I don’t believe in reincarnation but sometimes I think I was a racoon that grew up with a large tribe of other racoons in the American Southeast.  I was  smaller than the other racoons and kind of sickly.  Then one day I fell into a large creek and discovered (in front of the whole tribe) that I was a really good swimmer.  All the other raccoons were impressed and welcomed me in to the tribe leadership with open arms/claws.

I  used this gift of super swimming to help my tribe survive for many years by foraging for food in and around creeks and rivers.  I became a legend within the racoon tribe and well thought of by all members of the leadership council.

However, in a ironic and tragic twist, on October 17, 1952, I was trapped and subsequently put down by the man who would later become my human grandfather, Randolph Feathers.  I know it is hard to believe this wild story, but let me just share three facts with you.

1. I’m a great swimmer.
2. I enjoy rummaging through my neighbors trash can.
3. I still hold an unexplainable grudge against Grandpa Randolph.

You do the math!

I started keeping a journal at a very early age.  My first journals were composed of pictures that depicted what was going on in my life at the time.  (Similar to cave drawing, but less violent and with fewer Mammoths).

After I learned to read and write, the quality of the journals vastly improved and I journaled steadily through my teen and high school years. 

 I was the only child in a very large family and I was always petrified that someone would find my journals and read them.  These were meant just for me and I recorded and detailed some pretty embarrassing things.  It is ironic now that I share my journal entries with the world, when this used to be one of my greatest fears.

 Motivated by this fear, (when I was about seventeen) I assembled all of my journals and stick figure drawings, dumped them in a barrel, added some lighter fluid and set them ablaze.  Even at the time I was doing it I wondered whether I was doing the right thing. 

 If I could go back in time and change that day I would.  I would have just burned the maps that showed where the journals were buried.  It would have saved me a lot of digging.

Burn Barrel © by gfpeck

Reginald was never a very patient man. He was decisive and expected others to make rapid decisions and then follow through as soon as possible. He didn’t tolerate hesitation in himself and he sure wasn’t going to tolerate it in her. “How to correct and admonish?” he thought.

He didn’t want to seem rude or insensitive, but after all he felt she needed correction and guidance. This would be painful but, for her own good. If only he could speak dolphin.

2012-6-13 Kick Ball Game © by Gamma Man

Clouds © by mnsc

I like watching clouds.  I don’t do it hardly enough, but when I do I feel relaxed and rejuvenated.  There’s a field (parking lot) not far from my house, and I frequently go there in the warmth of the noonday sun and lay back on the cool grass (asphalt).  I watch the clouds go by and imagine them to be horses or fish or giant cloud-like balls of water vapor.

It is easy to get depressed.  Trust me, it’s real easy.  So when I start getting down in the dumps and get the blues.  When I start feeling sorry for myself and thinking woe is me, I say to myself (out loud), “Hey, this is easy,” and I start feeling good about how incredible I am at getting depressed and just how plain easy it is.

And then I think (out loud), “What if we had to use the scientific names for all plant and animal species in our everyday language?” Boy that would be rough, and now I’m even more depressed.  Easy peasy.

Depressed - "Ursus arctos horribilis"