Blue Ribbon Blogger? Hmmm... I Don't Know About That.

   Well, here I am again, accepting awards that I told myself I wouldn't anymore. I know... How gracious of me right. There are reasons I don't like doing these things. Firstly, I'm lazy. I'm very slow on the computer. It's a lot of work to put one of these posts together. Notifying everyone that you are nominating them, posting links to your blog for them, posting links to their blogs for the readers here. Answering all the silly questions that people write for these things, or stating facts about yourself. Putting the awards on the side board and linking them back to the people who nominated you. I have a hard time keeping up with my blog as it is, and all I do is write a couple paragraphs every once in a while. It does sound like I'm being ungrateful, I'm not. It's the truth, and that's what I'm all about here.
   Next, I question the word "award" when talking about "blogger awards"... I mean, don't you get an award for something you have already done? A little recognition for a job well done, or pat on the back for doing the right thing... Yet these things come with a list of stuff to do when you accept your award. Seems sorta backwards to me.
   But really, the biggest thing that bothers me about these blogging awards... I'm a terrible blogger! Really. I'm just some guy. I'm not even a real writer. I don't have a degree, I've never had anything published that I didn't publish myself, I type about ten words a minute. I come here and selfishly spew my thoughts on a world that didn't ask for my opinion. I write when I feel like it... And I don't, when I don't. (Sometimes for months at a time.) When I do write, I do it to gain self-satisfaction. I don't care if people like it, or even read it. Don't get me wrong it makes me happy to hear from people who have read what I post here, and relate to it, or add their own thoughts to it, or even just compliment me with a simple acknowledgment. It really makes my day sometimes, and it would not be the same without readers and some interaction. But it's not what I'm after. I write here and to try to be honest with myself with what's on my mind, it's a different perspective to see your own thoughts written out, to look at it as though it were someone else, in turn I learn about myself.

   Then I think, ya know... Someone else that I don't even know took the time to do all those things that I don't like doing with these posts.They posted all the links, notified all the people, answered the silly questions. And unlike me they do it without a complaint, with good cheer and fun spirits. Not only that but they included me in their list of people that they enjoy for some reason or another... While I may not think what I do here is worthy of praise or recognition... Someone else did. Someone thinks what I'm doing is worth sharing with others. Someone thinks what I have to say, or maybe even the way I say it is inspiring!? That's the cat's ass man. That is more than I ever expected to get out of this deal. I pretty much got my start in blogging ranting about how the FBI is out to get us, and the government is a giant scam. I never expected people to read that stuff and return to read again. Just another red-neck, conspiracy junkie runnin' his mouth. I'm not... But that's how I figured people would view me.
   Admittedly, my blog has evolved a long way from then. I really don't talk politics very often. I'm here to get into my own head. Not to dissect the the government. The one thing that remains constant about me is that I try to write openly, honestly, and without fear. That's not always easy when your mind is fraught with fears. Not only the fears of failure that I live with (that we all live with), but the fears of what are people going to think if they read this?  What will my friends think? My family? An employer? What if I offend someone important to me?..  How will I be perceived? It is scary sometimes.
    So, in-light of that, to have someone pin words on my blog like epic, or awesome, or inspirational, whether it is in humor or not, really is quite an honor. And I think it is only respectful of me to acknowledge the efforts they put forth in saying so... Even if there are a few rules.  :)

This first award comes from Marcia Doyle who writes Menopausal Mother. She has been pretty epically  awesome to me. She was one of the first bloggers to connect with me and follow my blog. She has been a constant source of encouragement. And has become so much more than a blogging connection. She is my friend, and a wonderfully kind soul. She strives to make people laugh, by showing the humor in the not so humorous things in life. And who couldn't use a couple more laughs in their day. Thanks Marcia for passing out the laughs so freely.
   The rules with this award are as follows: 1. Display the award on your page (easy enough). 2. Link back to the person who nominated you (that's no problem). 3. State ten things about yourself (hmm, now it's starting to require a thought process). 4. Nominate 10 other bloggers and link them back to your post (this now reminds me of a thing called work).







