“It really is,” I whispered, “It really is a beautiful world."


     “This really doesn’t feel safe,” Jamie said, her voice holding just a hint of fear. She was probably right. By anyone’s standards, this was straight up stupid, and here I had convinced her to come along with me.
     “Nah it’s totally fine. I wouldn’t do anything to put you in too much danger.” I said this without a hint of doubt in my voice, confident as usual. I had to keep the fearless and confident image or she might change her mind. I hoped the risk would be worth it in the end, but I couldn’t really be sure. How could I know unless I tried? If I didn’t try, I would just be left wondering how great it might have been.
     “We are really freaking high.” This time Jamie said it deadpan, more of an emotionless observation than anything else. Again, she was right. I looked down the long white ladder past her. It was probably 80 yards to the ground from where we were. Above us was another 20 yards of ladder, leading up to a narrow platform. We were climbing a water tower. The platform above us circled around the tower just below where it began to bulge outward into a spherical shape at the top. There was no safety cage around us, nothing to break our fall except for the climbing harnesses we wore. Each harness had two straps, each with a clip on the end. One clip would be snapped onto the first rung, then the next clip to the second, and so forth until we reached the top. It wasn’t fool proof but it was better than nothing.
     “But seriously my hands are getting tired. How much further is it?” Jamie was great, but complaining was one of her most annoying flaws. Most people wouldn’t have made it this far anyway. The fact that she had was just a testament to the athleticism and strength she had underneath all that complaining.
     “Close. Maybe fifty rungs. Hang on for another five minutes and we can sit down and rest.” Yet again she was right. My hands and forearms were burning like crazy. I had long ago learned that climbing with gloves on a slick painted surface was asking for trouble, so today we had no protection from the narrow rungs pressing into our skin.
     For the next fifty rungs, the only sound I could hear above my heavy breathing was the clink and snap as each clip was removed and replaced. It was surprisingly calm this evening, the sun not quite finished slipping below the horizon. It was late August, so the temperature was still somewhere in the 70s this time of day. The backpack on my back seemed to get heavier and heavier the higher we went. I could feel the straps digging into my shoulders and trying to tip me over backwards. This bag was far too big for what I was doing, but I needed some way to bring a sleeping bag and blanket up. Finally, my hand left the last rung and found the top of the steel platform. I unclipped from the last rung and snapped on to the hand rail that went around the outside edge before I reached down to take Jamie’s hand.
     “Thank you sir,” she said, “I see chivalry is not dead.” Her hand brushed a few loose strands of long blonde hair out of her face as she stood upright next to me, looking out over the edge.
     “Ok, you were right. This is worth it.” She said in a matter of fact tone. I laughed softly.
     “This isn’t actually what we came for,” I said with a grin, “We aren’t done climbing yet. I just didn’t think you would actually come if I told you how far we were going. But the view is really nice here.”
     “You can’t be serious. I didn’t see anything going up any further.” She sounded rather incredulous.
     “We have to follow this platform around to the other side. There is a set of stairs going up to the very top. At least it isn’t another ladder.” I tried to sound confident, like it had already been decided that we would go on, but I couldn’t stop a tiny bit of a pleading tone from leaking in. I knew there was a small chance that she would want to stop here, but I also knew that going just a bit further would be completely worth it. I had scoped this tower out from the ground several times, using my trusty binoculars that I bargained for at a neighbor’s yard sale. When I discovered the stairs going up past the platform, I used an online satellite map to take a peek at the very top of the tower. From what I had been able to tell, at the very top there was a completely level platform, twelve to fifteen feet in diameter, with a secure looking rail around it. Amazing what a person can find online.
     My hope was to spend the night on that platform, hence the sleeping bag and blanket in my massive backpack. Tonight was supposed to be the brightest and most active meteor shower of the year in North America and the weather had decided to be kind to us star gazers, leaving a clear and cloudless sky for the evening. It would be perfect. Perfect if Jamie would go along with it, that is.
     “You are the worst kind of person,” she said. She wasn’t facing me so I couldn’t really tell how she felt about it. Finally she turned around and rolled her eyes. “Ohhhkaaaay. Let’s go. We’ve already gone this far.” She was used to situations like this. I was the one who always wanted to push the limits, go a little further, risk just a bit more, and she was the one who always asked me to reconsider and then went along with it anyway. I always felt bad for a little while, but I got over it pretty quick. It’s not like she didn’t know me well.
