Author Mike OConnor: The golden egg

Author Mike OConnor: The golden egg:      All of us at some point in tike take a journey back in time to a place that for decades has been silent until awoken by something we ...

The golden egg

     All of us at some point in tike take a journey back in time to a place that for decades has been silent until awoken by something we probably weren’t even aware of. Maybe you were taking a walk through a park on a spring day enjoying the sights of the years re-birth. Everything was green again after a long winters nap. Birds sang happiness and the countless smells froze you in place as you were once again six years old and at the park for the annual Easter egg hunt. Your whole family was there cheering you on to find that special egg that would win you the biggest chocolate rabbit you had ever seen. You knew this was your year as you scoped out potential hiding places you would try and reach before the older kids shoved you out of their way leaving you laying on the ground for a split second before resuming your quest for the giant rabbit. You passed your sister who had several colored eggs in her basket but not the one that mattered and besides you had made a pact that if either of you found it then you’d have mom cut it in half. You were a racing car as you roared past other kids your goal the big elm tree with the low hanging branches, the perfect hiding place for the special egg. Your legs were like jelly as you reached the tree and frantically began looking all around it and eventually climbing the tree and just as you put your leg around the lowest branch you saw it, the golden egg! You grabbed it and held it high above your head screaming you had found it. Jumping down from the tree you ran as fast as your now liquid legs would carry you collapsing in front of the judges table proudly showing them the golden egg. The town mayor handed you the huge chocolate rabbit that was only a couple of inches shorter than you were and nothing in your entire life could ever compare to that Easter egg hunt when you were six years old. A beautiful breeze brought you back to the present and you continued your walk through the woods reaching into your pocket and pulling out a chocolate rabbit that brought a smile to your face and a tear to your eye.
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Author Mike OConnor: Going home

Author Mike OConnor: Going home: He will celebrate his ninety first birthday in another month. The eyesight is almost gone as is the hearing, but he can still kick his l...

Going home

He will celebrate his ninety first birthday in another month. The eyesight is almost gone as is the hearing, but he can still kick his leg up to his chin! I can’t even do that.

He likes to tell stories of his days on the farm. He had barn 100 feet wide and 40 feet tall that could hold over 500 bales of hay. Farming was work back then, now it’s all full of that technology crap he would say.

Outlived two of three children and his wife of 67 years smiles as he spins his tales of yesterdays. The fog that clouds his eyes can’t hide the shining inside of them as he smiles a crooked smile and tells another tale.

Going to see his granddaughter in Indiana one day soon so he can walk around the farm one more time. Past the old barn and broken-down tractor, he use to use so many times. Says he will see “Sparky” out there too. A dog he once had, guess he believes old sparky roams the wheat fields waiting for his return.

I look forward to his visits and hope he does make it back to the farm one more time. Everyone should go home.

Mike oconnor

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Author Mike OConnor: Twenty-eight words

Author Mike OConnor: Twenty-eight words: His steps were more like shuffles, his grip on the wheelchair handles firm. Slowly he pushed his lady of sixty-seven years down the walk...

Twenty-eight words

His steps were more like shuffles, his grip on the wheelchair handles firm. Slowly he pushed his lady of sixty-seven years down the walk of the senior facility. A blanket draped across her lap he would bend down and ask if she was warm enough? “I’m fine” she softly replied, “give me a smoke” “that’s what put you here” he mumbled as he fumbled for a smoke in his shirt pocket. He lit it and placed it in her frail hand. Now they looked like a steam locomotive as they rolled down the walk a steady plume of smoke trailing behind them. He stopped by the fountain she liked the sound of the water splashing. Sitting on a bench beside her he lit a smoke and spit pieces of tobacco which she didn’t like and never had. “disgusting” she said shaking her head from side to side. He didn’t notice, but yea he did.” I love you dolly” “I know you do” “now let’s go I’m getting cold” twenty-eight words spoken on a half hour walk. A lifetime of understanding. Lasting and true love, so rare, so precious.

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Author Mike OConnor: My latest book

Author Mike OConnor: My latest book: Hello everyone. Today I would like to talk about my latest book "Raw emotions" As a writer, I can find something to write about...