Fact#1: I love fishing.

Fact#2: I love to take pictures... Of anything. Flowers, wildlife, rocks, Coyote poop in the backyard, let's just say you never know what you may find going through my photo albums.

Fact#3: I will go fishing at any opportunity. I will rearrange my schedule, forsake responsibility, and throw caution to the wind to get to the fishing hole.

Fact#4: I have a hard time listing facts about myself.

Fact#5: I don't like to have my picture taken... Unless I'm holding a big fat fish.

Fact#6: I can't dance. I don't dance. I don't like dancing. I have never liked to dance. I've watched Dancing With The Stars every Monday and Tuesday for like eight seasons. (I've only missed a couple of shows, due to fishing.)

Fact#7: No. I'm not gay. (No offense. Just a fact. I had to clarify after admitting to taking pictures of flowers and watching Dancing With the Stars.)

Fact#8: I will go fishing with anyone. Children, elderly, family, friends, complete strangers, big, tall, small, anyone, anytime, anywhere. Heck, I would even go fishing with Obama, although he might not enjoy the conversation I'd like to have.

Fact:#9: I love Italiano Cuisine. All of it.

Fact#10: Blogging has been one of the coolest things I've ever done. (Ha! Thought I was going to say something about fishing didn't you...)





My ten nominations for this award are...

1) I love gardening, and I love adventuring. Therefore, I love this blog. Grace, Grits, and Gardening

2) For the same reasons, Chasing the Donkey

3) Dan and Lisa at A Brainless Nod are pretty awesome. A wide variety of reading here, poetry, photography, fiction, reality... They do it all, and they do it well.

4) She loves her dogs, she's funny, original, and real. She's Jersey Lil at Jersy Lil's Two Cents

5) I'm not big on tech blogs but I do follow a couple that are full of pretty awesome information, one being A Little Unhinged

6) The other is my friend Mayura at Mayura 4Ever

7) You never know what you may get from Lanthie Ransom at Life Cherries and that's just the way I like it.

8) Slu's World is a pretty cool place, another blog that you never know what will be next, but you can be sure that Stephen Sluder will entertain you.

9) For stunning photography, I highly recommend you check out Ray Bilcliff's site True Portraits of Nature I promise you will not be disappointed.

10) This list would not be complete without an epically awesome FISHING BLOG. T Brinks Fishing has it covered, anything and everything fishing here! FISH ON!!!

   Some of these epically awesome bloggers I'm sure don't even know I follow them, as I said I am a bad blogger. I rarely leave comments on people's blogs, as I said I type painfully slow, I can read and comment on about three blogs in an hour. In that same hour I can read a couple dozen blogs without commenting. See what I am getting at?..
   However, I think all these bloggers are exceptional at what they do. I don't really care if you (the nominated bloggers) accept the award and jump through the hoops in order to pin the award to your sideboard. I know most of you will not, I know by reading your blogs that many of you do not display any such awards on your pages. That's not really what this is about for me. I follow your blogs regularly, I wanted to let you know I appreciate the work you do. I wanted to let you know... I think your blogs are AWESOME. I hope I can send a few new readers your way, and I hope they will find you as epically awesome as I do.


   The next award that I need to address comes to me from two people. Gail Young who writes Gail's Forum. She writes with brutal honestly, and I have enjoyed following her journey. I find her quest for personal improvement quite inspiring, and I always love to hear from Gail here on my blog. Thank-you Gail for making my day with your nomination. The second nomination for this award comes again from Marcia Doyle at Menopausal Mother. Marcia is one of the most inspiring people I have had the pleasure to get to know. Quick with words of encouragement, always willing to lend a helping hand, never a bad word to say. She always tries to spread a positive message in all she does. Thanks Marcia for all you do.