     “You are the best kind of person,” I said with a wink and a grin, “But let’s rest for a bit. My arms are tired now.” We sat down and I took off my backpack, setting it on the platform beside me, digging through a side pocket. I pulled out two bottles of water and a box of Poptarts.
     “Poptart?” I offered, “Snack of champions. All the professional water tower climbers eat them I heard.”
     “How are you not fat,” she replied, taking a delicious cherry snack from the silver wrapper. It wasn’t a question really, it was more a running joke between her and I about how much I should actually weigh. She’d usually joke that one day all the junk I eat would hit me at once and I would wake up weighing 400 pounds. Even though she joked, she wasn’t beyond being bitter about my eating habits since she worked hard to keep a perfect physique.
     Next I pulled out two plain white pieces of paper and handed one to her. I began folding mine delicately into the perfect paper airplane, using the flat section of the water tower for some of the more delicate creases.
     “I don’t know why I hang out with you. You are literally so freaking weird. Like who the hell would bring paper up the side of a water tower just to make a paper airplane.” She laughed even as she criticized. I knew she didn’t really mind. She had on multiple occasions told me that my “quirkiness” as she put it definitely made me more interesting to be around. I guess I was a little odd, but I didn’t really think that was a bad thing. I did what I thought to be amusing or entertaining. It wasn’t my fault the rest of the world didn’t seem to feel quite the same way about life.
     “In fifty years don’t you want to be able to set your grandchild on your lap and tell them all about the time you tossed a paper airplane off the side of a water tower? Grandkids don’t want to hear boring stories. I would know. I was a grandkid once.” Jamie just shook her head with a grin and started folding her airplane. Mine was finished and ready to be launched into the great unknown.
     “This is Air Farce One to ground station Loser, requesting permission to take off.” I did my best Top Gun impression, trying to remember how cool Tom Cruise sounded when he said it.
     “This is ground station Awesome to Air Farce One. Ground station Loser could not be located but we can go ahead and give you permission to launch. Have a nice flight.” Jamie still had at least a little bit of a child left in her. I tossed my paper airplane over the side, watching it glide several hundred yards before landing in the low branches of a tree. Mission complete.
     “What perfect throwing form you have,” Jamie said sarcastically, "You were probably one of those nerds who just made paper airplanes in class all day as a kid." Ouch. Yea, that had been me. Jamie wound up and threw her airplane with all her strength. She had made more of a dart than a glider and it flew fast, eventually landing in a tree considerably further than mine had.
     “You win this round,” I said with mock disgust, only barely able to hide a smile, “Let’s keep going.” I removed my clips from the rail and began walking along the platform. The bulb at the top of the tower was much bigger than it looked from the ground. I could just imagine the thousands of gallons of water above and beside me.
     Eventually we reached the stairs. It was nice of the designers to have taken pity on the poor inspectors who had to climb this far up. A ladder going around the outside of the bulb would have been terrifying. The stairs curling around the side felt much more secure. Reaching the top, there was a narrow platform leading from the edge of the bulb where the stairs ended to the flat space in the center of the tower. There was only a handrail on the left side so Jamie and I were sure to snap our harnesses on. The sun had almost fully set by now, the last tendrils of light just enough to see by as we made our way to the center.
     “Okay this is cool. You know what we should have done? We totally should have brought an air mattress up here and slept or something,” Jamie thought aloud. “I’ll bet the stars look amazing from here. Oh and look you can already see the city lights over there!” I loved seeing her excited. She would take one hand and play with her hair while the other would point at things. It was kind of weird when I thought about it, how she always pointed at things when she was excited. But that was just Jamie being Jamie.
     “You read my mind.” I pulled the sleeping bag and blanket out of the backpack and laid them on the flat steel. I probably should have realized how cold that steel was going to be. Oh well.
     “We are so in sync right now,” Jamie laughed. “This is awesome. You were right.”
     “Wait so what did you think was in the bag?” I asked. She hadn’t mentioned it before and I never said anything about it.
     “Honestly I thought it was a parachute or some **** and you were going to try jumping off the edge,” she laughed, “I would have tried to stop you but I decided I really won’t feel guilty when you die doing something stupid.”
     “Brilliant!” I exclaimed, “I am so going to try that next time!” I wouldn’t really. I liked doing risky things, but I wasn’t suicidal. We spent the next few minutes getting the sleeping bag and blanket situated. I loved the fact that Jamie could be spontaneous sometimes and that she was totally okay with just camping out on top of a random water tower on a Wednesday night. How many people in the world would have been okay with that? I was lucky to have her as a friend.
