Sudden Bursts Of Wonder. Quotes from beyond.
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Jones'n4chrome
- Posts: 778
- Joined: Mon Dec 31, 2007 3:10 pm
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Jones'n4chrome
- Posts: 778
- Joined: Mon Dec 31, 2007 3:10 pm
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Jones'n4chrome
- Posts: 778
- Joined: Mon Dec 31, 2007 3:10 pm
At seven years old, I was living at the Catholic boarding school. There were 50 of us young boys under the care and schooling of the nuns. I spent three years there. It was lonely not having the the nurturing love that parents can give their children.
There were no parental figures at the "Home". It was us kids and the nuns. The nuns fed us, housed us, schooled us, stuck their steel implements in our ears to clean the wax out. Funny thing is that I can't remember if we kids took showers or baths. I know the bathroom facilities were large. The nuns would be there with their cleaning implements.
In the big dormitory on the third floor, we all had our assigned beds. When the lights went out, there was one nightlight in the center of the room that would stay lit. It was green. It was calming yet so alone.
I would look out the windows while laying in bed and see the sign for Vallee's Steak House across the street. I dreamed of being with my parents and going to eat there. Every night I looked at that sign, I felt a void. It's amazing the depth of passion a seven year old boy can feel.
So I would cry in my bed.
I discovered a trick that helped me get by. I learned to make sparkley stars, fireworks, and blankets of colored lights appear when I closed my eyes. It was like watching a picture show on my eyelids. As an adult, I have not been able to see such grandiose visions.
OK, now to the race car story.
It was daytime playtime in the yard. It was a big place. We had merry -go- rounds, see-saws, jungle gyms, a swimming pool, hills for sledding in the winter, some property in the woods where the nuns would march us to twice weekly to go have some fun playing in the nature.
Oh Yeah! Race Car. It was playtime in the yard. I was running around playing race car. I was running as fast as I was able and doing sharp turns, having a grand time. Ahead I see a boy who is also running around. I thought he might be playing race car as well. He was wearing a plastic baseball batter's helmet. We found ourselves at a very close range running directly towards each other. I figured he would veer off since I was clearly a race car.
He did not veer off.
My forehead struck the bill of his batting helmet. The next thing I see is a bunch of nuns standing around me with towels to wipe the blood from a gash that took 15 stitches to close. I was awake when they took me to the hospital. I remember a cloth over my face through which I could make out the bright light shining on it. Obviously the doctors gave local anesthesia, because I could not feel any pain as they stitched me up.
What is there to be learned from this incident? Should I have veered off? Conviction must always consider consequence.
There were no parental figures at the "Home". It was us kids and the nuns. The nuns fed us, housed us, schooled us, stuck their steel implements in our ears to clean the wax out. Funny thing is that I can't remember if we kids took showers or baths. I know the bathroom facilities were large. The nuns would be there with their cleaning implements.
In the big dormitory on the third floor, we all had our assigned beds. When the lights went out, there was one nightlight in the center of the room that would stay lit. It was green. It was calming yet so alone.
I would look out the windows while laying in bed and see the sign for Vallee's Steak House across the street. I dreamed of being with my parents and going to eat there. Every night I looked at that sign, I felt a void. It's amazing the depth of passion a seven year old boy can feel.
So I would cry in my bed.
I discovered a trick that helped me get by. I learned to make sparkley stars, fireworks, and blankets of colored lights appear when I closed my eyes. It was like watching a picture show on my eyelids. As an adult, I have not been able to see such grandiose visions.
OK, now to the race car story.
It was daytime playtime in the yard. It was a big place. We had merry -go- rounds, see-saws, jungle gyms, a swimming pool, hills for sledding in the winter, some property in the woods where the nuns would march us to twice weekly to go have some fun playing in the nature.
Oh Yeah! Race Car. It was playtime in the yard. I was running around playing race car. I was running as fast as I was able and doing sharp turns, having a grand time. Ahead I see a boy who is also running around. I thought he might be playing race car as well. He was wearing a plastic baseball batter's helmet. We found ourselves at a very close range running directly towards each other. I figured he would veer off since I was clearly a race car.
He did not veer off.
My forehead struck the bill of his batting helmet. The next thing I see is a bunch of nuns standing around me with towels to wipe the blood from a gash that took 15 stitches to close. I was awake when they took me to the hospital. I remember a cloth over my face through which I could make out the bright light shining on it. Obviously the doctors gave local anesthesia, because I could not feel any pain as they stitched me up.
What is there to be learned from this incident? Should I have veered off? Conviction must always consider consequence.
Got love? Give love.
I wish you enough......
Recently I overheard a Father and daughter
in their last moments, together at the airport.
They had announced the departure.
Standing near the security gate. They hugged and the Father said, 'I love you, and I wish you enough.'
The daughter replied, 'Dad, our life together
has been more than enough. Your love is all I
ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Dad.'
They kissed and the daughter left. The Father walked over to the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see he wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on his privacy, but he welcomed me in by asking,
'Did you ever say good-bye to someone
knowing it would be forever?'
'Yes, I have,' I replied. 'Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever good-bye?'..
'I am old, and she lives so far away. I have
challenges ahead and the reality is - the next
trip back will be for my funeral,' he said.
'When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say, 'I wish you enough.' May I ask what that means?'
He began to smile. 'That's a wish that has
been handed down from other generations.
My parents used to say it to everyone...'
He paused a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail, and he smiled even more. 'When we said, 'I wish you enough,' we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them. Then turning toward me, he shared the following as if he were reciting it from memory.
I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright, no matter how gray the day may appear.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more. I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive and everlasting.
I wish you enough pain so that even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye.
He then began to cry and walked away.
They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them; but then an entire life to forget them.
TAKE TIME TO LIVE....
To all my friends and loved ones,
I WISH YOU ENOUGH.
.
Recently I overheard a Father and daughter
in their last moments, together at the airport.
They had announced the departure.
Standing near the security gate. They hugged and the Father said, 'I love you, and I wish you enough.'
The daughter replied, 'Dad, our life together
has been more than enough. Your love is all I
ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Dad.'
They kissed and the daughter left. The Father walked over to the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see he wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on his privacy, but he welcomed me in by asking,
'Did you ever say good-bye to someone
knowing it would be forever?'
'Yes, I have,' I replied. 'Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever good-bye?'..
'I am old, and she lives so far away. I have
challenges ahead and the reality is - the next
trip back will be for my funeral,' he said.
'When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say, 'I wish you enough.' May I ask what that means?'
He began to smile. 'That's a wish that has
been handed down from other generations.
My parents used to say it to everyone...'
He paused a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail, and he smiled even more. 'When we said, 'I wish you enough,' we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them. Then turning toward me, he shared the following as if he were reciting it from memory.
I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright, no matter how gray the day may appear.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more. I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive and everlasting.
I wish you enough pain so that even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye.
He then began to cry and walked away.
They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them; but then an entire life to forget them.
TAKE TIME TO LIVE....
To all my friends and loved ones,
I WISH YOU ENOUGH.
.
Got love? Give love.
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Dennis The Bus Dweller
- Seasoned Nomadicista
- Posts: 1886
- Joined: Mon Nov 15, 2004 9:33 am
- Location: Southold N.Y.
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