Ruminations of a Small Town Mountain Boy

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Fourth Of July, A Simple Celebration?

Image by andy castro via Flickr

Fourth of July, the celebration is here once again. I can’t help but to remember though, our brothers, sisters, husbands, wife's, fathers, mothers, sons, daughters and loved ones, who have chosen to serve. They are at this very moment in a strange land far from home and family. They may very well be watching fireworks displays, but they are of a completely different nature and purpose than those we watched. So please, take a moment of your day, and think of their sacrifice. Pray for their safe return home, and hope they are having an uneventful holiday week.

There are many wonderful Fourth of July’s I remember from the many years past in the mountains. More recently, the Como Fourth of July celebrations were the place to be for those of us from the small towns. It had turned into a pretty large event, but still kept that small town feel of community. Being that the majority of fireworks are illegal in Colorado, only sponsored or professional events were where you could see a reasonable display. The Jefferson Como Fire District, did a wonderful job of raising money all year long. Money just for the event in Como, so they could purchase fireworks, and organize a fun and beautiful affair. There were events all day long, a nice barbecue dinner, and a dance with a live band, after the large fireworks display.

One of my most memorable Fourths in Como, was sometime in the mid 1990’s. We had the regular influx of visitors from the cities, and lowlands. The fun part was that we had 6 inches of fresh, heavy wet snow fall. The looks of surprise and confusion of the faces of those not familiar with mountain life was just so priceless. People still have trouble believing me when I tell them I have seen 6 inches of snow on the Fourth of July.

Now for those who have never seen Como. It was a town of major importance in the 1800’s. A main hub of the Denver South Park and Pacific Railroad, with a large roundhouse and maintenance barns. At one time in it’s history, Como had been suggested as the possible capital of the state. Of course this had actually happened with so many of the towns of the time, most nothing but dust today. Como was a way point for many a traveling person in the old days. It was also a start point for the Boreas Pass rail line headed over to Breckenridge. In it’s heyday, it also had a darker side, being known as one of the more dangerous places in Colorado due to the large criminal element that stalked her streets and preyed on weary travelers. Reportedly, the Reynolds Gang traveled through Como on a regular basis, some even say they had a camp in the area. Today, it seems as if Como is all but forgotten. The population doesn’t even come close to breaking 100.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Fathers Day

Fathers Day, for many a day of celebration and honor. And for many others like me, a day for remembrance and tribute. I think it may just be one of the hardest days of the year for me. My Father, was probably the most important person in my life. I can’t remember a job he held that didn’t allow all of us kids to go along. Many of my earliest memories were of spending time at work with dad and my siblings.

If he had one fault, it was that like so many of his generation, he was not very handy with emotions. I believe he had more trouble voicing how he felt than anyone I’ve ever known. I did a Fathers day Tribute last year, feel free to read it. Reba's song Greatest Man I Never Knew, reminds me very much of my father.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Music Monday; Passion in the Lyrics

Image by Hamed Parham via Flickr

I’ve decided to try something a little different. I have noticed that a lot of blogs publish a Music Monday post. I always enjoy them and like to hear what other people are listening to. So I thought I would give it a shot.

Sunday, I was searching YouTube for a song I heard the other night. It’s a moving love song by Little Big Town. To me, it defined what I think of when I think of love. It’s called That’s Where I’ll Be, and it’s about the willingness of a person to go where ever it is their lover has gone. Along the way I ran across this amazing song writer and singers videos. chestersee has a talent for putting passion into his songs. I was floored by a couple of his songs, and just had to share them with everyone.

Of course I also found the song I was originally looking for.

The thing about music, is there’s always a friend for any mood, a companion for all occasions. Music, as they say, sooths the savage beast, call’s the lost soul home, and keeps the evil spirits at bay.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Déjà Vu

Here’s a new Fiction Friday for you, I hope you enjoy it.

Have you ever had that feeling that you had already been some where or done something. It’s a strange feeling when you just know that your experiencing something a second or third time, yet can’t remember the “happening”. I have often wondered if it was not a form of a second chance. Perhaps a way for you to re-do something but choose a different method. Or maybe because Lady Death is a fickle entity, she just decides you deserve that special opportunity to try again. Perhaps she happens to be is a particularly good mood at that moment. She gives a Déjà Vu as a form of warning. The following is a fictional story about just that.

The subtle rumble of exhaust, not loud and obnoxious, but the kind that just hints at the power hidden under the hood. It was the comfortable sure sound of a well tuned truck. one of the things that gave Chase his sense of being. A companion for the ride home from a long days work. The sun setting on the horizon, creating a red and vibrant evening sky. He turned into the Sunny Quick Stop connivance store, the desire for a cold refreshing Shinner Bock spurring the decision.

