I miss walking along green prairie shores
Miss gazing into deep azure skies.
I yearn for the sun’s healing touch
And witnessing the killdeer’s cry
Just above the skyline, where soft clouds ride
Where wind tracked memories reside.
These harvested acres are missing small farms;
Honeysuckle and rock piles, buried and gone
Pastures and barnyards, good things now past,
Friend now just memories, under a cross.
Shackled recollections now frozen in time
Stamped in my memory, shadows on my mind
Dust on the horizon has clouded the view
My tears cleanse the vista, though heartbreaks remain.
Life is a journey, a stroll down a lane
Good things are coming, that is heaven’s refrain.
It was on an evening hayride
We were snuggled deep in straw
Our blankets were wrapped together,
As the wind was bitter and raw.
We traveled with the moonlight
As our heartbeats struck a single beat.
The revelers alongside us
Seemed to melt away- discrete
Her hair touched my cheek softly,
As we crossed a darkened road.
I brushed aside stray snowflakes
From red cheeks exposed to cold.
I think about that special night
When first loves was in the air.
In time I’d learn that love was fleeting
For those just learning to care.
I wonder where she is tonight,
I hope she’s doing well.
That though the year have come and gone,
I’ll remember young love’s spell.
Bits and Pieces
Bits and pieces of a life
Details gone away
A name or place important to me
Just somehow slipped away
Life assisted by written notes,
-A computer database.
Minutia captured in remote,
Adds color to my day.
Fine points in a chapter,
Forgotten before the close.
Thumbing back to start again
Refreshing stubborn facts.
Information grabbed, then held so tight
But somehow slides away.
Creating another empty slot
For pictures of the day.
This is not a call for sympathy,
It’s just plain old basic truths.
My memories grown weaker,
Though I depend on facts.
Over twenty years ago I suffered a paralyzing stroke. I still vividly recall being on the floor unable to move or speak, hearing but unable to respond. Luckily I was one of the first in Minnesota to be administered the stroke fighting drug – tPA (Tissue plasminogen activator) and I mostly recovered with time and therapy.
There were some residual effects, which would hang with me for the rest of my life. Minor irritants, some would say, compared to what might have been, but I learned to adapt and live with them. For other types of brain disorders the results can be much different.
For example, those who are afflicted with Alzheimers there is no miracle shot – yet! Their memory loss for now, is irreparable. I have watched as dear friends memories have faded and it is heartbreaking. The best we can give now is our support and our hope and prayers for a cure.
20 years ago I experienced a major stroke, which left me temporarily bereft of most memory. For a brief time I floated in a world that had no children, no spouse, no language, no art, no history. It was as if I were a computer that had lost it’s hard drive.
Thanks to the wonders of modern medicine and the then experimental procedure of TPA, my memories slowly returned. However it left me with a lingering suspicion of reality. I now understand just how tenuous the relationship between truth and my ability to recall truly is. In fact, during my recovery I walked the line between reality and fiction every day. I learned when facts fail, recollections of sights, smells and sounds endure.
I came away from the experience with an appreciation of facts, but still I found an even greater love of recollections with all the subtle enhancements my senses can add.
A continuing part of my recovery over the years has been to accept and appreciate my inability to remember superfluous facts. I now relish my enhanced recollections and learned to live in a world that is guaranteed to be better as it ages.
– Clarence Hom
Memories are fleeting moments here on variable loan,
They are not frozen images chiseled into solid stone.
They are the lingering taste of chocolate on the back of my tongue.
Or the warmth I felt at noon time, as I looked into the sun.
Recollections are celebrations, a party for one’s self
Heady compilations pulled from a top most shelf
The best are fragile moments pulled from our past
Colored by experience with thoughts that are often recast.
Recollections are built from history liberally enhanced by our dreams,
Memoirs of bits and pieces all exploding from the seams.
Photos stand as sentries, highly focused on the details
Memories work with senses making stories to fill our sails
Celebrate your memories sans worries of trivial facts,
Don’t sweat the story of what happened between the cracks.
Just sit back and taste the chocolate and feel the shinning sun
The best memories should always be the most fun.
Peter, my tomcat and I are a lot alike! We constantly ask to go outside, but once we’re out there, we don’t know why!
– Clarence Holm