Something I have never told anyone.

Something sparked my memory. I do not know exactly what initiated this thought, but I do know what factors were involved:

1. I was awake -- several hours past my normal bed time
2. A good friend proposed a question, “So, when you’re standing in your room, do you ever feel really concerned that someone might be trying to sniper you from outside?”
3. For reasons unknown, I was thinking about my childhood
4. Because of #1, I was in a delicate state of “awake” and “asleep”

I am still uncertain if anything on the list actually attributed to my final thought process. Nevertheless, a memory resurfaced. This is something I have never told a soul…
Until now.

As a child, I lived at my grandmother’s house for several years of my life. (This is not that secret.) I have a lot of wonderful memories of large breakfast meals of homemade “biscuits and gravy” that could feed a multitude – and on many occasions, breakfast hosted a multitude. I didn’t have any neighborhood friends as an adolescent because I was blessed with a large family on my mother’s side. My cousins were my friends, and we had many adventures at my Grandma’s property. I do not remember most of these adventures being safe.

Two of us would run across a massive pile of railroad ties, trying to reach the other side before the other runner. We would also run fast so we didn’t die. (The massive pieces of lumber would roll as we sprinted across the mound.)

Another activity included destroying glass bottles. The glass bottles were left over after the garbage was burned, and we would throw them at large stones that surrounded the burn pile. (Living out in the country meant that trash could be burned instead of hauled away) It was a treat when an uncle would drop off an old television set that no longer worked.

Also, my grandmother had chickens.

This untold story is not about any of those adventures or any of my numerous family members. Instead, this account is about me during a different time in my life:

I was a young boy with a wild imagination. I don’t remember much about my childhood. Sometimes I wonder if my memories are just a product of my (still active) imagination, conditioned through time to result in memory. I cannot tell you how often family would come to my Grandma’s house for breakfast, but those memories stand out above the rest. One fact that I don’t second guess is my initial statement:
I was a young boy with a wild imagination.

I vividly remember going outside on several occasions and howling. I would not scream, I would howl – much like a wolf howling at the moon.
I was not howling at the moon.
I was howling at wolves – somewhere.

I knew exactly where I was. I was standing on a sidewalk leading to the back door of my Grandma’s house – I believed they could hear me. I know, without a doubt that I sincerely believed that there were wolves somewhere listening to me. How do I know this? I remember being ready to open the back door and run into the house as fast as I could as soon as the wolves got to my location.

I believed that the wolves could understand me, and I could communicate to them. So I would howl at them in the dark and expect their arrival. That was my plan in its entirety in one simple step: Howl at wolves.

I do not believe I was challenging wolves; I just wanted them to visit me. Somewhere deep down, I knew wolves were “bad,” but I still wanted to visit them, and see them face-to-face. Most people would not mess with a pack of wolves without a zoo fence separating the two parties, but I was ready to meet some wolves that I was communicating with.

I remember doing this more than once.
I remember howling at wolves on several different instances over a period of time.

Did I really expect wolves to come?
I think so; why else would I do this more than once?
Did the wolves ever come?
Unfortunately/Fortunately they did not.
What were my parents thinking?
I have no idea if they ever knew I did this.
I imagine if I told them this now, they would believe it without much problem.
Why am I telling you this? Is there a point to this story?
Not really.

Sometimes, learning about yourself and rekindling old memories that were once forgotten is a wonderful sensation. I’m not sure how memories resurface after years, and I haven’t the slightest clue on how our mind works to recall memories, but this I do know:

I was a young boy with a wild imagination.

--John D.

A Magical Kingdom

Sitting in the back of a 1989 Lincoln Town Car can be really boring -- especially if you are the only one in the car. I have never been in this situation. I am grateful for that.

Sitting in the back of a 1989 Lincoln Town Car can be really interesting -- for the exact opposite reasons why sitting in the back of a 1989 Lincoln Town Car can be really boring. This I can talk about from personal experience.

Bennett, while driving his brown 1989 Lincoln Town Car, made the following statement:

"We need a good video idea for CoSMO."

[[CoSMO stands for "Community Service and Ministry Opportunities." CoSMO is a pretty neat group that includes sub-groups. CoSMO groups help children, the elderly, teenagers, the homeless, and other people in need in a bunch of different ways. Each and every group is filled with people who care about other people. Period.]]

“How about a story book? Like reading a children’s book to a kid.”

With some more dialogue, drawing time, filming, editing, and working out most of the quirks... this video premiered. The response from the viewers has been nothing but encouraging.



--John D.