"I Hope You Took A Walk For Me" - Garry Eoff

My dear friend and co-worker, Donna, traveled with her family to a Florida beach in May 2015. Due to multiple issues with a daughter-in-law, the retreat was often an opportunity to relieve herself of the trials this family member put upon Donna's grandsons and son. It was while she was on this trip, that I decided to write this expression of how the beach can affect one's life.

I hope you took a walk for me

On the beach of course that leads to the sea

It is there that I feel the wind blow strong
And from my life take away all that is wrong

The waves crashing, the gulls calling
As I walk away from all in my life that is falling

Spray from the waves just wound round my feet, my soul, my life
Each step forward and many more left behind in the strife

Take it away Old Man of the Sea
And bury my troubles far away from me

The silence is not really silence, no it is not quiet at all
For it was IN THE BEGINNING that He made the call

To breathe life into the heavens and the earth
It is here that new life seems to give birth

I never grow tired of the feeling
If I had wings, the beach my runway, the wind to carry me for the sky hath no ceiling

It is here again that I cherish the moments where I can be
My heart, my mind, my body are for just a moment let loose and free

For a minute, how I wish it could be more than an hour
For me to hide in the never ceasing caressing winds that express so much power

Must I return to reality, a place you have momentarily taken me from
The time spent with you in words I can not sum

The time spent with you my soul did renew
It was time to work out the things that were askew

So dear friend as you walked the sands each day
A time for you and loved ones to be away

My hope for you was that just for a spell
You take some time for yourself and on the beach our Lord to tell

Of the beauty of the heavens and of the earth
And everything that has since given birth

And selfish me as I thought of you there
I knew that you would not have one, no not one, single care

So, I hope it was there that you took a walk for me
On the beach of course that leads to the sea

"Success Denial" - JR Everhart

This year has been an amazing year for my concert production business.  Everything is growing and moving exactly the way I had hoped.  But for some reason, I still feel like it’s not real, or that I’m on the verge of disaster.  It’s a haunting fear of failure that I constantly deal with.  I triple and quadruple check even the smallest details of every job, yet still feel as if it’s one step from complete destruction.  All this in the face of constant praise regarding the quality of my work.  Only an adult child could feel these feelings of distress while people are patting him on the back and showering him with additional opportunity.  If you don’t know what an adult child is, I highly recommend the “adult children of alcoholics and dysfunctional families” (ACA for short) program, or at the very least, purchase the “big red book” and read it.  I have it on audio book as well, so I can listen to it while traveling, which I do a lot of. 

For those of us who grew up under the same roof with addict-type dysfunction, which does not always assume the chemical component - such as drugs or alcohol, this type of thinking makes perfect sense to you.  An adult child could get mugged and still blame themselves for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  We internalize everything because during the developmental years of our lives, we were taught that we were not good, and brought very little value to the world. Some of us were made to feel like we were the cause of our parents' sorrow and, as such, a hindrance to their happiness.  This childhood distortion can then result in an adult who struggles with self-worth issues, and has a very difficult time believing good things can happen to him.  This would be me.  Here I am achieving everything I’ve worked the last 30 years to build; all the while waiting for it to blow up in my face.  It’s insanity on the deepest level!

The enemy loves this cycle of thinking and for some it eventually gives birth to sabotage.  Success can become so fearful and unbelievable to them.  Eventually, they will self-destruct and burn it to the ground.  This is one of many tactics they use to feed their victim mindset.  “Poor me… I can never get a break… blah blah blah…” I’ve seen this play out amongst friends.  It was only after several conversations that I could enlighten them to see this cycle they'd entered into.  Fear has the ability (when reinforced with faith in that fear) to bring things to pass in the same way faith in Christ can bring things to pass.  Faith is that strong and all of hell understands this principle.  Why do you think hell works so hard to rob your faith by replacing it with Satan’s vernacular for your life?

As Christians, we can duly celebrate the fact that the entire New Testament is about hijacking Satan’s identity plans and realigning them with our identity in Christ.  Our flesh bears witness with Satan’s lies, but our spirit aligns with God's truth and therefore its true identity in Jesus.  My aforementioned feelings of fear-based failure (that are haunting me right now) are the fruit of decades of dysfunction which the enemy has been weaving into my life.  

