because it will most likely happen, not because I am a fabulous and gifted writer, I believe this because my mother, the most avid and probably only reader of my blog says so.

I may complain about many things in life and often do, but one thing I could never complain about are my parents, but for the purpose of today's post I will concentrate on my mother.

Mothers come in all psychological shapes and sizes. There are the ones that hate the boyfriends you love, and love the boyfriends you hate, the ones that love and admire your style of dress and the ones that criticise the latest of chic trends, the ones that whatever you do is ok, because you are the most magnificent and gifted child on earth and the ones that whatever you do is wrong; because you are incapable of making an intelligent decision; and then there are the ones that fall somewhere in the middle, the ones that admit they are just trying to be the best parent they can.

In the beginning it was hard. I was an only child who went to a private school and was the youngest and smallest in my class. Having one of those birthdays that falls at the end of the year I started school early and had a difficult time with reading and math. I quickly fell behind and suffered the feelings of inadequacy at an early age; but my mother, always on top of my every move, never missing a moment, noticed my failings and escorted me from teacher, to tutor, to counselor, to therapist to whoever would listen and help. When I felt inadequate due to poor grades, she would send me to my father for review of English and she would work on math; she'd say - just keep trying. If you can't do anything else in life, you can keep trying ~ look at Abraham Lincoln she would say. When I worried I was so small and skinny she would say good things come in small packages.

Recently I watched the funeral of Ted Kennedy and was struck by the story his son told of the time his father left money for a guest room attendant in a hotel room. His son, paraphrasing Kennedy's words said you have to tend to allot of rooms to make a living, they need a little extra.Well my mother not necessarily the biggest fan of Ted Kennedy, and a self-proclaimed Republican, but who I secretly believe to be a closeted and disguised Democrat has always exemplified this principal. Whether it be a waitron at a restaurant, or a boyfriend with a problem, or a criminal with a horrid past, or a lost or abused animal, everyone with my mother gets at least one chance and maybe a second and possibly even a third. There is rarely a judgement passed and always a little extra kindness, consideration and listening to go around, along with some good old fashioned motherly advice.

Now don't get me wrong not every one is perfect and we all make mistakes and have disagreements, but if you have a problem and need to wake someone up at 3 or 4 in the morning to discuss it, that person would be my mother. There has never been a time, in all of my years of life on this planet, that I could not wake my mother, at whatever time of the day or night and know unequivocally that she would not only listen to me, but would be interested in what I had to say. Now honestly, how many people do you know like that . We may disagree on politics, or religion, or the confeit on a dinner plate, but she is always willing to listen, debate and learn and above all she is always willing to lend a helping hand!

Now that I have been unemployed for four months and dilligently writing the blog, photoing as I go, I know that with each day that passes, there will be my mother reading each entry, looking at each photo, telling me what a wonderful writer and photographer I am. I try to convince her the only reason she thinks this is because she is my mother, but she insists that I cannot get discouraged, and again, as so many times before, she says look at Abraham Lincoln. When I say I think I will put a paypal account on the blog and I will pay each reader a $1 to read a post she says, the readers will come.

So in ending todays post I just want to say, you only get one set of parents, so whatever you do feed them, water them, drink with them, enjoy them and most of all listen to them; sometimes, actually often times those old folks just may save your sanity!

This one's for you mom! :o)