My latest book

Hello everyone. Today I would like to talk about my latest book "Raw emotions"

As a writer, I can find something to write about by just beginning to write. Thoughts and memories rise to the surface and my pen begins a journey to a place sometimes known and other times to an ending that surprises me. This book is a collection of my thoughts, some real, some not and most a combination of fact and a dose of fiction. My purpose in writing this book was to give the reader an opportunity to look back in their life to times and places, emotions, and memories that are so much a part of your journey.
     If just one reader is left with a lasting impression, a smile or a tear, then I have succeeded in writing something to be proud of. I hope many of you will sit down with my book and relive some of your own "Raw emotions"
I welcome and encourage any and all feedback. Thanks
Mike

To see selections from my book visit me here at Blogger or go to my webpage  www.michaeloconnorwriter.com for more selections and purchase links.

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Author Mike OConnor: Never can forget

Author Mike OConnor: Never can forget:       all veterans saw the horror of combat and all in different ways. Some traveled across the oceans deep in the black abyss never reall...

Never can forget

      all veterans saw the horror of combat and all in different ways. Some traveled across the oceans deep in the black abyss never really knowing when the silence could be broken with the thunder of a depth charge. Surface ships kept an endless watch from sky attacks as well as the silence of an incoming torpedo. Ground troops ventured into the unknown where any given step could end lives and cripple futures. High above the chaos on the ground pilots and crew protected their brothers and sisters with support fire and recon. Back on the safety of so many bases throngs of servicemen and women braved the barrage of enemy mortar fire to tend to the wounded, comfort the scared and bring news from home. War is one big family working together to serve and protect and when a family loses one of their own they all weep and shed tears. All veterans saw the horror and some still do. Some came home in body only while others remain trapped in their own minds reliving the nightmares they will never wake up from. Remember our fallen this Memorial Day and every day because they can never forget.

M.O.

Author Mike OConnor: Slapped in the heart

Author Mike OConnor: Slapped in the heart: Woke early today I had a reason. It’s been awhile since I climbed on the steel pony and just headed out in no direction. The music compe...

Slapped in the heart

Woke early today I had a reason. It’s been awhile since I climbed on the steel pony and just headed out in no direction. The music competed with my pipes. The pipes won. As I rode I went back to the days these songs shaped who I eventually became. Without it, I would have missed more than I can even remember. We lived and breathed the music of the late sixty’s and seventies it was our heartbeat. Now decades later I am still spell struck when I hear those riffs and never-ending leads. I throttle up and let the air fill my whole being as I race towards another rush of a different kind.so many bands, so many songs so many memories of blurred faces and reckless nights of wonder. Now cruising at eighty-five mph with one hand on the bars and the other squeezing the last drop of volume as zeppelin slaps me right in the heart.

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Author Mike OConnor: No regrets

Author Mike OConnor: No regrets: Water laps against the old aluminum fishing boat creating the only real movement in a good hour. “musta been a good size boat create tha...

No regrets

Water laps against the old aluminum fishing boat creating the only real movement in a good hour. “musta been a good size boat create that wake”? “yep” with the silence broken I reached for the cooler and pulled out a cold one offering one to my fishing buddy, my friend, my brother. He shook his head and continued to ponder the horizon as he had been doing for most the morning now. “you doing ok?” I asked him. He just shrugged and said nothing….

So many different words have been used to describe “life “and its tendency to race right past us before we even knew we were doing the driving! “in the blink of an eye” or “faster than a jackrabbit” and many more I’m sure you know. All leading to the same conclusion that life passes us by more quickly than we really want it to. But there isn’t a word or words I can think of other than “regret” to explain how one feels when they know their road is running out and soon they will meet the end of the pavement.is “regret” the word? I asked my brother this question and got this answer…

I do regret a lot of things I did and didn’t do but I won't dwell on them as they are gone and never coming back, as are the “loves” I had that were all magical in their own way, my memories are alive with them and frowns turn to smiles. We all regret some things but do the blessings outweigh the sorrows? Does the happiness crowd out the tears? Did we do our best or settle for “almost”? No, I don’t have any real regrets brother and if I was given a chance to do it all again, well I suppose I would regret it even less…

When he passed I wept and held his hand as he made his journey to a place we both agreed existed. My eyes watered as I let go of him and tried to find that piece of me that was now missing. I opened a cold one and toasted him my bottle held high to the heavens its contents swaying to the gentle rocking of the old aluminum fishing boat…

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Author Mike OConnor: Ocean ending

Author Mike OConnor: Ocean ending: Alone at sea after all these years of being landlocked. I sold all I had to buy this boat, a thirty-eight-foot Chris craft cabin cruiser...