     We had everything settled by the time darkness fell completely. The climbing harnesses had been stuffed into the backpack and the backpack had been strapped to the railing on the side of the platform. With the sleeping bag laid completely open, there was still at least five or six feet of open platform on all sides of us. It felt secure enough.
     “I also forgot to mention that tonight is a huge meteor shower.” Jamie and I were on our backs, looking up at the infinite blackness.
     “I love shooting stars.” She said softly. Her eyes were wide and I could see her making fake mustaches out of her hair. She had kicked off her shoes and socks and was wiggling her toes in the night air. There was only a sliver of moon, just bright enough that I could see the glow of it on her cheeks.
     “It makes me feel small,” Jamie whispered, “I feel like that should bother me, feeling small, but it doesn’t. It’s weird because it’s almost comforting to me. Here I am, this tiny speck of dust, floating around on a larger speck of dust in the middle of infinity.” She wasn’t usually one to enjoy philosophy, but on the rare occasions she spoke like that, her point of view and opinions usually inspired me. She had a beautiful mind. She just didn’t often care to open up and share it like this.
“It makes me feel like it can’t all be an accident. Some people say that we got here through a series of random and fortunate events, that there is no great plan or design. But I just don’t see how that can be. How can mere chance create something like this? Of all the possibilities, of the infinite infinite possibilities, I just can’t believe that people, that you and I or anyone else were put here by accident. I don’t think that life could be an accident.” She spoke softly the whole time. Her voice never raised or quickened. Words seemed to flow forth effortlessly, as if this all were prepared and practiced. She was able to speak without doubt or hesitation, with such certainty that even the greatest cynic might have stopped to listen.
     She continued on, weaving words as though spells, playing ideas as though harp strings. She talked about her life, telling me things she never had before, teaching me things even I didn’t know. Jamie didn’t seem to be Jamie for the next while. Instead, she seemed to have become a font of wisdom, ideas, and genius. At least, that is how I saw her. She was able to take a single idea, and examine it from all perspectives. It was as though she held it in her palm, slowly rotating it to peer closer. She made connections that I had never thought of, inspiring me to think even deeper, loving the moment. All the while she lay there, watching the stars, wiggling her toes, and making pretend mustaches out of that long blonde hair. Eventually, she turned silent.
     “But what if it is an accident?” I said. My voice was unusually soft. “What if it was all an accident? What if there is no plan, no fate, and no reason for anything? What if there is no beginning or end and we are just insignificant bits of space dust? The idea of it not being an accident just seems so conveniently comforting, almost too convenient.” Jamie was silent after I finished. My heart was beating fast and my mind was alive. I didn’t feel close to being tired.
     “So what if it is,” she said eventually, “What difference does it make? Even if it is all an accident. Even if there is no meaning to life at all, it seems like a beautiful accident to me. Here we are, you and I, able to share this with each other. That seems like a beautiful accident to me. Here is this great big world, all the adventure, all the excitement, and all the love that it is filled with. That seems like a beautiful accident to me. Here is this infinitely huge sky, filled with stars that are incomprehensibly far away. If this is all an accident, it is the most beautiful I can imagine.” She paused for a while longer. “I feel that whatever you believe, it doesn’t really matter. Perhaps you believe there is a supreme design and plan, or maybe you believe that life is an accident filled with chaos. It doesn’t matter. We all live in the same world. We all see the same beautiful sights, we are surrounded by it. It is only our perception of it that differs. I choose to believe that such an incredibly beautiful world cannot be an accident.”
     I was quiet for a long time. Jamie had, for all intents and purposes, rocked my world. Hers was a perspective I had never thought of before. I, who believed I had thought it through from every angle. I, who believed myself smarter than the world. I realized then, at that moment, laying on the top of a water tower in late August watching a meteor shower, that maybe I was not a genius. Maybe I did not have the world figured out like I had believed. Maybe, just maybe, I was just a cynic; a cynic blinded by the misfortunes I had seen and suffered; a cynic disappointed in a world that had not treated me well.
     Jamie took my hand in hers, interlocking her slender fingers within my larger ones. She turned her head to the side and looked at me, still sporting a fake mustache. The sliver of moon was reflected in her eyes just so that I could not really look into them. Her lips were curled into just the slightes

