Who out there has heard the sound of snow falling?  When I was still a teenager, I would walk for hours in the woods when the snow was falling.  All was quiet, except for my foot steps and the quiet hiss as the snow filtered down thru the trees. As I aged I would make it a point to always take a walk, no mater where I was, during the first snow fall.  When I moved to the Cleveland area I lost track of that.  Then my two youngest kids arrived, and I totally lost contact with my connection to nature.  I became a hollow shell of a man.  I tried to fill that with booze and other assorted things to the detriment of every one around me.  Now that I have sobered up, I realize I MUST!!!!! regain that connection with the earth.  It is the life blood of my existence.  I am the one who chose to numb my self with drugs and booze, but those are no longer an option.  My life is devoted to my Woman, my kids and AA. My spirit will always be connected with the earth, it is up to me to find my way back to that connection.

Life around the farm settled into a normal routine.  Wake in the early am for morning chores, then an hour bus ride for school.  After school, an hour bus ride home, then chores. After chores was homework, then if any time left, leasure time.  Summer time was an opportunity for me to immerse myself in the glory of being a young boy with a huge back yard to play in.  I would leave the house after morning chores, and would not return till time for evening chores.  I wandered around our farm, and a few surrounding farms, just being at peace with myself and nature.  Occasionally a friend would join me on my wanderings, but they would soon get board with it. I would take them back to the house and entertain them there, while my heart and mind yearned for the quiet solitude of the land.

Time passed and I grew, at age 11 or 12 a new friend joined me.  He was a pure bred Collie, Duke and I became fast friends and he went EVERYWHERE! with me.  If I left the house he was by my side.  He would walk me to the bus stop, then return home, only to return like clock work to meet me when I got home from school. As I got older and was able to finally drive legally he went with me as often as I would let him.  If not he would lay on the front porch pouting, until I returned. The Summer between 11th, and 12th grade I lost Duke to a pack of coyotes.  My mother yelled up to me one late summer morning, "Mark!!! Duke is hurt!!!  I raced down the stairs to find him laying on the front porch, covered in blood barely alive.  I ask my mom to call the vet, and I rushed him there.  15 minutes later I was at the vets, he examined him and told me what had happened.  Dr Pop gave me the grim news, "there isnt much I can do but keep him comfortable".  I called my house, and mom said it was my decision.  17 years old and already making a life and death decision.  WOW. Duke passed with my arms around him, his fur wet with my tears. I took him home and buried him, alone. 

Introduction

Greetings gentle folk,  I am brand new to the blog world so bear with me as muddle through this.  I am a 45 year old man, with three children from two different women, twice divorced.  I am an alcoholic who is in AA and working the program.  My life is a contorted, twisted, convoluted path that wanders across the country and planet. Many failures and many success, not that I am any better or any worse that the rest of humanity.  These days, I just try to be the best I can be and stay out of my own way.  I love my children and would do anything for them. I also am deeply in love with a  woman from my early high school years. She returns my love, although I drive her nuts at times.

I guess I will begin by telling you about myself and my past.  I was adopted at the age of 4 along with my older sister by a family in 1971.  We know very little about our natural parents, except names and places of birth.  My adopted parents (John and Caroline, she passed away in Sept 2007) were good people. They just had a strange way of expressing love in any form.  Hugs are and always will be an important thing for me, yes I am the touchy feely type. I can not for the life of me EVER remember being hugged or told "I love you" by either parent.  Kinda gives one a twisted outlook on life.  While we were not abused on a regular basis, I got my share of ass whippings.  From belts, brushes, frying pans, wooden spoons, and the occasional switch. For the most part I learned what not to do, to avoid the whippings. 

In 1976 the family moved onto the family farm, and life changed in a major way.  Give any 9 year old boy access to almost 200 acres and watch the fun. We raised cattle mainly, and on occasion, pigs, chickens, ducks, geese, peacocks, and a goat. Along with the livestock went the chores.  Summer time was very busy, normal chores along with gathering hay made for long days. Winter time was almost as busy, as the primary heat for the house was wood.  I learned early to never say "I am board".