Stealing from Steven King

A Few Thoughts: Stealing from Steven King.

I have heard that writers are not bound by any set of rules saying they cannot steal from other writers. I think that is true as long as inspiration causes one to expound or enhance a story line in order to make it seem more real. I have not read the original story, but I have a pretty good sense of what the main character in this case was experiencing. This all came to light as I watched a film inspired by a short story written by Steven King titled:

 "Mr. Harrigan's Phone."

He had a seriousness, and a sadness drawn on his face like some bizaar graffiti. I did not know at the time that this would be the last time we would speak, but somehow deep inside I knew something was wrong. We all have that sense about the things we would rather not think or speak about. Perhaps the portable oxygen tank sitting beside his chair was the clue that I simply put out of my mind until I found him there clutching his cell phone like some last drastic ploy to hold on for a few more precious moments of life. In any case the old man was gone, and I had lost not only a friend, but an ally who kept me protected, and made me feel powerful in that dank dim space in which we shared a portion of ourselves hidden from the world. Our darkest secrets merged in that moment when they closed the casket containing his earthly remains, and a link only vengeance could explain. Yes, he had been a ruthless businessman in life, and now an avenging angel in death. God help me for making it so.

D.A. Wittler 

10/13/22

And They Lived Happily Ever after

A few thoughts: "And they lived happily ever after."

Many of us adults grew up with someone reading us a story; whether at bed time by a parent, grand parent, or in school. I remember Mrs. Kortokrax reading to our class Charlotte's Web in second grade I believe, and listening to Disney classics like Pinocchio on vynil LP records. My younger sisters, and I would follow along with the enclosed story book. Ah, what memories, especially at happy endings.

Well, some years later I remember hearing Paul Harvey on the radio telling us "the rest of the story." Usually about the humble beginnings of a well known person or celebrity. On Saturday mornings Casey Kasem would play Amercas Top Forty songs. He would always share a long distance dedication at some point during his broadcast. It was normally a true story about everday people; long lost, and found romance, overcoming adversity, or some other human interest story with a song associated with it. And yes, usually with a happy ending.

Today, as my years of experience have taught me is that there are always two sides to every story. We take the good, and bad as either a positive, negative or learning experience. We see the good guy, the bad guy, or the circumstances that lead to a happy, sad or moral teaching. Sometimes the moral part gets left out, and we are left wondering what the whole point was. Anyhow, the important thing to remember is that stories either teach us something; or give us a certain perspective on life. One thing leads to another, yet we must realize that any story can be viewed from different points by those who are a part of the story itself. One side may get the gold while the other is left impoverished. One may get the love of their life while the other is left alone. 

Either way, in life it is important to consider both sides of a story to truly appreciate the whole picture, and how every story allows for revisions. "Happily ever after" is not always the  point, sometimes there is a lesson, sometimes not, and sometimes we just have to wonder. 

Good day, and God bless!

Sounds of Mourning

Sounds of Mourning

Call it prayer

Or a longing

Beginning again

Saturday morning

Clocks tick

A pendulum sways

In rhythm 

Like my long lost granny's heart

Birds sing

A flag wrestles with a gentle breeze

Lavender blossoms

On newly awakened branches

My soul senses losses 

Of loved ones, friends, and strangers

Posted on Facebook pages

An empty chair rocks

Back, and forth 

Upon my front porch

Sleeping dogs breath silent

Upon a warm bed

Dreaming

My mind grasps for meaning

Amid chaos of man's doing

Of thundering cannons

Blaring

Cries on shattered streets

Of death, and a reckoning

While she sleeps

From a night of drinking

I see a mourning dove take flight

Through a window

I hear rumblings

Of a new day beginning

Out on a highway

Not far from my home

I long for moments like these

Sweet inspiration

While I mourn her passing

Oh these sounds of mourning

Haunt me like a storm.

D.A. Wittler 5/7/22

Happy Place

A Work, months in the making.

Happy Place

I watched a sunset

From our happy place

After the rain came

And settled on fields of green.

