A wounded warrior of words worries overmuch.
- After a weekend spent with my grandsons on a trip to the St. Louis zoo my heart is breaking for all animals that will soon be extinct, and especially the polar bear. I have been to the zoo on many occasions in and of course I have enjoyed the levity and laughter while watching the antics of the apes, the entertaining sea lions, I and have been amazed and awed by the beauty of big cats. However, yesterday, sharing our greatest creatures ever to walk this exquisite earth with the three little boys dearest to my heart while knowing that there is a distinct probability that every animal cherished in their favorite books will be extinct in 50 years has saddened my spirit. I was obsessed with animals when I was a child. All animals, large and small, hoofed or padded, ferocious or domestic, I loved them all. I can remember decorating my bedroom with posters of polar bear babies, frolicking sea lions, puppies and kittens as a preteen. My goal my freshman year of high school was to become a veterinarian and I was a member of the veterinarian club. We had field trips to the zoo, where I wanted to work. I would have done any job there, even cleaning the manure, just so that I could be close to the animals. But my sophomore year I started running with a different group of friends and my personality changed. I guess you could say I lost myself somewhat, I stopped listening to my own voice, and instead attempted to become more instep with others. I have had many passions and ideas that I have not followed through on in my life, regretfully. However that is another story in itself.
Looking at a beautiful polar bear laying in the dirt, panting heavily while trying to stay cool, was heart wrenching. He was asleep up against the glass while we all stared at him. I could hear all the usual comments around me, all the usual exclamations about how big his paws were. Or how cute. Children would ask questions like why doesn’t he play. All I could angrily think about was how uncomfortable he seemed. Where was his glacier!? How can he survive in the St. Louis climate in the summertime? And what about the other polar bears in the Arctic who are suffering because of global warming. The only thing separating me from that incredible bear was a 2 inch thick pane of glass and decades of my ignorance. I have let the years of my life swallow up my desire to help animals. In the noisy daily trappings of my daily duties I have forgotten the silent ones. I have guiltily cast aside the Endangered Species list and replaced it with a To Do list. Ironically, that To Do list makes me feel like a caged animal. You know, that proverbial hamster on a wheel in a cage constantly running, doing, going…. nowhere.
Later that night when I tried to fall asleep all I could think of were my grandchildren and how the world is changing so fast, and I wondered how my grandchildren’s children would see their world. Will they grow up to have an appreciation for nature and for all things great and small? Would they have trees to climb in and fresh water to drink? Will there still be animals left on the earth roaming freely in their natural environment?
The next morning, my oldest grandson Dylan, 11, who has always been an insightful boy and is now becoming a deep thinker, shared some of his thoughts about planet earth and its relationship to the universe and solar system, and somehow that led to the conversation of Isis and terrorism. He even told me about ‘Anonymous’ that group of activists/hacktivists. While I have heard about that group, he knew more about it than I did! We shared our sadness about the near extinction of some of the animals that we saw at the zoo. His soulful brown eyes told me how upsetting it is for him. Dylan is my nature boy, my creative grandson who looks at the world and constantly reminds me about the importance of kindness, peace and understanding others He wanted me to watch some of his favorite YouTube videos with him. He immediately pulled up Prince Ea’s powerful political and important philosophies Regarding saving the earth and animals. I was in near tears while watching this incredible man espouse his opinions regarding these issues on which I used to have so much more passion about. I need to rectify that.
I am not a musician (beyond playing the violin several years in my very distant past), I have a huge appreciation for all music, and am a self-proclaimed wordsmith with a huge love of the written word. The lyrics on Nomad evoke strong emotions and I am now a huge fan of this young man, which is why I am sharing my review with my readers!
Logan Anderson has it all.
A freshly unique voice, polished and crisp, incredibly talented musically, and also obviously in technical ability. No samples, loops, drum machines, keyboards or any other electronic instruments are used in his music, with the exception of an electronic bass guitar. All the sounds are created by the artist using the most unlikely of instruments.
It is rare that a CD comes out in which each track is melodically entertaining, however I feel the each one on Nomad’s are! I…
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Unraveling the realism of racism is distressing for me. Raised by my parents to respect all people and to thwart racist thinking has been my moral compass and buoyed a belief that we are all drifting down this muddy river together. However, watching the Ferguson events the past months have made me realize how idealism is not realty. This is about racism but it is not about black versus white. It is about a certain class of people who perpetuate the poor-me mentality and glorify the gansta lifestyle. Watching the glee on the faces of the looters disgusts me. They have no self-respect, so they disrespect others. I am sad for those who have made it their lifework to be activists against racism. I am angry at the low life, small minded fools who don’t understand how their behavior continues to spread hatred and disgust. They want equality? Well become a self respecting member of the community. The irony is astounding. My grandsons are asking questions. It is a challenge to respond without planting a seed. The cycle will continue thanks to the behaviors of a certain class of people who thrive on division. As long as they continue to play the race card the game will never end.
Dylan is Double Digits!
At this milestone birthday I want to wish for you a huge birthday wish for many, many, many more happy days in your childhood. You are 10!! Ten seems like you are growing up so fast, but I am here to remind us all that you are STILL a young boy. That is GREAT!!!.
You still have so much more of your childhood left Dylan so enjoy playing with all your friends. Enjoy all the silly goofing off and clowning around that only a child can get away with! Enjoy make-believe and pretending! Enjoy digging in the dirt and exploring. Enjoy your Army men and Minecraft. You have a great life and are surrounded by love which is reflected in the goodness of your heart and the sweetness of your personality.
I will enjoy introducing you to more and more of the world (and books) and answering your inquisitive questions. I am so proud of the capacity of your brain inside that cranium of yours Dylan! Like a sponge it soaks up so much every day, continually learning. Enjoy all that! Never stop observing the world, thinking and asking questions.