It isn't 'till I sit down and start journaling my thoughts that these lies start to surface.  My fear of failure is not based on reality.  It’s based on an emotional reaction - to the voices in my head.  Voices from my childhood telling me I can’t do this because I’m not strong enough, or smart enough, or emotionally capable enough to handle the stress that comes with success, etc.  THIS IS NOT THE CULTURE OF HEAVEN!  These accusations are THE CULTURE OF HELL!  Once I recognize this, I’m then equipped to extinguish the flaming arrows of the enemy with the shield of faith. 

Here’s how a well-adjusted Christian should handle my situation:  With success comes high levels of responsibility.  I will do all I can to resource my efforts as it pertains to a safe and successful business.  I will cover all I do with prayer trusting God to protect me and my business from catastrophic failure.  I will not fear, and when fear does attempt to creep in, I will respond with faith in God's grace, mercy, and protection.  I have nothing to fear, God has promised me that he will work all things toward good on behalf of those that love him and are called according to his purpose.  God knows I love him, and I will attempt to live that out in my day-to-day life.  I am also doing my best to live according to his calling on my life.  Anything outside of this mindset, I place under God's grace, mercy, and protection.  I don’t have to have all the answers, God does, but I also don’t have to stand at the tree of lies and temptation and argue with the serpent.  I am free to turn and walk away, trusting only in God's promises.  Promises revealed in his word for those who love him.  This approach robs the enemy’s lies of their power, setting us free from the cycles of thought-life failure.  Everything else matters not, therefore I MUST refuse to place poison on the table that I eat from.  

"Bo's Cafe" By John Lynch (Reviewed by Scott Tomlin)

Self-Protection & Shame - I have always used coerciveness to get what I want.  It has protected me at all costs.  I grew up in the home of a Raging Alcoholic, and I was often the focus of his rage.  So, it's understandable that this mentality to jump into a Bunker and protect was HARDwired via my upbringing.  

I learned that no one was going to protect me; instead that EVERYONE WOULD abandon me.  So, I told myself that I had to protect Scott and take care of him.  From this pattern of self-protection, I trapped myself in a fortress.  A fortress that was intended to protect, allowing me to not feel ANYTHING, which was what I needed to survive.  Because I was too young to understand, and too small to escape my father's rage, I learned to emotionally disconnect from myself too.  This provided me with the methodology to enforce an inner vow I'd made.  And that vow was:  to never allow my dad to see any emotion.  Hence, I could control my emotions by disconnecting, and that was about the only thing for which I could completely control.  This coping skill served me well and allowed me to survive, but it also made it difficult to extend/give emotions to others.  My innards, as a result, became hardened.  

As a grown ass man, I found that I couldn't show up emotionally.  I missed and I lost out during many years; ultimately, I didn’t know how to express how I was feeling.  I lost out on the opportunity to distribute the slow, daily, continual deposit of my love within simple actions; actions requiring me to be present by expressing my emotions in the small moments.  As such, I couldn't give the following to my wife - the look in my eyes nor the touch of my hands as a means to provide her with that daily deserved affirmation!  I missed out on the opportunity to express my true feelings in lieu of me protecting myself.  Ultimately, my feelings were still (remember by boyhood) closed up in the fortress of self-protection, all because of my wrong belief about vulnerability.  In essence, I saw vulnerability as something to be feared due to it exposing me (to potential emotional pain), and this felt extremely unsafe.

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Shame has always said to me, “You are not worth it!”, and unfortunately, I believed what shame said. 

In reading Bo’s Cafe, I wholeheartedly identified with the main character, Steven.  Like him, I've always attempted to control others in order to not feel any shame.  In my adult life, I have foolhardily harnessed my pent-up emotions.  These were emotions that were usually hidden as a means to control others.  Essentially, I've, at times, resorted to weaponizing my Anger, Remorse, Sarcasm, Aggression - you name it.  This I have used to "back people off of me" in an attempt to protect myself.  All under the guise of staying in control.  When things are not going the way that I think they should go, my need to control increases, and I quickly take action.  In essence, The VOLUME of grown ass Scott increases - to a deafening pitch - and I don’t stop…CAN’T STOP…until I feel that I am in control of all the possible outcomes!

In this effort, I won’t allow my wife or my children to simply be themselves.  If I allow them to be who they are, then they might not be who I think they should be at any given time, therefore this could cause others to think poorly of them (Scott) which would consequently have others thinking poorly of me.  If this were to happen, then I would feel SHAME which, in turn, induces me towards controlling everything and everyone.  As a result of this self-protection ruse, when they refuse to come around to my way of thinking (controlling), I judge them!  Therefore, Scott is implicitly right, and everyone else is WRONG (Scott the asshole)!

