The King of P ed OP hiles is Dead

The modern day pan

What can I say about the death of Michael Jackson, plenty. In my opinion, while only a few years ago when the media was ripping Michael a new one for having children sleep in his bed after giving them wine, they now are acting as if they were best of friends and as the fake tears flow, so many of the innocent were forced to grow up prematurely.

Yes the popular self proclaimed king of pop, went broke trying to put out fires he created and has done more of that them creating music in the past fifteen years.

Those without the all mighty buck, hold out candy to lure our children away but not Michael, he designed a ranch, a complex just for that reason.  He went so far as to use plastic surgery to look like the Disney cartoon, Peter Pan, because as we all know, Peter also lured children away from their innocence. 

Pedophiles come and go and yet we all wish them death.  The difference here is that Michael sang songs which don’t make him any less guilty. 

Remembering all the fake marriages putting up a front for his lifestyle, one should wonder what his real agenda was, I don’t it was the children.

Now we are slobbering all over a person who made his own choices in life.  We all must die, that’s life and for me, one less person preying on our innocent children is not going to be a factor any longer. 

Michael might have saw a man in the mirror, but all I saw was a kid toucher.  I won’t be hypocritical as most, no; I refuse to honor a person like that.  As far as I am concerned, there is one less predator among us.


Second Chances-A Suckers bet

The general consensus is that priorities are no longer needed in these modern yet troubled times. We put the popularity contests out there while we watch our children be swept away by predators. We work two jobs so we can afford that keeping up with the Jones’s attitude. We are more concerned with how we look and who we think is watching our every move than who is watching us for the wrong reasons.

It concerns me, no, hurts me knowing some still blame color for our problems when its what’s in someone’s heart and mind that makes us good or evil. Bad choices should be to blame when things go desperately wrong but they are not so we hand out second chances like they are going out of style. Second chances are for people who make mistakes, not for those who kill, maim, or cause such havoc on society.

We cannot open our hearts any longer for those who take our children for an evil agenda. When did we stop protecting them, when did we focus on ourselves instead of doing the right things in life? When did we stop caring what happens to our children aiming our compassion for the blackened souls who betray them?

Second chances for those who hurt out of obsession should not be an option. These predators cannot stop what they have become. We give them second chances to feed their rage, their obsessions, and their aggressions against us.

The solution is not what we can do to help those who are so fixated on agendas against mankind, but to see to it, our children grow up protected, loved, and this, will insure a moral balance in their futures which will change our lives forever.

An elderly woman was sitting watching television. A knock at the door made her smile. She has not been visited for many months so she struggles to get to the door. A teen forces his way into her home beating her to near death. He took a few things he needed for a drug habit but was caught the next day. The woman was recovering in the hospital but refused to press charges because he was just a boy. One month later, the woman was killed in her home by that very same boy. He went to trial and instead of putting him away for the crime, he was let go once again because he was so young. He was arrested again several months later for killing a store manager in yet another robbery. When asked why he did so many bad things to so many people, he said, “They were standing in the way, the only thing I care about is the money and they were stopping me from getting it.” A judge decided that this child should seek counseling instead of being locked away. He ran away and needed money and his cycle continues because we believed in the second chance. The victims, well, they never got their second chance now did they?

Evil comes in all colors, genders, and sizes. We must not keep extending our hand out trying to change the evil, instead of our children’s hands keeping them safe from it.

Gabriel’s Trumpet

Louis fell asleep after a heavy gig in Newark, New Jersey. The hotel was average, and all the members of the band had separate rooms. Keely new he was exhausted but she had to tell him that she wanted out. She nudges him and he rolls over and he says, “Look, Keely, I am so tired. Tonight I was all over that stage and I am getting up there.” “Louis, I want a divorce. I just can’t do this anymore.” Kelly says as she watches him fall asleep again. He murmurs something to the effect, “Keely, we will talk tomorrow, promise.” She packed his trumpet away next to his violin and walked back over to min anxiously but just watched him sleep.

