Insane Earthlings

I want to tell you all about my Uncle Ted or Theron C. Teagle, Sr. Many people knew him much better than I. But each of us all have our own private relationships with the people in our lives. So, each of us have as many stories of who we are, as there are people in our lives. Even those that we have only brief encounters with may develop a story of who we are if the encounter is especially unique or emotional. Uncle Ted died this past Monday at age 94. He was the widower of my late Aunt Mary Josephine, my father's sister. Together, they were Aunt Jo and Uncle Ted. Uncle Ted was the last living member of my parent's generation of our family. His passing makes the absence of my own parents seem even more distant. He was the last one to have real live memories of my father as a boy, the little brother to his girl, Mary Jo.  If we had held a contest of superlatives among the Franklin-Teagle clan, Uncle Ted would have won "best-looking" hands down. The Franklins tend to gr...

Ken and Tommy The voting room. Mom and Dad had called a family meeting. We were all expected to attend. That would be me, my sister, and my two brothers. This was in the 1970's when I was 8 or 9 years old. Our parents were not usually "family meeting" type people. For most issues there was not a reason to have meetings or even discussions. It was as if Mom and Dad were of one mind that was always on the same page. We did not typically vote on decisions effecting the family. Under normal conditions, our parents were autocrats. Benevolent, but make no mistake, they called the shots.  The uniqueness of my parents calling a family meeting is partly why the details seem so clear in my mind. Although the topic of the meeting is more likely the reason that I can recall the scene so vividly. Our family was about to vote on something that would change our lives.   For months, our family had been making plans and saving money to go on a trip to Puerto Rico. We even had one of those...

"...where butterflies perch on teeth..." Bob Dylan, Nobel Acceptance Speech   Where Butterflies Perch On Teeth    On this snow quiet morning before the new day's dawning I finally had the time to review my "watch later" list on YouTube. I wandered aimlessly through recordings of reality, videography, pixelated digitally. Clips put aside with the intention of watching when I could pay attention. On this snow quiet morning before the new day's dawning, I unexpectedly and happily found profound words captured in the sound of the voice of a prophetic poet Bob Dylan, the Nobel laureate. In his cadence, his rhythm, and rhyme he uttered words that were so sublime, they secured his literary designation, and were themselves, a revelation. On this snow quiet morning as the new day is dawning, I understand the meaning beneath  "where butterflies perch on teeth."