Secondly, the character, Andy, is a Protector (of those he loves).  My resolve towards this character is one of disconnect and unrelatability.  For I've always been singularly my own self-centered / self-focused Protector.  Considering this, God’s specific design was that I would allow others to protect me.  To be very specific, I would need to allow my wife to protect me.  She certainly was able to provide a clear, present visibility / assessment of Scott.  Visibility that could clearly observe Scott beginning to dis-regulate and enter into Freeze, Fight or Flight.  

Unfortunately, when I feel this coming on (vulnerable), I see it as a NEGATIVE thing which feels unsafe, therefore I feel that I MUST protect myself.  In doing so, I have rarely experienced what God intended within my marriage, which is for my wife to truly be my Helpmeet and not my Adversary.

This book helped me to ask of myself this important question: Safe from what?  I finally saw, for the first time, me reflexively feeling unsafe from my own Shame.  Shame which kept me in this continual effort to protect myself.  My thoughts were as follows: if anyone actually discovered the real me, they would reject me, abandon me, and not love me!  To take it a step further, I often, in these moments, felt hatred for myself!  Who I had become as well as the collateral damage - from my decisions - and all the pain which I had caused in my addiction.  

And finally, within the character of Steven, I saw my own behavior cycle as well as my Core Belief, “I am NOT worth it”.  Shame simply echos my Core Belief, therefore I immediately begin the hustle!

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What did I take away from this book?

In order for Scott to dismantle the fortress of self-protection which had been built over 45 years, he must stop looking to others for his approval.  When he does this, he places this massive pressure on his loved ones to tell him, “You're OK.”  My wife is usually within the direct line of fire relative to this expectation.  However, I never let her in because my Shame is saying, “if you knew me, the real me, you wouldn’t love me.”  So, I send my representative, the Imposter, out to meet with her.

Imposter Scott will bring all his good works to the meeting, all the good things he has learned in Recovery, at his Samson meetings, at his last Therapy session.  As such, he'll lay it all down at the sacred alter of Self-Protection, in an effort to say, “Look how much I’ve learned about me and how I have hurt everyone else…doesn’t this make you want to tell me ‘just how much better I have become?!’”

It’s kneejerk behavior, this need of mine to achieve something in order to hide my Shame versus LETTING IT GO!  The truth is that my Shame was paid for when it was crucified with Jesus!  Only when I allow Shame to be reconciled can the authentic Scott Tomlin come out of hiding.

I really want to be Fully Loved.  My 2-year-old self, my 8-year-old self, desires to be FULLY LOVED, and so does every other age of Scott.  However, the only way for me to be fully loved is to be fully known.  I have to drop my protection, take off my armor, and come out from behind the fortress of Self-Protection.  In this, I can step into the light of vulnerability to be the man for which God intended (as described within Psalm 139).  Christ never intended for me to believe the Enemy's message of Shame; my sin was paid for even before he made me!

Thanks for listening…I’m Scott.

"Golf" - Andrew Zimmerman

I used to escape with golf. A lot. I worked at a golf course in the summers during the first few years of my marriage, so golf was free. I cared so much about my score and how many holes I could squeeze in during a day. If I got to play 9-holes, I wanted to play 18. If I played 18-holes, I wanted to play 27. These days I have more responsibilities, so I don't get the time to play like I used to, which is probably a good thing.

As I traveled this road of recovery, I realized that my obsession with golf was not healthy. I pursued activities that provided me with the space to avoid and escape reality, and golf was one of those activities. Who I was on the inside didn't match who I was on the outside, and I had to protect that.

Fast forward to today and the flip side of that coin is also true - golf is not inherently an unhealthy activity. Tonight I realized I needed some time alone, so after the kids were in bed I went out and hit some putts. There is something about being outside that the indoors cannot offer me. Somehow I sense Him more when I can be present in His creation. I need my time outdoors, just like I need my brothers in Samson Society, and tonight golf was that avenue.