Ocean ending

Alone at sea after all these years of being landlocked. I sold all I had to buy this boat, a thirty-eight-foot Chris craft cabin cruiser that had seen many voyages and had many yet to see. Her lines were beautiful like a perfectly formed woman her hull strong and dependable. The years had been good to her which was evident in the polished bright work and varnished wood that adorned her. The teak decks were weathered and well oiled. A thing of beauty inside and out. Below decks were all the things I needed to live comfortably in a small space. She was my pride and joy. Whenever I pulled in for fuel it got attention and often offers to purchase. I passed on the offers and always thanked the bits of praise she so deserved. Together we traveled many nautical miles to places I didn’t even know existed. Small river towns and far away islands that turned into party zones every weekend in the summer months. I didn’t frequent those island parties much as I found more peace out to sea just cruising and feeling the salt spray against my already weathered face. This would be my last hoorah the way I wanted to go out so to speak. I pictured it sometimes, a full tank of fuel compass pointing due north and my heart stopping. My boat would take over and steer us out as far as the fuel lasted and then she would stop as I did. We might be found but doubtful. A more likely story would be a mighty storm came up and tossed us around like a toy tearing her planks apart exposing her to tons of water lashing us with each blow. Together we would sink to the bottom of the big blue sea forever together at the quiet bottom of our ending......

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Author Mike OConnor: Raw emotions

Author Mike OConnor: Raw emotions:      Thank-you everyone who has purchased a copy of my latest book "Raw emotions" The comments I have received have been both fla...

Raw emotions

     Thank-you everyone who has purchased a copy of my latest book "Raw emotions"
The comments I have received have been both flattering, and educational. I have learned a great deal from writers with much more experience and now know why writing the book is really the easy part. I have learned that marketing your work on a daily basis is not only required but essential in the quest for recognition.
     I have been blogging selections from the book for awhile now and hope with each blog I attract more potential buyers. I welcome any and all comments as well as Amazon reviews which are crucial in raising the book's rating, so please continue to leave those reviews.
     "Raw emotions" will take you on a journey through the eyes of the writer with a dose of fiction thrown in for effect. There are selections that will bring a smile to your face and maybe a tear or two as you find yourself remembering similar memories of your own. One reader told me she has the book on a table and reads one selection every day giving her time to really let it sink in allowing her to relive her own memories. I found that to be a very good way to grasp the whole meaning of the book.
     I hope those of you who do purchase the book take your time reading it and allow each and every passage time to stir up your own "Raw emotions"

Michael O'Connor

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Author Mike OConnor: Cherry red

Author Mike OConnor: Cherry red: She opened the lipstick and looked at the cherry red color with a smile on her face. Her memories took her back to 1951 when she was a g...

Cherry red

She opened the lipstick and looked at the cherry red color with a smile on her face. Her memories took her back to 1951 when she was a girl of seventeen and in the deepest of love, anyone could hope for. Her soldier was coming home that day, her prayers had been answered. She saw him from a great distance as he got off the train with a sea of green uniforms. Quickly she pulled a small mirror from her purse and put on fresh cherry lipstick. When he saw her, he began to run dropping his bag and taking her into his arms and kissed those cherry lips with a softness that burned its way into her heart. They made many memories together over the next fifty years mostly good she thought but that soft and heartfelt kiss at the station was the memory that touched her most deeply. Today she would greet old friends and family as they paid their respects to her love. The room was empty now as she pulled a small mirror from her purse and looked at her reflection smiling. Then placing a long, soft kiss of cherry red on his cheek she said goodbye......
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Author Mike OConnor: Old leather

Author Mike OConnor: Old leather: I slip on the old leather jacket pausing a moment to reflect on all the battle scars it has endured over thousands of miles where the rubb...

Old leather

I slip on the old leather jacket pausing a moment to reflect on all the battle scars it has endured over thousands of miles where the rubber meets the road. Yea it’s been a trusted friend for a long time. The sleeves have stretched about as far as they can, and the sheen has been replaced with road rash scars and neglect from the elements. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything….

The horsehair boot brush slowly goes back and forth across the surface of my old boots trying to bring up a shine, but my days of endless brushing have been replaced with a few good swipes to get the road dust off. They have been re-soled a few times, but they fit like a glove and I wouldn’t trade them for anything….