   The rules for this award are as follows. Pin the award to your page and link back to the one who nominated you. List seven facts about yourself... Nominate FIFTEEN bloggers and notify them of such nomination. This post has taken me forever to write! So with the ten nominations above, I think I will go with ten on this award too... Call me an inspirational cheater if you will. But this post has taken me all weekend to write already. So if you cut me just a little slack on this... Well, I'll owe you one... or five.

The Facts:

1. My Dad was/is my Hero. We had our problems, many of them. And while he may not have been a great father. He was a great man. He devoted most of his life to helping others with serious life struggles. He was not an educated man, but he was brilliant all the same, and he shared his knowledge with whoever would receive it. He was my BEST fishing partner ever, and taught me nearly everything I know about fishing. I've figured some stuff out on my own, but he showed me how to do that too. There will never be another like my Dad.

2. I will be forty-two years old in two days.

3. I love gardening, working outside, getting dirty, making things grow... I like everything about it. It is the only work that I have ever done that doesn't feel like work. It is hard labor, but extremely rewarding as well.

4. If you read my blog or interact with me on-line... You would be surprised to meet me in reality. I guarantee my personality is different than you might think. I know this is true... It has happened a number of times already. People are always surprised when they meet me.

5. People who know me in reality, are always surprised when they read my blog. I'm so quiet  I make people uncomfortable in conversation at times, so to come here and see how open and "vocal" I am on this blog is quite a shock for many who know me.

6. My family is my rock. I would not be who I am, or where I am without them.

7. If I didn't have a single reader I would still be blogging.



All of my nominations for this award are because I find their writing inspiring. So with a lack of additional explanations these are them:

1. Menopausal Mother

2. Gail's Forum

3. Rum Punch Drunk

4. Follow Me Home

5. Disability and I Do

6. Rock Bottom

7. Aphorism Of The Day

8. Fear No More... A Day In The Life

9. My Meddling Mind

10. The Sadder But Wiser Girl

   Once again the majority of the people on this list probably have no idea that I read their blogs. I do... Regularly. Enough to know that you ARE inspiring people. In reading your blogs I have learned about life, people, world events... In reading your blogs I have learned about myself. That's pretty cool. Your words have made a day better here and there, your words have enriched my life in one way or another. So, accept the award or not, it doesn't matter. It doesn't change my opinion.

   To all the bloggers I mentioned here in this post,I hope my words here make your days a little better. I hope I encourage people to check you out, and see what you have to offer. If nothing else I hope I put a smile on your face, I'd just like to return that favor. Thanks to all of you for doing what you do.

Art Doesn't Always Come Easy

   I have been struggling with this post for a few days. I'm not sure how to go about it or what to say. Drawing may seem like it should be an easy thing to talk about. An easy lighthearted subject. Well, it isn't for me. It brings me to times in my life that have left deep scars, times that I don't like to revisit. Times that I don't normally talk about, even with my family and closest friends.
   I gave someone some "advice" today. They told me they were stressing about trying to get a post together... I told them to relax, let it flow, and it would be awesome. I also told them if it was real and genuine and came from the gut, people would relate to it. So, for a change, I am going to take my own advice, and just write and see what happens.

   In this first picture I think I am about 23 years old. It's a horrible picture, I was caught off guard. I have never liked having my picture taken. Unfortunately, if you have the courtesy to ask if you can take a picture, I have the honesty to tell you I'd prefer you didn't. Over the years a lucky few have come up with some descent pictures of me. (In most of them I'm holding a fish) But this picture is not one of those.

   The only reason this picture is included here is because it is one of two in existence that connect me with my drawing. So, I thought it belonged here in this post. I am sitting on my girlfriend's couch. The picture I am drawing was of Belle and Beast, I was drawing the picture for her oldest daughter. I drew a similar picture of Alladin and Jasmine for her other daughter. I was about a year out of prison in this picture. I was free. I was in love. It was the best time period of my life.
   I couldn't always draw. Like every kid I played with crayons and markers, but I never had a particular interest for it, never showed any particular talent for it. I was too busy getting into things to take time to draw anyway. I taught myself how to draw at age eighteen sitting in prison. I started by looking at photos and artwork in magazines and trying to make reproductions. I remember zoning in on the drawings and blocking the rest of the world out for hours at a time. It was an escape for me in a very dark time.

