It is amazing how time and perspective changes our views on events in our lives. If you don’t believe me, think back. There is one of those extremely stupid events in your life. It may have been either embarrassing or life threatening. You may have thought you would never have survived the moment. Now, you can look back and laugh. It was one of the more amusing segments of your life.
As I get older, I have started reflecting on events of my life. I realize that I had forgotten many of those special times. Like many others, I had become too engrossed in, “Living my own life.” There was no room to reflect on what had been. Instead, it was all about living in the moment. There was so much life out there to live and I wanted to be part of it all. Little did I realize that I had been exposed to a lot of life and traveled to faraway lands as a young land.
I had crossed the Amazon River when I was only five. At least, I saw it as a grand trek into that deep jungle. The reality was that it was my first trip across a swinging bridge. It didn’t span the real Amazon, but the slow moving Clinch River. To an adult it was a simple task. To a five year old boy, it was a long arduous journey which took me to a new world. The destination wasn’t as cool as hungry cannibals with filed teeth. But, II had fun. My Father didn’t even have to encourage me to cross the bridge the second time around.
Later, that same year, I was a lone soldier. I fought of wave after wave of Japanese soldiers from a hilltop on Iowa Jima. I crouched in my foxhole shooting the enemy as they crested the hill. All the rest of my fellows had fled or died. It was up to me to hold the enemy at bay. You can’t tell I watched too many John Wayne and war movies, can you?
The battle was going great. I stopped the enemy horde from passing. I thought I would when the war single handed. Unfortunately, they had secret weapons. It was my Grandfather and Dad. They weren’t too happy that I had dug my position in their freshly plowed garden. Take my word on it. You don’t want to set up a fighting position in a man’s freshly plowed garden. It can be painful on your backside. Not to mention, it takes a five year old a long time to fill a hole with a toy tin shovel.
Two short years later I was a lone trapper trying to survive a blizzard in a crude made shelter. The Rockies are a harsh environment. Snow blew through the cracks in the logs, making life miserable. All I could do was huddle close to the dying fire. The cold seeped into my body. I knew I didn’t have long left. The final sleep would over take me eventually. My eyes shut despite my best effort. I was only saved by the sound of my Father’s voice. It announced that it was time for dinner, as he chuckled at me. My horrible death would have to wait until the next day, if there was no school.
The choices I’ve made, since becoming a real adult, have allowed me to travel the world. I’ve seen those sites that I pretended to visit as a child. I’ve walked paths where historic figures have tread and created history. Yet, as I look back, none of those places were as magical as the places I created and shared with my father. At times I amused him, other instances weren’t so happy. They never should have left the matches where I could find them. Hopefully my children will have lovely memories like this that they can recall later in life.
