When I was a little kid...

[mysterious_echo]

I couldn't wait to grow up so I could do all the cool things grown-ups did: drive a car; fly a plane; sail a ship; and to have all the things adults had: money; a house; fancy clothes; cool "toys". It never occurred to me that all that came with responsibility.

That, and more, has come to pass. The burden of responsibility wore hard on me; often making me bitter and resentful. I did my best to control it, but it made its presence known in many unpleasant ways. It took me years to learn how wrong I was; how I had misled myself as a child.

My greatest treasures are my kids...and their kids. No adult that becomes a parent can scarcely understand the task they've undertaken when bringing a child into the world. It was difficult for me to teach my children how to be patient and understanding when it was never taught to me...the sins of the father revisited on him through his children. Let me clarify that my children are all good citizens; fine adults and great parents...and it beats the hell out of me how they happened upon it. I suppose that I should list "lucky" amongst the undeserved gifts that have been bestowed upon me by this life. Apparently, some angelic dealer saw fit to deal me a hand that would yield a rich pot. I just didn't realize that it would take some thirty years to collect. Some great measure has to go to their mother, who was never appreciated as much as she should have been all those years ago. This goes back to never having learned what true partnership in life was. But I guess my peeps couldn't teach what they didn't know.

So why this maudlin, sanctimonious diatribe?

I opened a box I hadn't touched in forever. It was sealed up inside a larger box which I've carried with me since high school. I had long forgotten what was in it. Other than a lot of tacky high school prom favors, spirit ribbons, old concert ticket stubs and "paraphernalia", there was a brittle, yellowed paperback book called The Pocket Book of Verse. It was one of my favorite books ever. There was a single cocktail napkin bookmark in it. Behind that bookmark was this poem. It has a greater meaning for me now that it ever could have as a teenager. Be happy in your time. Wishing for it later will be just a continuation of the time already wasted.

SOLITUDE

by Lewis Carroll

SOLITUDE -

I LOVE the stillness of the wood:

I love the music of the rill:

I love to couch in pensive mood

Upon some silent hill. -

Scarce heard, beneath yon arching trees,

The silver-crested ripples pass;

And, like a mimic brook, the breeze

Whispers among the grass. -

Here from the world I win release,

Nor scorn of men, nor footstep rude,

Break in to mar the holy peace

Of this great solitude. -

Here may the silent tears I weep

Lull the vexed spirit into rest,

As infants sob themselves to sleep

Upon a mother's breast. -

But when the bitter hour is gone,

And the keen throbbing pangs are still,

Oh, sweetest then to couch alone

Upon some silent hill! -

To live in joys that once have been,

To put the cold world out of sight,

And deck life's drear and barren scene

With hues of rainbow-light. -

For what to man the gift of breath,

If sorrow be his lot below;

If all the day that ends in death

Be dark with clouds of woe? -

Shall the poor transport of an hour

Repay long years of sore distress-

The fragrance of a lonely flower

Make glad the wilderness? -

Ye golden hours of Life's young spring,

Of innocence, of love and truth!

Bright, beyond all imagining,

Thou fairy-dream of youth! -

I'd give all wealth that years have piled,

The slow result of Life's decay,

To be once more a little child

For one bright summer-day. -