   This first drawing, I drew from a Muscle and Fitness Magazine. I drew very similar pictures of the backside muscles, and a skeleton with all the bones labeled. I learned all the muscles and bones of the body from drawing these pictures. This picture is probably twenty-two years old. To survive that long in my possession is pretty amazing. This picture has been through a lot. It's done with ball point pen on yellow lined legal paper.
   Magazines were a commodity in prison, they were good for trades and bartering. They didn't usually stick around long. When your out of cigarettes, you can trade a magazine for twenty Buglers...
   Muscle and Fitness magazines always had information that I wanted to keep, so I would draw the diagrams and write the information out and keep it all in a file folder in my foot locker. By the end of my bit that folder was so full of papers the folder didn't really even fit around it any more. I used the folder and a big rubber-band  to just kind of hold everything together. I think this drawing is the only thing that remains of that folder.

Ball-point pen. Blue copy paper.

No.2 Pencil. White copy paper.

This next set of pictures are all over twenty years old also. Some of my earliest drawings. In my earliest days of drawing I drew a lot of skulls, demons, and monsters. I learned quick, and I developed a reputation as an artist in a very short time. An artist in the penitentiary has a distinct advantage. It is a skill that you can use that no one can take from you. It is a skill that many inmates want to take advantage of. I drew pictures for people to hang in their cells, or send to people they knew. I drew cards for holidays, and birthdays. I decorated envelopes and stationary. I etched drawings in the paint of peoples foot-lockers. I drew tattoo patterns, I even did a little tattooing. I did the artwork and people traded items from the commissary for it (Soap, stamps, envelopes, ramen noodles,, candy, etc). I did an etching on one guy's guitar in trade for a set of guitar strings, I traded the guitar strings to a tattoo guy for his radio. It was an asset and an escape.

Ball-point pen. Blue copy paper.

Ball-point pen. Blue copy paper.

   As I said, I drew a lot of skulls and such in the beginning, I've drawn hundreds if not thousands of skulls. I drew other things too. Dragons, wizards, ships and serpents, also hearts and flowers, cartoon characters, and some scenery. I tried to draw whatever people asked me to in order to make my next store order. But if I was just drawing to draw... It was usually some ominous or dark image. I think because that was the condition I was in. I was angry and rebellious, and those images fit my moods at that time. My drawings do seem to reflect my emotional condition of that time.

Ball-point pen. White copy paper.

   In this picture I was about twenty-four, I think. It's a Polaroid picture. And it's another terrible picture of me. But it is the only other picture I know of that ties me to my drawings. Ha! I thought I was so damn cool. :) This period of time I mentioned earlier I was happy to be a free man. I was in love. I had a good job. This was my first apartment of my own... On my own. It was the happiest time of my life. It was the only time in my life when I felt like everything was right. As it turned out, that apartment was the beginning of the end for the in love part of that statement. And another rapid succession of bad life-decisions followed that I don't think I have ever fully recovered from.

   But I'm drifting in this post, so I'll try to stay on the subject of the art for now. There is far to much in that whole story to get into here anyway.

Mural in colored pencil.

   This partial mural, is obviously of Calvin and Hobbs. A couple of my favorite cartoon characters of all time. I also have an infatuation with sneaking up on people and scaring them. I lived in this apartment for a year and in that time (working on it on and off) the mural did get completed... Or at least it covered nearly the whole wall. It was pretty huge. And pretty expensive, I went through countless Prisma-Color Pencils. They aren't really cheap. I always seemed to think of something else to add to it though. I had other pictures of it in different stages, but again... This is the only one that survives.

   When I moved from this apartment, my landlord raved about how cool it was and how impressed he was... And kindly asked me to paint over it before I left. I put about eight coats of paint on the bees-wax based pigment, and about two weeks after I moved out it bled through the paint and was still vaguely visible.