Intrigued / Taken Aback By One Heck Of A Barrel-Chested Pastor

 

I'm fairly certain, over the course of my adult life, that I've never encountered my masculine archetype preaching from within the pulpit, but this morning was the exception.  What I'm referring to is the physical build / attributes of men that I'm sexually attracted to.  In order to break this down, I'll offer up the following extensive list:

-  my height or (preferably) taller

-  dark skin

-  dark hair

-  lots of body hair (but not necessarily facial hair)

-  balding / bald

-  athletically built / exceedingly muscular (sans steroids)

-  below average waistline

-  stocky / barrel chested / "stout" / swole / buff

-  medium to deep voice

-  athletically-cut short-sleeved shirts, shorts / pants that are tight around the ass

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This morning during the church service I attended (where the pastor in the photo above delivered the sermon), I found myself having to get up from my seat and exit the auditorium (about 12 minutes into his delivery).  I simply couldn't take my eyes off his nipples; for they were clearly visible (& I was seated midway back within the darkened 400+ seat auditorium) through his shirt(s).  I kept wondering if they actually might be as sizable as a female's are, taking into consideration how pronounced his pecs (breasts) were.  

Too, I wanted to find out more about this gorgeous man in short order, therefore I hoped (forlornly) to locate some sort of church info literature (hard copy) out in the "Pre-Function" space (keep in mind that I'd never stepped foot into this church prior to this AM). 

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During the portion of his sermon that I did hear, he cited starting each day really early in order to "hit the gym".  No doubt, his impressive physique testified to this regime.  But too, it was his demeanor / confidence combined with his slacker apparel (for he was dressed identically this AM to how he was photographed above) that all played into his sex appeal.

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You've heard of the Billy Graham rule.  It's centered on a pastor's "rules of engagement" relative to the opposite sex, particularly as it relates to private interaction / dialogue.  But one thing that's rarely talked about, in tandem therein, is Billy Graham himself.  In particular, how he presented himself to the millions upon millions of "parishioners" who he had the privilege of preaching to.  Decade after decade.

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Off the charts sex appeal, for men at least, is a result of both blessed DNA and consistently hard work.  Hard work that for some individuals is quite enjoyable to engage in on a repeated basis.  Perhaps these great habits took root for these men in high school / college, and they've since never relinquished the routine.  Bravo!  For looking fine and being in exceptional health are wonderfully collaborative goals.  

But,

pastors who are as such, need to realize they're facing individuals like Rob, every time they stand up to speak.  And I believe this should give them pause.  Enough, at least, for them to take the time to ponder the entirety of their audience of this present age.  

What does this mean for these pastors?  Here're a few of my thoughts therein.

1.  Parishioners who "fall in love" with a pastor's sexiness, can't possibly listen (test) without prejudice.

2.  Putting confidence in a pastor's looks is going to make demands of him that eventually (disability, advanced age, chronic illness, demands of life) will become impossible to meet.  

3.  Becoming expectant (enmeshed within) of those inevitable attractions between himself (hunk pastor) and select parishioners (same or opposite sex) may eventually weaken a pastor's resolve to never seduce.  And seduction's intent is never, ever good. 

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I suppose now I can say that I've truly seen it all after this Sunday's service.

Lagniappe

Honoring The Mother Ship's (First Baptist Church Jackson) Cherished '70s / '80s' Pastor - Dr. Frank Pollard - 5/07/78 transcript

Denying Yourself & Making Faithfulness (To Christ) Your Highest Priority

Losing my campus architect job from Delta State University proved devastating to me emotionally.  For it was an environment I found challenging, energetic and perfectly suited for someone of my professional skillset (plus it was my dad's alma mater).  I cannot overstate here how satisfied I was with this administrative position.  It was September of 2013 when the termination occurred, right around this time of year (late summer transitioning into early fall).  Though I'd only been employed there for one year, I'd spent countless hours of overtime (mostly weekends) shoring up the position of Campus Architect (at the expense of my family / personal life), all of which had resulted in some needed stability / restored confidence within the Physical Plant. 

Post termination (the following day), I immediately took the necessary steps to become an employee of my parents' Jackson, Mississippi business.  The work I'd be doing there wasn't at all of interest to me nor was I trained therein (I pursued a degree in architecture in college in order to eventually become registered as such).  Too, I knew going in that working for them would result in me feeling washed up, settled, and emasculated (which it did).  Spelled out as F-A-I-L-U-R-E.  

The devastation was centered on how obvious it quickly became that I was not at all well-suited working on a college campus, particularly within a Physical Plant setting.  Why?  As an intensely (at the time) same-sex attracted 40-year-old man, I was overwhelmed with the testosterone / muscled masculinity that was constantly on display for me to interact with.  And, to make matters that much more challenging, all these men wore athletically cut, short-sleeved uniforms that accentuated these glorious physical attributes.  And I cannot underestimate that word:  glorious.  Damn, it was fucking glorious.  Not unlike working on a gay porn film set each and every day.  

