Love is something you and I must have. We must have it because our spirit feeds upon it. We must have it because without it we become weak and faint. Without love our self-esteem weakens. Without it our courage fails. Without love we can no longer look out confidently at the world. We turn inward and begin to feed upon our own personalities, and little by little we destroy ourselves.
With it we are creative. With it we march tirelessly. With it, and with it alone, we are able to sacrifice for others.
Chief Dan George
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Friday, May 7, 2010
A Pretty Good Joke
A woman goes into a discount funeral home to make arrangements for her husband's funeral. She tells the director that she wants her husband to be buried in a dark blue suit. He asks, "Wouldn't it just be easier to bury him in the black suit that he's wearing?" But she insists that it must be a blue suit and gives him a blank check to buy one. When she comes back for the wake, she sees her husband in the coffin and he is wearing a beautiful blue suit. She tells the director how much she loves the suit and asks how much it cost. He says, "Actually, it didn't cost anything. The funniest thing happened. As soon as you left, another corpse was brought in, this one wearing a blue suit. I noticed that they were about the same size, and asked the other widow if she would mind if her husband were buried in a black suit. She said that was fine with her. So... I switched their heads."
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Avery's Cat
I have a cat; I rescued her, or she rescued me, in a forest known as Avery Wood. It was just after the winter solstice, a few years back. The wood was part of the campus of a small college. Christmas was close and the campus was closed. All of the faculty, staff and student body were away; snuggled in their warm homes with family and friends, waiting on Santa who would soon be there. I was a night watchman, hired to guard the campus, make sure the heat stayed on and that pipes didn't freeze.
The cats around the campus were left there on purpose. Cats were everywhere, they were cats that nobody wanted and the cats had become feral. They had the run of the campus, some people, when there were around, liked the cats; they were cat people, of course and some of the people, when they were there, reviled the cats! The cats stayed mostly in the wood around the campus. The campus was mostly wooded. But the Cats began to venture out of the wood and into occupied parts of the campus where cat people were putting food out for them; afraid they were starving, trying to live off the land. The cat people were convinced that they, the cats, served a purpose under heaven--keeping the campus varmint free. (I never remember seeing varmint or snake) on the place; just our feral feline friends.
And then one day, I was asked to stop the feeding of the cats. I was asked to do this by a supervisory type person who was not a cat person. She was convinced the cats would move away if the feeding stopped. I agreed, like a good soldier, that I should shoo the cat feeders away, but I became their friend. I was not a cat person at the time; meaning, I did not have a cat of my own, but in an attempt to be a friend to both sides of the issue; I began taking on some of the feeding chores, especially during the holiday while the campus was closed. I was also, at the same time, allowing a man on campus to catch as many cats as he could. I was ordered to point out various locations where cats congregated. The university's administration was determined to rid the campus of as many of these feral cats as possible.
The chapel was ground zero. The chapel was an old country church that had been relocated from a mountain side out in the country. The old church had been abandoned and was about to fall down when the university bought and relocated it to the campus. The chapel, as it was now called, was renovated and preserved. It was beautiful inside and out. A picture perfect place to have church, weddings and gatherings. The chapel was in the woods, along with the rest of the campus though and the cats made the chapel their favorite place to live and wait for their handout. The cat people took the cue from the cats and a rendezvous was created there among the pines, at the chapel.
The cats came to love the Peace&Serenity the chapel afforded. They lounged around, near and underneath the chapel. The chapel became the place where cat and cat people came together. Cat people leaving food, cat eating food and living there, under the ancient floor boards, raising cat families and their tails, as a corner seem to have been set aside for the art of cat deification and disposal. All was well as far as cat and cat people were concerned. Until the chapel was deemed unfit. A wedding party was aghast at the odor emanating from the floor of the chapel and a line was drawn. The administration said that the cats had to go! The chapel was about to be reclaimed!
As soon as the campus was empty, in mid December, a cat man who was not cat people, was called in to eradicate as many as he could catch. He was instructed to get the ones form the chapel first and then move on to the golf course club house. From there the cat man was instructed to coordinate his efforts with security and round up as many as he could during the winter break. The cat man was using a cage to trap the cats and taking them away, off campus to a location he would not say where. My imagination ran wild, I was hoping they would be spayed or neutered
and returned, but the cat man never returned with any cats, it was a one way trip.
I was security and I lived on both sides of the cat debate. I had been feeding cats, as I said earlier and I had been providing cat man with Intel on the locations of cat colonies around campus. I never felt guilty, I was convinced both sides were right and I was enjoyed getting to know cat man and the cat people. We all seemed determined to have our way on the matter. We all have our places in the world and our jobs to do. It would be impossible to tell a story without knowing both sides.
A cat came into my life as a orphaned yellow tabby with orange stripes. I met her around the cottages scattered among Avery Wood. Mostly upperclassmen lived in the cottages in the wood and they adopted a cat or two while they were there. The cat I came to know was a house cat to many cottages. She was distinctive in that her tail was longer than any cats tail I had ever seen. Her tail was as long as she was. My cat was not shy, having been adopted by the councilors in the cottages, many year round residents, she had become used to people. She was really more used to the handouts she received from them and she was comfortable moving in and out of their lives and homes. She would allow the occasional pet, although I never saw anyone pick her up or hold her. She was trusting only to a point and that point must include nourishment.
It was three days before Christmas and I was very blue. Feeling the pain of another holiday alone, I was looking for a friend. The cat was, at the time, the best friend I had. I was feeding her that day and I began to ponder her safety with the cat man on the loose. She was more than just a feral cat on campus, she gave me warmth, love and joy. Knowing her was the only joy I could find at Christmas that year and I was determined to give her and myself a good holiday. I was getting ready to go home at the end of my shift and I decided to take her with me. She was conditioned to come to me when I shook the can I kept her food in. I put her food down and while she was eating, I picked her up. I was scratched up one side and down the other during that maneuver. Once inside my vehicle, I was finally able to get her off of me and all I could do with her was let her go and hope for the best. In my extended cab truck she began to wander and make the strangest noises I have ever heard emanate from man or beast. The low pitch, guttural urging to stop this torture went on for the entire thirty-five minute ride home.
Once home, I had to figure out a way to move her from the truck to the house without any additional loss of blood on my part. I wanted her in the house until I could get her to the vet and have her spayed. The challenge was met, but not with out continued howling and clawing. When I got her in and put her down, I was only better off in that I was no longer holding her. She disappeared into various parts of the place in and out of cover, under this and under, over, around and back under and over that. She was lost and frightened and I was wondering what I had done. It was then that I decided that this cat's relocation to my place would be temporary. I would put her back where I found her as soon as the cat man had gone away.
I was sorry I was causing my new friend such pain and misery. I was sure our time together would improve, but I wanted that warmth and intimacy right away. I wanted a lap cat and I had brought home a wild animal.
Over the next two days we both grew accustom to each other. I was happy to have her there. I purchased all of the proper cat tools and toys. I tried to make her as comfortable as possible. I did not let her out. I kept her in the house and one night, while I was back on post at the college in Avery Wood, I decided that would be her name; Avery. She did not have a name before that that I knew of. If any of the students or staff around the cottages had a name for her, I did not know it. She was just one of the cats that hung around. Avery adopted me, gradually. She must have found me in one way or another, bearable. I kept her bowls full of water and food. I gave her treats and on Christmas morning--Santa Clause came to see my cat. She had a stocking with more toys than a cat should be allowed to have. She got to keep most of them, but the toys with bells had to be confiscated and De-belled!
Avery was and is to this day a good cat. She was never returned to the campus. I was in love; she has her moments, like we all do. And sometimes, she seems so exasperated at me. Our life together had been a blessing to me and I was content.
In late March or early April of that year I returned home to find a window screen on the ground in front of the house and Avery gone. She returned a few days later and a month or so after that, my cat gave birth to three more cats. They were born on June first under my bed. I was home, in bed that morning and I heard the whimpering and wining of new cats. I moved the bed and gathered them all four up in a blanket and moved them into the relative peace and quiet of the bedroom closet. Avery was less than a year old, I suspect, I'm not sure, and she seemed unequipped to handle the new additions to our family. The kittens seemed normal, but within the first week two had died. I was worried, but resolved to have her spayed as soon as she had this last kitten weened.
I did not want or need any other cats. One was enough, but I figured I was stuck with this new addition. It was my fault for not getting Avery to the vet right away. I was willing to accept this and try to find the kitten a good home. Summer, the little girl next door, staked a claim to her new neighbor as soon as she learned of his existence. I was proud to have her take him. He'd be right next door and that was close enough for me. The thing is Summer's Mama and Daddy are not cat people. The nixed the idea on the very day I let her know he was weened and ready to go and live with her. Summer was heart broken, but promised to take him as soon as she turned eighteen in eleven years. I told her she had a deal.
And so, I named him Alexander Supertramp. I was reading "Into The Wild" and the main protagonist in the story was using that name on occasion to conceal his true identity. I thought the name suited Avery's cat well. He was a wanderer, a vagabond and he thinks he's so great.
That's the story of my cat and Avery's cat, Alex and how we became a family.
I only have one cat and my cat has a cat and his name is Alexander. He's a bed hogging cat. Alex can stretch and expand his body to four times his actual size when he gets on my bed, of course he thinks it's his bed. Both of my cats think that everything in the world belongs to them--including me.
WPCannon
Mount Vernon, Alabama
07May2010
The cats around the campus were left there on purpose. Cats were everywhere, they were cats that nobody wanted and the cats had become feral. They had the run of the campus, some people, when there were around, liked the cats; they were cat people, of course and some of the people, when they were there, reviled the cats! The cats stayed mostly in the wood around the campus. The campus was mostly wooded. But the Cats began to venture out of the wood and into occupied parts of the campus where cat people were putting food out for them; afraid they were starving, trying to live off the land. The cat people were convinced that they, the cats, served a purpose under heaven--keeping the campus varmint free. (I never remember seeing varmint or snake) on the place; just our feral feline friends.
And then one day, I was asked to stop the feeding of the cats. I was asked to do this by a supervisory type person who was not a cat person. She was convinced the cats would move away if the feeding stopped. I agreed, like a good soldier, that I should shoo the cat feeders away, but I became their friend. I was not a cat person at the time; meaning, I did not have a cat of my own, but in an attempt to be a friend to both sides of the issue; I began taking on some of the feeding chores, especially during the holiday while the campus was closed. I was also, at the same time, allowing a man on campus to catch as many cats as he could. I was ordered to point out various locations where cats congregated. The university's administration was determined to rid the campus of as many of these feral cats as possible.
The chapel was ground zero. The chapel was an old country church that had been relocated from a mountain side out in the country. The old church had been abandoned and was about to fall down when the university bought and relocated it to the campus. The chapel, as it was now called, was renovated and preserved. It was beautiful inside and out. A picture perfect place to have church, weddings and gatherings. The chapel was in the woods, along with the rest of the campus though and the cats made the chapel their favorite place to live and wait for their handout. The cat people took the cue from the cats and a rendezvous was created there among the pines, at the chapel.
The cats came to love the Peace&Serenity the chapel afforded. They lounged around, near and underneath the chapel. The chapel became the place where cat and cat people came together. Cat people leaving food, cat eating food and living there, under the ancient floor boards, raising cat families and their tails, as a corner seem to have been set aside for the art of cat deification and disposal. All was well as far as cat and cat people were concerned. Until the chapel was deemed unfit. A wedding party was aghast at the odor emanating from the floor of the chapel and a line was drawn. The administration said that the cats had to go! The chapel was about to be reclaimed!
As soon as the campus was empty, in mid December, a cat man who was not cat people, was called in to eradicate as many as he could catch. He was instructed to get the ones form the chapel first and then move on to the golf course club house. From there the cat man was instructed to coordinate his efforts with security and round up as many as he could during the winter break. The cat man was using a cage to trap the cats and taking them away, off campus to a location he would not say where. My imagination ran wild, I was hoping they would be spayed or neutered
and returned, but the cat man never returned with any cats, it was a one way trip.
I was security and I lived on both sides of the cat debate. I had been feeding cats, as I said earlier and I had been providing cat man with Intel on the locations of cat colonies around campus. I never felt guilty, I was convinced both sides were right and I was enjoyed getting to know cat man and the cat people. We all seemed determined to have our way on the matter. We all have our places in the world and our jobs to do. It would be impossible to tell a story without knowing both sides.