No.2 pencil on sketch paper.

Colored pencil on sketch paper. 

No.2 pencil on sketch paper.

   This next series of pictures are from different times and periods in my life. It would take me forever to explain the inspiration and emotion behind them all. Some of them hold memories, others not so much. Most of them are just experiments that I played with along the way. I started out drawing "tattoo flash". Simple pictures, and single images with no backgrounds or other detail. And a lot of my drawings over the years have followed that same line.
   Most of my more complete drawings have been given away. Many of those actually do have foregrounds, and backgrounds. I like to give them away... I drew them, I don't need them. I feel the same way about photography, there's no use taking/making the pictures if your not going to share them. There are quite a few of them out there. I was going to try to visit some of the people I'm still in touch with that have my drawings. I wanted to photograph a couple of them and include them in this post. But that just didn't end up being a practical idea. There is a picture of a Basset Hound puppy with a red ball, my best friends have that. There is a picture I did of Hulk Vs. The Thing, my brother has that. There is one of Wolverine Vs. Sabertooth that now belongs to one of my cousins. I also put several comic book character pictures up in a local card/comic shop to see how practical it might be to sell them... It wasn't. I did sell a couple of pictures though.

Colored pencil on sketch paper.

Colored pencil on sketch paper.

   Honestly, drawing has never been particularly "fun" for me. There are things that are enjoyable about it. But it is a very slow and tedious process for me. It requires every bit of focus I have to draw a picture. And I don't always have that to give. When I draw I still withdraw to... Another consciousnesses? I don't know... But the rest of the world disappears. And it's mentally taxing.
   I do my drawings in phases. By that I mean I will go through several months in which I'll draw a half dozen pictures or so. And then I will go through long periods of time (sometimes years) were I don't draw at all. Conditions have to be perfect for drawings to happen. I have to be in the right mood, and have the right inspiration, and emotional frame, and time, and patience, and etc. I think at present it has been almost six years since I have drawn a picture. The Basset Hound I mentioned above was my last drawing that I did. And it is probably my all time favorite drawing that I have done. But the final picture I included here of Halle Berry was drawn right before that one. It's also one of my favorites. I have never used fixatives on my drawings, so over the years the shading has faded a little more than the outlines and it looks slightly more cartoonish than when I first did it as a result of storing it poorly. But it is what it is.
   Thanks for coming by, I hope you enjoyed some of my drawings. I also hope I was successful in expressing where the drawings come from within me. Sometimes art doesn't come easy.

Colored pencil on heavy drawing paper.

   

Northern Express - By Marcia Doyle, Guest Post #2

   Well, here I am. Back after another hiatus... I have tried to get several posts up over the last couple of months to no avail. Call it writers block, lack of creativity, or pure laziness. It all boils down to the same. No posts.
   I think I am over whatever funk I was in, and I'm ready to get back to it. I tried yesterday to put up a post. It was going to be a collection of my favorite photos from this past winter. I spent more than three hours posting pictures and writing captions. When I had everything in order finally I went to publish the post and hit the delete post button instead of the publish button.
   I have to say I was a little traumatized. After so much time away from my blog, and the hours spent on the pictures, it was just about enough to send my laptop crashing into a wall... After I got a grip, I made a post on my facebook page explaining the ordeal, and that I WOULD get a post up on my blog as soon as I stopped swearing and could think straight again.
   It's funny how things work out sometimes. My post on facebook sparked a conversation with my friend Marcia Doyle, who writes the blog Menopausal Mother. One thing led to another and my plan has changed. Rather than a bland and impersonal post of generic pictures, I am pleased to bring you something much more personal, and meaningful. (At least it is in my eyes.)
   This is a poem she sent to me with one of my pictures in mind. And it pleases me to no end to feature it here. As I read her poem, I was touched with a bit of nostalgia, and I was brought back to a similar time, and a similar memory in my own life. And I was left with a sentimental longing for the past. I hope you enjoy.

