Where were you threads are springing up
I have lived through so much history and yet I don't feel old. JFK, I was in school, bells ringing teachers crying even Mr. Dodd - never knew a man could cry - John Kennedy is dead the cars pull up like beetles to a carcass to take us all away from school. Martin Luther King, John Lennon. I met John Lennon, I wrote a poem and he made me sign it - always sign your work love he said - and put it in his breast pocket and winked at my 14 year old heart. So many dead through Viet Nam, the other wars, so many of my friends, other dancers, falling to the modern plague...is every life paved with loss? With death? It must be and yet it doesn't show as much in the early decades, now they fall like wheat before the scythe. Singers, actors, authors, dancers, friends, saints and politicians... I wept for Isaac Asimov and John D MacDonald. No. Not for them, for myself deprived of further words from their pens my magic horizons shrinking as their world closed down, Zenna Henderson, Tom Reamy gone ...all gone and still they live and burn within my memory and I pass the torch to others: have you ever read Blind Voices? Have you ever heard this song, seen this movie..oh find Philip Wylie I recommend and so the baton passes to a new generation. Immortality exists within the minds of others.
Comments (2)
bajanblue, why don't you post on the European forums, I think many would enjoy reading you, from what I've read of your blogs..%)