Keely looks at him smiling as she walks quietly out of the room. Louie started to dream. He heard the trumpet sounds coming from afar. He follows the sweetest sounds he has ever heard and wondered who was playing. He walks down the white corridor and stops I front of a double French door also in white. He opens the door and peeps inside only to see a man dressed in a white suit sitting in a chair blowing away at his shiny brass trumpet. The man stops playing and looks up at Louis. “Oh, Louis, come in, I am expecting you.” Louie walks in closer and asks who he is. “I am Gabriel, you know, the angel?” Gabriel says polishing his horn. Louie looks at him and then at himself and asks, “Did I die, I am not that old.” Gabriel says, “Not at all my friend. You are sleeping soundly in your bed. I do this for so many. It is just to see just where you fit in when you do finally pass. You know, I have been watching you and you seem to be having so much fun down there and make so many people happy.” Louie just says, “Well, I try. Give them all you got and then some, and always leave them wanting more.” Gabriel laughs and says, “You have married four times and they always seem to leave. Why do you think this is Louis?” “Louie smiles and says sarcastically, “Oh, I’m just a gigolo?” Gabriel laughs and tells Louie that he was never serious about women. He tells Louie that he just liked the fact that they worshiped him and marriage was just another sheet of paper to him. Louie thinks about what Gabriel said and tells him that Kelly was leaving him. Gabriel says, “I know this Louis but all is never lost. You will meet yet another woman and she will be forever. She will be your one true love.” Louie liked the sound of that and new one thing for sure, he didn’t like being alone. He says, “Listen, Gabe, I did love them you know.” Gabriel say’s, “No Louie, you were in love of the idea of love but when the real thing hits you, you will be so happy and finally know what love is.”

Gabriel was the barer of news for many. He tells Louis that he would love to sit and play sometime but he must be getting back, it was morning and he will be waking soon. Louie understood and started to walk out of the room. Gabriel stops him and asks, “Hey, don’t you have any questions for me? They always do you know.” “Louie thought about it and says, “Ok, so I meet the love of my life. I am in my fifties, so how much longer do I have?” Gabriel smiles and say’s “That’s up to you Louis, that’s up to you. I will be seeing you again in exactly thirteen years from this moment, sort of an update. We can play then.” With that said, Louie wakes up and Keely is walking out with bags.

A year passes and Louis meets a young blonde singer named Gia Miaone. He is mesmerized with her voice and then it hits him. He looks up at the sky and say’s “Thanks Gabe.” Mia shows Louis a picture she carries with her all the time and it is Louie’s Picture. The two are inseparable and wed a year later. They tour the club circuit and Louis is back on top of the world now knowing what true love is.

Louis was playing the clubs as usual and started to forget the words. He started to scat more then sing and Gia knew he would have to be checked so they went to the doctor the next day. The Doctor made an appointment for Louis to have a tumor removed. He was undergoing surgery when he saw something all so familiar and smiled. He saw that same white hallway with the two white double doors. He walks towards the doors and opens them as if he was at home. There sits Gabriel playing his trumpet. It was “When the Saints go Marching in.” Louie doesn’t hesitate and picks up a trumpet on off the floor and starts playing with him. Just then, in walks Louis Armstrong and Al Hirt and Gene Krupa. Then other famous musicians start playing in and it was a full blown jam session. Song after song the band played. Louis got to sing with Armstrong and was having a blast and even though he is tired but loves it. He sits next to Gabriel and says, “Wow, we have been playing all night long.” Gabriel smiles at him and says, “Louis, we have been playing for three years, your time. You made the choice my friend. Now there are two doors over on your left. You get to open both of them but can only walk through one of them and I know it will be a hard choice to make but I know you will choose wisely.

Louis opens the first door and sees nothing but white with clouds and angels floating everywhere. In the middle of the room stands God. He is dressed in white gowns and smiles at Louis and say’s “It’s ok; I think you will like it here.” Then Louie opens the second door and sees his life before him. It flashes by so fast until it comes to his true love. She is sitting by his bedside in the hospital sobbing. It was the hardest thing he ever had to do in his life but Louis made his choice.

