Odd Walking Thoughts – Ah

So what about ‘this’ causes pause?  Is the moment too short?  Too dark?  Is it difficult watching the nothing pass you by?  Collecting your things, we watched.  It’s challenging to witness, you miss handling, you.  I ask not for permission- I see what is.  We couldn’t believe you missed your creation. It’s not so hard, really.  It’s here, in front of us all. Ask, ‘Why can’t I see what’s so realistic to me?’

It was not smoke rising from the field, as you thought; it was fog fading- settling down.  -M. Taggart.

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Odd Walking Thoughts- I’m Not Sure.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

It’s O.K. for you to wonder, but listen, I need to tell you something.  From the first time I noticed, until now, I need for you to hear-  It’s about you. But, not about all of you. It’s only about some of you. When you were hurt, you thought it was nothing to know about. I wasn’t sure what that meant, so I asked, but you hadn’t heard my request.  I asked again and you spoke, but not to me, “I’ll tell you when I’m well.”  I see you’re well again and I wonder if you couldn’t tell me?  I ask again, ‘What’s this?’ You replied, “It’s what you had said it was.” -M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts – He had forgotten he was crazy.

For a long time he had forgotten that he was crazy.  He remembered when-  A friend told ‘her’ about another ‘him’ and being told about this helped him to remember that the two are one and the same. He wasn’t sure he should believe himself because he knows there can’t be two.  It’s a bit like this-  It’s dark and you feel a large stone.  You sit on this stone.  As you touch the stone you feel bits of dirt crumbling off. The dirt falls onto the ground and you’re no longer sitting on the stone.  You’re now looking up.  At another. The ground is your new home and above is a lie. It never happened. There was no stone and there wasn’t a ‘her’ and there isn’t any darkness nor any crumbling dirt.  And there was one. -M. Taggart

Accidental Politics- An Apology

To the two military personnel that stood, at attention, ready and saluting our President, I’m sorry.

It’s my personal opinion that many in our society have lost the ability to admit when we’re wrong.  That accepting responsibility by simply saying, ‘We messed up,’ is refreshing and creates character along with loyalty.  Instead, many of us focus on how to cover our tracks.  Creating shields of indifference which clouds agendas and cripples truth. Making it difficult to understanding what to believe in, with heart and soul.  So, while it’s unlikely that you’ll receive an apology from where it ought to come from, I’ll take a shot at doing it for them.

I’d like to apologize because you are both unnamed and yet we know you so well.  I’d like to shake your hands, and tell you face-to-face, how incredibly important you are and that you are not unrecognized.  We see you.  We see your posture, it’s perfect and unflinching.  And, as you stand at attention, doing your duty and executing protocol, we see leadership exuding from you.

I’ve felt sadness and have stopped looking to our country’s leaders for hope.  This has happened withing the past number of years.  But, when I saw both of you, holding your position, with focus and dignity, I felt it.  I realized that our strength as a country can be seen within you.  I need not look at the President for leadership, I can simply look at you and my fellow Americans all around me.

Like many, my focus fell on what I found to be the most important issue. Both of you.  While many of us watched the indifference take place, you lived it.

I wondered what you were thinking?  I wanted to know how long you’d been standing at attention, waiting.  Five minutes, five hours?  Were you excited?  Was this the first time your Commander-in-Chief saluted you?  Do you have families? If so, are you deploying, or are you back from deployment and now able to stay out of harms way?  Are you wondering if anyone noticed, or cared?  Did you feel let down?  Did your morale dip slightly?  I’ve often thought that morale is much like a company’s brand.  Everything matters.

I hoped that you knew that I was wondering these things.  I hope you know that we all wonder these things.  We see you.  And as I mentioned above, though we do not know you personally, you are incredibly important to us and you are not unrecognized.

I hope you accept this apology.  It’s not coming from military personnel, but from an average citizen of the United States of America; one who loves his country very much and was concerned enough to make sure that at least one hand, of apology, was held out.  And please know, there are many more, just like me.

Thank you for inspiring me.  Thank you for inspiring us.

