Monday, March 8, 2010



OH!  The wind in my face
Wet, dry, warm, cold
Big trucks want to race
I tell them, "I'm too old!"

So, off and riding I go
Eye on odometer
Speeding at a hundred or so
Racing to my sepulcher.

This Bergman, so nifty
Rides up a steep mountain grade
Passing trucks doing fifty
And I watch their images fade.

Passing, I focus on the rear vision glasses.
I'm seeing behind.
Suddenly, unexpected, a thought passes.
I'm being...blind.

Racing, facing, bracing
for the great inevitable shock
Dreading, praying, praying
Even the mountain is about to rock

Cannot see in front or around
I did not, do not feel a thing
What is that light...and sound?
It is my God--and His angels sing!

"We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness"
One of the "promises" in our "Big Book" Alcoholics Anonymous. P 83


As a child on the farm, I remember owning a dog "Lassie"--yes, named after the Roddy McDowall-Elizabeth Taylor (sigh!) movie "Lassie Come Home".  And I WAS Roddy McDowall, and my Collie--Lassie--and I celebrated many moonlit late evenings behind the horse barn plotting our escape from home, family, friends, school and mates. Of course, Liz Taylor figured prominently in our plans.

We looked at all the angles--I shared all this with Lassie. All would have been OK, except for one real real problem, money.  The salary of a fellow age 10 in 1943 living on a dairy farm was wayyy below poverty level.  A whole week's salary for after-school work netted me enough for 2 candy bars and 2 dog biscuits.  We were in trouble.  I do not know what became of our Lassie.

But.....Dear soul!  I believe she was trained to find half-full bottles of Muscatel hidden around by the hired hands.  She brought them to me, or me to them.  I can still taste the Muscatel of those years, especially its pungently-flavored uniqueness as it came back up and spouted out from my ten-year-old stomach--grin!

The wanderlust which I shared with Lassie never left.  It has become a character defect--not an obsession, but a need, a necessity, to GO somewhere, to be a gone guy.  "Where'd he go?  I dunno"...and I have found that very few give much thought as to where someone disappeared, and those few forget in a matter of days or weeks.

Outside of Alcoholics Anonymous there is no happier activity I could entertain than carrying my bag on a bus, Suzuki Bergman, train or plane, and up, up, and awayyyy!   It is more a "coming to" somewhere than a "getting away" from something.  There is nothing I do not LIKE (love!) where I live, there is just so much to discover where I've not BEEN.  I would have a sort of goal, but not a map of how to get there.

When I traveled with an orchestra, the guys would complain when we were four weeks out, saying they wanted to be home.  I complained because there were only two weeks remaining out on the road.

Whether in India or Indiana, Paris, Kentucky or Paris France, Dublin, Ohio or Dublin Ireland there is ALWAYS nearby an AA meeting, a "home", Peeps who know me, Peeps who are kind, considerate, giving, and loving. I am still learning how to respond to that love, and life is simply fabulous!

Let's be kind, considerate, giving, and loving today...and sober!


Christine Macdonald said...

I love your spirit. Lovely poem!

Up up and awayyyyyyyyyyy!


Kim A. said...

I am a wanderlust spirit as well. I have only changed in that I require a little more comfort than I did at 20. I will still go primitive camping but cannot tolerate the heat of a July day on the Outer Banks of NC anymore. Adaptation is easy for people like us...I just need to remember where home is..


Secretia said...

Wow, your writing is so imspiring, always.
Thanks, Secretia

susan said...

Beautiful piece. I wanna ride that motorcycle!

"I don't want a pickle
Just want to ride on my motorsickle!" Vroom! Vroom!

Kristin H. said...

I consider myself one of the lucky ones to have been visited by you and Anna.

You are an inspiration, my dear.

JStar said...

:) Nice...Now I wanna go riding :)

Linda S. Socha said...

Love the poem AND the photos Steve.
Can't beat riding in the wind. It has always been a favorite thing to do for me. I love that you have the courage to participate


Steve E said...

Let's RIDE!


Hello, my name is Ron and I am a
Christian blogger.

I enjoyed looking over your blog.
And you are more than welcome
to visit my mine.
ronj1946 at gmail dot com

If I've posted this to your blog before
please forgive me, sometimes it ain't
so easy being an Old Geezer.

God Bless You

Syd said...

We were talking today about how nice it would be to just sail about for several months. It is very enticing to be on the boat and away from civilization.

Nevine said...

A beautiful poem, Steve. And the story is more beautiful. And... is that you in the photo? A glimpse of Steveroni? Is it? :-)


Jess Mistress of Mischief said...

:) beautiful! I love your stories and poetry! :)

chitowngreg said...

Could almost feel the wind with your poem. Wanderlust runs in the family. Son just got back from 1800mile road trip over a long weekend. I grew up close to Paris, Kentucky. Worldly growing up in Kentucky meant you might have gone to London, Paris and Versailles, all in the same day. Course there was only about 50 miles separating all three of them! Have a great day!!!

Cat said...

Steve so glad you have branched out, or maybe just started posting more of your creative poetical side.

Very well done my friend!

Susan Deborah said...

The picture shows you in high spirits (minus the alcohol though).

The 'home' part was for me I think. Now I can perfectly understand what you mean by 'home' dear dear Stevie.

I wonder how Lassie would write the same story!!! Interesting.

Joy and love always,

Margie said...

The poem was awesome!
Your story was awesome and your pics are awesome!

Oh, and you are awesome!

Thank you for your visits and I so appreciated your last comment.

Margie :)