Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Head meet hand, hand meet paper. Step 1.

Or in this case, the keyboard. I don't know why, but I just haven't written anything in forever. There have been several times that I've thought to myself, "I should write about this or that" and not once did I actually sit here and force my thoughts out of my thick skull. I've told the wife several times since arriving back in the Stan' that I would write something soon. Yet nothing. So here I am people in a scheme to trick myself back into the mindset of laying my thoughts and emotions out on the table and trying to put them in order. Note that I chose, "put them in order" instead of "make them make sense."

So I had this idea for a blog post a few days ago. Since returning to the war, I feel that I've experienced a lot of time to reflect on my life, to let my feelings soak in, and to just think. So, what I want to do is just ramble, really. I want to talk some (or as much as I can) about the things rattling in this head of mine. This will take up at least the next 3 or so blogs. See, I'm an expert at tricking myself into writing. So...

I was laying in bed about a week ago in that stage where you're almost dreaming but you're still in control of your thoughts. I was thinking about anything and nothing. Most of the thoughts revolved around my vacation and the time I spent with my wife. All very happy thoughts. Then, almost to my surprise, a memory popped into my head from many years ago of when my uncle Eddie took my brothers William and Zach and myself to a little traveling carnival in the parking lot of some chain store in Jacksonville. I'm not sure how old I was but I feel like I was in junior-high.

The three of us decided to ride one of the rides together. It was the one that has little 3-seat booths suspended under arms that stretched out from the center. The ride would lift you up off the ground and then begin spinning like a carousel and as it spun the seats would swing out to the sides and it just spun you around for a minute or two. Then it would slow and eventually you would touch back down. The seat had a simple lap bar that held the occupants in. Usually.

With William and I on either side of Zachary, we began to spin. Zach started laughing and enjoying himself almost immediately. These rides typically aren't scary and they don't make you dizzy or anything like that. Perfect for the 3 of us. Not long after we started spinning, Zachary starts yelling that he's slipping. Not a yell like that of a kid who is just scared and not wanting to participate anymore. He is screaming like his life depends on it. Sure enough, Will and I look down and Zach has started to slide out from underneath the lap bar. The thing is up around his chest already. Will and I both grab an arm and are literally trying to save our brother's life.

We're yelling for what feels like 30 minutes to get the stupid carney (I'm getting worked up typing this.) to stop the ride. Zach is bawling his eyes out and all I can think of is the image of the events that would transpire if Will or I couldn't hold on. Needless to say, the ride eventually stopped and all 3 of us made it out without a scratch. But the reason I'm writing about this, is why did I think of it? This must have been 13 years ago. There is nothing that would have reminded me of that event. (Surprise, no travelling carnivals out here.) Its not exactly a pleasant memory of mine, so why did I think of it while thinking of my AMAZING vacation?

Anyways, I guess all I have left to say is that I love my brothers very much. I'm proud that William and I were strong enough to hold Zachary in the ride. I remember being proud of him as soon as we got off of the ride. Not sure if I ever told him, though. Will, if you read this, know that I really was proud of you that day for what you did. You were young and yet I feel like you handled it like any adult would have. As for Zachary, I'm incredibly happy that you didn't fall. You're an awesome brother. I was thinking just today about how I've called you "booger" since you were just a baby. I imagine that, at some point, I'll have to stop calling you that. I can't picture you as a 20-something answering to "booger". Anyways, I love you guys very much.

PS. I would love it if any of you reading this would give me your opinion on the questions I posed or tell me about a time when a memory (good or bad) from way back caught you by surprise one day.

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