A cat came into my life as a orphaned yellow tabby with orange stripes. I met her around the cottages scattered among Avery Wood. Mostly upperclassmen lived in the cottages in the wood and they adopted a cat or two while they were there. The cat I came to know was a house cat to many cottages. She was distinctive in that her tail was longer than any cats tail I had ever seen. Her tail was as long as she was. My cat was not shy, having been adopted by the councilors in the cottages, many year round residents, she had become used to people. She was really more used to the handouts she received from them and she was comfortable moving in and out of their lives and homes. She would allow the occasional pet, although I never saw anyone pick her up or hold her. She was trusting only to a point and that point must include nourishment.
It was three days before Christmas and I was very blue. Feeling the pain of another holiday alone, I was looking for a friend. The cat was, at the time, the best friend I had. I was feeding her that day and I began to ponder her safety with the cat man on the loose. She was more than just a feral cat on campus, she gave me warmth, love and joy. Knowing her was the only joy I could find at Christmas that year and I was determined to give her and myself a good holiday. I was getting ready to go home at the end of my shift and I decided to take her with me. She was conditioned to come to me when I shook the can I kept her food in. I put her food down and while she was eating, I picked her up. I was scratched up one side and down the other during that maneuver. Once inside my vehicle, I was finally able to get her off of me and all I could do with her was let her go and hope for the best. In my extended cab truck she began to wander and make the strangest noises I have ever heard emanate from man or beast. The low pitch, guttural urging to stop this torture went on for the entire thirty-five minute ride home.
Once home, I had to figure out a way to move her from the truck to the house without any additional loss of blood on my part. I wanted her in the house until I could get her to the vet and have her spayed. The challenge was met, but not with out continued howling and clawing. When I got her in and put her down, I was only better off in that I was no longer holding her. She disappeared into various parts of the place in and out of cover, under this and under, over, around and back under and over that. She was lost and frightened and I was wondering what I had done. It was then that I decided that this cat's relocation to my place would be temporary. I would put her back where I found her as soon as the cat man had gone away.
I was sorry I was causing my new friend such pain and misery. I was sure our time together would improve, but I wanted that warmth and intimacy right away. I wanted a lap cat and I had brought home a wild animal.
Over the next two days we both grew accustom to each other. I was happy to have her there. I purchased all of the proper cat tools and toys. I tried to make her as comfortable as possible. I did not let her out. I kept her in the house and one night, while I was back on post at the college in Avery Wood, I decided that would be her name; Avery. She did not have a name before that that I knew of. If any of the students or staff around the cottages had a name for her, I did not know it. She was just one of the cats that hung around. Avery adopted me, gradually. She must have found me in one way or another, bearable. I kept her bowls full of water and food. I gave her treats and on Christmas morning--Santa Clause came to see my cat. She had a stocking with more toys than a cat should be allowed to have. She got to keep most of them, but the toys with bells had to be confiscated and De-belled!
Avery was and is to this day a good cat. She was never returned to the campus. I was in love; she has her moments, like we all do. And sometimes, she seems so exasperated at me. Our life together had been a blessing to me and I was content.
In late March or early April of that year I returned home to find a window screen on the ground in front of the house and Avery gone. She returned a few days later and a month or so after that, my cat gave birth to three more cats. They were born on June first under my bed. I was home, in bed that morning and I heard the whimpering and wining of new cats. I moved the bed and gathered them all four up in a blanket and moved them into the relative peace and quiet of the bedroom closet. Avery was less than a year old, I suspect, I'm not sure, and she seemed unequipped to handle the new additions to our family. The kittens seemed normal, but within the first week two had died. I was worried, but resolved to have her spayed as soon as she had this last kitten weened.
I did not want or need any other cats. One was enough, but I figured I was stuck with this new addition. It was my fault for not getting Avery to the vet right away. I was willing to accept this and try to find the kitten a good home. Summer, the little girl next door, staked a claim to her new neighbor as soon as she learned of his existence. I was proud to have her take him. He'd be right next door and that was close enough for me. The thing is Summer's Mama and Daddy are not cat people. The nixed the idea on the very day I let her know he was weened and ready to go and live with her. Summer was heart broken, but promised to take him as soon as she turned eighteen in eleven years. I told her she had a deal.
And so, I named him Alexander Supertramp. I was reading "Into The Wild" and the main protagonist in the story was using that name on occasion to conceal his true identity. I thought the name suited Avery's cat well. He was a wanderer, a vagabond and he thinks he's so great.
That's the story of my cat and Avery's cat, Alex and how we became a family.
I only have one cat and my cat has a cat and his name is Alexander. He's a bed hogging cat. Alex can stretch and expand his body to four times his actual size when he gets on my bed, of course he thinks it's his bed. Both of my cats think that everything in the world belongs to them--including me.
WPCannon
Mount Vernon, Alabama
07May2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
My Vocation Quest
I am still praying and in meditation everyday.
I seek Peace&Love through a life of service.
My prayers are being answered! I am helping
Tom, a cousin, two years older than my Father.
At eighty-two, Tom is being treated for cancer.
I drive him to the cancer center and to any other
appointments he has. That is where God wants me
and needs me. Serving Tom is my current vocation.
I have the days off to do this. It was planned that way,
not by me, or Tom. It was planned that way divinely.
I am convince of that. The job I have now, I am off on
Thursday and Wednesday and those are the days Tom
has to be in Mobile for his appointments and treatments.
Prayers being answered, My prayer for a life of service,
Tom's prayer for a driver. I am convinced my life is being
guided by God and so at this point I am content to let go
and let God!
Tom's home on Dauphin Island has been our oasis on Wednesday's for the last month. I have enjoyed being reacquainted with
the island I have neglected for so long. What a wonderful, unspoiled
place. Dauphin Island reminds me of the Outer Banks in North Carolina.
An unspoiled place being preserved by the fact that it is a barrier island.
Thank You Father God and Mother Earth!
WPCannon
05May2010
1333
Mount Vernon Public Library
I seek Peace&Love through a life of service.
My prayers are being answered! I am helping
Tom, a cousin, two years older than my Father.
At eighty-two, Tom is being treated for cancer.
I drive him to the cancer center and to any other
appointments he has. That is where God wants me
and needs me. Serving Tom is my current vocation.
I have the days off to do this. It was planned that way,
not by me, or Tom. It was planned that way divinely.
I am convince of that. The job I have now, I am off on
Thursday and Wednesday and those are the days Tom
has to be in Mobile for his appointments and treatments.
Prayers being answered, My prayer for a life of service,
Tom's prayer for a driver. I am convinced my life is being
guided by God and so at this point I am content to let go
and let God!
Tom's home on Dauphin Island has been our oasis on Wednesday's for the last month. I have enjoyed being reacquainted with
the island I have neglected for so long. What a wonderful, unspoiled
place. Dauphin Island reminds me of the Outer Banks in North Carolina.
An unspoiled place being preserved by the fact that it is a barrier island.
Thank You Father God and Mother Earth!
WPCannon
05May2010
1333
Mount Vernon Public Library
Darkness Prevails
The dark forces of Nature take over and haunt those who seek honesty
and truth. The dark forces can't abide honesty! They will gang up and lie.
I am sure of this, I saw it yesterday. I was the victim and I am still being
haunted, my soul and spirit are wounded by them.
I refuse to give in to them. I will never lie for them, or to them, or to anyone to defend myself against them. I told the truth, but four of them lied. What's a lonesome soul to do when out numbered? Keep telling the truth! Forget about them and move on and as far away from the evil and the darkness as possible.
Let them have it and wish them well. Forgive their dark soul's. Forgive them "Father for they know not what they do!" I am tired of being persecuted by the dark. They seem tireless though and they are wearing me out. I am defending myself for months and have been exhausted by these monsters.
What do they want from me? Their quest seems endless and it breaks my heart having to defend honesty. I'm not a saint. I don't deserve these pressures and these heartless souls at my heels. All I want is Peace&Love in my life and to be left alone. Is that too much to ask? It is for some who refuse to honor peace or love, they do not believe in either.
A Prayer:
Lord guide me. Send your angels to be with me. I am still in prayer for your wisdom. Lead me, Lord, to where you need me. I am not happy, I can't stand the darkness that surrounds me, but in your care Lord, I will find the light. Guide me to the vocation I so seek. I have so little patience, Lord, please give me patience, guidance and peace.
WPCannon
05May2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
and truth. The dark forces can't abide honesty! They will gang up and lie.
I am sure of this, I saw it yesterday. I was the victim and I am still being
haunted, my soul and spirit are wounded by them.
I refuse to give in to them. I will never lie for them, or to them, or to anyone to defend myself against them. I told the truth, but four of them lied. What's a lonesome soul to do when out numbered? Keep telling the truth! Forget about them and move on and as far away from the evil and the darkness as possible.
Let them have it and wish them well. Forgive their dark soul's. Forgive them "Father for they know not what they do!" I am tired of being persecuted by the dark. They seem tireless though and they are wearing me out. I am defending myself for months and have been exhausted by these monsters.
What do they want from me? Their quest seems endless and it breaks my heart having to defend honesty. I'm not a saint. I don't deserve these pressures and these heartless souls at my heels. All I want is Peace&Love in my life and to be left alone. Is that too much to ask? It is for some who refuse to honor peace or love, they do not believe in either.
A Prayer:
Lord guide me. Send your angels to be with me. I am still in prayer for your wisdom. Lead me, Lord, to where you need me. I am not happy, I can't stand the darkness that surrounds me, but in your care Lord, I will find the light. Guide me to the vocation I so seek. I have so little patience, Lord, please give me patience, guidance and peace.
WPCannon
05May2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Holy Week
I have been betrayed myself. A conspiracy was formed against me.
I'm not bitter, I am hurt. I wonder what I could have done to make
a difference, but nothing comes to mind. I did not deserve these cuts
or this stress. I have tried to get myself--my mind--off these negative
thoughts by writing--a story I have been trying to write for a year or
two and never finding time to write. I have to finish it before I go. I am
ready to go, but I will finish it first. I owe that to myself. To prove I am
a writer. Maybe not a very good writer, just a writer. Not Hemingway,
Capote--not a poet or a story teller, just a hack who liked to write.
Now I have time. Waiting to be evicted and starve to death, I have time.
Get this done and pass it on. Let the next one who finds it decide what
it's worth and either publish it or burn it with their tongs of fire. I will rest
knowing it was done.
WPCannon
1435
31 March 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
I'm not bitter, I am hurt. I wonder what I could have done to make
a difference, but nothing comes to mind. I did not deserve these cuts
or this stress. I have tried to get myself--my mind--off these negative
thoughts by writing--a story I have been trying to write for a year or
two and never finding time to write. I have to finish it before I go. I am
ready to go, but I will finish it first. I owe that to myself. To prove I am
a writer. Maybe not a very good writer, just a writer. Not Hemingway,
Capote--not a poet or a story teller, just a hack who liked to write.
Now I have time. Waiting to be evicted and starve to death, I have time.
Get this done and pass it on. Let the next one who finds it decide what
it's worth and either publish it or burn it with their tongs of fire. I will rest
knowing it was done.
WPCannon
1435
31 March 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
One Day-Day One
What is promised? Nothing, nothing and no one is promised.
I find that out everyday, I keep my eyes open and I listen to
the souls of others straining for their freedom of expression.
Some times, on certain dyas and I can't predict when-I am
unprepared for the expressions and I am floored by them.
I am floored now. I am barley able to speak or listen. I am and
have been harmed by the hidden, lost and angry expressions that
I have come by and am unable to predict. A combination of Mother's
and Father's genes and chromosomes that bind my spirit, my soul
and my body together and make me tick. Sometimes the ticking is
too loud. And like now, the ticking is barely audible. The soul in me
and my spirit are brused, battered and sore from the latest loud ticking.
I am more than humbled and scared to death of what I could do to myself.
Without some peace-I am nothing. I am powerless without my peace of mind
and when it is shattered, I fall hard in to a pit of loneliness and depression.
I am looking up from inside there now. I am possessed by loneliness and fear
and all by myself, I have to climb out of here and the climb is long-I am very,
very deep and I am counting the options and there seems to be only two.
The first and the one I lean on in times like these is prayer. I have my God.
I am leaning on our Lord and savior to save me and make me whole again.