Sincerely,

M. Taggart

If anyone reading this has the ability to put this apology in front of a network that can help this letter find it’s true home, please help in that process.  Thank you in advance.

 

it’s between – Odd walking Thoughts

Remember?  Remember this?  We were both in the field.  We looked down at our feet and watched the dust rise with our steps, then we watched the flying grass hoppers. They flew in between us.  We talked about dirt.  The grasshoppers got in the way and wanted to know something.  That ‘something’ wasn’t something we could share.  They became upset and asked, ‘Why can’t you share this?’ We told them it’s between.  -M. Taggart.

Goose Shit- A True Story

Goose shit was everywhere.  When looking down, at your feet, you saw shit.  If you looked to your left, shit.  Right, shit.  Alright, that’s complete exaggeration and a lie, but, now we all know I’m talking about a lot of shit.  The rest of this story is true.

We were at our parents’ friend’s home; it was a farm.  Fences; wooden fences with lots of barbed wire to keep animals tucked inside the property.  We kids, liked to play next to the large oak tree with the tire swing.

I was six.  My brother was eight and a half.  The tire swing was wide open and we weren’t about to let the opportunity slide on by.  Our parents were inside, doing things, and laughing far too loud for the jokes that were being shared.  Our parents’ friends had two girls.   Both were near our age.

The oak tree wasn’t far from the house.  Sitting on top of a small hill, overlooking the property, there it hung.  The swing of all tires swings.

The one small issue, between us and the tire swing, was the geese.

I know we all see them flying South, or North, apparently never being able to make up their minds; proving they’re not consistent within the walls of their own skulls.

Anyways, to the swing we mother-fucking-go!

My brother and I charge the hill.  Well, we didn’t exactly charge it, I certainly didn’t.  He may have.  He was much bigger.  It’s possible that in my head, I charged the fuck out of that hill, but in all honesty, I probably waddled a bit and barely make it to the tire swing.  Walking in goose shit.

Which, made me easy prey, for the asshole Geese.

They watched, with dick head eyes, and we took notice, but not to a great degree.  My brother was nice enough to let me jump on the swing first.  I was in tire swing heaven. I’d like to say he even pushed me, but that, I don’t remember.

So there I was, swinging, things are great.  Ice cream great.  I can see the house, down below, and the fences that line the property.  I can see horses and a few sheep.  I’m not sure how my parents know these people, but I don’t care because I’m on a tire swing and I’m a six year old.

My brother said it was his turn, so I jumped off, slid a bit, and came to a stop.  I turn to look back at him and I see an asshole running at me.   I don’t wait to see how fast it might catch me, I turn and run.  I’m running, with everything I’ve got, which was a far cry better than my charge up the hill, but it wasn’t enough.  I know a monster bird is behind me, I can hear it, I can even smell it.  I slip, fall, and slide in goose shit.  Probably from this very bird.  It’s laughing at me.  No, not really, I’m not sure if birds can laugh.

The large man of prey is nearly upon me, it’s biting and flicking it’s wings.  No joke, I get bit.  The asshole nipped me and I slid further down the shit hill.  My jeans are a waste.  Even at six I realize I should probably not continue wearing these.  My face was now sliding down the hill, I was tasting it.  It wasn’t good.

My face looked like that of a war-time Marine.  As though I had meant this to have happened.

I was bit again and now the large bird was tearing into me, stabbing at me with it’s beak.  I cried out.

I saw my big brother snap that asshole by its long neck, wringing the beast slightly, and tossing it out and away from me.   The bird let lose a vocal note that’s not always witnessed coming from a goose and then I watched my brother chase it, further, away from me.

He saved me.  I wasn’t the last time.

Yes, I had to go inside and cry-explain myself to my laughing parents and yes I had to take off my shit jeans and replace them with girl jeans.  Yes.  That all happened.  To this day I’m still ashamed to tell people that I wore girl jeans.  It just wasn’t right.  But, my brother saving me was.

Thanks Chris.

True occurrence- my childhood.  Thank you Big Brother.