Yet, in the midst of all this, I had zero support relative to my story.  Even though I'd shared it in so many words with our pastor / associate pastor (whilst also pointing them to my personal blog).  They proved to be no help at all to me personally.  And I did even reach a point of directly asking for help.  

Taking all this into account, it was no doubt an unworkable situation.  Rob was completely isolated and far from home.  All the while, feeling SO MUCH shame relative to his sexual orientation.

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Imagine being Samus Aran but not fitting at all comfortably (due to the size of your frame) into your varia suit.  No matter how hard you'd tried.  Therefore, you attempt to bounty hunt sans suit, but you keep getting your ass kicked.  Plus, you're unable to morph into that cool morph ball which therefore limits your mobility.  

As such, you're disqualified.  No more bounty hunting.  Not without the varia suit.  It is an integral part of your work.

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At age thirteen, whilst being lassoed in by the gospel, I knew denial of myself would be an absolute.  And at this age, I actually gravitated towards this mindset for I found zero value within Rob.  Not to mention I was scared shitless of landing in hell for my propensity (even at this tender age) to lust. Immediately, Jesus made sense as both a savior and guide, and I understood my need for both.  

There was no one to confide in during my teen years relative to my sexuality.  In tandem with that was how emotionally starved I was both at home and platonically.  Therefore, "rescue" came via lustful sexual fantasies, all of which were homosexual in nature.  Often, these fantasies involved men / older boys that were within my sphere of influence (school / work / church).  They pursued Rob with a vengeance within these fantasies, and in many ways, it served as a temporary suave to my hurting / lonely heart (which was always left behind with biting guilt).  

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One thing I'm most proud of relative to my position at Delta State University was my choosing to not entertain sexual fantasies around any of the hot men that worked under me.  As such, this put me in quite the private pressure-valve situation.  For I didn't want to use them, but at the same time, I was exceedingly sexual attracted to a number of them. 

And this is where oversharing on my personal blog came in handy along with consuming gay porn (all executed on my work desktop PC, thereby breaking the university's IT policy).  For it provided some temporary emotional relief.

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After my initial +/-3 years of being involved in the Jackson, Mississippi Samson Society group (August 2014 - May 2017), the Holy Spirit clearly punctuated my love for men by dubbing me a "men's minister".  This happened immediately following a retreat that Mr. Don Waller had organized for our (then singular) group in beautiful Highlands, NC.  I'll likely never forget the day this occurred.  It was a rainy weekday afternoon while both of my 'rents were out of the office.

This title wasn't something that felt earned.  Instead, it seemed (at the time) so much more prophetic in nature than anything else.  And it truly was, though even today, all these years later, I in no way feel I've "risen" to that mantel.  

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My experience at Delta State University was perfectly orchestrated by God to prepare me for what's been set within my line of sight today as a "men's minister" (whatever that means).  For I know firsthand what it is to experience devastation via the realization that you're not qualified to pursue what, by the numbers / book, looks to be a perfect fit for you (taking your credentials, experience, availability into account).  

Being a same-sex attracted man has crippled me.  There's no doubt about it.  It has, in many ways, robbed me of (vocational) glory I've longed to be identified by.  But, none of this is overly surprising to Rob, especially whilst looking back.

What is mind-blowing is how tenderly God's nurtured me through all this fallout.  He's been consistent in his love as each month propels me further and further away from what went down in September 2013.

Thanks be to God for his goodness and mercy, and thanks too for the Jackson Mississippi Samson Society and its role in launching me into this community of men.   

Recommended Reading

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Water crisis tests Mississippi mayor who started as activist | AP News

Freedom To Outmaneuver Political Extremists (Why I'll Likely Never Attend Another Face-To-Face - In Mississippi Or Anywhere Else - Samson Society Meeting)

I don't feel comfortable around political extremists.  Especially within Samson Society.  I realize that everyone has a right to their opinion on politics, and that the amount of time / energy they devote therein is their business, but these folks creep me out (& especially so if they're professing Christians).

During my four-year tenure facilitating the Lakeside Pres Samson Society meeting, I found myself face-to-face with one of these individuals when he boasted of participating in the January 6, 2021 election protest at the US Capitol (he executed this boasting the Saturday immediately following its occurrence).  Though he himself (according to his personal narrative) didn't join in with his fellow protestors and storm the building, just knowing that he'd hooked up with other extremists via social media, carpooled to Washington D.C. and joined in the protest really unsettled me.  