Do NOT worry about anything. You are 10! You are bright and smart! You know what your job is! Listening at school. Being polite to others. Looking both ways when crossing roads. Taking care of a few chores at home. Eating healthy and getting exercise every day to keep your body and brain strong and happy.
It is hard for me to express with words… but your first 10 years have spread so much laughter, love and joy to your entire family! When I think of you, it is always brings a smile to my face and it always brings a fierce feeling of pride and protection. I love everything about you Dylan.
Your #1 Fan, Grandma.
Passed out til noon
She swigs Bloody Marys while applying
War paint with an unsteady hand.
Sunken, hungover, puffy eyes
Veiled by Visine.
Barely gets the red out.
But the sparkle is gone for good.
A counterfeit in coiffed curls and fake smirk.
A gussied up clotheshorse in brand name style.
Dressed to the nines to disguise DUI’s.
Living an artificial reality she deceives even herself.
Sipping on Crown, searching out imperfections in others.
Fabricating falsehoods while pretending frivolity.
Stirring up slanderous gossip with her silver spoon.
Tossed back with a shot of ad naseum
She makes Happy Hour an irony.
Donna J. Heatherly
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IS THIS YOU?
He is a gatherer of ideas
Expresses them well.
He is an ideal man.
He is open minded
Uncluttered and receptive to the opinion of others.
He is a liberal thinker.
He laughs openly and often.
Shares sharp amusing outlooks on current politics.
He is a humorist.
He is approachable and friendly.
An ally to all lucky to know him
He is a conversationalist.
He is empathic and sincere.
Pained and enraged by global cruelty
He is a humanitarian.
He is loving and loved.
He is my greatest supporter.
He is genuine.
He is my dad.
Donne Jeannine Heatherly (08/07/2014)
Happy 80 years wise my dear dad!
Meramec River Boys – A Sequel to Black River Boys
D. J. Heatherly / July 27, 2014
Happy smiles from a proud grandma greet my grandsons upon their arrival.
I hug them hello feeling tight little arms wrap around my soul.
First things first.
They remove their shoes and run inside to assess the sleeping arrangements.
Well-taught and well-mannered.
They know the rules of the Raptor as instructed by Vernon.
Dylan climbs up the loft with his pillows and his thoughts.
Devin quickly follows.
Together, they stretch out for a total of 3 minutes, planning their next move.
Zip down the ladder, zoom out the door to explore.
An old cedar swingset sits 500 yards away.
We keep them in our sights giving them their space.
Two brothers swing and giggle uninhibited.
I join them.
Fearless, Devin swings willy-nilly in an attempt to hit the swing posts.
I grab a pair of ankles to suspend Dylan in mid swing.
A tangible memory floods my senses.
A palpable push that propels me back in time.
I recall how I swung them as toddlers.
I describe the feel of their tiny backs as I gently pushed, reminding them to hold on tight, and to swing their sweet, skinny legs.
I tell them how much they liked to be swung by Grandma.
Dylan says, “Show me.”
I grab his 9 year old ankles. Stronger now, and capable of hiking, running, tree climbing, pedaling.
I grab a hold and push him back, then, I run behind him, grab the swing to delay momentum, which always made him nervously giggle when he was a tot. He roars with delight.
Love flourishes when laughter abounds.
Devin wants the same, of course, so I repeat the process.
“Again” they say in unison just as they did years ago.
Their legs are now too long for a swingset however who can resist reliving past moments?
Later, after dinner, it’s back to the old swingset again.
Perched in the swing, Dylan is stretched out, laid out parallel to the ground.
“Look at the sky!” he yells with wonderment.
I look up to see a jet black night glittering with silver stars.
At that moment my sweet mom is with me.
I tell the boys my belief that stars are the energy and spirit of good people who have left this earth.
“Yes. I know.” Dylan says. “My grandma Jean is up there. And dad’s dad, Chuck.”
I want to cry. Instead I smile and hug him and Devin tight.
Early morning awakens us. We eagerly prepare for a 6-mile float.
Skin slathered with SPF. Skulls protected with bandanas.
A school bus like none they have ever ridden awaits us.
Loaded with coolers full of beer. And adults full of excitement.
Cracked windows with a solitary spider hanging on for dear life on a web.
Blows into the bus as the bus driver picks up speed careening around a corner.
I scream as Bobby rescues us by closing the window.
Startled by a loud pop, we all jump in our seats!
Dylan’s window has been hit.
Realizing it was a water balloon thrown by a random camper, we all laugh.
Except Dylan is not laughing. He barely manages a smile.
I imagine the many scenarios running through his head. All the questions he has. All the reasons. Why was it his window? All the what-ifs. He is a deep thinker.
Scramble to the raft.
Attach tubes to the raft for the kids, to which Dylan and Devin’s faces say it all before they even speak it.
Scared of snakes striking. Fear of fish biting.
“It’s an adventure” I encourage.
They bravely get in their tubes and we take off!
We move at a snail’s pace.
Dangling legs in the murky Meramec River.
Fear of unknowns’ unseen in the water.
Anxiety overwhelms Dylan.
“We are survivalists!” I tell the boys, as I get in his tube as he takes my place in the raft.
“Ahhh, this feels sooo good.” I smile. And it did, so happy to share this day with them!
In a valiant attempt later, Dylan gets back on a tube.
Trepidation of turtles. Worry about the white water.
“Lift your bottoms up.” His mom and I say together approaching faster moving “rapids” so river rocks would not bump them.
Dylan straightens his entire self out on top of the tube, elongated and nearly hyperventilating with worry.
We laughingly decide it is time to give up the tubes.
Eight people and 2 coolers in a 6-man raft.
The tubes glide empty behind us as we fill up the raft with gaity and contentment.