WORDS ARE PEOPLE'S DREAMS

WORDS ARE PEOPLE'S DREAMS

 

It's been awhile.  I've been warming up on Facebook as I approach some posts, close to where I left off, when I planned to return and post mostly here again, rather than FB.  Looking for one special photo to memorialize Beau got me going through pre-computer, pre-house photos around 1998-2007  as I picked up when i got the computer and my old photo albums go through around 2000.  FB post describes the envelope of mementos collected by Dad, and apparently my first book, illustrated, undated.  Without the photos and lettering it does not have the same impact looking at it nor the geometrical design.  But I will reprint to memorialize here, circa 8th grade?

Words are people's DREAMS  by Brock Evans

There was a time when I was young, 

not caring about anything but having fun.

All I cared about was playing, 

not worrying about my grades or school.

Rolling about on the majestic hills was most fun,
not thinking just playing.  

I didn't care when my dog bit my brother,

But boy did it hurt when I slammed the car door on my finger.

But I still had fun.

As I sit here thinking back, I realize how I relished my youth.

But time has taken its course, and here I sit  grown out of my youth,

like a butterfly broken out of its shell.

I shall still have fun, but in a different way.

ONCE UPON A GRAPEFRUIT

I am a grapefruit.  Like most ordinary grapefruit, I am sour like a lemon.  Some people don't like me because of my taste, though they are attracted by my beautiful yellow skin, which is as bright as the sun.  As you know, I am tanned all my life by father sun until my fateful day.  I am round like mother earth and, I am pleased to say, am juicier than my enemy, the orange and have more seeds than that foe of mine, the apple.  I am bigger than both the applie and the orange and, in my opinion, taste much, much better than any other fruit in the whole world.  

DID YOU EVER HAVE TO MAKE UP YOUR MIND?

the above was one page, the letters in the shape of a question mark, surrounded by question marks in different colors.  from a favorite song of the era.

last page, perhaps taken from the book "Profiles in Courage", which I remember reading.:

"The stories of past courage can define that ingredient.  They can teach, they can offer hope, they can provide inspiration.  But they cannot supply courage itself.  For this each man must look into his own soul." JFK

So now for my present day interjections.  I don't remember being so carefree, and perhaps the notion of looking back at my youth at perhaps the age of 11 more or less alludes to that, but one feels so "old" or at least much "older" in that phase from middle school to high school.  I am pretty sure this is pre-high school.  I was thinking already when I return to the blog post-Beau reminisces, I was going to write about my first memories, which are of politics, fairness and equity, I thought of calling "Born This Way", serious from the beginning, my first protests during kindergarten being against God, Jesus Christ, and/or the Catholic Church, then my parents.  You'll just have to wait for more.  Then I was going to detail my political history and support of specific candidates.  

I still hate to make up my mind and choose.  

I googled "Once Upon A Grapefruit" to see if I copied it from somewhere but nothing came up.  I don't particularly remember liking grapefruit but maybe the theme was part of the assignment.  Interesting how a grapefruit tree is the most noteable feature in my back yard, in the exact center, the largest and most prolific tree.  I get more grapefruits than any other.  

And I found again a draft i thought i lost that I also found part of on google +, which starts with Beau but ends up with results of my search for the writer of 2 particular songs that I caught my attention at the time, that were already familiar to me but I was hearing in a new way.  And each author had the most interesting history I can't wait to share it.  Until then,  I have more searching to do and more personal history to explore.