Please, God, I pray, make me whole and give me peace and let that peace put
joy back into my life. I have only myself to blame for being in this pit, but alone
I will never find myself a way out. I have to have God. I have to put my will behind me,
His will before me and be wise and willing enough to follow. That is where I am right
now. I am not letting the second option be known although it creeps into my mind
so often that I am beginning to see some merits and embracing it's logic as it
may pertain to my life. Forgive me God, for I know it is a sin to wish death upon
oneself-I can't help myself.
I put myself here by being unaware of myself and my true feelings. I am so easily
led down into this place. I am glad to have this outlet, this ability to write.
It saves my life (to write) and puts life into a proper prospective. Thank
you so much Jesus for dying for me and saving my life so many times by giving me
this ability and this insight into my life. I am and will forever be in your debt.
Amen.
WPCannon
1421
23March2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Friday, March 19, 2010
The Speed Of The Sound...
"Lift Up Our Hearts With A Smile"
---Ziggy Marley
The best things about life often pass me by.
I'm not alive in some sense of the word.
I get up everyday and I go about my day,
but I am alone.
And that's OK, that's alright--God made me that way.
To be alone for me is good. For me.
Not for everybody. I see the couples and I feel lonely,
and more alone.
Is the world ready for another day with me in it?
Am I to be welcomed and enjoy this day?
Yes, I am. I have some things to do today and tonight,
with ones I love, all alone.
I am alone writing this. I could not see this if I were not alone.
I have to be alone to be comfortable and free to think. And so,
all alone is necessary for me to be free and for
me to be able to see.
God made me all alone and has intend's for me to be alone and free.
And so, I am and destined to remain this way.
I always feel my aloneness and wonder what I missed.
(The kindness and intimacy of another soul)
Love I am so free to give away, will it ever be returned?
To me that sadness of being alone--
Living, dying alone and being alone is my God's will.
For me to live alone.
All of the lessons I learn along the way will forever die too,
unless I share them with you.
All alone I sit here and write into this box--all alone--
I have a place to share the loneliness.
WPCannon
1001
19March2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Inquiry Letter
Dear Father Damien--
I am fifty-one years old and I have been hearing a call to serve our Lord, Jesus Christ, for all of the years of my life. I am just now, during this Lenten season, beginning to heed the one truth I have known all of my life. I feel drawn to this life not to escape, but to enter into a world where I can do more good. I seek the solitude, peace and love of the Lord in my life everyday. I need to walk with God everyday. Prayer and meditation are an escape now, but I am longing to have that as part of my routine and not have to simply "find time" to be closer to God.
I am not trained in any meaningful vocation. I work as a public safety dispatcher at a very small town's police department. I also work for our Senior Citizen's Center, as a van driver. I volunteer at our public library and I am actively involved with the friends of the library and the library board. I am active in our parish, St Cecilia, as a lector. Our parish priest, Fr. John Coghlin, is not aware of my desire for a monastic life, but I am planning to send him, along with our Archbishop, Thomas Rodi, a copy of this letter.
I have not talked to my Father, Brother or Sisters about this decision. I have let some friends know and the love, prayers and support I am receiving, has been amazing. I am, and continue to be, so very blessed in my life and I only want to spend the rest of my life returning the prayers and support I have received from the wonderful people I have known.
My work ethic is strong. I am a faithful and reliable worker and will serve the community in any way I am needed. I feel like a life of service is all I have to give. I am interested in the monastery as a permanent retreat, to give God my undivided attention and put my faith in action.
I fancy myself a writer, a poet and i have given these last eighteen years of my life over to sobriety. I have tried to write every day, of those years and about how and why I have come to believe God saved me from myself. I had a spiritual awakening at the treatment center I was in, in 1992. A warmth and peace, like I was being anointed, spread over me and my faith was reawakened. I don't know that I will make the monastery my home for the rest of my life, but I do feel I am being drawn there. My heart and mind are open and after all of these years, I am ready to seek fulfillment.
Please feel free to contact me. I am not a wealthy man. I have some, minor debts I am working to clear up. I am looking forward to learning more. My prayers will be focused on the future and the vocation I am seeking to find.
Thank you for your kindness--Peace&Love be with you!
William
I am fifty-one years old and I have been hearing a call to serve our Lord, Jesus Christ, for all of the years of my life. I am just now, during this Lenten season, beginning to heed the one truth I have known all of my life. I feel drawn to this life not to escape, but to enter into a world where I can do more good. I seek the solitude, peace and love of the Lord in my life everyday. I need to walk with God everyday. Prayer and meditation are an escape now, but I am longing to have that as part of my routine and not have to simply "find time" to be closer to God.
I am not trained in any meaningful vocation. I work as a public safety dispatcher at a very small town's police department. I also work for our Senior Citizen's Center, as a van driver. I volunteer at our public library and I am actively involved with the friends of the library and the library board. I am active in our parish, St Cecilia, as a lector. Our parish priest, Fr. John Coghlin, is not aware of my desire for a monastic life, but I am planning to send him, along with our Archbishop, Thomas Rodi, a copy of this letter.
I have not talked to my Father, Brother or Sisters about this decision. I have let some friends know and the love, prayers and support I am receiving, has been amazing. I am, and continue to be, so very blessed in my life and I only want to spend the rest of my life returning the prayers and support I have received from the wonderful people I have known.
My work ethic is strong. I am a faithful and reliable worker and will serve the community in any way I am needed. I feel like a life of service is all I have to give. I am interested in the monastery as a permanent retreat, to give God my undivided attention and put my faith in action.
I fancy myself a writer, a poet and i have given these last eighteen years of my life over to sobriety. I have tried to write every day, of those years and about how and why I have come to believe God saved me from myself. I had a spiritual awakening at the treatment center I was in, in 1992. A warmth and peace, like I was being anointed, spread over me and my faith was reawakened. I don't know that I will make the monastery my home for the rest of my life, but I do feel I am being drawn there. My heart and mind are open and after all of these years, I am ready to seek fulfillment.
Please feel free to contact me. I am not a wealthy man. I have some, minor debts I am working to clear up. I am looking forward to learning more. My prayers will be focused on the future and the vocation I am seeking to find.
Thank you for your kindness--Peace&Love be with you!
William
St Patrick's Day Eve
I am a Patrick. I was named after the first William Patrick, my Father,
who was named after the Saint, Saint Patrick, the Patron Saint of Ireland.
My Grandmother, God Rest Her Soul, was first generation American.
Her Mother, Brigid McCarthy, was from the Emerald Isle. She came here,
to America when she was twelve and settled in or near, Boston, MA.
That is where my Grandfather, Henry Cannon found his Mary.
Henry was a sailor and as sailors tend to do, he was want to fall in love-
in every port he was fortunate enough to visit. A sailor's love is always in
season, for they know not they're fate or they're future, so get it while
you can is often their creed. Henry was not out for a fling. And
when he found his Mary, he knew he had found his future Mrs. Cannon.
He somehow wooed her away from her family in Boston and convinced
her to travel with him to the other end of the country. A place Mary would
forever refer to as the "wilderness"--Mount Vernon, Alabama.
Together they carved out a place and started a family. Many other Cannon's--
Irish immigrants themselves, had settled in Mount Vernon.
A good Catholic bunch, they flourished and brought forth many offspring
to carry on the name. Henry was the first to
carry on his father's name was actually born in Boston. The next was my father,
William Patrick, then Brigid and the last child, a son, was Uncle Neal.
Only Brigid and my Father survive to this day and neither of them live in Mount Vernon.
They, like many others of theirs and subsequent generations have gone. They left
for greener pastures and brighter futures in places other than this wilderness I
call home.
My father moved our family away from here in 1971, a year after his mother, Mary,
had passed away. Dada, as we called her, was on her way into mass at St Cecilia's
on Sunday morning. She fell backwards down the front steps of the church
and broke her hip. She never recovered and died a few weeks later. My father was on
a new job in Washington, D.C., his first day on the new job, when he got the news of his
mother's death and he rushed back here to bury her. We were all over come with grief.
Her loss meant we were all the lesser, I was only eleven years old, but I knew we had lost
more than just a grandmother, we had lost a part of our very own souls. Dada kept us
on the right path and in church. Without her, who knows what heathen we would have
become.
At this time of year--every year--I am reminded of the Irish in me. I know our patron saint,
Patrick, would be proud of the Cannon and McCarthy clans for having some semblance of dignity remaining. I am the last Cannon living here in Mount Vernon though. There are many near by, but doubt any of them will ever return here to live. The lands on which my Grandparents
lived and raised their family is in danger of being sold off and that will mean
an end to the promised land as I have always known it. I own nothing here and likely,
never will. I squandered my most productive years and have no future to speak of.
I work everyday and have nothing to show for my labors. I rent a property that will more
than likely be sold out from under me at anytime.
My greatest ambition in life is to become a monk, live a monastic life for the rest of my life
and die in peace and harmony with God. I will have to spend the rest of my life anyway,
begging for forgiveness for wrecking his temple. I feel like I deserve no better life for
myself and have come to believe, that God is calling me. For I am alone, but not alone,
I have Christ in my life and that ought to be good enough for me. Is this why God has
kept me all alone? I have come to believe it is. I am praying to the angels and the saints
to guide me down the right path and I am sure they are.
I have began the process of becoming a Benedictine. A letter of inquiry has been written and sent to the monastery in Oxford, MI. I will also send a copy of that same letter to my parish priest here at St Cecilia and to the Archbishop of the diocese of Mobile. From there, this is all be left in God's hands and the hands of the men who serve God. I have some debts I will have to clear up, but other than that, I have no other obligations to anyone other than
myself and my God.
who was named after the Saint, Saint Patrick, the Patron Saint of Ireland.
My Grandmother, God Rest Her Soul, was first generation American.
Her Mother, Brigid McCarthy, was from the Emerald Isle. She came here,
to America when she was twelve and settled in or near, Boston, MA.
That is where my Grandfather, Henry Cannon found his Mary.
Henry was a sailor and as sailors tend to do, he was want to fall in love-
in every port he was fortunate enough to visit. A sailor's love is always in
season, for they know not they're fate or they're future, so get it while
you can is often their creed. Henry was not out for a fling. And
when he found his Mary, he knew he had found his future Mrs. Cannon.
He somehow wooed her away from her family in Boston and convinced
her to travel with him to the other end of the country. A place Mary would
forever refer to as the "wilderness"--Mount Vernon, Alabama.
Together they carved out a place and started a family. Many other Cannon's--
Irish immigrants themselves, had settled in Mount Vernon.
A good Catholic bunch, they flourished and brought forth many offspring
to carry on the name. Henry was the first to
carry on his father's name was actually born in Boston. The next was my father,
William Patrick, then Brigid and the last child, a son, was Uncle Neal.
Only Brigid and my Father survive to this day and neither of them live in Mount Vernon.
They, like many others of theirs and subsequent generations have gone. They left
for greener pastures and brighter futures in places other than this wilderness I
call home.
My father moved our family away from here in 1971, a year after his mother, Mary,
had passed away. Dada, as we called her, was on her way into mass at St Cecilia's
on Sunday morning. She fell backwards down the front steps of the church
and broke her hip. She never recovered and died a few weeks later. My father was on
a new job in Washington, D.C., his first day on the new job, when he got the news of his
mother's death and he rushed back here to bury her. We were all over come with grief.
Her loss meant we were all the lesser, I was only eleven years old, but I knew we had lost
more than just a grandmother, we had lost a part of our very own souls. Dada kept us
on the right path and in church. Without her, who knows what heathen we would have
become.
At this time of year--every year--I am reminded of the Irish in me. I know our patron saint,
Patrick, would be proud of the Cannon and McCarthy clans for having some semblance of dignity remaining. I am the last Cannon living here in Mount Vernon though. There are many near by, but doubt any of them will ever return here to live. The lands on which my Grandparents
lived and raised their family is in danger of being sold off and that will mean
an end to the promised land as I have always known it. I own nothing here and likely,
never will. I squandered my most productive years and have no future to speak of.
I work everyday and have nothing to show for my labors. I rent a property that will more
than likely be sold out from under me at anytime.
My greatest ambition in life is to become a monk, live a monastic life for the rest of my life
and die in peace and harmony with God. I will have to spend the rest of my life anyway,
begging for forgiveness for wrecking his temple. I feel like I deserve no better life for
myself and have come to believe, that God is calling me. For I am alone, but not alone,
I have Christ in my life and that ought to be good enough for me. Is this why God has
kept me all alone? I have come to believe it is. I am praying to the angels and the saints
to guide me down the right path and I am sure they are.