Difficult days passed

Happier years ahead

Glowed on distant horizon

Summer

Gone

Fall

Symbolic end

Winter comes

I hang hope on Spring

Like lights on an evergreen

Twinkling

In memories before me.

Childhood

In a fogged filled haze

Behind in red reflection

Glances in a rear view mirror

Days of play long over

Endless labor confronts me 

From awakened slumber

Little use of sleep

Mind full of wonder

Prayer reminds me

 "Remain calm"

To handle change better

My body aches

Heart beats stronger

Mission focused

On a path made clearer

It does not include me

Rather

A destination

Final resting place

Wrapped in saving grace

Worn feet failing

Carried home

In a loving Father's embrace

A Savior's face

Forgiving

Forward

Onward toward morning

To that happy sunny place

Once more.

D.A. Wittler 12/05/21

Friday 4:30 a.m..

So, it's 4:30 in the morning. I can't sleep, the dogs think it's time to get up. The rain begins tapping on the roof outside. Another day has begun even though the sun has yet to rise. Yes, I'm tired, wore out, and fighting off the urge not to go to work this morning. I've given my 110% for the week, but I know it is not enough. I pray daily, the Lord listens, but only answers in his own mysterious ways. Even though I believe with all my heart, and soul, it is not enough, and I struggle to think of stepping foot back into that stifling space called church where I sat in silence crying out for help. I have given, and recieved many times over, yet the world continues to get worse, and worse, but there is hope in love, and kindness if we hold steadfast to the notion we can all still make a difference. If you find solace in a place of worship, God bless you. If you find hope in continuing the breakneck pace of work, work, work, God love you. But if you are like me, you just want to get off this crazy Merry go round, and find a little peace, and happiness without all the hatred, mandates, betrayal, and tyranny unfolding in front of your eyes. God help us because he has obviously left it up to us to make the right choices if the world is ever going to  see paradise ever again.

Good day, and good luck; as if luck exists at all any more.

Signed,

A tired aging man

D.A. Wittler 10/8/21

The Unwinding

Maybe I think too much.

Maybe I'm too sentimental, or emotional.

Perhaps it's time to simply fade into the background.

The games people play,

Especially when the grass is seemingly greener on the neighbor's back lawn

When in reality their own lives are simply not satisfying.

But we still have choices about our attitudes, and our beliefs.

Though it gets more difficult to go into work each day knowing that in spite of all the effort, it means nothing; only numbers add up, not the toll on human lives.

The world turns in such a subtle way

We don't even notice.

We mark time by the rising, and setting of the sun.

A clock ticks away the hours.

We pull up the chains each week to hear the chiming of the towers,

The waning moments of our unwinding spring.

Yes, perhaps I am right

And they say "ignorance is bliss."

Well, I wonder.

Good day!

D.A. Wittler 10/10/21

One Day at a Time

One Day At A Time

They say:

"Don't look back"

What has passed is past

Old wounds become scars

But noone sees the hurt inside

Like the day you went away Dad

I held your hand Mom

It didn't seem real

I didn't know how to feel

But I remember…

One Day At A time Dad

Until we meet again Mom

Memories are all we have

Until the end.

A song bird sings

It brings the mornings in

Every, every, every day

Holding you near to me

Never thought I'd feel this way again

All my life has led to now

The only thing we have…

One Day at a time Dad

Until we meet again Mom

When you went away Dad

I held your hand Mom

It didn't seem real

I didn't know how to feel

But I remember…

Memories are all we have

Until the end.

Oh every, every, every day

Holding you near to me

I learned how to feel again

Through a songbird's song…

One Day at a time Dad

Until we meet again Mom

It didn't seem real

I didn't know how to feel

Memories, mysteries

Folding time into one

What has passed is past

Old wounds become scars

And you are home Dad

Into the sunset Mom

I long to hear that songbird again

Memories are all we have

Until the end of time

Ohhh time

One Day at a time.

D.A. Wittler 6/9/21