Oct. 04, 2004 - 22:28 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

Empty

We spent a day of running all over the area doing errands that were backlogged from way back. By the time we got home I was done in and achin' all the way. Damn speed bumps and potholes. A couple of pain pills and a bit of e-mail answering, then it was the horizontal exercise for me. While sleeping the pain was pretty well exorcised, but my muse has pretty well deserted me for the night.

I did manage to read Jim's Journal tonight and saw his memories of Sputnik. Makes me think of when I was young and eating books as fast as my mind could chew.

My thoughts wandered the stars and planets through the good graces of such as Edgar Rice Burroughs. Of course, in the comics in our newspaper Buck Rogers In The 25th Century helped spur my imagination as well.

I wonder if most boys have the deep desire of wanting to fly with inborn gyroscope and physically contained components such as wings? The desire to tread the ground of other planets and explore all of space ? I know that I surely did. As well, being into stamp collecting I had the desire to travel the world and be in the places that issued the stamps. Taste new territory, feel new foliage, see the wild animals of lands new to me. Or to sail the boundless seas of this earth far from the sight of land, knowing that life depended on what we as a crew did and what the captain took care of in the way of provisioning before we left port.

The Gold Bug, who wrote that ? Robert Louis Stevenson maybe, and Jules Vern's Twenty Thousand Leagues under the sea and other great spurs to my imagination helped me to think of things not so mundane.

There was only one thing my young mind did not understand, constant pain. Pain for the most part in that era of my life didn't really exist for me. For that very short time. That very, very short time.

Yet as I sit here tonight, too stubborn to leave the keyboard and go back to bed, my mind is with all the thrilling things of life.

So, after a trip to the well a bit ago I find that my mental bucket is now Empty . . . . . . . .

Blog