I have began the process of becoming a Benedictine. A letter of inquiry has been written and sent to the monastery in Oxford, MI. I will also send a copy of that same letter to my parish priest here at St Cecilia and to the Archbishop of the diocese of Mobile. From there, this is all be left in God's hands and the hands of the men who serve God. I have some debts I will have to clear up, but other than that, I have no other obligations to anyone other than
myself and my God.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Mithril and Being Out
The night, last night, could have been better. I invited two people to spend the evening with me-
to see Mithril and enjoy their music with me, but I was roundly rejected. I ought to be used to that by now. I seem to simply refuse to believe it will happen again and I dive right in for more of the same. When will I learn?
I went on my own. I met a cousin and his wife there and we enjoyed the Celtic; "Here Comes St Patrick's Day" show. I had not seen Mithril, but had always heard great things about them. I was not disappointed. Their show is spot on and full of energy. I was thrilled to be there and I was also thrilled to hear their special guest, Adrian Duncan. He is from Halifax, Nova Scotia. His music and the talk he gave made me want to visit the place and hear more about it.
The Laidlaw Performing Arts center on the campus of the University of South Alabama was a pleasure and a delight as well. My first time there too last night. It was full of people who, like Vic, Donna and I were thrilled to have found our way there to see the show. Not one of the Mithril four missed a beat that I could tell. Being of Irish heritage, I was not at all disappointed in the way the music was performed or presented and that may be because I am none the wiser, or because i was so starved for the live, acoustic sounds I enjoyed on that stage last night. The uniqueness of the experience with Adrian Duncan, made the night special and everyone in town who was not there last night missed out on a very special show.
My aloneness is my own fault. I blame myself for the undesirable nature I have created for myself. I have to believe that I am to blame. How could anyone else be? I am at the time in my life where my aloneness is not acceptable to me. I am about to go on this journey alone into my
own soul to try to figure out where in this God Almighty world I am supposed to be. I had hoped that would be with someone, but I am beginning to believe I am not suited to live with another soul. I am supposed to be alone and so, I am.
to see Mithril and enjoy their music with me, but I was roundly rejected. I ought to be used to that by now. I seem to simply refuse to believe it will happen again and I dive right in for more of the same. When will I learn?
I went on my own. I met a cousin and his wife there and we enjoyed the Celtic; "Here Comes St Patrick's Day" show. I had not seen Mithril, but had always heard great things about them. I was not disappointed. Their show is spot on and full of energy. I was thrilled to be there and I was also thrilled to hear their special guest, Adrian Duncan. He is from Halifax, Nova Scotia. His music and the talk he gave made me want to visit the place and hear more about it.
The Laidlaw Performing Arts center on the campus of the University of South Alabama was a pleasure and a delight as well. My first time there too last night. It was full of people who, like Vic, Donna and I were thrilled to have found our way there to see the show. Not one of the Mithril four missed a beat that I could tell. Being of Irish heritage, I was not at all disappointed in the way the music was performed or presented and that may be because I am none the wiser, or because i was so starved for the live, acoustic sounds I enjoyed on that stage last night. The uniqueness of the experience with Adrian Duncan, made the night special and everyone in town who was not there last night missed out on a very special show.
My aloneness is my own fault. I blame myself for the undesirable nature I have created for myself. I have to believe that I am to blame. How could anyone else be? I am at the time in my life where my aloneness is not acceptable to me. I am about to go on this journey alone into my
own soul to try to figure out where in this God Almighty world I am supposed to be. I had hoped that would be with someone, but I am beginning to believe I am not suited to live with another soul. I am supposed to be alone and so, I am.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Benedictine
I am hearing a call. A call I have heard for years to serve God. A call to walk away
from the secular life and embrace the monastic life. I have began with a letter of
inquiry to the order of Benedictine monks at St. Benedict Monastery. The first
step is taken. I will see and I am looking forward to what will happen next. This
has been in the back of my mind for many years and I am only now seeing the way
clear.
I was driving the Greyhound bus from Mobile to New Orleans. I had a young lady on
the very front seat across from me talking to me about her young life and in talking
to her about my older life, I heard her say the words that have put me on this path.
All of those years ago-and I have come to believe she may have been an angel sent there
to save me from myself. In those few hours, our conversation saved me by opening my
eyes. So young, just a hippie chick moving around the country from youth hostel to youth
hostel, seeing the country-deciding where she was supposed to be-she was saving lives
all along the way.
What she said to me that day was so simple:
Just before she left me there in the Big Easy, she said; "...so,you like your things!"
I must have been letting her know how many things i had and how proud I was of myself for acquiring these things and how that was my measure of success. I was pleased with myself too when i learned this and then she spoiled my glow by making that one simple statement that for all of these years has haunted me and my success or lack there of. Nothing I have done or acquired since that day, has meant a thing to me. I am grateful to her for pointing out to me how meaningless my life has been. I am never going to forget her or that bus ride, the rest of my life has to be dedicated to her revelation to me on that fateful day.
Last night I looked into the Benedictine order on line. I found their monastery in Oxford,
Michigan and i am taking the first step-a letter of inquiry. From there, I wait, keep praying and wait for the brothers there to call on me and make the next step. I feel like I am destined. God is calling-has been calling and I am finally ready to answer.
from the secular life and embrace the monastic life. I have began with a letter of
inquiry to the order of Benedictine monks at St. Benedict Monastery. The first
step is taken. I will see and I am looking forward to what will happen next. This
has been in the back of my mind for many years and I am only now seeing the way
clear.
I was driving the Greyhound bus from Mobile to New Orleans. I had a young lady on
the very front seat across from me talking to me about her young life and in talking
to her about my older life, I heard her say the words that have put me on this path.
All of those years ago-and I have come to believe she may have been an angel sent there
to save me from myself. In those few hours, our conversation saved me by opening my
eyes. So young, just a hippie chick moving around the country from youth hostel to youth
hostel, seeing the country-deciding where she was supposed to be-she was saving lives
all along the way.
What she said to me that day was so simple:
Just before she left me there in the Big Easy, she said; "...so,you like your things!"
I must have been letting her know how many things i had and how proud I was of myself for acquiring these things and how that was my measure of success. I was pleased with myself too when i learned this and then she spoiled my glow by making that one simple statement that for all of these years has haunted me and my success or lack there of. Nothing I have done or acquired since that day, has meant a thing to me. I am grateful to her for pointing out to me how meaningless my life has been. I am never going to forget her or that bus ride, the rest of my life has to be dedicated to her revelation to me on that fateful day.
Last night I looked into the Benedictine order on line. I found their monastery in Oxford,
Michigan and i am taking the first step-a letter of inquiry. From there, I wait, keep praying and wait for the brothers there to call on me and make the next step. I feel like I am destined. God is calling-has been calling and I am finally ready to answer.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Starting and Ending
Beginning and ending every day alone is torture sometimes.
And then there are the days I would not take a thing in world for
days like today. I am not sure this day is going to be one of those days.
I just know that it is starting out as one. I had a great Sunday, but today is Monday.
Yesterday was grand. I got to see the ones I care most about in this world
and one of them shined there ever loving light on me. Showed me a ray of hope for the
future. At two in the morning, with nothing better to do, it feels good to have
hope. I made myself a promise, not to give up, no matter what, never give up.
The depression is very real and a very powerful force in my life that I am fortunately
able to recognise and deal with without the use of drugs. I tried the drug
route and convinced myself that it does not work for me. I am too involved and the
Zoloft made me feel nothing and I had rather have the pain. Nothing is nothing and
nothing hurts much more than the pain of past memories of failures. I hate to dwell
on the past and dwell on the past I am prone to do, but I need the reminder of past
failures. I am in need of the splendid, painful recalls I possess for failures. Without
which I would be destined to repeat the trips and falls into the pitfalls of my past.
Still the curse is that I am depressed too, by my past inequities. And by my loneliness
know that i am forever destined to be lonely. I see all of the happy couples, knowing that
I will never be one of them. I am not giving up on finding the right one for my heart, but it will have to be a right one, one that I see as right and not one simply for the connivance of a
companion. I want one I can get excited about making love to. One who is interested in
me and I in her. One who reads and is read; a writer, a poet, a passionate woman full of
love and compassion. She is out there waiting to find me and I her. We are destined for one another, the same way William was destined for Addie. They were two, a perfect pair, who
met by chance and stayed together for the rest of their lives. They never married and were
completed by one another, completely in love and each a perfect complement to the other.
I have been trying to force myself, for years, into relationships that are not meant for me.
Nicky, Scarlett, Anna and Michelle, just to name a few, put me down without a hint of being interested in me, what I have read, written or am writing. And I let them all inside my heart to tear off as much as they want without asking for anything in return. I'm not out to force myself in to any one's lives, but that is the way I am made to feel, like a fool, a desperate man. I guess I am, stalking the world over for a pretty young thing to take me in and take me on. No luck, it ain't about to happen. Finding love must be like winning the lottery, too many others out to win and the odds are too great. I need to put more energy in to writing and finishing something, and less time in pursuit of ghosts. My fantasy life, will have to sustain me for the time being.
And then there are the days I would not take a thing in world for
days like today. I am not sure this day is going to be one of those days.
I just know that it is starting out as one. I had a great Sunday, but today is Monday.
Yesterday was grand. I got to see the ones I care most about in this world
and one of them shined there ever loving light on me. Showed me a ray of hope for the
future. At two in the morning, with nothing better to do, it feels good to have
hope. I made myself a promise, not to give up, no matter what, never give up.
The depression is very real and a very powerful force in my life that I am fortunately
able to recognise and deal with without the use of drugs. I tried the drug
route and convinced myself that it does not work for me. I am too involved and the
Zoloft made me feel nothing and I had rather have the pain. Nothing is nothing and
nothing hurts much more than the pain of past memories of failures. I hate to dwell
on the past and dwell on the past I am prone to do, but I need the reminder of past
failures. I am in need of the splendid, painful recalls I possess for failures. Without
which I would be destined to repeat the trips and falls into the pitfalls of my past.
Still the curse is that I am depressed too, by my past inequities. And by my loneliness
know that i am forever destined to be lonely. I see all of the happy couples, knowing that
I will never be one of them. I am not giving up on finding the right one for my heart, but it will have to be a right one, one that I see as right and not one simply for the connivance of a
companion. I want one I can get excited about making love to. One who is interested in
me and I in her. One who reads and is read; a writer, a poet, a passionate woman full of
love and compassion. She is out there waiting to find me and I her. We are destined for one another, the same way William was destined for Addie. They were two, a perfect pair, who
met by chance and stayed together for the rest of their lives. They never married and were
completed by one another, completely in love and each a perfect complement to the other.
I have been trying to force myself, for years, into relationships that are not meant for me.
Nicky, Scarlett, Anna and Michelle, just to name a few, put me down without a hint of being interested in me, what I have read, written or am writing. And I let them all inside my heart to tear off as much as they want without asking for anything in return. I'm not out to force myself in to any one's lives, but that is the way I am made to feel, like a fool, a desperate man. I guess I am, stalking the world over for a pretty young thing to take me in and take me on. No luck, it ain't about to happen. Finding love must be like winning the lottery, too many others out to win and the odds are too great. I need to put more energy in to writing and finishing something, and less time in pursuit of ghosts. My fantasy life, will have to sustain me for the time being.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
A Job In Professional Baseball
Applied for a job in baseball today.
Might be cleaning toilets at the Hank soon.
Big shots got to start out someplace. May as well be,
at the bottom. I don't expect to be a big shot,
I have never been a big shot before. Why start now-
I just want free shot at getting into the games.
And I told the man that-I'm coming weather
I get the job or not. It would be a blessing to me.
I love the game and i announced--out loud today--
I want to be the official scorer and pitch batting practice.
I could tell by the way they all looked at me, that I would
never get to work there. I'm too old, too fat, too this, too that.
The story of my life. Always too this or too that. Is that why
the women are staying away from me in droves?
I imagine so. But that's me, that's who i have grown up to be.
Insecure and homely, they see that by my admission and by
me refusing to be quite at the job fair and exhibiting
unrealistic expectations to the man that was there,
just taking applications and letting everyone know they don't pay
shit to work out there. I told him, I'm coming anyway!
So, why would they hire one of their few paying customers?
No way I'll get a job out there, no matter how bad they need help.
I showed up in my Hank Aaron Stadium cap. I was decked out, I
wanted them to know I'd been there before. I wounder, how many of the others
at the Hank today had been there before? Maybe they all had and were like me
trying to get back. Were thinking, like I was, "I'm going to be out here anyway,
I might as well get paid" Even if it is minimum wage. We'll see, I will let you know.