Chase stepped out of the air conditioned cab, stretching after the long drive, it had been a strenuous day. He walked towards the double doors of the store, when suddenly he felt like his hand had something warm, wet, and sticky on it. He paused and held his hands out in front of himself, examining them for the offending substance. Finding nothing, he was struck with the feeling that he had been here before. Not just at the store, for he stopped there often during the week, but in that particular moment in time, or event. Searching his memory, trying to put a stamp of recognition on the moment. He shrugged his shoulders after a failure to associate that moment with a specific memory, and walked on in, rubbing his hand on his pant leg.

As he walked past the register, he greeted the store keeper, “Hey Sam, how's it going tonight”. Sam mumbled some strange thought, Chase didn’t quite catch it. Oh well, I’ll figure it out when I pay, he thought to himself. As he walked toward the beer cooler, he faintly smelled an unusual odor. The smell was faintly familiar, but he was having trouble placing it. Chase grabbed a six pack of Shinner Light, and turned to head for the register.

Someone came in slamming the door open, and started yelling, “Give me the money, and don’t fuck around asshole”. Chase saw a man at the register, wearing a stocking over his head, making for an almost comical appearance. What was not comical at all was the gun he pointed at Sam, a blued steel revolver… serious indeed. Oh shit, that’s the smell, cordite, sulfur… burnt gunpowder.

Chase didn’t even stop to think, he stumbled forward, acting drunk until he was near the register. He plopped his six-pack down on the counter, and slurred a few words about paying for the beer. The robber, shocked at the intrusion, said “What the hell do you think your doing buster” swinging the gun toward Chase. It was the distraction Chase wanted, and he moved quickly. He spun towards the robber, bringing his left hand down on the barrel of the pistol, while simultaneously swinging his right forearm up under the robbers wrist. The action allowed Chase to strip the gun from the robbers hand. However, Chase had acted so fast, he was unable to grip the barrel, and control the gun. As the weapon spun out of the robbers hand, the trigger caught on his finger, causing it to fire. The round blasted off in an unknown direction, as the weapon clattered to the floor.

Chase gripped the robbers wrist and took a step backward, spinning away from him. Pulling the robbers arm into Chase’s stomach as he did so, caused the robber to be thrown around, and to the floor. Chase kept hold of the robbers arm as he went sprawling out on the floor. He then moved quickly to kneel down on the robbers back, one knee on either side of the robbers arm, effectively pinning the man to the floor. Holding the mans arm straight out and up with the wrist bent over and pulled down in a modified wrist lock to prevent any movement. Chase said “Sam call 911, tell the police I’ll hold him until they get here.” Chase felt a throbbing, irritating pain in his side. Assuming he pulled a muscle, he pushed the thought from his mind, concentrating on keeping the man pinned.

Sam struggled to regain his composure, and made the phone call. Sam was breathing hard, shaking all over, he could feel his heart thrumming in his chest. He couldn’t believe the how fast everything had happened. One moment, the man was pointing his gun at him, and the next he was splayed out on the floor, face down. Every person observes an intense incident differently, some see everything with clarity, and some hear everything with a heightened awareness. Sam was one that seemed to see everything but hear nothing. He remembered seeing a flash of light, but didn’t hear the gunshot, so he never associated it as a gunshot.

It seemed like no time at all before the police showed up. They came in weapons drawn unsure what to expect. Upon seeing Chase with the robber pinned on the floor, they quickly went about the procedures of taking over control of the man from Chase. The the simple process of handcuffing the man and patting him down for weapons. Chase meanwhile place $7.50 on the counter, and grabbed his beer, walking out the door unobserved.

As Chase walked toward his truck, he felt a strange weakness overcome him. There was an unusual wetness covering his side . Chase reached down and felt a warm, wet, sticky substance cover his hand. The gunshot had struck Chase in the side, a through and through shot, but one that had struck a major blood vessel. While keeping the robber pinned, he had squatted in such a position that it blocked the blood from flowing through the wound. Instead the blood had flowed freely inside his abdominal cavity. Chase became lightheaded, and his legs failed him for the first time. Not know what was happening Chase fell to the ground, a darkness encompassing his consciousness. The last thing Chase saw was a truck pulling in, Dam that looks like my truck.

Friday, May 29, 2009

Ur’Naro – Helce; A Journey of Discovery

Image by Epona Schweer via Flickr

Part 7 Meeting with Magic

If this is your first visit, you can find the beginning of this story by going back to the first of the Friday’s Fantasy series. You can also navigate to each section of the story from the sidebar –>->-> over there.

For my neglected regulars, I apologize, I know how much you have been waiting for a new chapter. Circumstances, some within my control, and some not, have collaborated to cause a fair amount of dysfunction in my routine. Anyway, I present to you one more attempt, and hope to satisfy your craving for at least another week.

Tirashar stood at the ready, prepared to strike again, yet no enemy remained. Muscles tensed, pulsing with anticipation, perspiration gleaming as it mingled with the blood splattered across her face and body. Her irradiant coral hair fluttering in the wind, wisps trailing down her face, adding a little mystery to her expression. She could feel the blood coursing through her veins, hear the thunderous pounding of her adrenaline charged heart. Before her lay a abstract of brutal mayhem and destruction, rendered by her hand. Blood, entrails, and various body parts lay strewn at her feet. A feeling of fear, surprise, and shame, overtook her sense of being, bringing with it a series of muscle tremors that seemed to travel along her entire body. The shame of losing control… the one… strength she valued above everything. She had tried to control her emotions and actions from a very young age. Her belief that a warrior should hold her feelings close, and cover those emotions that would betray. For the one thing that can give your enemy the advantage, is to allow your weaknesses to be exposed.