His body was still in that bed. No one else heard it but Louie did. The sweet sound of music, a jam session, and as Gia held his hand Louis seemed to smile. Louie’s spirit gets up and walks to a door. He turns and sees his lifeless body laying on the bed and Gia holding his hand. He looked at her as if to say, “I do love you Gia, but listen, do you hear that?” He walks through the door towards the music as Gia calls for a doctor. The doctor walks in, shakes his head no, and Gia begins to cry, and Louis was gone.

Louis Prima, lived a good life. His music to this day gives us so much pleasure, and now, he is playing with all the greats in that big band in the sky. God Bless you Louie Prima.

Nigga Pass the Cracka ~The Song of the Souf

When the Europeans brought Slaves to America, from Africa, it was only a reflection of the time in which they lived. Africa sold slaves in those barbaric times and America bought them.

President Lincoln freed the slaves out of fear. Lincoln was losing the war and needed men and fast. His freeing of the slaves won his war effort so in a way, the Black man saved what we know to be, the United States of America.

The Slaves were free to live their lives but many Whites at that time still saw these men and women as animals, slaves, or just a lower class. These horrific times would last as long as the sixties where a new age of thinking would rear its head. Protests and fighting would help in the struggles for the black man to be seen as equal to any man.

The Blacks now teaming with some liberal Whites fought segregation tooth and nail and won. Today, although there are many old school whites and Blacks still thinking in such a way that their ancestors did so many years ago, we have finally reached equality laughing at those who still see things in black and white.

We live in harmony and for a few that are fighting the fight of yesteryear; they are still living in the past. Blacks and whites have come a long way but their are still small battles but for the most part of life, we see each other as men and women nothing more. The following is a story I had written in 1972 to try and make the boneheads still living in the past see that there caveman mentality is not welcome in today’s society.

The older white man sits on his front porch rocking himself to sleep. His name is Harry, Harry Conklin. He has been living in that house his grand paw built since he was a small child. His Grandfather had servants helping out, usually blacks, it was the times.

The south is a warmer climate but not to dry this time of year. His eyes almost shut as he sucked on a piece of straw; Harry hears a car pull over to the curb in front of his home. Harry watched as an older black man steps out of the car and opens the hood. “Damn, overheating.” The man walks up to Harry’s porch and asks to use his water hose. Harry seems to ignore the man in need pretending he was sleeping.

“Did you hear me, I asked to use your hose, please sir, my car, it’s overheating and…”

“I heard you boy, my water hose tends to bebroken for some reason or another.”

“Please Mr. I only need some water and I will be on my way. A small bucket will do. I am not looking for trouble”

“I guess you’re the one with the hearing problem nigger, now git before I do something you will regret”

The tired old black man stood and waited a second, he started to turn and walk away but something made him turn and face Harry again.

“Listen, Mr. This is your house, and you can give me the water or you can not, thats your right. I need to get out of this god forsaken place, but you have no right. I let it pass when you called me boy, I guess that’s the way around these parts, but you have no right to call me nigger. I am a man, same as you.”

“Oh, that’s right, you people can call yourselves niggers all you want but when I do it, that’s a bad thing. Oh get out of here and take that junk heap with you. The water hole is closed but lets get one thing straight, you aint no man, you an animal so go find a watering hole somewheres else.”

“Oh, no you don’t. We call ourselves nigger to remind us how stupid that word really is. We know if we say it often enough it will lose its evil tones. Yes, we use the word nigger to remind us that we still have a ways to go, and for what, people like you who live in fear? We were brought here against our will; we were taken as slaves to do all your dirty work Yes I call my brother nigger for a different reason then you call me that word. You use it to degrade me and I am a man just as you are a man. No, you can’t call me nigger, you haven’t earned that right, and you will never earn that right until you walked a mile in my shoes. Seen what I have seen, the likes of your kind. No mister, you keep your precious water, I will manage without the likes of you. Nigger, No sir, you just aint got the right. I am not ignorant, just a man in this world just as you trying to do what’s right. I know you will never be able to understand this but you and your kind are the true niggers of this world.”

“You people just like to cause trouble. You come here into my neighborhood asking me for things? Go burn down your towns, you people love to do that. Animals, just animals, that’s all you are. Making babies and leaving, thats all you do.”

