In the Beginning

In the Beginning...

   Way, way back, when cursive writing was still taught in schools and airmail envelopes had blue & red stripes on them, I began a series of reflections titled, Notes From A Bears Journey.  Some were published in community papers, some were simply thrown on the floor or in the trash; but the real goal of the thing was to get people to think...it didn't matter if they agreed or stormed away in anger; then (as now) there were issues far beyond politics and emotions, issues many of us simply wanted to ignore or tuck away for a day that would hopefully never arrive.  To give a date, this all began back in 1977, a monthly newsletter that explored everything from the workings of our inner ear to the slaughtering of baby harp seals (still happening) to create fur coats...within 5 years, I was off on a new tangent.  In mid-May, 1983, this is what I wrote:

    It seemed difficult to believe that this foreign land of painted birds and woven greenery could hide such hatred, a hatred rationalized by political growth or religious righteousness.  How could this beauty, this stinking scenery, have gone so wrong, riddled with bullets and death. Some tour.
   The questions from the rebels came sharply, the English broken and put back together with the barrel of a gun.  "You treacherous pig, you filth of the land...why should be spare you?"  No answer.  Click, the blast...thud.  They were three people away.  Three!  Half the busload.
   So what about me?  What would I say?  What was the right answer?  I'm a writer?  No, I'm a worker.  I'm human, one of them.  I..I'm innocent.  I've done...I've done.  I've done what?  Where were the words?  Click, a crying 'no.'  Thud.
   Think man, think!  Stop sweating and think.  Click.  I've worked for my beliefs, for instance I've...I've.  The explosion.  Don't cry!  I've what?  I've done a lot.  I've gotten a degree in...Thud. "And you?..."
   Next.  I was next!  What would I say?  A plea of mercy or a spit in the eye?  A tear or a look of anger?  What they wanted was an answer, and that answer came in  look of terror or a look of disbelief.  Death was really here...suddenly, cold and without sorrow.  Thud.  "And YOU..."  A kick to my ribs.
   The eyes I looked into were fury in the wild, anger gone crazy, a freed murderer.  Only the barrel of the gun seemed colder, emotionless to the end.  I looked back into the eyes.  Why should I be spared?  What had I done?  I had let dreams slip, let ideas float away.  I had finished projects and had never started others.  I had killed --in my own way-- by never creating.  By always seeing tomorrow.  But I had lived.  Not a perfect life, not a perfect anything.  I had simply felt good about being alive, about making and losing friends, about knowing and not knowing myself.  About fewer regrets than I had expected.  That was why.  That was my answer.  I looked up and saw his smile.
   Click.

   So here is where it begins, new reflections mixed with the old.  Here is where I'll post thoughts from present, thoughts from the past.  Much has changed...somehow, I've gotten older.  Somehow, I've managed to work long enough to retire.  Somehow I'm still healthy.  Somehow I'm still able to write.  Somehow.  It's all quite amazing...still.  I am grateful, always...always have been, always will be.  Surprises wait around every corner but let's not forget what is right in front of us...right in front!  Just look!  Here's wishing YOU a pleasant journey of your own...