Northern Express

By: Marcia Kester Doyle

In the distance

a train whistle echoes

its wheels clack against metal tracks

rock with winter darkness.

I remember the old phone booth

by the depot

where you called every night at nine

wearing your thin boxing jacket

and complaining of the cold

that chilled the glass around you.

Now

when I hear the trains

in the middle of the night

stirring my bones from sleep,

I lie in the dark

and sift through the sound

for a voice, soft and distant

like the whistle

on the Northern Express

If Marcia's poem invokes a feeling in you, or recalls some distant memory from your past. Feel free to share it here with a comment for her. Or if you would just like to tell her how wonderful she is... Your thoughts are always welcome. Thanks for coming by...

My Life In A Snapshot 5

   This picture was taken in 1975. I was four years old. The picture was taken in the front yard of our house on North Territorial Road in Dexter, MI. It was an old farm house, and when the family makes reference to living here that's what we call it "The Farm".

   My mother and I had a conversation yesterday. I was telling her some of my earliest memories, they are from this period of time at this house. We ended up having a lengthy and enjoyable conversation about these memories. I think she was a little surprised by some of the things I remember from this time. I was a little surprised by how much I remembered once I really started thinking and talking about it. I have long periods of time where I have almost no memories. What I do remember is often vague and confused. Between the ages of eight and twelve I have almost nothing. So to have such good memories of being four...

   Some of the memories are actual visual images, some of them are more like memories of feelings. Our conversation started by me drawing a small diagram of the layout of the first floor. Complete with furniture. I didn't remember everything but what I did draw was correct. I didn't remember my parents bedroom or the bathroom on the first floor, until my mom mentioned them, but as soon a she did I remembered clearly. I placed the television, the couch, the dining table, doors to outside, and to the the basement. I knew where the stairway was, and where my bedroom was. I can recall the furniture layout in my room. I couldn't remember the rest of the second floor. Even when my mother told me where things where I couldn't visualize them.

  I think the most significant thing that comes with these memories is that they are they only memories I have of my dad living with the family. My parents had been split before they lived here, and after living here they divorced. It's not so much I remember living together as a family, as I have memories of both parents at this place. I remember repetitive things that happened more than specific events. It's not all clear.

   I was a quiet kid... but I was busy. I got around if ya' know what I mean. I could remember the yard as well as the house. When I would go out to play I would regularly find my way to the neighbors house by a path that connected our backyards. The chicken coop was on that path and I would stop and look at the chickens on my way. The neighbors were Wendy and Dick. I don't remember Dick but I do remember Wendy well. She cut hair in her basement, and I liked her barber chair. She had children's puzzles and toys that I liked to play with. And she liked me to play with them. She would always have cookies or some kind of goodies, but my most vivid memory there was of the wall paper. It was like "old west" style news print. Wanted posters, and tonic advertisements, old news articles... I couldn't read them but I liked looking at the old pictures. Often times my mother would not realize I had made my way to the neighbors. But Wendy would call her, and tell her where I was. She would let me stay and visit for while, many times she would have a client there and they were always highly entertained with me. After she was done with her customer she would set me up in the chair, give me a little trim and send me off home. Sometimes with vegetables from the garden or something to deliver to my mother.

   I remember the critters around the place, there were horses and ponies. They belonged to the owner of the house. I remember the ponies better than the horses, Candy and Cricket were they're names. I don't remember the horse's names but I do remember going for a ride on one once. As I mentioned there was a chicken coop, and I liked the chickens. I use to throw food to them and "help" collect the eggs. We had a dog. Her name was Polly, a big Black and Tan coon dog. She was friendly enough but she was big and she liked to jump on people. I can recall my Mother raking in the front yard and getting bit on the hand by a snake and how much it scared her. (It was only a Garter Snake.) I remember the mice, and the mouse traps. I actually remember places were we set mouse traps. I use to like to check them and empty them. My mom says I liked emptying them so much she would tell me if I wasn't good she wasn't going to "let" me empty the traps.  I remember my dad cleaning animals from hunting, and I remember understanding that we were going to eat them. We had many a rabbit and pheasant for dinner.

