• Standing on a sandbar, with me feet dipped in the swirling froth,

    I stare forward into the distance.

    A fog hangs over the rolling ocean, writhing and roiling.

    The harder I peer, the farther I can see.

    But the fog still hangs, blocking my view into the distant past.

    Turning around, the same ocean continues far into the future as well.

    About my feet the tide curls.

    I am separate, above the water. Yet I am forever standing in it.

    It’s in the way I smile, and the shape of my eyes.

    Even though it’s nothing I can ever escape, the ocean of ancestors and descendants is always changing.

    Whether it is rolling ahead of me or else disappearing into the mist, it is never the same twice.

    I am a part of it, yet separate.

    I am a Nelson, a Williams, a Kratz, a Morgan, a Ladd, a Brignoli.

    I come from places I have never been. I am the result of people who never will walk the earth again.

    I am a creation of the times, the land, random chance, and who knows what else.

    I am the same as my family and I am unique from everyone else who ever existed or will exist.

    Who will rise before me?

    Who will inherit my world? My life? My work?

    I will never know, and I will never know exactly what I will leave behind.

    Even if I know my work, I will never know its interpretations, its repercussions, its meaning given by countless others.

    That is the way the ocean will always be.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Born of despair,

    A depression ravaging the land

    Resources were rare

    But living on was for the determined

     

    Nazi Germany was also born of the destruction

    The holocaust, the darkest of nights.

    D Day and my grandfather learning aviation

    Demon destroyed after climbing to incredible heights

     

    Two bombs that rocked the world.

    Graduation, marriage and Korean service

    The hesitant American flag still unfurled

    The cold war creeped into existence.

     

    My parents are born.

    Hippies, the first laser, and first memories

    Martin Luther’s leaves us forlorn

    The moon landing’s and more glories

     

    My father’s programmable calculator

    The United Nations was founded

    A house, a meeting and love grows greater

    Nixon’s resignation was sounded

     

    My grandfather becomes a bailiff

    The VCR comes into being and spreads.

    Then he goes back to being a sheriff

    Apartheid brings deathbeds

     

    Civil rights blossom and scatter seeds

    My parents come to Sacramento

    My fathers’s first job and he succeeds

    College and my grandfather a widow

     

    Disaster at Chernobyl

    My grandmother, my parents.

    Two marriages, both love symbols

    Hubble and furtherance of science

     

    The first internet connection

    The world under a net of communication

    A new house, a great decision

    A new life, in a great nation

     

     

     

     


     

    Extending backward, never ending fog, peer and see a ways farther, it must go on forever.

    Lost in an ocean.

    My family has tendrils that nudge at my hair, curl at my feet. I am forever followed by them, but they remain thin and nearly invisible.

    It’s in the way I smile, and the shape of my eyes.

    Even though it’s nothing I can ever change, my family and my heritage is always changing. Whether it is expanding or being lost, it is never the same twice.

    I am a part of it, yet separate. I am a Nelson, a Williams, a Kratz, a Morgan, a Ladd, a Brignoli. I come from places I have never been. I am the result of people who never will walk the earth again. I am a creation of the times, the land, random chance, and who knows what else.

    I am the same as my family and I am unique from everyone else who ever existed or will exist.

    Who am I to tell.

    Who will rise before me? Who will inherit my world, my life, my work? I will never know, and I will never know exactly what I will leave behind. Even if I know my work, I will never know its interpretations, its repercussions, its meaning given by countless others.

    Such is the state of humankind, history, and life.

     

     

     

Last Modified on April 7, 2015