Sunday, January 10, 2010

Eating My Cake







I miss…

Playing baseball with my son Tyler Thomas Campbell. Shagging balls he’s hung on a string to the outfield.  Watching him go 5 for 5 in one game and batting .585 for the season; .565 the season before that.  Being the best of the best in his league.  Having someone who knows compare his high body in the water style of swimming to that of the Olympian gold medalist, Don Schollander.  Having him play sweeper in soccer, alone in front of the goalie, stopping everything coming from either side and down the middle…fast…fast…fast…speed and right-on decision making.  His cookin’ hyperdrive synapses. Having people tell me what a great athlete he is. I didn’t expect any of it from him and that made it all the better.

The throw-your-head-back laugh of my daughter Samantha.  My little girl who is now a beautiful young woman.  Her natural grace and speed in pursuit of a soccer ball.  Having people tell me what a terrific player she is. Having people tell me what a terrific person she is.  I didn’t  expect any of this from her and that made it all the better.

The high notes, the volume, the passion of rock and roll.  Sooooo sweet baby.  Chills up and down the spine…really.

Being lean and mean and 165 pounds…the energy… the vitality.

A good, rip-roaring drunk… the fine times and the spirited discussions… the attempts to resolve the issues; war, religion, politics, women and friendships over too many drinks.

A pack of Marlboro’s.  The high of nicotine… the feeling of a good smoke after a meal.  A lit cigarette in my hand punctuating a high strung conversation.  Yes, I am a lifetime addict and I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Over 18 clean years is not too shabby though.

Being poor...the little things really meant a lot then.

Riding a dirt bike in the high desert of Idaho.  Falling off.  Getting up.  Picking up.  Kick starting again.  Hauling ass.  Rolling, flying speed. The smells.  The sights.  The camaraderie.  The Harleys... or course, the Harleys.

Playing racquetball, softball and golf when I could rip all of them.  Putting soft hands on a football and running through/over tacklers in sandlot tackle games. Being able to run in several speeds… all of them quick.

Friends I have lost track of...or simply lost.  William K. Smith, Tom Cook, Marty Atha… others.  Friends I have but don’t see often enough.

Mopsie’s Aerial Motions – Old English Sheepdog, friend and Frisbee catcher extraordinaire. Her successors, Sparkle Plenty II and Molly - world's greatest Goldie.

A three and a half pound German Brown trout caught on ultra light tackle in the swift Missouri River…with eagles flying overhead and beaver swimming by.

My Mother and my Father

These days are gone.
The memories vivid... indelible.

I celebrate:

My wonderful, forgiving wife of over 40 years, Julieann Marie Campbell.  I have already asked her to marry me again in the next life, to have fifty kids and help me run a custom big twin motorcycle shop.  She will probably not accept all those terms.

Watching my kids grow up and learn about life. The significant charity work they are or have been involved in.

All the people and experiences I have known and had.  The things God gave me that have made up my life.  I am very lucky to have been there… to have done that. I am also lucky to be here right now...  doing the things I love right now.

Friends!  How else are you going to celebrate life?

These moments are here
The memories forming... growing stronger each day.

1 comment:

Annie said...

You've written a post to make us think! Every day, I'll try to enjoy, enjoy, enjoy, but life's minutiae is a drain.

My husband misses baseball little league, too, and all the fun things we did when my son was little. I miss those days, too, of course, but I try to enjoy the boy he is now, at the age of fifteen, almost sixteen, not yet, a man.

We may not be as lean as we once were, but we can still enjoy the music!