My trusted steel pony awaits me like it has for forty-five years. She’s a bit tired like I am but will start almost every time and take me to places only we can go. I have to carry a toolkit now and some extra parts because every so often it has to break something. yea kind of like me. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything….

I stay on the back roads now too crazy on the super slabs everybody in such a damn hurry to get nowhere. My idea of a nice ride isn’t almost getting killed by a texter. So, I cruise the countryside sharing my time with the trees and cows behind fences. I smell the air and feel the warmth against my face. When I need a break, I pull off to the side and have a smoke. Yea I know but I’ve been sucking on these sticks for fifty some years and I guess I wouldn’t trade it for anything….

Got a picture of her on my windshield, been there a little while now. I took the sissy pad off the back because once she was gone no one else would ever ride behind me. She’s up in heaven now looking down on this old biker. Smiling I hope knowing I still carry her with me on every ride. I feel her with me, I smell her scent and feel her hands on my waist. I talk to her during my rides and I always will. I wouldn’t trade that for anything…

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Author Mike OConnor: The woods

Author Mike OConnor: The woods: I walk down a dirt path in the woods of my youth, my memories like a whirlwind engulfing me with places and times long since forgotten...

The woods

I walk down a dirt path in the woods of my youth, my memories like a whirlwind engulfing me with places and times long since forgotten.

A rabbit dashed across my path startling me but causing a short laugh as I press on. Turning a corner, I flash back to a fort we built out of fallen branches and rocks that seemed like the weight of the world on our shoulders. Little did we know then that the world would get so much heavier?

Deeper into the woods and the white birch trees loomed above me in all their majestic beauty. We would find fallen pieces of bark back then and try to craft canoes like our ancestors did but without much luck even though we would spend hours in silence working on them.

The stillness crept into my being like a soothing touch of a mother, the soft breeze her lullaby. I sat under a giant oak and listened to nothing, but everything. Night fell, and I chased fire fly’s like I did so many times in days long gone.

I came out of yesterday and into the darkness of today with a smile on my face and a lullaby on my lips
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Author Mike OConnor: Mothers day

Author Mike OConnor: Mothers day: SOME CHILDREN NEVER KNOW THE LOVE OF A MOTHER AND FOR THEM I WEEP…. WHO IF NOT A MOTHER WIPES AWAY THE TEARS, FIXES THE CUTS AND SCRA...

Mothers day

SOME CHILDREN NEVER KNOW THE LOVE OF A MOTHER AND FOR THEM I WEEP….

WHO IF NOT A MOTHER WIPES AWAY THE TEARS, FIXES THE CUTS AND SCRAPES AND WHOSE HUGS ARE MORE THAN MAGICAL?

A MOTHERS LOVE IS PURE AND WITHOUT JUDGEMENT TRULY A GIFT FROM GOD…

THANK-YOU MOM FOR ALL THAT YOU ARE, ALL THAT YOU WERE, AND ALL THAT I KNOW YOU WILL ALWAYS BE…….

I COULD NEVER LOVE YOU MORE……..

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Author Mike OConnor: Empty pews

Author Mike OConnor: Empty pews:   Silence filled the church, empty pews still warm from the last mass. I remained behind until all the shuffling of feet grew silent and...

Empty pews

 Silence filled the church, empty pews still warm from the last mass. I remained behind until all the shuffling of feet grew silent and the heavy wooden doors were shut. An altar boy silently moved forward with his duty’s, snuffing out candles, wiping the alter of any spilled wine his starched robe swishing as he moved out of sight into a back room with a name that escapes me, where he would take off the swishing robe and hang it neatly in the closet to be ready for the noon mass. Hearing the back door close I knew now I was alone with God. I bowed my head but briefly as I realized I must look god in the eyes if I was to be heard. A giant cross filled the wall behind the altar, Jesus nailed to it wearing the crown of thorns, blood spilling from his wounds. I stared at that cross and prayed until I heard the shuffling of feet and the swishing of the altar boys robe as he made his rounds lighting candles. He caught my glance and smiled maybe he thought he knew me? Maybe he knew of me? Or maybe he just wanted me to know that sitting there for hours wasn’t that uncommon, especially for those of us in uniform…….

M.O.

Author Mike OConnor: All I see

Author Mike OConnor: All I see: I see a child of two. I don’t see the skin color or the origin of life I just see a child of two. Being pushed in a grocery cart the ch...