This Samson brother had been faithful to our face-to-face group almost since its inception.  Overall, he was no "odder" than any other Samson guy, and as such, this development really put me between a rock and a hard place.  I remember simply having my synapses charred when he boasted of what he'd participated in (either during the meeting itself or the after-meeting) since all of us at the time were still emotionally overwhelmed with what actually had occurred as a result of the insurrection itself.

And, I will admit, whilst looking back, that I had prior to this fateful day / Samson Society meeting insisted that he forgo the political rhetoric during his share time.  And each time I needed to do so (which wasn't all that often), he'd respectfully comply.  Keep in mind that this man was very intelligent / articulate (typical Samson guy).  A guy who landed here in MS (20+) years ago from New York (his childhood home) by way of California.

Yet, what was I to do?  Ask that this longtime friend remove himself from our group?  

Americans certainly have a right to protest, and that's all he'd done.  There was no denying that.

Yet, it was the boasting of his participation therein that changed my mind completely.  Especially considering what grew out of said protests.

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One of the primary advantages of virtual Samson Society meetings (via Zoom) is down in the right-hand corner of the screen.  Therein resides the "Leave Meeting" red button.  I've taken note of a number of Samson guys over the past eight months who've made a discreet exit from "Make Thursdays Great Again" via this button.

Some of these men (if I've befriended them), I'll follow-up with afterwards.  Most don't volunteer a motive for leaving prior to the meeting's conclusion, but my guess is, it has something to do with someone else's presence.

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There's no way to control who attends a Samson Society meeting.  It's open door, baby, and that's the way that it should be.  But with the multitude of virtual Samson Society meetings available to frequent, leaving one meeting behind and jumping onto another (a few hours later) is of expedient convenience.  Plus, it can be done with discretion (if the group is sizable).  

I like that.  A lot.  Especially considering my aforementioned rock & a hard place experience (with certain individuals) within face-to-face meetings.

And not just for my sake but for the sake of others.  For I know there're plenty of Samson brothers out there who reflexively reach for that "Leave Meeting" button when they spot Mississippi Rob. 

You simply cannot do that within a face-to-face paradigm.  And that, in my opinion, is unfortunate.

"Will I Remember?" - Garry Eoff

 

Will I remember life as a boy after I have grown older, turning from a young man as I cross the boundaries of adolescence to manhood?  Will I remember the springs of Grandpa Mc and the memories may become useless to the thoughts and desires of a man, one day I will be?

The water source, I am told, never stops flowing, the eternal fountain of youth that Balboa looked for is mine, all mine, for no one has yet to find this hiding place.

 

.

 

Today, I have rearranged my campground with my hammock strung between two cedars, silent sentries of my pond.  It is here that I am ready to sleep and allow the day’s labors of setting up camp, drip off of me as the netting of the cocoon holds me in a tight embrace.  It is here that in my dreams there are lands to conquer and mine to lay control.  As the years go by and I cross the boundaries into manhood, will I remember?

 

The day dawns as the morning light pries my eyes open with the red-tailed hawk calling with authority of his power and might to earth’s creatures far below.  Will I claim more land for Grandpa Mc as I plow the day before me, following the springs to the land below?  What unknown force seeks to keep me from doing so?

I sit here on the rocks below my hammock with coffee in hand, the sound of the trickling stream accompanying my thoughts.  Alone with no one but God and His world around, enfolding me, my thoughts now roam to a year from now, five, then, twenty, thirty plus more years and I wonder, will that man, me, remember this day, this moment in time when Grandpa Mc made me ruler of all lands both near and far?  In the meantime, here I am, staff in hand, surveying my pond, my ocean of water to tame. 

Kneeling, he stares at his reflection and gazes at the boy as he waits to cross the boundaries into manhood and wonders, will he remember this time and place he calls his kingdom and wonder aloud once again, will he remember?  The answer he believes will be, “Yes! I will!

This was written after visiting Kent Bogle on his ranch outside of Trent, Tx. As a boy, Kent wandered the countryside exploring the 27,000 acre ranch that was acquired by his great-grandfather Mr. and Mrs. McLain. It is here that memories were made, and memories continue to be made. Although well beyond the childhood years, the experiences had on the ranch are still vivid in his memory. This writing tells of my interpretation of what Kent has shared with me.