“You call me animal, and yet I have to laugh. I went to school and I work a job. My momma, God rest her blessed soul, worked two jobs so I can get educated. I made something out of my life. I know how to treat my neighbors but as long as I live, something inside of me still feels the need to call you sir. I reapect all people and I can see you are no different then me even if you can’t.”

“Sure you do, you are a hate monger, a militant, a trouble maker, just like the rest of you animals.”

“No sir, I am a Doctor, at a big city hospital. I make more money in a week then you will ever see in your lifetime. I cure people, all people, of all walks of life. I don’t turn any man away because his skin is different then my skin. No sir, you keep your water, and your life. People like you are a dying breed. I can’t stand the sight of you. My car is cooled down enough, I’ll be going now, and trust me, a pleasure this was not. I’ll get water someplace else and you sir have a nice day.”

The man turns and walks away. He reaches for the door handle of his car and a single shot rings out. Harry with a smoking rifle in his hand just watches as the man fumble with the door handle then falls to the ground. Harry runs over to the man and places his wallet in the mans hand and tossed his watch and some money around the lifeless body.

A neighbor walks out on his porch and says, “Harry, are you ok?” Harry replies, “Yeah, some nigger tried to rob me, I guess he didn’t know who he was dealing with did he Buck.” “No sir, Harry, we wont have any of that here, so sir.” Buck hollared.

The man lying in a pool of his own blood opens his eyes and with his last breath says, “I knew, I knew exactly who I was dealing with.” Then he closes his eyes drawing his last breath.

The sheriff happens by and sees the back man lying on the ground shot dead. He turns to the old Harry and asked what had happened. Harry tells him his tale of lies, and starts to head back up his stairs as if he did a public service for his community. Just then he clutches his heart and falls to the ground.

The sheriff ran to his aid and sees that the man is having a heart attack. He carried him to his police car and rushes him to the small hospital in town. He lays on a gurney waiting for help desperately. A doctor starts massaging the mans heart. A nurse comes over to help as they roll him into the operating room. The doctor yells, “Where is the heart specialist, I can’t save this guy I’m just a family doctor. Where the hell is Doctor, Johnson?” The nurse says, “Oh, haven’t you heard, the ambulance just rolled him in. He was shot dead.”

Harry heard what the nurse said, as he lie their dying and their was no one person educated enough to save him. “Mr. Johnson, the Heart Doctor only comes to town once a week from the big city, he did that out of the goodness of his heart, to help others. The nurse said as she made Harry comfortable. Harry seemed to be looking at the nurse but then she realizes, leans in and closes his eyes. “We lost him. she added.

We must see that there are only two types of people in the world, men and women. Color should never be an issue for that only shows where we are from not who we are. Anyone who still has issues with color is only blind by their fears and ignorance. God created all men and women the same and until we can all see this, we will always have the few that are so blind through ignorance.

Please leave a comment good or bad so we can expose the truth. What we have here is a whole lot of pride, over something that happened so long ago, and really had nothing to do with us as a people today. A wise man once said, “There is none so blind who can only see color, then those with eyes so wide open they can see the character and further the horizon for all mankind.” Caterino


Hey Ma, I Just Killed Bambi Again

I have never been a fan of hunting. To kill any type of animal in my view is murder especially when they can’t use weapons to defend themselves. I wrote this story and received many death threats so that should say something for the hunter and now I do believe that now, I am the hunted. I don’t eat meat, only beef, chicken, and other meat products manufactured by my local grocer, and like most people that are against killing living things, I am also a self admitted hypocrite because I am like the catholic priests, and as we all know the only meat they can eat is none. After obvious pun, I will get to my beef with hunters; here is the meat of my problem.

Long, long ago men were the hunters of their domain. Women stayed in their caves, tents, and igloos, and did the chores women did back then and as we all know, many carry on those past traditions today. This was routine and they did what they had to do for survival. Hunters hunted for the food, out of necessity, to stay alive. Maybe a bear would last a whole winter-feeding a family of six. The point I am trying to make is simple. They had no supermarkets to buy food for their families, no convenient stores, Burger Kings or Mickey D’s. They had to do what they did for continued existence. They only used hand made weapons from sticks and stones which as we know can break your bones.

