Why I write stories, I really do not know the whole idea behind some of these little ditties. I like to justify it to myself in this manner. Many years ago, I really cared for a lot of people. It did not matter if they were strangers or not. If I felt they needed something and I could spare it, then I did what was needed. But as I journeyed down the road, I put this caring in a safe spot and I forgot where I put it. It’s about the same with a lot of things in my life. Kinda like, now where in heck did I put that hammer. Oh well, I didn’t need that one, I will go get another. Unfortunately with feelings, this just leaves a hollow spot with nothing to fill the hollow. In years past, while visiting an internet room on a regular basis, I enjoyed talking to folks all over the world. This became almost a daily ritual. As time went by one begins to draw a mental picture what the person may look like. By the way they formed sentences and the words they used you could almost tell their moods. On one morning, a lady’s words changed color. Even though they were coming across the internet as black and white typing, they were different. In a side room, I asked “how she was doing”. Her words came back short and sad. I offered to stick with the conversation a while and she could type away. No judging, no commitment, just a friendly ear. After a bit I suggested all she needed was a friendly hug. Unfortunately, there were many miles between us and I did not even know where she lived. Somewhere in Maryland was all I knew. She fell silent for quite a bit and this prompted me to ask “what is going on”. She informed me that at that moment, her 6 year old son came in and hugged her and stated “Love you mommy”. Incidents such as this happened a lot in my past journey. So, I do not hesitate when a story begins to rattle around my grey matter. I write only with the hope it touches someone.

Many years ago I was a partner in a company in Virginia. Our business was taking care of three big apartment complexes. We had many people working for us. It did not matter the color of their skin, just how well they followed directions. I have to chuckle when I think of one gentleman whose grandmother died 6 times. Tough ole gal. We had to adjust his pay day so we could get at least three days work from him. He was a great worker. He just kept having problems on the weekends. As long as he did his work, and did it well, then I tolerated his problems. Rangeley is a very caring community. This is not something that just started this year. Caring, such as I know, goes back to my grandparents. If a family or close friend was having problems, they would open their hearts and doors. There were some that stomped on others but they lost their place on the good people list. Actions were never taken as acts of retribution. They were just crossed off the good people list. I sincerely feel that good does indeed triumph over bad. All it takes is for the good people to stand up and be strong. Be not afraid of being stomped on for even good wine needs stomping. Folks my age know this because they have lived it. Now is the time for those younger to stop being takers and become the peace makers. Putting away my soap box for now. Peace to ya all… Ken W mountainman


Only subscribers are eligible to post comments. Please subscribe or login first for digital access. Here’s why.

Use the form below to reset your password. When you've submitted your account email, we will send an email with a reset code.