All I see

I see a child of two. I don’t see the skin color or the origin of life I just see a child of two.

Being pushed in a grocery cart the child offers a smile to whoever will look. He or she doesn’t yet know the harsh realities of those all around them and the safety net of that cart.

I see a child of five waiting at the bus stop holding the hand that guides them, loves them. protects them. I don’t see the color of the skin or the origin of life, just a child of five wanting to ride the bus and look out the window smiling as life passes by.

I see a child of twelve walking behind their origin of life keeping a safe distance under a watchful eye. I don’t see the color of the skin just a child of twelve growing further and further apart from the protection of their growth

I see a grown child of twenty standing alone lost in a maze of others each one a product of today. It wasn’t the lack of love, the neglect, or the fault of any, it is a choice that we make and it all started when they smiled and didn’t receive a smile back.

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m.o.

Author Mike OConnor: My latest book

Author Mike OConnor: My latest book:      Hello everyone, I hope this day finds you in good health and happiness. I want to thank all of you who have read my blogs and respon...

My latest book

     Hello everyone, I hope this day finds you in good health and happiness.
I want to thank all of you who have read my blogs and responded to me with your thoughts and comments. Today I want to talk a little about my latest book titled "Raw emotions" Many of you have purchased the book and I thank you for doing so. In this book, I have tried to tell a multitude of stories pertaining to topics we all face on our journey through life. There are "love stories" and stories about "life". I have also written about "the dark side" which all of us have inside of us waiting to get out, and for you motorcycle addicts there are several pieces about biker life I hope you enjoy and relate too.
     In past blogs, I have posted some excerpts from my book to wet your appetite in hopes you will want to read more and yes purchase the book. The world of writing books is a huge place with tens of thousands of writers competing for a space on your bookshelves or reading devices. Achieving this is no small task and takes daily work if you hope to be successful. I didn't write this book or any of my books for success but rather as a legacy for my children and grandchildren so they will always have a part of me with them for all time.
     I truly enjoyed writing "Raw emotions" and hope you will enjoy reading it. Again a heartfelt thank-you to all of you who have purchased your copy. For those who have not here's how!
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Author Mike OConnor: Yesterday

Author Mike OConnor: Yesterday: Time ticks away as the memories of the items on shelves wisp through the air, landing on unsuspecting souls looking for a smile. The ...

Yesterday

Time ticks away as the memories of the items on shelves wisp through the air, landing on unsuspecting souls looking for a smile.

The smell of patchouli lingers in front of you just long enough to give you a flashback and a rush.

Stevie ray slides across the room on invisible strings filling you with a movement that can’t be stopped. Silver hair rocking back and forth to every sweet beat.

Tootsie pops and waxed lips sit beckoning you to pick them up and remember those carefree days on the corner with friends.

A pair of roller skates, a pogo stick and a red rider bb gun slam you back in time and you are now caught in the web of yesterday, your yesterday.

MO.
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Author Mike OConnor: Writer of time

Author Mike OConnor: Writer of time: The words flew off my fingertips onto the paper burning thoughts of time onto the yellowish parchment. Memories of childhood soaked i...

Writer of time

The words flew off my fingertips onto the paper burning thoughts of time onto the yellowish parchment.

Memories of childhood soaked into the paper like the tears of a child who cannot find his mother.

Sideways writing of my teenage years messed up much like I was most of those years if not all of them

Rolled up edges torn during deep thought or remembrance of times troubled with doubt.

I am a writer of time, a messenger of days past and times yet to be and all are my thoughts and mine alone

In the end, I will begin again only this time I will understand all that I did not.

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Author Mike OConnor: Wall of memories

Author Mike OConnor: Wall of memories: WE SAT AT HER KITCHEN TABLE WHICH SEEMED TO DOUBLE AS HER STORAGE FACILITY.SHE WAS A KEEPER OF “STUFF” MOSTLY UN NEEDED LIKE NEWSPAPER ADV...