When it pours she finds the rainbow
In the sun she lets the wind flow
Through her sun-kissed auburn hair
Til the scent of perfume fills the open air

When it’s cold she lies real close to me
Til we breathe together in harmony
And get lost inside a dream
Waking up into a love supreme

When I’m late she says, “Don’t drive too fast!”
When dessert comes out we like to make it last
And give each other one more special chance
To make love with just some cheap romance

She’s the killer of all my doubts and woes
Wherever she goes the butterflies follow
If I lose a job she says, “You’ll find another”
She wants a grandkid for my darlin’ mother

When she cries it takes the man outta me
Knowing I’m not being what I know I can be
So we cheer up with a slowdown moonlit dance
And make love outta cheap romance

Chalkboards and easels, pencils and toys
Desks lined up in aisles of little girls and boys.
A classroom, learning the A B C’s, two plus two equals four
But this day, all that learning didn’t matter anymore.

A girl with a bow, a boy with a grin
Children with freckles scattered on their skin.
A daughter, a brother, a grandkid, a friend
A lot of moms never thinking these titles would end.

Lego’s and the alphabet, Mrs. Soto taught them how to write a name
And then a mad-man stormed in, with destruction he came.
He shot down a daughter, a son, a wife
He shot down a child, a baby, a life.
Lessons in elementary consist of building Lego’s, catching butterflies in the sky
Lessons as a 6-year-old should never be what your friend looks like as they die.

Moms stuff a lunchbox with treats; Dads stuff a ball in a glove
Parents raise children; stuff a heart full of love.
They teach how to ride a bike, put a band-aid on a scratched up knee
What they should never have to do though, is bury their babies beneath a tree.

But there is evil in this world, a darkness that engulfs the light
There is an evil that reigns that humanity can’t fight.
The safest places are not safe, the most guarded unsecure
In the world we live of ignoring God and provoking massacre.

We denounce Him out of government, our country, and our schools
We ask that He move aside so that we can make the rules.
And then we blame Him when there’s death; but we don’t thank Him when there’s life
We don’t bless Him when there’s goodness; we just curse Him when there’s strife.


Moms are always good at preparing children for the day
With some things that don't matter, clinging to a love that will never go away.
Mothers, kiss your babies. Fathers, hold their hand.
Devastation comes unannounced, we will never understand.

At home in Newtown, a dog sits waiting at the door
He stares out the window, his tail wagging no more.
He sits by the window, lots of time he’ll spend
Waiting to welcome his very best friend
Jump up on her lap, smell her scent, steal her sock
But his owner won’t be coming home; no more leash, no more walk.

I think Jesus sat by his window this very same way
Waiting to welcome His children that awful Friday
He greeted them from His throne that December afternoon
And as they entered through the Pearly Gates, He healed all their wounds.

A classroom filled with giggles, children’s voices - the sweet sound
This same classroom turned from liveliness to a too-young burial ground.
But we hold on to the giggles, and we hold on to their love
And the promise of a Father taking care of them, above.

(Ain’t “They” Great!)

Now watching 13 year old grandkid live-on-streaming-Internet,
playing Little League baseball in California, pleasantly surprised,

No, not by the amazing technology, or his super great play,
but the laugh-out-loud accommodation to the “au courant”

Game announcer, a soulless robot machine, stupid-smart, without exception, employs THEY pronoun for all, which after 10 seconds thot,

of serious reflection is a brilliant deflection, a solutionary salutation!
We come to see kids play ball, care not a whiff (double entendre),

re identity politicized insanity, machine makes everyone truly equal,
robbing stupids of a phony, proclamation of self-righteous “individuality”

God Bless No-Brainers!
Ain’t They Great!


~Postcript~

Introducing a newly Recomposed Natty:

still an OWG
(old white guy)
but now a Proudly, a gaily machine-made, in the USA

They.

To the woman who took me on as an extra grandkid when I lost my grandma and never got to say goodbye
I am sorry I couldn't say goodbye to you too.

To the woman who assured me I wasn't a failure and I could do anything I set my mind to
I am sorry I can't be strong right now.

To the woman i lived with for three years
I am sorry I haven't stopped by to visit again.


My heart is so heavy right now
without you I am struggling to breathe.


And even though I hate hugs, I grew to love your hugs.

Rest in Peace Mrs. Houde.

