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I have had a lifelong love of learning about history. The idea of learning the events of the past and relating them to the present has always been an immensely enjoyable intellectual experience for me. I was very fortunate to grow up in New England as this geographical location certainly strengthened these pursuits. So much of the beginning of America and the roots of the Revolution took place there and living there allowed me to see and walk in the footsteps of those giants who worked to frame what would become America. One of the most fascinating and enjoyable places I had the fortune to visit was Spell Hall the home of Revolutionary War General Nathanael Greene. To this day I vividly remember seeing the sign for this national landmark. The sign was located across the street from where I went to school and it caught my young and curious eye. One day it was announced to the class that we were going to go and tour the house. I was mesmerized by the idea that General Greene, a towering figure of the American Revolution, second only to Washington, built and lived in this house. It was from this location that Greene read his library of more than 20o books, conducted his business surrounding his iron forge, planned his entry into the Revolution, raised children and lived his life.
Spell Hall is a Rhode Island and an American treasure. Walking the grounds and looking through those 18th century windows from my 21st century vantage point was transforming then and now. The view is a portal to another time a sort of time travel to the beginnings of America and into the world of a man who was essential to the struggle for Independence. This place is an invitation to listen, understand and learn what the past is trying to teach us.
Feeling down and disregarded as if I have no voice or say about what I do.
Then in the farthest reaches of my mind I remember and pull that courage out of my hat in order to wear it like a badge of honor.
(Like a reprimand, a small price to pay to maintain my inner balance and to continue to be able to look in the mirror.)
Those negative feelings never last to long, just a moment of self pity and then I hold my head high and smile at how trivial it really is and go on my way.
(Always with my held held high!)
These moments come and go and they are the building blocks of the kind of confidence few have,
the kind that always returns to your own self and the view never changes at all because of is the one that fits no matter what.
That tall, confident that serves a purpose that is not understood by most.
(See how aloof he is?)
All those whispers that claim I am not approachable – yet they have never even tried to approach me even in the smallest way!
They just make the assumption, go ahead,
just don’t think that my silence is agreement or that it gives my approval.
I am still what and who I see in the mirror every morning regardless of contests or the way the winds of popularity blow.
Yes, I have questions but Imwont ask them because you would not know no to answer them so let’s just skip the pretending at understanding and get down to the business at hand.
Just a little more, one for the road and two for when I get back, that way I will relax and not get uptight at all these mirrors that show the same thing and never change.
Good thing I don’t need them because I already know where I am going and what I see is what I see and that is what I am most comfortable with and there is no prior approval needed.
What do you say now?
I have no words to throw out there in carefully considered sentences.
I have only memories of what was once real.
Especially the night it all came to a sudden and brutal end.
I know it is done, finished, over but there remains the question of how?
There was you, me and all of those pretenses.
I really no longer care to ask you how you feel.
Sometimes I read and correct all those letters I never got to send.
So then came the time you took your most grand and final bow.
I was left standing, holding onto myself and questioning my competence.
In order to survive I was reduced to mental games and finally, once convinced, to steal.
Left with nothing, no one would speak to me, no money to lend.
Descended cuts of mental imagery with nighttime dreams split as if with a plow.
Now surrounded by those who turn their heels against me I am stuck in this ocean of mental incompetence.
I was once the king seated at the table and now my words are formed to begging for my next meal.
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