Kicking at the Moon

When I was a child, I loved to swing on the swing set made by my father and grandfather in the back yard. I'd spend hours swinging and contemplating things as they were, the bad and the good. To be honest, there were more bad things to contemplate than any young child should have to ponder. One of my favorite times to swing was at dusk when the moon was already visible in the darkening sky. I'd try to swing higher and higher until I could "kick the moon" with my foot. I didn't always succeed, but I always tried.

I've been pondering sharing some of my "real thoughts" on this blog in part since no one seems to read it. Perhaps one day I'll have my children or grandchildren read it to have some insight into the reclusive man that must cause them to ponder. As with many who had a less than happy childhood, I have made it a practice not to burden their young lives with my stories too soon (and perhaps not at all). It has just lately seemed important to put some of them in writing if only for myself. To do otherwise seems to risk never having been "known".

So from time to time I may share some memories here with the cautionary preface that the ride will be bumpy on occasion