Now we have the so-called modern day “hunter” and he is armed with his high-powered rifles and automatic weapons and even a cross bow. He goes out and shoots the mighty bunny the awesomely scary deer or Bambi, as I like to call them or even a fowl or two. I would understand if it was necessity but it is not. They do it in the name of sport. “Hey honey, I am going to bring you home some sparrow and maybe if we are lucky I will finally get to bag Bambi.” Sparrow I have heard tastes like chicken. Yeah, sure, put ten or twelve sparrow on a stick and hold them over a nice open fire makes for good eats. I have always said, “If it all tastes like chicken, why not just eat chicken?

A sport in my mind is men and woman competing to be the best. Sport to me is playing a game with others, and coming out a head of the rest. Sport to me is not sneaking up on a bunny rabbit that pops his head out of a hole to see what it can eat that day and blowing its head off with a snipers rifle. Deer cannot shoot back but if they could I am willing to bet there would be less hunters hunting them. These animals have no guns to use to defend themselves. It would be like the New York Jets playing a high school football team. Well that is a bad example but you get what I mean. If you must hunt then lets even up the playing field. Why can’t you hunt a bear armed with nothing but what the bear has, brute strength and nothing else? This seems fair but you would never find a hunter doing that. He would call that unfair. Let’s get a hunter to use intellect which is redundant now isn’t it? That is brains in case you are a hunter and are reading this. How about going one on one with a bobcat or mountain lion?

I heard a conversation with two men talking about hunting bears. One man explained how he shot the bear right in the heart with a scoped rifle. This tells me he was far away from the bear and shot the bear when the bear was unaware the hunter was even there. Hunter? I do not get this whole concept of the sport. If you must eat meat there is plenty in the stores. There is no need to kill Bugs Bunny or Bambi or yes even Yogi and Boo Boo. If I can keep it as a pet, I just aint eating it.

One day there was a hunter hiding in the woods. He scoped out his prey. It was a male bear and his family, three cubs and a female bear. The hunter wanted to get a little closer so he wouldn’t miss. He picks up his rifle and by accident he stepped on a twig. It made a noise loud enough to startle the bear. The bear wanted to protect his family so he charged the man. The man tried to run but stumbled and fell. The bear swiped him three times with his huge claws and walked away. He was able to use his cell phone to call for help. The Rangers came to his rescue then hunted the bear down and killed it. The reason was the bear attacked the man. Well isn’t this what sport is all about? You win some or you lose some. Well the man lost so why wasn’t the bear given a metal for winning the event? The reward for the bear is becoming a rug in the mans home. Lovely thought is a dead animal skin on my floor or a dead animal’s head hanging on my wall.

We do this in war but we all hate wars but at least it is fair. One on one is fair but a man with a weapon against a animal without is not in my book. This is only my opinion. I won’t hunt anything that I can call a pet, nor will I eat anything I can call a pet. I am not a vegetarian but I know where the food is. I have no need to go out and murder anything when there are resources available. Some call me a hypocrite and so be it.

We need to regroup and rethink. This is the year 2007 and some of us who think we are men need not prove themselves to others by killing a few birds or Bambi and hang their heads on the wall of out homes. Maybe a big gun is justification for a smaller something else. I am a man and I know it. I don’t have to fight or kill to prove it to anyone. How come we don’t hunt cow or pig because we eat them also.

Give a man a duck and he will eat for a day, teach him to shoot and he will kill for a lifetime. Eloquently put for an old guy from Jersey wouldn’t you say? Some think animals have no rights but I beg to differ. They can’t speak so they need a voice coming to there rescue.

I have written articles before and was asked in about one hundred emails to walk in their shoes before I spoke about hunting. I said in reply that I have written murder mysteries for television does that mean I should kill a man before I do?