I don't believe they will call me but stranger things have happened.
Might be cleaning toilets at the Hank soon.
Big shots got to start out someplace. May as well be,
at the bottom. I don't expect to be a big shot,
I have never been a big shot before. Why start now-
I just want free shot at getting into the games.
And I told the man that-I'm coming weather
I get the job or not. It would be a blessing to me.
I love the game and i announced--out loud today--
I want to be the official scorer and pitch batting practice.
I could tell by the way they all looked at me, that I would
never get to work there. I'm too old, too fat, too this, too that.
The story of my life. Always too this or too that. Is that why
the women are staying away from me in droves?
I imagine so. But that's me, that's who i have grown up to be.
Insecure and homely, they see that by my admission and by
me refusing to be quite at the job fair and exhibiting
unrealistic expectations to the man that was there,
just taking applications and letting everyone know they don't pay
shit to work out there. I told him, I'm coming anyway!
So, why would they hire one of their few paying customers?
No way I'll get a job out there, no matter how bad they need help.
I showed up in my Hank Aaron Stadium cap. I was decked out, I
wanted them to know I'd been there before. I wounder, how many of the others
at the Hank today had been there before? Maybe they all had and were like me
trying to get back. Were thinking, like I was, "I'm going to be out here anyway,
I might as well get paid" Even if it is minimum wage. We'll see, I will let you know.
I don't believe they will call me but stranger things have happened.
Monday, March 1, 2010
The Big Read
The Adventure of Tom Sawyer.
By Mark Twain
I have not read this book. I have read Mark Twain,
but not Huckleberry Fin or Tom Sawyer, I read
the best book, by his own admission, that Twain
ever wrote; "Joan of Arc". I had never even known
about the book until I read a review on the feast day
in May, of Saint Joan. Later the same day. I was in
a book store looking for a book of Rilke's poetry and
my eyes fell right upon Mark Twain's "Joan of Arc".
I never, ever, let coincidences like that past me these
days. I put down the Rilke and picked up Joan of Arc.
I have enjoyed the book and that was the first of Twain's
that I have read. But, now the big read, a exercises by
our library, along with the Mobile Public, to get books
into the hands of children, has asked me to read along
with our youth, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and I
am happy to do it. After Joan, I was bound and determined
to revisit Twain's other, more famous works.
I am proud to do anything that promotes reading. I know,
however the act of handing out the books is the easy part.
Seeing them read, is the part that I am not sure we can force
upon anyone. We will see and I will report my impressions of
Tom Sawyer and the big read and it's success or failure right
here in these post. I was asked to pick up the ten, brand new
copies of the book from the office on Government street in
Mobile, AL of the Mobile Public Library. I did so and put them
in the office of the Mount Vernon Public Library and that is
where they stayed until I mentioned to Adrienne, that didn't
she think we ought to hand the books out to children to read.
The books would never be read if we did not get them into the
hands of the local children and convince them to read them.
Adrienne called the Principle of our local elementary school and
we are going to go by there in two days to pass out our ten copies.
Adrienne and I are both also going to read the book and together
with the children, hopefully, have our own adventure. Now to begin...
WPCannon
1917
01 March 2010
MVPD
By Mark Twain
I have not read this book. I have read Mark Twain,
but not Huckleberry Fin or Tom Sawyer, I read
the best book, by his own admission, that Twain
ever wrote; "Joan of Arc". I had never even known
about the book until I read a review on the feast day
in May, of Saint Joan. Later the same day. I was in
a book store looking for a book of Rilke's poetry and
my eyes fell right upon Mark Twain's "Joan of Arc".
I never, ever, let coincidences like that past me these
days. I put down the Rilke and picked up Joan of Arc.
I have enjoyed the book and that was the first of Twain's
that I have read. But, now the big read, a exercises by
our library, along with the Mobile Public, to get books
into the hands of children, has asked me to read along
with our youth, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and I
am happy to do it. After Joan, I was bound and determined
to revisit Twain's other, more famous works.
I am proud to do anything that promotes reading. I know,
however the act of handing out the books is the easy part.
Seeing them read, is the part that I am not sure we can force
upon anyone. We will see and I will report my impressions of
Tom Sawyer and the big read and it's success or failure right
here in these post. I was asked to pick up the ten, brand new
copies of the book from the office on Government street in
Mobile, AL of the Mobile Public Library. I did so and put them
in the office of the Mount Vernon Public Library and that is
where they stayed until I mentioned to Adrienne, that didn't
she think we ought to hand the books out to children to read.
The books would never be read if we did not get them into the
hands of the local children and convince them to read them.
Adrienne called the Principle of our local elementary school and
we are going to go by there in two days to pass out our ten copies.
Adrienne and I are both also going to read the book and together
with the children, hopefully, have our own adventure. Now to begin...
WPCannon
1917
01 March 2010
MVPD
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Sunday Baseball
Nothing like Sunday afternoon at the ball park.
Nothing!
The South Alabama Jaguars taking on the Wichita State Shockers.
The day was brilliant. The sky was clear and so blue
it hurt mine eyes. And I almost didn't go.
I was up all night and I could have gone home after church
and gone to bed. Glad I went to the game.
The good guys got beat up pretty bad, but I am still glad I went.
The Jaguar starter had that buzzard's luck.
He couldn't kill anything and wouldn't nothing die.
The Jag's bats were quiet and when they did manage to get the bat
on the ball, they could not leg it out.
#4 White, runs like Mama Cass.
The Jags used up five pitchers in the nine inning contest
and out of the five only two looked like they knew
what they were supposed to be doing out there.
The lefty showed promise, but he can't pitch from the stretch.
Too worried about prior mistakes to take on the batters
and get them out. Immature and lacking in confidence.
In the bottom of five, blue-boy got into the game.
Left fielder for the Shockers made a brilliant play in the field.
Everyone in attendance, except the three blind boys from Alabama
saw it and were waiting for the call from the umpires. We're still
waiting. Not one of the three saw the play or were prepared
to make a call. Like I said, we're still waiting...
The Jags trotted their fourth pitcher out, a right handed, sidewinder.
He has potential too, or he did have for awhile. The shocker hitters
caught on and by their second time around, they were shelling him too.
I look for the Shockers to make the tournament. I see little improvement
over last years Jags. #29 rounded out the last of the Jag's five hurlers.
He gave up a three run homer in the top of the ninth to seal there fates.
From there the Jaguar bats refused to come alive. They show little hope.
No joy in Stankeyville tonight, the Jaguars lose and the Wichita, Shockers
Win the Classic, 15-10.
And I am still glad I went.
WPCannon
1835
28 February 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Saturday In the Mount Vernon Public Library
I am back here in my favorite place to be on Saturday Morning.
Or any morning. This place makes me want to read and write.
I am comfortable here and I am calm here, I meditate here.
In here I find the most peace I have ever known.
I pray everyday for everyone I know to find this same level of
peace, love and understanding. I am alone here.
There are others here, into their own level of consciousness,
but me, I am here alone. I have to be alone to be enlightened.
Maybe I am not, but I feel I am. I care about the others here,
but not while I am off. The library was turned over to me.
I didn't want it. I did not want the responsibility, but it was
thrust upon me.
I am writing in my mind a new kind way of thinking about myself.
I have been self-loathing for so long.
I am trying a new approach to thinking that will free me from my loneliness.
If and when I am free I will have forgiven myself and just accepted my
aloneness. I am along and might as well.
I need to quit trying to be anything other than alone and write.
My heart is wanting to be with another heart.
I am trying to convince myself (my poor heart) to let go.
Let God be the ward of my heart, soul and spirit.
I have never been able to say or do the right thing.
I have left myself in this predicament and I am not satisfied,
but I am convinced this is it, all I have.
I am not worthy to be with none of the other souls I have craved over the last
twenty years and so I am trying to convince myself to just be alone.
Work, write, read and be alone.
I am convinced I am right in closing myself off from the rest of the world.
I don't seem to fit. I do not send the right signals out, say, or do the right things.
I am wrong in everything I say, do and maybe even write.
I don't have any way of knowing if this is the right thing to do,
until I try.
WPCannon
1304
27 February 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Friday, February 26, 2010
Delta Reign at Claire's by the Creek
The place seemed more crowded than it really was.
Boy Scouts had occupied most of the house.
And I had to wait for getting there thirty minutes late.
I loved sitting in the neat old rockers on the porch.
I waited and realized I was there alone.
I ought to be used to being alone by now.
Everywhere I go and everything I do, I do alone.
I should be used to being alone by now.
I ought to learn to live alone and quit trying to change.
The good Lord has a plan for me and that plan is for me to be alone.
Alone.
I got my table for four, but I was alone.
I was right there in front of the Delta Reign duo.
Benita and Pat sounded great tonight.
They do just fine as a duo.
The rest of the band really bring out their sound,
but they do well alone.
I had a bowl of gumbo that was not that great.
I have had better, sauteed shrimp, a baked sweet potato and iced tea.
The food was just edible, nothing fancy.
The big thing at Claire's is the buffet.
I try to avoid the troughs when I can and tonight, I did.
Not a soul showed up there to see that show with me.
I never expected they would, but it would have been nice.
And even if they were there, it would have been too much for me.
Too much company.
Too many worries.
Two little boys were there tonight.
They were there with their Mama's and Daddies and they danced.
They were thrilled to be there and the music took hold of them.
They made my night watching the wide eyes staring and seeing their
little bodies moving with the music.
Leave it to babies to save the day.
WPCannon
2148
26 February 2010
Boy Scouts had occupied most of the house.
And I had to wait for getting there thirty minutes late.
I loved sitting in the neat old rockers on the porch.
I waited and realized I was there alone.
I ought to be used to being alone by now.
Everywhere I go and everything I do, I do alone.
I should be used to being alone by now.
I ought to learn to live alone and quit trying to change.
The good Lord has a plan for me and that plan is for me to be alone.
Alone.
I got my table for four, but I was alone.
I was right there in front of the Delta Reign duo.
Benita and Pat sounded great tonight.
They do just fine as a duo.
The rest of the band really bring out their sound,
but they do well alone.
I had a bowl of gumbo that was not that great.
I have had better, sauteed shrimp, a baked sweet potato and iced tea.
The food was just edible, nothing fancy.
The big thing at Claire's is the buffet.
I try to avoid the troughs when I can and tonight, I did.
Not a soul showed up there to see that show with me.
I never expected they would, but it would have been nice.
And even if they were there, it would have been too much for me.
Too much company.
Too many worries.
Two little boys were there tonight.
They were there with their Mama's and Daddies and they danced.
They were thrilled to be there and the music took hold of them.
They made my night watching the wide eyes staring and seeing their
little bodies moving with the music.
Leave it to babies to save the day.
WPCannon
2148
26 February 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
The Right Thing To Do
The right thing to do is to forgive.
Forgive your friend's for poor judgments.
Accept the ones who love you.
Never forget that they are good.
The choices they make are poor.
Because they are malnourished?
Or, because they are not clearly
thinking.
I have said things I regret.
Forgive me my dear friend.
If you have read this far, be my friend
a little longer. At least until I die, then forget
about me.
Give me one more or ten more chances.
How can I know for sure?
Will you call me?
I promise not to talk about the past.
Please pick me up--call me,
dear friend.
WPCannon
1812
25 February 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
What Is The Right Thing To Do? (Part two)
At last nights council meeting, the issue of the ordinance concerning manufactured homes was not mentioned during the meeting. That issue was not part of the agenda. The issue was addressed at the end of the meeting when citizens brought the issue up and asked why the issue was not on the agenda. The tap dance was done by the mayor, who said the council would have to wait for the planning commission to rewrite the ordinance, present it to them and then they could approve it. The ordinance would then have to go back to the commission for a public hearing. After that the ordinance would be put up for a final vote, and depending on the public input at the public hearing, the council would either vote to approve the changes to the ordinance, that would allow manufactured homes, or they would disapprove the changes and the old ordinance would stay in effect.
Nothing was done. The owners of mobile homes that are "grandfathered" in (as the mayor is calling it) are allowed to do as they please. It's the new folk, young folk and poor folk like me that can't afford a house that will be left out in the cold. We will have to move out of the town limits and we are persona's non-gratis. The town does not seem to care where we go or what we do as long as they can't see our places from theirs.