Wall of memories

WE SAT AT HER KITCHEN TABLE WHICH SEEMED TO DOUBLE AS HER STORAGE FACILITY.SHE WAS A KEEPER OF “STUFF” MOSTLY UN NEEDED LIKE NEWSPAPER ADVERTISEMENTS AND FLYERS. SHE HAD HER OWN SYSTEM SHE WOULD SAY SO THINGS DON’T GET LOST. SHE ALSO HAD THE CLEANEST GARBAGE CAN I EVER SAW. AS WE SAT AND TALKED ABOUT THINGS SHE WOULD BE FIDGITING ABOUT WITH THE STUFF REARRANGING IT TO SUIT HER AND THEN DOING IT AGAIN, AND AGAIN. SHE WAS A MOST INTERESTING WOMAN WHO DECADES AGO TAUGHT SCHOOL IN THIRD WORLD COUNTRIES.  SHE HAD SO MANY SOUVENIRS OF THAT PERIOD IN HER LIFE ADORNING THE WALLS OF HER HOUSE. SO MUCH SO THERE WASN’T AN INCH OF WALL LEFT JUST HER MEMORIES. I ENJOYED OUR TIMES TOGETHER AS SHE WAS A BRILLIANT LADY WHO COULD RECALL EVEN THE MOST MINUTE MOMENTS IN TIME DESCRIBING IN FINE DETAIL SO I FELT I WAS RIGHT THERE WITH HER AT A BULLFIGHT IN SPAIN OR A FIESTA IN MEXICO. SHE WOULD BE MY GUIDE TELLING ME ADVENTURE AFTER ADVENTURE AND I NEVER TIRED OF LISTENING. SHE HAD GROWN SONS WHO LIVED THOUSANDS OF MILES FROM HER SO VISITS WERE RARE AND FAR BETWEEN. I BELIEVE SHE WAS LONELY FOR HER FAMILY EVEN THOUGH SHE HAD QUITE A FEW GOOD FRIENDS WHO WOULD LOOK IN ON HER FROM TIME TO TIME. I WAS ONE SUCH FRIEND. BUT IN MY HEART, I BELIEVE SHE SOMEHOW SAW IN ME THAT “OTHER” SON WHO DID THINGS FOR HER WITHOUT PAYMENT BUT RATHER OUT OF LOVE. I WILL MISS HER GREATLY BUT SHE WAS GIVEN OVER NINETY YEARS OF LIFE ON EARTH AND EACH HAD A WONDERFUL STORY TO GO WITH THE YEARS. I SMILE WHEN I THINK NOW SHE WALKS AMONG THE ANGELS TELLING THEM HER STORIES AND SHOWING THEM HER MEMORIES……….
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M.O.

Author Mike OConnor: Corner store

Author Mike OConnor: Corner store: When I was young I would walk from the house to the corner store. A rather large man was the proprietor who went by the name big john. I c...

Corner store

When I was young I would walk from the house to the corner store. A rather large man was the proprietor who went by the name big john. I can close my eyes and see the little store on the corner with shelves filled with canned goods and a lighted display case filled with fresh baked bread and cookies made by big john’s wife with whom he lived upstairs in a small apartment.

The floors were slanted in John's store which made cans roll towards the door when someone dropped one. It wasn’t uncommon to have a can greet you at the door. But it wasn’t the cans that caught my attention it was the eight large glass jars that sat on the counter next to the cigar box big john used to keep money in. Each jar held a treasure of sweetness and I still remember the contents of each one. Tootsie pops, double bubble- bubble gum, peach pits, saltwater taffy, licorice rolled up in a circle with a red-hot dot in the middle, wax bottles filled with liquid, sour grape balls, and last but not least fireballs. Each piece was a penny and if I was lucky I had a nickel going in and five out of eight leaving. Sometimes big John would give you an extra along with a big smile.

Walking back home I would savor each piece of candy always saving the fireball for last because if it got too hot I would be close enough to home to get a drink from the hose. Sometimes I would see my mom watching me slurping up the water with a smile on her face as she peeked out the window. Going inside she would wipe the corners of my mouth and kiss my head whispering “little hot huh?”

I suppose we all have our memories of that certain corner store. It’s a shame most are long gone replaced with the modern marvel of convenience and fast pace. Not many mom and pops, very few upstairs apartments over the store or bakery or t.v. repairman. Too many empty buildings with rotting timber and rusted pipes. Too many childhood memories lay in waste with no hope for return.

I am glad I at least had a glimpse of my history while it was coming to an end. I saw the paper mill in operation as well as the steel plant and the ball bearing factory that kept a town in work for generations. I saw the smoke from the now crumbled stacks and smelled the smells of a factory town. I saw all of this on my way to the little store on the corner in my hometown.

M.O.