Simple

Simple
In one of my earlier writings I spoke of a rock I used to set on. That rock was much more than just a rock. From it I was carried off to many special places. Not that much unlike a magic carpet it carried me. Finding me in a desert in some far away land in my tank or in a dog fight as I flew with my squadron of Aces.
Through one adventure after another there with me as always, was my constant companion and best friend in the world outside my Dad. It didn’t matter to me a smidgen that she was a girl. The bravest most understanding, kindest friend one could ever hope to have, outside my Dad. Her long strawberry blonde hair lined with dark streaks was as soft as satin.
In those days the Trans Canada Highway ended at the east end of the Hugh John Flemming Bridge in Hartland. My Grandfather’s farm was on the line between the communities of Upper Brighton and Peel. Just up the Saint John River from the bridge at Hartland. My rock was located in one of his pastures, near the old chicken barn that served as headquarters for my battalion or the town hall of some hamlet we were liberating. On some occasions it served as a saloon. Then there were the times it was nothing more than a large chicken coop.
Because the highway ended at Hartland, a lot of traffic made its way right past the farm. From my rock I could watch all sorts of vehicles. Trucks, cars, buses, of all shapes and sizes, even the odd motorcycle from time to time passed by me, my companion, and the rock. Of all the things I loved to watch, my favourite by far, was the long army convoys. They would take hours to pass.
This of course served as a perfect back drop when my battalion and I were taking a piece of ground against overwhelming odds, in one horrific and bloody battle after another.
Then when the pulp drive in the river was on, the boats served as another fine back drop. To top it all off, the Canadian Pacific Railway lay like two ribbons in plain view. Now I ask you, what more could a lad ask for? It was the perfect place on earth to be anything on earth I wanted it to be.
My companion’s name was Sheppy; the finest dog in the world. Where you found me you found old Shep.
It has been said by a host of folks a whole lot smarter than me that animals are just that, animals. They can’t reason, they don’t have thoughts or feelings. Well I am not convinced. One of the dogs I have now, Harley, has more expressions than some people I know. I think if we take the time to really look, I mean really look at the simple things; we begin to see things in a different light. We learn that any dog or other animal is much more than just a dog or whatever.
All those years ago from my bed in my house I could hear the phone ring. Bonanza had just ended and I was laying there in bed. I saw my Dad look at me, I never moved though, so he thought I was asleep. As I listened to him talk on the phone, I knew that something was terribly wrong. Something had happened; something bad. When I heard him say "well…she was a good old girl….that’s too bad" I knew….I knew that something had happened to old Shep. I sat up in the bed almost in shock, hoping I was wrong. By then Dad had passed the phone to Mum and he was making his way to me. In his gentle way he then confirmed my greatest fear as true. Old Shep was older than I had realized and she was getting hard of hearing and her eye sight wasn’t what it used to be. Whether either had been a contributing factor in her demise, I guess I will never know. She had been crossing the road when she was struck by a vehicle.
I think that was the first real time that I knew life was fragile. The first time I began to think how unfair life can really be by times; perhaps my first taste of loss of innocence.
From that time forward, the rock was never quite the same. Oh there were still many adventures. Yet somehow they were never as exciting or breath taking as when I would have old Shep at my side.
As I think back on it, sure I missed her, and I still do, but I also think there was something else going on at the same time without my knowing. Before this terrible event, life ending was on the television or the radio death announcements. Hearing about someone I didn’t know passing really didn’t have the same effect until I felt the sting of death first hand. It doesn’t matter that it was a dog. To me that dog was everything. Even to this day it stings when I think about her.
Since that time there have been many passing’s that have stung, and should I be fortunate enough to live a while longer, there will be more. It makes one wonder how much hurt can we handle? This makes me realize just how resilient our make up is. When I think of the hurts that some folks have endured it almost leaves me breathless.
So many things I can’t fathom. How perfectly our bodies are made to accommodate our lives. How we can adapt and overcome. The perfect system in which we and all creatures live. I can’t comprehend how molecule x met molecule y and went boom and started it all. I can’t grasp how we are supposed to have evolved so perfectly. Further, where did x and y come from?
Short wave radiant heat from the sun heats the earth and long wave radiant heat from the earth warms us. Just another example of how perfect our life balance is. It is beyond me how this just went boom and came to be.
So many mysteries that we may never know the answer too. In some strange way I think this keeps us trying to answer questions that as yet have no answers. Again….perfect. The complete wonder of our minds and how we only use a portion of them. Perhaps folks like Einstein learned a way to use more of the minds assets than normal.
It’s like looking at the simple things and really seeing them. How much life exists in each of our back yards? We see these every day, but its what we don’t see unless we really look that makes it truly fascinating.
Isn’t it the same with each of us? We may see each other every day. But do we really see each other? Do we really take the time to see the true great work of art each of us really are?
Ahhhh but alas we are all much too busy; always in a hurry, with not enough hours in any given day. We only have time to see what we see and take for granted what is really there. To me it’s a great deal of what is wrong with this world. Life is short, very short. We all need to slow down and appreciate the very simple things. The life in our back yard, the unique neighbour, or yes, the love of a dog.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
RL Tex Smith