Nothing was done. The owners of mobile homes that are "grandfathered" in (as the mayor is calling it) are allowed to do as they please. It's the new folk, young folk and poor folk like me that can't afford a house that will be left out in the cold. We will have to move out of the town limits and we are persona's non-gratis. The town does not seem to care where we go or what we do as long as they can't see our places from theirs.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
What Is The Right Thing To Do? [Part one]
In our town mobile homes are only allowed in approved mobile home sub-divisions or parks.
There are no approved mobile home subdivisions or parks in this town. A minimum of three acres is required for a mobile home park or subdivision. The South Alabama Regional Planning commission has an ordinance in effect through the town, 7.31.2, that has been in effect since 1985.
How is this ordinance fair to the people who want to live in the town and cannot afford to build their home? Is this fair? How does the state legislate what a citizen can put on lands they own?
I am out to explore how this type ordinance has evolved and what the purpose is behind it. I want to know why their are those who believe they have a right to legislate by decree. I may be in the same boat as so many at the planning commission meeting I attended last night. I was thinking of buying a lot in town and maybe putting a manufactured home on it. I am not a wealthy man. I am one of the working poor and i am so poor in fact, that i am not convinced I could even afford a single-wide.
What I find on this journey will be enlightening to me and ought to be to anyone who is interested in the human condition. How the poor in this country are both depended upon and at the same time discriminated against. Where do local governments who are run by the well to do--because they have the education, available time and ability--put the wants of the few ahead of the needs of the many. Do the poor have themselves to blame? Are we being misrepresented by our poor brothers and sisters? Am I a part of the problem?
I hope to both enlighten others and enlighten myself in talking to some of the friends and foes I meet along the way.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Alice Pearl
Another old friend is gone. 72 years into her life--gone.
Alice Pearl was the mother of old friends.
A registered nurse, she believed in keeping her house clean.
Spotless is how she liked it kept.
Alice Pearl never allowed anyone in with their shoes on.
She did not want to come home from a long day at the mental hospital
and have to clean house.
Only her family was allowed in at all.
And then only after shedding their footwear.
Friends of the family stayed out--but that was alright.
Once you know your place--we knew our place.
Keeping us out seemed strange to my mother.
She could not understand the reasoning.
But, I did.
I understood then, the way I understand now.
I am a very private person.
I don't like having my privacy invaded--
I do not like invading the privacy of others.
I have not seen Alice Pearl in years.
The last time was when her husband was running for mayor.
They hosted a reception for supporters at their home.
I don't remember going into the house.
The reception was held on a patio, around a pool.
That's where we all stayed, listening to the band.
I did not see a soul go in, or come out, with or without shoes.
I was paying attention.
Alice Pearl was there though,
but now she is gone.
To a place where there are no dirty shoes or feet.
WPCannon
1803
19 February 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Alice Pearl was the mother of old friends.
A registered nurse, she believed in keeping her house clean.
Spotless is how she liked it kept.
Alice Pearl never allowed anyone in with their shoes on.
She did not want to come home from a long day at the mental hospital
and have to clean house.
Only her family was allowed in at all.
And then only after shedding their footwear.
Friends of the family stayed out--but that was alright.
Once you know your place--we knew our place.
Keeping us out seemed strange to my mother.
She could not understand the reasoning.
But, I did.
I understood then, the way I understand now.
I am a very private person.
I don't like having my privacy invaded--
I do not like invading the privacy of others.
I have not seen Alice Pearl in years.
The last time was when her husband was running for mayor.
They hosted a reception for supporters at their home.
I don't remember going into the house.
The reception was held on a patio, around a pool.
That's where we all stayed, listening to the band.
I did not see a soul go in, or come out, with or without shoes.
I was paying attention.
Alice Pearl was there though,
but now she is gone.
To a place where there are no dirty shoes or feet.
WPCannon
1803
19 February 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Ash Wednesday
The day was too crowded with unexplainable interruption.
Too much who dun-nit, finger pointing and commotion took
place in my day. I wanted it quiet. No escape-and one went
missing. No confusion-and today everyone was either lost or on
their way to get lost. And fully prepared to blame it all on me.
I had my heart set on church at St Cecilia at 430, but no relief
at four, or 430 ruled that out. I had hoped for mass to
put the day to rest and the confusion grew stronger at about
that time. The callers got louder and the lost souls, began to
to lose their way. Further and further in to the
darkness they strolled. And in their feeble minds, I was to
blame. And then relief showed up. We talked and decided that no
matter what I was going get the blame. I am the scape goat
and as I was turning the pall over to her, we agreed that we were both
very tired and too tired to care.
The good news came in the form of another Catholic who said to me,
"Saint Theresa was having mass at six." I was relieved. I had been looking for
an excuse to attend there, only five minutes away, now I was blessed
in the form of a cleaning lady's daughter. There to help her mother I complained
to her of my lost ashes and she blessed with with knowledge. I needed to be
blessed. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I am the sitting with Father's thumb print--
dipped in the ashes of last year's palms smeared across my forehead. I am still
desperately sad, but somewhat more contented. The devil was surely after
me today, I have such little patience, but I managed to escape for a time to find a
simple blessing. Thank you Jesus, thank you Lord.
Saint Theresa is a beautiful sanctuary. I am so very glad I finely set foot in there.
Thank you Lord for leading me there the way you did with such a blessing. I never
want to forget to thank for these, though I often have. I ask that you slow me down
Lord and make me more aware. The turn out for the ashes was very good.
Father was pleased and said so before he bestowed his final blessing. The Divine
praises were certainly in order to end mass. Saint Theresa plays host to a more
lively bunch that I have ever seen at Saint Cecilia. I am looking forward to more masses
there. The children were wound up and very expressive. I was sitting behind on little
man who had toy guns in church and wanting his BA-BA! Not at all shy about wanting
the BA-BA, either. He was such a precious little man and a handful for his mama to quiet.
I was blessed today. Despite all of the hullabaloo surrounding me and the lost souls I encountered, I was doubly blessed. I don't understand how or why people are the way they
are and I don't really think I ever will, but I do know a blessing when I see one and I do
know, without a doubt, I was blessed today. I was blessed.
WPCannon
Ash Wednesday, 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Fat Tuesday
Every day is fat Tuesday when you are like me--fat! Today's just another Tuesday to me.
Us fat boys don't like being reminded of being fat, but not me. I'm ok with it. I have been
fat all my life. I saw the first light of day weighing in at well over eight pounds, and I have
been putting on the pounds ever since. I like to eat. That's one thing I am good at. I hope
and I pray to find another thing I can do. And not be such a drain on the
resources of the world. I would love to give something back one of these days.
I am too dumb, too slow and too lazy. I'm not about to stretch myself too thin to go the extra
mile. I would like to put down a few words that have some meaning for someone. I don't see
that happening. I'm too lonesome, too lonely and too afraid to do it. I must not be any good at it either. I can't get a grip on anything to write about. I do have a story I started, but I'm not going back to it and working on it. I am too busy reading other author's work and gauging my ability; my writing, by their work. That is wrong on so many different levels, I know it and yet, I can't keep myself from doing it.
One of these days I might go back to writing--I have a few essays, a few poems and a few letters. I doubt they will ever amount to much of a collection. That's all I have and I am trying to get more together--every day I do write. My journals ought to provide some insight to someone. When I am gone I want to leave them, along with my corpse, to a medical school and have only young doctors who are in love and who are poets--cut me up and pass me around. And when they are through with me--or maybe if they happen to take a break in between my knees and my kidneys--they could take out those journals and read about some of the things their corpse du jour used to think and write about. And maybe at that, I could teach them more than they had bargained for that day. So, let me remember to put those journals in with the body, or what's left of it--and let them know that when they are through with the body and the papers, to just burn it all and stir the ashes.
I was going to leave my journals to a friend--a writer friend, but she's mad at me right now for falling in love. It was not enough that I was already in love with her--she had to have it all.
All of me or none of me--and while I can and do appreciate where she's coming from, I can't agree with her logic. We all ought to go out of our way--I think--to find as much love as the world has to give and baste our souls and spirits in it. What better muse is there than love and broken hearts.
WPCannon
16 February 2010
Mardi Gras
Mount Vernon Public Library
Monday, February 15, 2010
First Sign of Spring
A real live ball game will be going on tomorrow on the UM campus in Prichard, Alabama.
I do like baseball and the hardballs flying are a sure sign of spring. None of my close friends are talking to me any more. One is mad-and I don't know why. One is mad and I thought I knew why, but now I'm not sure.
That being alone deal is a drag. I like people and not having anyone to talk to makes me think too much and dwell on why that is. I just want to have normal conversations with people, not just the ones I work with--all of the people I know--a normal conversation.
I am beginning to believe it's me. I just want to watch some ball. And write about what I saw.
WPCannon
15 February 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
I do like baseball and the hardballs flying are a sure sign of spring. None of my close friends are talking to me any more. One is mad-and I don't know why. One is mad and I thought I knew why, but now I'm not sure.
That being alone deal is a drag. I like people and not having anyone to talk to makes me think too much and dwell on why that is. I just want to have normal conversations with people, not just the ones I work with--all of the people I know--a normal conversation.
I am beginning to believe it's me. I just want to watch some ball. And write about what I saw.
WPCannon
15 February 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Fat Monday--Just North of Mardi Gras
I have been too hard on myself and everyone else in these post.
I was trying to work through my wounded heart and the love I
have not found; though my many tries. That's over (for a while),
I resolve to find more pleasant task to occupy my mind and to write
about. I will post thoughts here and essays here and more, bad poetry
here. These things all about where I am, where I live and about where
I hope to be one of these days.
Tuesday, I hope to be in Mobile for the Mardi Gras. Why? I have not
been in Mobile of Fat Tuesday in Nearly forty years. I was a child and
with my parents then. I want to see the mayhem that is the mardi gras
on my own, take it in and write about my impressions of it. The only way
to have that impression is to be there. I had hoped to share the experience
with a Friend or two, but they are staying away. Too much excitement and
too many opportunities for disaster there on the streets of mardi gras. I
have my own doubts about going alone, but I am planing on doing it early
and getting well away before the fall of night. Hope for the best and see
for myself what the hoopla is all about. Don't be surprised though, if I
chicken out before the time is at hand.
Maybe I will go down there on Fat Monday instead. How much different
can there be between the two days? I will have to see. Fat Monday's very
wet so far, while Fat Tuesday is at least looking clear.
Please call me Francie and let me go and be there with you. i know you
never will. I know I am not of your world and have no place there with you.
WPCannon
15 February 2010
0315, Fat Monday
Mount Vernon, Alabama
I was trying to work through my wounded heart and the love I
have not found; though my many tries. That's over (for a while),
I resolve to find more pleasant task to occupy my mind and to write
about. I will post thoughts here and essays here and more, bad poetry
here. These things all about where I am, where I live and about where
I hope to be one of these days.
Tuesday, I hope to be in Mobile for the Mardi Gras. Why? I have not
been in Mobile of Fat Tuesday in Nearly forty years. I was a child and
with my parents then. I want to see the mayhem that is the mardi gras
on my own, take it in and write about my impressions of it. The only way
to have that impression is to be there. I had hoped to share the experience
with a Friend or two, but they are staying away. Too much excitement and
too many opportunities for disaster there on the streets of mardi gras. I
have my own doubts about going alone, but I am planing on doing it early
and getting well away before the fall of night. Hope for the best and see
for myself what the hoopla is all about. Don't be surprised though, if I
chicken out before the time is at hand.
Maybe I will go down there on Fat Monday instead. How much different
can there be between the two days? I will have to see. Fat Monday's very
wet so far, while Fat Tuesday is at least looking clear.
Please call me Francie and let me go and be there with you. i know you
never will. I know I am not of your world and have no place there with you.
WPCannon
15 February 2010
0315, Fat Monday
Mount Vernon, Alabama
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Hearts
This is the day before the lonely day for me. I have no lover and no lover for so long.
I have tried to forget what love feels like and then I meet someone. I fall in love too
easy. I am in love now, but I never hear a word from her. She is another's lover and
I am out---in the cold.
I will begin this night's vigil with the first tick of the clock. I am so old fashion and I don't
mind the midnight watch. I am lonely that way and those post are made for lonely people.
I don't know if I will be alone for the rest of my life. I expect I will and I expect the ones I
love will always belong to someone else.
