The Native Iowan

A lonely summer’s eve here in QLD. It’ll drop to 18c/ 65f before dawn tomorrow. The weather here is great. Tee shirts and shorts every day of the year. Some folks wear jumpers or hoodies or sweatshirts during winter. I wear funny hats.

I am writing today thinking about mortality.

My two grand daughters are swimming in the pool near. I am ostensibly the adult-in-charge but I told Gracie I ain’t qualified.

It’s a gentle eve. Lots of fauna noise and activity. Nova and I have been out through the back-40 on the Segway looking to see what’s out n about. She’s is a very good observer.

A year ago my ol’ compared and partner in crime, Pat P., passed.

Earlier this year my last, bestest, greatest Dawg, Kuma, passed.

Another old friend, we met in the 5th grade.

The only reason we met was because we were both catholic, and both the same age. We were tossed in a classroom with about 30 other same-aged catholic children.

By 5th grade I was a introverted book-reader. I was never good at school but read a lot. Loved the old and the new… Herman Melville and SE Hinton. Margaret Henry.

The classroom was a confused place. To a huge degree it was socialisation not education. I was not inclined to compete much in sports. I went to work delivering newsparers about that time. Delivered papers after school. So never joined the various sporting teams; football, baseball, basketball…

And my friend was the same. In a small pond we found friendship where we didn’t really fit in.

We were close compadres until our paths split when we were 17/18 years old. We saw each other sporadically until I split for good in January 1981… I’ve always know where he was and what he was doing. As I believe he has know of my where-abouts.

Over 50 years later we are still friends. We still share memories.

I’m big into memories. I exercise my memory. Have done so for a long time.

By examining my memory, my retrievable memories, I purge both demons and angels. By writing and virtually publishing I give what I can remember, what I write about, away. It’s no longer mine completely.

As a sail or as an anchor, memories effect us hugely. By sharing them both atonement and healing can be found.

I think that’s a quote from Freud?

Can healing be found through reconciliation with memories? Maybe, I’d like to think so.

My friend of 50+ tells me he has Alzheimers. His memories are fading.

I’m more than happy to be as much help and support as I can.

Noting very well that MORTALITY comes in many shapes and forms.

Smiles all around.

Cherish your memories.