The shockingly vicious, emerald green fire that seemed to light her eyes slowly faded, turning to a soft, almost polished, turquoise blue, cold as ice. As realization of what she had just done, invading her thoughts, causing a mild state of shock. Tasting bile as the sent of blood and death encompassed, and overcame her senses. It was an odor she had smelled before, but never due to her own handiwork. She feared that her actions was the reason for the intensity of the odor.

Tabitha stood in an arched entryway, frozen in shocked silence. Her eye’s wide with stunned amazement as she gawked at the gruesome scene before her. Arms crossed in a subconscious protective stature. Tirashar is filled with such lethal rage. Who would have known her to be capable of a ruthless abandon like that. She thought to herself.

Darfrain slowly approached Tirashar, glancing apprehensively at the features of her face. Amazed by the transformation taking place within her eyes, Darfrain watched as Tirashar visibly shook from head to foot. He approached her cautiously, knowing she may still be in a berserk state of mind, liable to strike out at anything. “Tirashar, it’s me Darfrain. Have you been hurt? your covered in blood!”

Breath coming in short gasps, Tirashar answered nearly whispering the words. “I am un-injured… I think… I’m not sure. What was that all about?” Shaking her head to clear the fog of battle… as if the simple gesture could accomplish such an astounding task.

Darfrain moved closer, examining Tirashar for any evidence of wounds. He noticed a sweet, fragrant, yet musky odor mingling with the salty, coppery smell of blood. Sensations deep in his soul stirred, exciting him in ways he had never quite experienced before. His heart racing on a new and profound beat, Darfrain’s breathing quickened. The tanned skin of his face betraying him, while it flushed to a ruddy color. Uncomfortably, quietly Darfarain aswered Tirashar “They are Punt’s, a religious sect that are becoming more and more extreme in their beliefs. Apparently they were attempting to capture the child of some wealthy residents, I suppose for ransom or maybe sacrifice. Their actions seem to be getting bolder every day. They are either very foolish or overconfident, but I am starting to think they may be getting help for new sources.”

Desperate to regain his composure, Darfrain stepped away from Tirashar. “The soldiers will take care of this mess, come along you need to meet Cloemilla.” Darfrain turned and walked off toward the center of town. Leading Tirashar away from the scene of carnage. Tabitha, seeing her two friends leave, had to run to catch up, still in a slight state of shock.

They headed toward an array of sculpted granite columns, and a courtyard befitting royalty. Once they entered, Tirashar realized it wasn’t a courtyard at all, rather a beautiful and ornate building designed to appear like a courtyard. Inside the walls were accented with more granite columns polished to a wondrous sheen. Tapestries of vibrant, lively colors hung between some columns. Gold and silver draperies stretched gracefully, flowing between others. A bench, carved with stunning detail and intricate designs, was positioned so anyone sitting on it looked out over an interior garden. A garden to excite all the senses, filled with the beauty of nature in so many forms, flowers, fruit trees, and vines.

Sitting on the bench, a beautiful elfin maiden, apparently gazing out into the garden. Snow white hair flowing down her back, the sides braided and brought to the back. She was wearing a gorgeous flowing gown, that wrapped her her in a shroud of nobility. As they neared the woman, she stood and came around the bench with a grace that made her appear to float. “Darfrain, my son, you have returned; and brought guests I see” she said.

“Mother, this is Tirashar, and Tabitha” Darfrain stated. “This is my mother, Cloemilla” introducing her to Tirashar and Tabitha.

“Tirashar, what a unique name” Cloemilla said as she walked toward Tirashar, hands out, ready for a welcoming grip. Tirashar noticed Cloemilla’s eyes immediately. They were completely white, as if milk, except for the pupils that appeared to be nearly silver in color. They also seemed to be looking straight through her. Then she realized they couldn’t be looking through her, for they were not capable of sight at all.

Cloemilla gripped both of Tirashars hands in a feminine welcome, as if they had known each other for years. As she did, her eye’s seemed to fog just a little, and she shrugged just perceptibly. “Such contradictory forces at odds with in your spirit dear. You are a strong fighter, a warrior with passion and capability. Yet you have a magic with in, that has yet to show itself… Ahh, there is much power there hidden under the cloaks you hide your emotions behind. Your searching for something or someone. I can’t see it, perhaps because you don’t know who or what it is yet. I believe you are descended of great wizardry and healing knowledge. Umm, where did the warrior spirit come from, interesting?”

Tirashar, mouth agape, stared at Cloemilla in shocked silence. How did she see all those things? She must be mistaken though, I have never had any magic ability! Tirashar thought to herself.