It is not fair for me to do this. To write this and pity myself the way I do. I am being unfair
to myself and other potential lovers that are out there, lonely too and waiting for a love to
find their lonely hearts. I hope I do find a good one some day, a good heart, a soul and spirit to match my own. I am still trying. When I get over the one I am hurting for right now. If this old
heart is not to wounded to take on another challenge. I will be blessed if I find a love and she will be blessed too.
My Prayer to Find my Heart a Home:
Dear Lord, give me a place to be. A good heart, a good home and a peaceful place to live out my life with the love of a good and careing soul. Lord, I ask your help in finding a woman, a partner
who cares enough to nurture in me and I in her the needs we have and were born to fullfill in one another. Lord, you have the plan and if it is your plan that I find one, before I die, to share my life, make it soon. My heart is wounded and tired, please hurry before I give up, give out and die.
Amen.
WPCannon
13 February 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
I have tried to forget what love feels like and then I meet someone. I fall in love too
easy. I am in love now, but I never hear a word from her. She is another's lover and
I am out---in the cold.
I will begin this night's vigil with the first tick of the clock. I am so old fashion and I don't
mind the midnight watch. I am lonely that way and those post are made for lonely people.
I don't know if I will be alone for the rest of my life. I expect I will and I expect the ones I
love will always belong to someone else.
It is not fair for me to do this. To write this and pity myself the way I do. I am being unfair
to myself and other potential lovers that are out there, lonely too and waiting for a love to
find their lonely hearts. I hope I do find a good one some day, a good heart, a soul and spirit to match my own. I am still trying. When I get over the one I am hurting for right now. If this old
heart is not to wounded to take on another challenge. I will be blessed if I find a love and she will be blessed too.
My Prayer to Find my Heart a Home:
Dear Lord, give me a place to be. A good heart, a good home and a peaceful place to live out my life with the love of a good and careing soul. Lord, I ask your help in finding a woman, a partner
who cares enough to nurture in me and I in her the needs we have and were born to fullfill in one another. Lord, you have the plan and if it is your plan that I find one, before I die, to share my life, make it soon. My heart is wounded and tired, please hurry before I give up, give out and die.
Amen.
WPCannon
13 February 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Friday, February 12, 2010
Haitian Poem ( A Simple Drink of Water)
"If the foreigners don't come, we'll have to wait for baby Jesus"
--75 year old Haitian Woman
She is on guard
with her broken hip
waiving her cane at the looters.
She is scaring them away
From old folks she is protecting.
They have been out of water for days she says and
The only thing they can think to pray for is water--
A simple drink of water.
I am ashamed of my thirst.
Ashamed I have asked her to speak.
When all she has to say, or ask of me
Is for a drink of water.
I say, I don't know
The water is coming--the water is here
At the airport and the look she gives me
Makes me ashamed all over again.
The foreigners coming to help
Have plenty of water
And all of these poor people
Can think to pray for is
A simple drink of water
She waves her cane
As if to say go--go away
And let them know
We need water here!
Return when our prayers are answered.
The water, piled up at the airport
Is handed out--
A mountain of water with
more on the way.
We have to get this into the town--I say
To the Marine in charge of the distribution
They'll have to come here--I am told
Our orders are to distribute
from here
until the roads are clear.
But, take as much as you want sir--
help yourself to
A simple drink of water
Twenty cases--all I can take
back to that alley
back to those poor people
back to that old grandmother
swinging her cane.
Every bottle was absorbed
as soon as they landed there.
How could the old grandmother hoard a single bottle?
How could she deny even the looters--
A simple drink of water?
WPCannon
19 January 2010
Mount Vernon, Alabama
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
The Funny Thing About Love
The funny thing about loving her
was not funny at all.
There was no humor in her rejection.
I never heard her speak to me on her own.
We never met over coffee, had supper or even lunch.
Nothing together-ever.
She may have found humor in that, but not I.
The funny thing is how I refuse to forget about her
and move on.
WPCannon
07 February 2010
0546
Never Ending Shame
Of Myself.
My low self esteem.
I can't love myself.
Would or could anyone?
Not likely.
I am bound by my own low
blow to be alone.
The best thing that could happen to me is the end of this
sorry excuse for my life.
I ruined it all on my very own.
I can't say a thing about anyone else,
that is not true about my self.
Give me a break,
leave me alone,
you know you don't mean it.
I know this is the truth because
I am crying for myself
While I write it.
I am so alone.
So alone.
Alone.
Alone.
WPCannon
09 February 2010
1356
Mount Vernon Public Library
Monday, February 8, 2010
A Morning After Victory Celebration
The Saints defeated the Colts for the forty-forth Super Bowl Title in Miami last night. I am taking some of the credit for their victory. I conspired with my friend to insure their victory. We worked together for the Alabama Crimson Tide to provide them with their undefeated season and BCS Championship victory against Texas last month, a month ago to the day, to be exact. I say we conspired because it seems, we have a mythical power between us. We don't have to be together--just text mesages back and forth and the team we are pulling for has won the games we are watching seperatly. Strange but true. Of course it could be purely coincidental.
All I do some days is think about her. I try to call and text her and I rarely get a responce. She is not into me at all. We used to work together. I am in crazy love with her and she's purely indifferent as to me and my affection. I am incapable of moving on or look for someone else to love. She is all I want out of this life. And I can't have her. That to me is the crulest irony life is capable of bestowing upon a soul. To have a simple connection like the one we have and not the ability to consecrate the relationship is crule irony and so far I refuse to accept my fate. I am not willing to let her have her way and move on. My tired old heart will soon give out for the lack of returned affection. The lonliness is too much to bear.
My turns to moderate the affection have gone unheard by my poor tired heart. I am not willing to give up. I never see her and only hear from her often enough to keep this faint hope alive. I was shocked when she text back last night. She was betting on the Colts, not believing the Saints has the stuff to convert their first Super Bowl into the Lombardi, but she under estimated our mojo. She's pretty smart, but may have convinced herself by now that I am to blame for the bet she lost. It's not my fault, but I am prepared to accept my part of the credit for the Saints' victory.
I have text her twice since I started this post and she is ignoring me. She hates me--I am convinced of that. She resents ugly people that fall in love with her. I think that's the way pretty people are. They don't mind being courted by other beautiful people, but don't a ugly one dare try to feel an affection. That's taboo. I am sorry dear friend, I really just wanted to be your soul mate and feel our two hearts together as one. I am so hoplessly in love.
God, thank you for finding the sweet spirit she has shown me. I am in love with her now, but I know she deserves better than me. I am willing to, when you say it is time Lord, let her fade away into my past and become another painful memory. One more piece of my heart is about to die. I prayed hard to you for her Lord. I ask that you always look over her and know that I had honorable ideas about taking care for the rest of my life; loving her and caring for her. You know Lord that I am not equipped to have the care of another spirit. I am barely able to care for my own. I am your humble servant and I am doing my best Lord to let this pretty woman be. She is my heart now and I am barely able to do a thing without seeing her in my life. Will this sadness ever leave me? Will I forever bear this heavy heart?
Amen.
WPCannon
1432
08 February 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
All I do some days is think about her. I try to call and text her and I rarely get a responce. She is not into me at all. We used to work together. I am in crazy love with her and she's purely indifferent as to me and my affection. I am incapable of moving on or look for someone else to love. She is all I want out of this life. And I can't have her. That to me is the crulest irony life is capable of bestowing upon a soul. To have a simple connection like the one we have and not the ability to consecrate the relationship is crule irony and so far I refuse to accept my fate. I am not willing to let her have her way and move on. My tired old heart will soon give out for the lack of returned affection. The lonliness is too much to bear.
My turns to moderate the affection have gone unheard by my poor tired heart. I am not willing to give up. I never see her and only hear from her often enough to keep this faint hope alive. I was shocked when she text back last night. She was betting on the Colts, not believing the Saints has the stuff to convert their first Super Bowl into the Lombardi, but she under estimated our mojo. She's pretty smart, but may have convinced herself by now that I am to blame for the bet she lost. It's not my fault, but I am prepared to accept my part of the credit for the Saints' victory.
I have text her twice since I started this post and she is ignoring me. She hates me--I am convinced of that. She resents ugly people that fall in love with her. I think that's the way pretty people are. They don't mind being courted by other beautiful people, but don't a ugly one dare try to feel an affection. That's taboo. I am sorry dear friend, I really just wanted to be your soul mate and feel our two hearts together as one. I am so hoplessly in love.
God, thank you for finding the sweet spirit she has shown me. I am in love with her now, but I know she deserves better than me. I am willing to, when you say it is time Lord, let her fade away into my past and become another painful memory. One more piece of my heart is about to die. I prayed hard to you for her Lord. I ask that you always look over her and know that I had honorable ideas about taking care for the rest of my life; loving her and caring for her. You know Lord that I am not equipped to have the care of another spirit. I am barely able to care for my own. I am your humble servant and I am doing my best Lord to let this pretty woman be. She is my heart now and I am barely able to do a thing without seeing her in my life. Will this sadness ever leave me? Will I forever bear this heavy heart?
Amen.
WPCannon
1432
08 February 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Any Answers?
The day began at the first tick of the clock for Saturday. Officially, that is.
It really started at five am on Friday and will last through the next several
days--I guess. I am not a good one to ask. I get used a lot. I let myself be
used, trying to please and do the right thing. I learned that it does no good
to allow oneself to be used, the users don't appreciate the efforts we as peons
make for them. They resent it, others resent it and tell themselves and others
your wrong for making such an effort, but then offer no real solutions.
I just keep on going back there until we have no more job to do and then stop.
Find another one to use me and let the cycle begin again. This library is the best
I have found to rest, relax and collect my few precious thoughts. Thank You God
for this place. I can't stand being at home. The place is a death trap. The mold is
growing and will eventually kill me. Not soon enough though. I could be there more
often to help speed the process along, but I and too sick of the place. I am a coward
too, no courage or I would have been gone a long time ago. The slow death, being eaten
alive by mold and mildew is not the way I want to die, but may be my best option.
The slow steady, seemingly natural approach is the one preferred by the wisest men
in our society. I beg to differ, but then my opinion is influenced by my lack of self-
esteem.
I was in Mobile for about an hour today. I talked to Marcy and Bob and for that time
I was able to forget about my loser self. I had what appeared to me to be an normal,
intelligent conversation with the two of them and I was so involved that i forgot to be
tired. I forgot I about my perception to the others I work here and I was so pleased
with myself. I had to get out of there and find my way back here. Back to my so called,
life. The end of the road I live on that has no good out come for me. I ought to at least
try to get away. Look for the way out, get on that track and just go. Anywhere out west.
Moab? That may be the answer...
06 February 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
It really started at five am on Friday and will last through the next several
days--I guess. I am not a good one to ask. I get used a lot. I let myself be
used, trying to please and do the right thing. I learned that it does no good
to allow oneself to be used, the users don't appreciate the efforts we as peons
make for them. They resent it, others resent it and tell themselves and others
your wrong for making such an effort, but then offer no real solutions.
I just keep on going back there until we have no more job to do and then stop.
Find another one to use me and let the cycle begin again. This library is the best
I have found to rest, relax and collect my few precious thoughts. Thank You God
for this place. I can't stand being at home. The place is a death trap. The mold is
growing and will eventually kill me. Not soon enough though. I could be there more
often to help speed the process along, but I and too sick of the place. I am a coward
too, no courage or I would have been gone a long time ago. The slow death, being eaten
alive by mold and mildew is not the way I want to die, but may be my best option.
The slow steady, seemingly natural approach is the one preferred by the wisest men
in our society. I beg to differ, but then my opinion is influenced by my lack of self-
esteem.
I was in Mobile for about an hour today. I talked to Marcy and Bob and for that time
I was able to forget about my loser self. I had what appeared to me to be an normal,
intelligent conversation with the two of them and I was so involved that i forgot to be
tired. I forgot I about my perception to the others I work here and I was so pleased
with myself. I had to get out of there and find my way back here. Back to my so called,
life. The end of the road I live on that has no good out come for me. I ought to at least
try to get away. Look for the way out, get on that track and just go. Anywhere out west.
Moab? That may be the answer...
06 February 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Friday, February 5, 2010
Friday Night In A Small Town
I am not going out, or staying in. All I want to do is write.