====================================================
I killed my innocent baby in my womb
I did not give her a more time to survive
I snatched her right in this world to arrive

I knew well in my all senses what I was doing
A painful seed of lifelong dissent I was bowing
Calm and quiet but the brutal ****** I was doing

I knew I will never hear the cry of newborn weeping
For whom the feminine power has a maternal seeking
I killed innocent girl not allowing the time she was needing

I was having nothing against her but a social honor killing
She was a seed of my love but went deserted and unwilling
If I could have kept, she would have been my whole world's filling

Save the one better half from the other good half's bid
Save the girl child, she is the mother of my future grandkid
Wife of my son, sister of her brother please do not do what I did

Written by
~~~Jawahar Gupta~~~

The day that I die will be my last. My last kiss. My last drink.  Last time I barbecue.  Last time I tell the ones I love that I love them.  And I will welcome it with open arms.

It will be the last time I see my happy,smiling, bouncing daughter sparring in the cage.  

It will be the last time I look into my loves eyes and tell her how much I love her.

It will be the last time I call my mom just to talk and offer words of encouragement to her.

It will be the last time I crack a beer and watch the charcoal heat up before cooking some nice sausage and steak.

It will be the last time I wrap my hands and don my gloves to do rounds on a punching bag.

It will be the last time that i will feel alone even with people all around me.

It will be the last time I have a *** of tea followed by another *** of tea while listening  and watching the birds outside like dad did.

It will be the last time that my cat tries to talk to me and I speak back to him.

It will be the last time I put my car into fifth gear and cruise along some country road on my way to saugeen shores.

It will be the last time I ask the gods and goddesses for forgiveness and thank them for everything that I have.  

It will not be today.  There is too much to do.   Too much to see. And there is so much more I need to be before I go.

I need to walk my daughter down the aisle.   Need her to give me a grandkid that I can sit and watch while drinking my tea.

I need to see my wife grow old with me and keep me in line.  Keep me out of trouble.  And away from Best Buy.

I need to see my mom truly happy and healthy and enjoying life.  Living up in Southampton even if just for the summertime.

I need to prove to myself that I’m not ****** up even when I feel it so.

I need to know that what I did mattered.   What I did helped somebody. Some great deed to make the world a better place.

So even as I sit here crying, wanting to move on.  Ready to go. Beer in hand.  I know that I can’t.  I haven’t done enough.

And when that day comes I will welcome it with pride.  And embrace what lies on the other side of the white light. And ask not to be mourned for my loss.  But to be celebrated for my accomplishments.

Blessed be

Cracks in the sidewalk
splinter concrete
but I can’t see
the same openings
in me.

Crunchy dry brown leaves
crumble underneath my sore feet,
a victim of this summer heat.

I bet I look suspicious
stopping on every block
to look around and take stock,
looking down every street
cause I can see things
that touch me
and use them for
my poetry.

Grandkid plays
his clarinet
looking for
attention that
he can’t get
cause his
hefty grandma
can’t even look up
from her cellphone.

Little children
outside playing
get fenced in
for their safety.

Older dude
works outside
while I’m
walking through.
He has
a wooden fence
and a ladder that is
wooden to,
doesn’t even
turn his head
to acknowledge me.
So, I walk on by
this human being
cause lawn care
seems more important
then our neighbors.

Even I
a sympathetic
nice guy
walk on by
people who look like
they could use some help,
because I just want
to be left to myself.

Black man identified
by his brown skin,
I wonder how many people
even notice him
in his superman shirt
with few good teeth,
hunched over holding in
the stomach pain
that is bothering him.

On a back street
next to the railroad
an old soul drives real slow
in a ***** brown van
careful not to go
anywhere near
the cops that drive
by here
cause he is homeless.

Now, I hit this business district
full of business men *******.
Politician ignore the
bums who inhabit it,
only care about how to
maximize profits.
Scraps of litter
spread across it
just like all the people
who cross the crosswalk
avoiding small talk
and the gazes of stranger
because they feel
like they are in danger.

An American flag flies high
down the street
from a stone church
were people meet
so they don’t have to think.

All for the sake of order
I to create human borders
to maintain my sanity
in this reality of pain.

Today I have you mum at 82
What would I do without you!!

You are in Your home
Not too far away
But still too far
Knowing you cannot be hugged
Or share the holding hands
With your grandkids !!!
O how our hearts are tugged !!

Still too , we are Grateful
Worldwide a whole generation of the same
Wiped out , You Virus
Have robbed
Many a child, grandkid from their name

O 2020
Who would ever , ever know
What it would hold!
Life is so much more
This world just a passing
Embrace each day !!!
Granted we cannot make,
Each moment a Breath and a Life time
Entwined
Love
LIVE
BREATHE

"there is tomorrow, dont live for today"
they remind us
we walk home
thinking over what tomorrow holds

sharp knife on an innocent life
or a jubilant face of a gladiant who fought for people
a kid home without parents
a grandma on her 90s no grandkid to tend her
all dead
in the name of fighting for tomorrow

ts tuesday
that what we believe
tomorrow ts wednesday
we will wed it nevertheless

where will you be tomorrow