I have had this argument for many years now. Yes picking up a package of meat from your grocer is the same as killing the meat yourself. This is what I was told, the rational by these hunter savants. It is not the same thing. The thought of picking up a gun or an arrow and thrusting a bullet or arrow into a living life sickens me. The thrill of the hunt as it was so put to me in one email I just will never under stand. I can’t get excited about killing a dear or even a duck. As I said before if you are stalking a mountain lion and you miss then the feline turns around and maim you it will be killed as a threat to society. Why should this be? I thought hunting should at least be a two way street. I can’t stress this enough but here I go again. Life is life and no one being is any better then another. We are all gods creatures and should remember this fact.

Take a look around you folks. Before man over populated the world it was mostly water and land filled with these animals. Now we push the animal, force them to live on small reserves. Isn’t this what we have done to the Native Americans? Sometimes they wonder off or become overpopulated then we say “Let’s thin the herd”. This is the hunters clever way of saying” Lets kill something today”. You can make your arguments for all the reasons to kill something that has been living here since the dawn of time but I won’t have it. You are killing my friends; oops I guess you are not my friends at this point.

Not to be confused with an obsession I want to clear a few things up here and now. I don’t care what people do. If they eat meat then good for them and if they kill the food they eat then good for them too. I just refuse to have to kill, myself in the name of “experience before you speak”.

I knew a man once. He bragged to me about his grandson, how he hunted wild boar. I listened as he went on to tell me how the pen was a four by four cell. Then the hunter would shoot the caged animal and call it their hunt. This is fair? All’s fair in love and war and the hunt I guess. If you miss the bear trying to protect its young and you miss then you die. We do not see that as fair. Think about how fair this situation is. Just to say you killed Bambi does not make you a man.

We do not eat dog or cat. Other cultures do so why not kill a few dogs and place them in our deep freeze for food. What the hell is the difference? I knew a guy that shot his pet dogs when he got tired of them. He would get a new one and when he tired of that one “BANG”. Maybe it’s just me and maybe I am wrong. I better go out and get me a shot gun with a scope and hunt me some gerbil or ferret. Hey there is a proper way to cook ferret you know. You don’t just bake or fry them. You stick a stick up its rump and then scorch them over an open fire. Maybe a squirrel or even a bat will make for some good eats. Bat tastes like chicken. I would think it tasted like licorice.

Ok so I got myself a gun now what. I am walking in the park stalking my prey. I see a robin that landed on the lake for a drink. I aim carefully and “BANG” I got it right between the eyes. Wow that felt great. Now what I feel the power now. So this is what they meant by the thrill. Yes I feel it now. I see a squirrel “BANG” now a duck “BAM BAM” now another bird. This is great more. Now a dog and two cats BANG BANG POW. Now a child, let’s see if I get the same thrill with a bigger target. There is a kid playing ball “BANG”. Yes I got him and boy I feel the power, the thrill. Hey there’s his dad, bigger target yet. Bang, bang you’re dead. Now how Am I going to get all this meat home? The man is on the hood of my car and the boy is in the trunk. The squirrels, dogs, bats, ferrets and fowl are in my glove compartment. This should last me through the winter but it is not enough for me now. I think I will start hunting bigger game. Hmm, maybe a kid then work my way up to an adult. Oh, hold that thought, I see a snake trying to eat a rat. “BANG”! Snake steaks and Boa burgers anyone? How about a hot doggie, dog stew or for desert chocolate moose made with a real moose or my specialty Bats Parmesan? Let them eat crow. Well I’m not feeling that hungry so Ill just get the salad and count my blessings. Tomorrow it is Kid Creole and Granny Stew.

Hey before I go I will send you a picture of my brand new cat skin rug. It took almost a hundred of these little buggers to make it. I like the way they placed the white Persians in the middle and the calico on the outer edges, and it has a kitten fringe. It is one handsome trophy. On my living room wall I have these trophy heads, a moose, an elk, my mother in law.

Let’s live together and try to understand why we are here, all of us. If you have hunting in your blood, then please, don’t kill for fun, trophy, or to impress, kill for the food unless it is your mother in law, kidding. If you are one that hunts for the food, then go for it. Just don’t get angry when a bear malls you in the woods, it is his home, remember that.

The Empty Room

The room is empty but so large with one big bay window facing the street. She just moved in to this house she purchased with hard work and accomplishment. She seemed to have it all but still, has nothing at all. There is a chair in the middle of the room. She sits in this chair wondering who she can call. She stares at her cell phone for a while but, as usual there is no one.