I like to read too. I have to confess, I am reading, though
about writing. Natalie Goldberg is my new guru, thanks to
Marcy. She got me started with "Writing down the Bones"
and now, I am on to "Long Quiet Highway: Growing Up In
America". I am getting so much from her teaching. Getting
into a more zen place in life. Learning to write with every cell
in my body. Every cell, all in tune, all pointing in the right
direction--toward the same goal. This library is a good place
to write, when it's closed. Too much conflict in the place when
the librarian is here. They use the place for a forum to air their
dirty laundry and grievances against their children, family and
one another. Too much tension and stress to greet the casual
user. We are not all here to cause conflict and raise a fuss. I would
like to see a quiet place for the ones who are more inclined to listen
to their own minds. Not the minds that are on the brink of destruction
and bound for some sort of feeble attempt at solitude.
They cannot be quiet and I am not about to exacerbate the situation
by weighing in. The cause is not worth the effect. I am so tired of the
conflict in this sorry excuse for a life. I want peace and to be without the
conflict associated with people. I will put up with the ones who will put
up with me and that's it. I am to focused on solitude and loneliness.
Solitude is all I crave. I am tired and all i really want to do is write this
BOOK:
WPCannon
05 February 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
I like to read too. I have to confess, I am reading, though
about writing. Natalie Goldberg is my new guru, thanks to
Marcy. She got me started with "Writing down the Bones"
and now, I am on to "Long Quiet Highway: Growing Up In
America". I am getting so much from her teaching. Getting
into a more zen place in life. Learning to write with every cell
in my body. Every cell, all in tune, all pointing in the right
direction--toward the same goal. This library is a good place
to write, when it's closed. Too much conflict in the place when
the librarian is here. They use the place for a forum to air their
dirty laundry and grievances against their children, family and
one another. Too much tension and stress to greet the casual
user. We are not all here to cause conflict and raise a fuss. I would
like to see a quiet place for the ones who are more inclined to listen
to their own minds. Not the minds that are on the brink of destruction
and bound for some sort of feeble attempt at solitude.
They cannot be quiet and I am not about to exacerbate the situation
by weighing in. The cause is not worth the effect. I am so tired of the
conflict in this sorry excuse for a life. I want peace and to be without the
conflict associated with people. I will put up with the ones who will put
up with me and that's it. I am to focused on solitude and loneliness.
Solitude is all I crave. I am tired and all i really want to do is write this
BOOK:
WPCannon
05 February 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Soul and Spirit
Today was kind of long. May have been because I am so tired.
Too many days in a row will kill the spirit and the soul suffers too.
I would rather have a little better, less harried life, but that's not in the cards.
I got to call a friend today--a new friend--one I have never heard of before today.
We talked about genealogy and people long dead that we may or may not be related to.
I'm not related to her and she's not to me, but we are related in the sense that we are interested
in our pasts.
I hope to meet her some day and plunder a cemetery or two with her.
We'll talk and teach one another a thing or two about our selves.
Learning is the key. It will not save your life, but make it more interesting.
And i heard from another one today and it made me think back.
About how I miss her and wish I was not as lonely.
She sent me a virtual hug and while I think that's nice--I need a real one too.
I need to feel another heart right next to mine. A heart that cares and really wants to be there.
Not a heart that feels obliged to feel.
Not one the saints have not placed there for me to Love.
And she left me broken and shattered once again.
Same way she has done so many times before. I am so hurt, so tired from the turning away they do.
I am so tired and I still can't sleep.
WPCannon
03 February 2010
1916
Mount Vernon Public Library
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Ground Hogs
The Ground Hogs found me and crushed my spirit the way they often do this time of year.
These last two years, my tax burden has been too much to handle. I got the bad news today.
I owe, I owe more. Sux!
I was feeling good too. Ready to show a little skin on the pier and pick up a few rays. Work on this tan and absorb a little vitamin D for the soul, but NO! The IR"fuckin"S had to cloud up and rain all over my happy ass...I am so tired of the man taking it out on a guy like me!
I have to talk to the accountant now and beg for more of her sage advice and find out why I am still getting hammered by the IR"F'in"S!
I feel so bad about yesterday's post.
I hope she didn't see it, but it's the truth, so I'm not pulling it.
What I have to say, I am going to just go ahead and say.
I'm not pulling anything once it has been published.
Let it ride!
They all hate me anyway.
I just wanted some intimacy back in my life and I wanted it with her, but she was dead set against that idea and hooked up with a looser.
That's cool though.
I will survive. I always have before.
Thanks Debra...You too!
Right back at ya!
You mean old lady!
You taught me to weep and moan!
Who is Pastor Leo and why is he trying to get me into some cult on the facebook?
What is the zyster movement?
I'll bet it somehow involves me sending him money!
The God i worship's not running short of cash!
Sorry Pastor; find another sucker.
WPCannon
02 February 2010
Ground Hog day
Mount Vernon Public Library
Monday, February 1, 2010
Time To Mend
I am hurting today the same way I hurt yesterday. My heart is feeling so worn and tired. I hate letting myself hurt this way and feel this way. I keep getting rejected and going right back in for more of the same. I hope someday to be able to accept my fate and give up, become what I am destined to be and forget about my life ever being shared. I have no reason to believe I will ever find the one I am most in search of. That one precious soul I can wrap my life around and feel secure in a relationship with. To have the intimacy back in my life and to share the hopes and dreams for the future with. If I am destined to be then I am and I will be and that's that. I have turned over to God my life and I am willing to try to be his humble servant. The thing is that I am still trying to venture out on my own and help myself. The good Lord knows what's best for me (to be alone) and I will not accept that. What am I thinking? Why do I refuse to accept? I try too hard to have a life and after fifty-one years I ought to know by now I am never going to have the time of my life. My life is mostly over. I need to try to write something down to have it remembered. Embrace this solitude, stop fantising and get on whit the life I have been afforded. Thank God every day and never forget to count my blessings.
To Be Alone
Cold shoulders
Leave me shivering
Leave my heart so--
All alone.
She does this to me
On purpose--
To turn me off and away
From Her
I'm not this enough
Or that enough
But, I knew that already.
What made me think she was
Any different?
We are all just alike.
Searching for him or her,
The ones I want,
Can't stand me--
Everyone, everytime
By now I should have learned
And no amount of trying to be or do,
Will change that way
That way I am or that way I look
The sad part is I am
The same way!
I heard her say Joe's ugly
That's when I knew--
And uses tobacco
And to me that means no way!
She has a husband too
And a lover!
That leaves me way out and
A sinner to boot!
Thank God!
She's been doing me a favor
I'll do her one right back
By leaving her
Alone!
(Well not alone,
She has her other men
And all of those lies she tells)
WPCannon
1453
01 February 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Leave me shivering
Leave my heart so--
All alone.
She does this to me
On purpose--
To turn me off and away
From Her
I'm not this enough
Or that enough
But, I knew that already.
What made me think she was
Any different?
We are all just alike.
Searching for him or her,
The ones I want,
Can't stand me--
Everyone, everytime
By now I should have learned
And no amount of trying to be or do,
Will change that way
That way I am or that way I look
The sad part is I am
The same way!
I heard her say Joe's ugly
That's when I knew--
And uses tobacco
And to me that means no way!
She has a husband too
And a lover!
That leaves me way out and
A sinner to boot!
Thank God!
She's been doing me a favor
I'll do her one right back
By leaving her
Alone!
(Well not alone,
She has her other men
And all of those lies she tells)
WPCannon
1453
01 February 2010
Mount Vernon Public Library
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Moon Pie Taste Like Mardi Gras
Sitting accross from friends
At a bistro on Dauphin Street
Someone said,
"The parade's here"
I started out
And hesitated at the rain--
Not enough to stop the parade,
But enough to dampen my excitement.
I eased out under awnings, along store fronts
And was stopped--
At the curb
By the sight of the first float I had seen in twenty years.
I forgot about the drizzle--
I just wanted to catch something--
Beads, doubloons and
Foil covered cakes--
Moon Pies!
Ummm-
Moon Pie taste like Mardi Gras!
WPCannon
March, 1994
At a bistro on Dauphin Street
Someone said,
"The parade's here"
I started out
And hesitated at the rain--
Not enough to stop the parade,
But enough to dampen my excitement.
I eased out under awnings, along store fronts
And was stopped--
At the curb
By the sight of the first float I had seen in twenty years.
I forgot about the drizzle--
I just wanted to catch something--
Beads, doubloons and
Foil covered cakes--
Moon Pies!
Ummm-
Moon Pie taste like Mardi Gras!
WPCannon
March, 1994
Saturday In the Mount Vernon Public Library
This Saturday is a gray day, so far. Rains came hard and strong and covered our already saturated earth. The Mardi Gras was pushed back another day and the Conde cavaliers had to roll back into the barn and wait for another day. But that's the great thing about the mardi gras, roll another day! And when you do, Let the Good times Roll!
Senior Bowl is today at Ladd Stadium, but I'm not going. I could have gone, but just don't care to fight the crowd and endure the damp cold. I am trying to just rest. The two jobs have me on duty day and night and night and day. We are short handed and the time is good to try to make some money, so this is a blessing.
The cold hearted Librarian, Adrienne, is breathing down my neck wanting her computer back. I have to quit posting for now and go.
Friday, January 29, 2010
A New Year to Blog About
The New Year has come and the end of last year was a very bad experience...and I still can't spell experience. That's too bad and I need that word a lot to describe my lack there of. I was trying to get a letter published and i was writing to a friend--email after email that all went unanswered. She can't possibly care, why do i lie to myself.
A Poem at the end of last year (about her) and another one to my first and last wife. A poem for the people in Haiti that were left in the streets after the earthquaked and shook the place to pieces. I got a quote from a poet friend and sat down and dashed--literally dashed it off. Like it was living right there inside that quote she gave me and all I had to do was open it up and let it pour out. And so I did and I plan on posting it here one of these days.
I will make every effort to remember that password I used today to get back in here and I resolve to show up here as often as I can to write. I may as well put if here. the rest don't respond, so who knows if they ever even read it. I want to put this up there on that facebook, but I don't know how to put a link to here on my facebook page, but I will try to learn how to do that.
I got over five hundred songs loaded up on my blackberry and i still don't know how I did that. I did it though and I will do my best to get this blog link posted, so that it can be ignored. I get ignored mostly. My muse is getting away from me. She is one who ignores me and inspires me to write all at the same time. And I know she'd get religion and come around if I was to get published, get a contract, some money, these teeth fixed, loose sixty pounds and quit being such a dumb ass and saying all the wrong things all the time. I do all that and I might have a chance, but I doubt it. I'm still bound to be too tall.
We'll see. I made all of these same promises this time last year and then walked right away from this and never said a word. I used to post at my other job, but that's over. i got a bomb dropped on me in September, the twenty-ninth exactly. The Big Guy came in to the post at six o'clock in the morning just to fire me. (for writing) an email and I am still glad I wrote it. He asked for it and I let that him have it. I am glad he did it. I didn't like the job, but I still had to grieve for the lost identity and loss of income.
Over five hundred songs! On my Phone!
Peace&Love
RollTide4Life
WPCannon
A Poem at the end of last year (about her) and another one to my first and last wife. A poem for the people in Haiti that were left in the streets after the earthquaked and shook the place to pieces. I got a quote from a poet friend and sat down and dashed--literally dashed it off. Like it was living right there inside that quote she gave me and all I had to do was open it up and let it pour out. And so I did and I plan on posting it here one of these days.
I will make every effort to remember that password I used today to get back in here and I resolve to show up here as often as I can to write. I may as well put if here. the rest don't respond, so who knows if they ever even read it. I want to put this up there on that facebook, but I don't know how to put a link to here on my facebook page, but I will try to learn how to do that.
I got over five hundred songs loaded up on my blackberry and i still don't know how I did that. I did it though and I will do my best to get this blog link posted, so that it can be ignored. I get ignored mostly. My muse is getting away from me. She is one who ignores me and inspires me to write all at the same time. And I know she'd get religion and come around if I was to get published, get a contract, some money, these teeth fixed, loose sixty pounds and quit being such a dumb ass and saying all the wrong things all the time. I do all that and I might have a chance, but I doubt it. I'm still bound to be too tall.
We'll see. I made all of these same promises this time last year and then walked right away from this and never said a word. I used to post at my other job, but that's over. i got a bomb dropped on me in September, the twenty-ninth exactly. The Big Guy came in to the post at six o'clock in the morning just to fire me. (for writing) an email and I am still glad I wrote it. He asked for it and I let that him have it. I am glad he did it. I didn't like the job, but I still had to grieve for the lost identity and loss of income.
Over five hundred songs! On my Phone!
Peace&Love
RollTide4Life
WPCannon
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