   I remember some of the vehicles. I used to ride on my mothers tractor with her to the garden. I didn't remember that it was her tractor or were we would ride to, I just remember riding on the tractor. There were motorcycle rides with my dad to C.J's. A little country store down the road. We would get Superman ice cream and eat it out in the parking lot before we rode home. I don't remember the cars my parents had though.

   There were other memories that weren't so good. I was not a very healthy kid. I got pneumonia often and had respiratory problems. I  remember taking a lot of medicine, and spending a lot of time in mist tents, and there was always a humidifier in my room. I remember the humidifier. It was blue, the top lifted off to put the water in. There was a... Stem? that stuck down in the water and spun at high speed, I use to take the top off and touch the stem while it spun. I remember dripping water on the stem and spraying it around the room. I remember the the humming sound it made when I would grab the stem and stop it from spinning.

   I remember some family interaction, such as being in the living room, I was sitting on the floor with my dad, my sister and mother on the couch. My dad and I were watching Star Trek, and my mother and sister were teasing us for watching it, trying to get him to turn the channel... And me knowing he wasn't going to. I also remember some arguments between my parents that weren't about T.V. and weren't all in fun.

   All in all I get the feeling that this was a mostly happy time in my life. I think that's why I remember things so well from then. It always seemed like such a big house, and the yard seemed massive to me. It was a world of wonder around every corner living in that place. I have good memories and easy feelings when think about it.

   We moved many times after living at The Farm, and that was not the first place we lived. It's just as early as I can recall. I have earlier recollections, but the aren't the same. I have to say, I find it a little odd that I can remember being three and four so well, and so many other years are so vague and foggy. Heck, most of the time I can't remember what I did yesterday, or what I had for lunch. or even if I had lunch some times. One of the things I have really liked about writing these Life in a Snapshot posts has been looking at the old pictures and really trying to think about what was going on in my life at that time. Every time I have been surprised. I've been surprised by the memories that the photos invoke, but then as I start to write about it even more comes back. This post was a little different, it came from a conversation about memories that I have, and then I  found a photo to fit. But It worked out the same. As I wrote this I remembered more that we didn't even talk about last night. I could probably continue to write about memories from this time even now.

   I went back by the place in my early thirties for the first time since we lived there. I almost didn't recognize the place. The first thing that struck me was how small the place was compared to my memory. The house, the yard, the distance between the house and the road... They were all much smaller than my four year old mind would have described. The next thing that hit me was how run down the place was. There were out buildings gone, the yard and driveway were filled with broken down cars and trucks. There were no horses, no garden, the grass was uncut, and the house was falling apart. It looked like "The Junkyard" instead of "The Farm". It was kind of sad to see it like that for the first time after so many years. I actually still don't live far from there now, and it's not uncommon for my travels to take me out that way. But I never even pay it a second glance, it's not the same place. I'll keep the pictures I have in my mind from when I was four.

   How old were you in your earliest memories? Can you draw a floor plan of your house from when you were four? Have a memory you want to share?  Leave me a comment I'd like to hear from you. And thanks for reading my story. I hope you enjoyed it.

   

Legacy - By Rum Punch Drunk, Guest Post #1

 It pleases me to no end to bring you this post. It was written by Rum Punch Drunk. Rum Punch Drunk is one of the first blogs I looked at when I  started out myself, and I have been following along since. I have seen RPD post on everything from genetically engineered food, to issues of depression, to the tragedy of 9/11, and everything in between. Rum Punch always makes thought provoking posts, and helps you to consider different and sometimes conflicting views in a non-confrontational way. RPD always invites you to share and discuss your own views on the subjects broached as well.

 When I contacted Rum Punch about doing this post, I didn't give any specifics about topic, length, form, or anything really. The title of this blog is Speaking My Mind... And that's what I wanted from Rum Punch. As I said I have been following RPD's writing for a while now and I was pretty confidant that whatever Rum Punch came up with would be something that would fit the theme of my blog, no problem at all.