I sit in numbness watching the world pass me by through the window that cannot be opened. I am sealed in my own environment which I, myself created. My arms glued to my side, my eyes opened wide, my body stunned as I sit motionless. I wait for something to free me from my isolation but it never comes. What is a matter of minutes seems like a lifetime, what is my life seems like an eternity.

She read somewhere that for every woman is a partner, a perfect match to grow and expand, a partnership that can be stopped by nothing. A partnership that can soar without wings, and feel love like no other can feel.

I sit still waiting for something special to happen to me. When will it be my turn? I have time, there is plenty of that so I wait as I wonder when, when will this all come together for me.

She waits as she ages as pages fly off the old dusty calendar hanging on the wall. No one is coming, there is nothing left for her but still she waits in her own puddle created by her own tears over time. As dawn arrives, a small stream of light focusing on her faded painted toes creates an illusion of her own reality.

No more do I wait, No more, I say as I struggle to stand on my own. My toes look so dreary; I think I am going to paint them, refreshing my life, starting over. I wait for no one, and I wait no more. I am and now I know what I must do. I live, I am in need of nothing, I am in need of no one, I am.

She breaks free from the chair and takes it by the legs, raises it high up in the air and smashes it on the floor. She storms towards the window and like a mime she slams her fists against it for all to see. She then looks at the door; she hesitates but slowly reaches for the handle. She turns the knob slowly frightened what is out there but she does it, she opens that door and steps outside, the first step in her own independence.

I wait no more; I am alive, living life as I should. I know now, if anything will happen, I indeed have to make it happen. I wasted so many years waiting, and my would have, could have, should have mentality, is no more, for now, I am, for now, I am.

A Metamorphosis in Progress

We start to die as soon as we are born and that’s a simplistic way of looking at it I know. What it really comes down to is a metamorphosis in progress. Like a caterpillar to the butterfly we all find so many changes in our lives during the course of the whole experience. When a caterpillar starts to create its cocoon it doesn’t have no recall of what it is he was and the process begins.

We start out in a fragile state, being held, changed, cleansed, taught and cherished. As we start to grow towards our goal in life, death, we tend to put that way in the back, the black holes of our mind. So we experience all there is and then some or we at least try. We brake free from the nests we once called home to make a home of our own. We are fruitful and multiply as life commands we all should do to keep mankind going strong. As the people that once nurtured our needs in the past, our loved ones die, or head to parts unknown, we move on realizing that those footsteps that once were, are now duplicated, recreated in our own journey through life’s path as we know it to be. We get closer to the goal showing our age watching our children, nurturing them, cleansing them, watching out for them and hoping the best for them which was done for us years before.

Something happens in this whole process of life. Once we have done the most important job there is, seeing that the children are well on their way, we seem to get forgotten. Many think of the aging elderly as feeble and they are placed on shelves until needed which is seldom. We, in our aged wisdom, start growing weaker, our mind slips a little and this is ok, it is a part of it all, the bigger picture. When you add the mishaps, the forgetfulness, and the loneness, we start to feel shame. We are a shell of once who we are and feel unwanted and unneeded. Are failings is so humiliating for us. We don’t want to be seen in this state. We were once heroes but now to be seen as a broken shadow of our selves is the worse feeling for us for we are treated as children again.

Why is it in many other parts of the world, they treat the aged as queens and kings? These are the wise, the accomplished and we can learn so much from them. This answer is simple; we just don’t wish to see what we are heading for, out of sight out of mind.

As one nears the metamorphosis stage of life, or as we know it to be, death, we become afraid. We become afraid of the unknown and don’t wish to have any part in that but it is inevitable. We are now in a fragile state, being held, changed, cleansed, taught and cherished. What was once a start is now the finish, we become just as we once were.

We close our eyes; gasp out last breath and head on to a new life which is the plan. Our loved ones shed a tear for our passing but that is not what we want, no, not at all. We would love for all to be happy for we are in a better place. No, they cry for themselves because deep inside themselves they know, they themselves were born to die, a metamorphosis in progress.