Memories in Tattered Pictures

I will always think of my youth when I see this picture. It was a complicated time, where all young men looked at an uncertain future. It was always there--a veteran of Nam falling to the ground in a fetal position during the early 70's after a firecracker popped during the Fourth of July festivities. When he rose to his feet, the young man in his mid 20's had a shrapnel wound that stretched from his mid forehead to the base of his nose. One eye was glass, but the good one seemed lifeless too. Another former soldier drove in his jeep all night in the streets of our hometown, prowling for peace and driven by demons. He was a young man who once laughed and gave warmth to those around him. There were others who returned with minor problems, and there were a few who would never return, but they remained a part of collective memory: both of what had been and the vacuum their death left behind.

But this memory reminds me of the birth of grasses and wild flowers in the mountains that cradle my hometown. A storm in early spring shrouds the distance in shades of cobalt blue.

In spite of everything else, there are memories of simpler times. Days of summer summer and the joy of embracing a new pup. It was yet another example of how we always fail to appreciate the warmth of the present, hoping for a time of happier times.

There was no focus, neither to notice the beauty of summer day, nor to appreciate the strength to run without the ultimate ache that time so aptly adds to the human equation, yet there were things that were so different. It was a time when a person could have sweet clover growing in a lawn without neighbors thinking it was improper lawn care. Their tiny leaves and white blossoms would weigh down with dew on any summer morning.

It was a time when you could be fun, without worrying whether or not something made you "different." In so many instances today, an individual's persistence to be like everyone else seems contradictory. Forced compliance almost makes us seem more eccentric in a sea of madness, where people have to watch an instructional video before they dance or go to a summer sports camp before they play on a team.

I'm so glad I grew up when I did, in spite of the worries I thought I had.

I wonder sometimes if others view their youth as a "magical" time. For me, it was a vision of what makes people smile in their sleep. It was a time that makes me realize that not everyone was so lucky to have a youth that had love cradle them in the hollow of loving hearts and minds.

I know that if I could return for even a moment, it would be to whisper into the ear of my youth, and I would hope that gentle word would be like a shout--that it would be something to shape my future and my thinking. It would help me understand how my positive experience shaped my life.

I saw an eighteen-year-old girl driving a new Jaguar yesterday on a busy street in Idaho Falls. My childhood makes me realize that I was the fortunate one, lucky to be surrounded by those whose wish was to direct me toward a brighter future. There was no fancy car or even a lot of money to spend on foolish distractions. But those things were something I had to a degree too.

We never wondered what it was like to have a Christmas filled with anything but wonder and laughter.

I can still sense the scent of pinion pine if I concentrate, the type of tree that always rose to the ceiling of our house. Colored lights and strings of

tinsel covered a circled about the green with other familiar ornaments that hung from the branches.

These are things that I hope I bring to my own children and grandchildren. Viet Nam is now a vacation attraction, and any given domestic airport or form of public transportation in this country could witness an act of violence. Like my generation experienced during the 60's, distractions exist that sometimes makes us forget something important.

This last picture is on the same lawn where cobalt blue skies showed seasonal storms, and it's the same lawn where I held our English Springer pup, but life goes on and offers so much happiness. The best part is that we have the past, but the present offers memories that I could never have imagined on Memorial Day of 1971 when I lay down on that clover-covered lawn with a dog.

I could never have imagined the magic of grandchildren, or the happiness at hoping that children emerge looking at life as one with endless possibilities. Pictures make me realize I have a blessed life, but I occasionally wish I could do it again, but unlike others, I would relive everything the same way I did the first time.

Doing anything differently would possibly mean that I would not be where I am at this moment in time--enjoying life and understanding it, even if I only notice a small part of it.