 I was right. When I received the finished post I knew it was going to be perfect. It was exactly what I was hoping for. We set a delayed time to post it, to give each other ample time to prepare for the delivery. I thought the time we set was pretty pertinent to the post, as it's the new year and people are thinking about resolutions and life changes, so what better to consider in these decisions than your Legacy.

 I should have known though, that life is full of surprises. Now, in hindsight, it is a little ironic that we decided on the date we did. Two days ago on January 2, my Uncle by marriage, and friend by virtue passed away. And this post suddenly has whole new meanings in my mind. His death was sudden and unexpected. He was fifty-six years old. Here today... Gone the next. And now all that is left, is what he left behind with us.

 For me... His legacy will be a wealth of laughs, happy memories, and an endless supply of one liners. His attitude in life will inspire me not to have a "glass half full" attitude, but rather a "my glass is always full" attitude. He was a kind, caring, and gentle man. He would give you the shirt of his back, quite literally, and be happy about it if he thought he helped you. For me, Timmy was one of the greats, and my legacy from him will be rich.

 But his legacy is greater than that. He had a wife, and two kids. He had his brother and sisters, other neices and nephews, a life-time of friends, co-workers, and acquaintances. His legacy will carry on with each one of them. And it will be as different for each individual as the relationship they shared.

 So, I hope this post encourages you to delve into your own life, and really take a look around. I'll leave you now with Rum Punch Drunk, and a final question... What will you leave behind when your time comes?

Legacy by Rum-Punch Drunk

Many of us may know of a man called Mr. Alfred Nobel, who became infamous by inventing dynamite and producing explosives. Through this he became wealthy and powerful. He thought he had it all. Until, sadly, Mr. Nobel's brother died and the newspapers made the mistake of publishing an obituary based on Alfred Nobel, instead of his deceased brother. His life's work was summed up bleakly under the headline 'The merchant of death is dead'.

The article stated that Mr. Nobel was the one 'who made it possible to kill more people and more quickly than anyone who had ever lived'. Can you imagine waking up one morning and with coffee in hand, sitting down to read the papers and seeing yourself on the front page being described this way? Shock and dismay to say the least!

Who in their right mind would want to be remembered for creating death, doom, hate and mayhem anyway? Who would be happy for their name to be dragged through the mud as the scum of the earth after their death? Not many.

From that day forward Mr Nobel was determined that the legacy he would leave behind would be completely different from what he had just read. The plan he came up with was to change his 'will' in order for his vast fortune to be used to establish a series of Nobel prizes.

He achieved his aim. Nowadays when you hear about the Nobel prize, rarely does anyone associate it with the man who invented explosives. Legacies can be changed.

The opposite was the case for the late, famous Jimmy Saville, who spent years supporting charities raising thousands upon thousands of pounds to help children, only for many to come forward upon his death and alledge he was a pedophile. His family even had to remove the gravestone in fear of it being defaced by the public.

With that in mind, you may be enjoying your lifestyle, but how confident are you that you would be remembered in a decent, respectful way?

Do you even care that your actions today could have a detrimental effect on the loved ones you leave behind after your death? Or could your passing away be a case of 'good riddance to bad rubbish?'

Anyone and everyone will leave behind a legacy, good or bad. You don't have to be wealthy, rich, a homeowner or even have a job. The issue is - what do you do with what you've got? Do you nurture, encourage and support those around you? Do you give any of your time and energy to the benefit of others? Or are you just living for yourself?

So many people on their death bed want to make things right. If there was just one more thing that they could do, if they could just say one more thing to that person.... You haven't reached that moment yet. There is still time for you to go and do it. What are you waiting for? Till you lie down for that last time and you can't get up?

In light of the above...

Have you any idea what people would say about you if you were to die today?

It would be great to hear your views, comments and opinions on this topic or better still, what are your ideas for your personal legacy?