Thursday, January 7, 2021

Drone Chase

Ray will need every ounce of his drone skills and outdoor smarts to recover his missing bear cub before poachers get to it first.

When his orphan bear cub goes missing, sixteen-year-old drone enthusiast Ray McLellan decides to use his airborne spying skills to find it. Little does he know that a bear-poaching gang operating in the surrounding forest has drones too — and a cold welcome for those who would attempt to take them down.

As a New York City kid recently forced to move to the Great Bear Rainforest by his parents, what Ray doesn’t have is a lifetime of outdoor instincts, or familiarity with the valley and its wildlife. That makes him very different from his grumpy grandfather, who — like his new school friends — berate his city-kid uselessness at every opportunity. Can Ray use his drones and drone smarts to prove himself, find his cub, and expose what’s going on in the woods?

Pam Withers writes award-winning, best-selling outdoor sports and adventure books – which are particularly popular with boys. To learn more about Pam's unique books that appeal to boys, click here

Sunday, September 20, 2020

What The World Needs Now


Tomorrow is International Peace Day and What The World Needs Now is Love Sweet Love.  Man-Rabbit and Peace Cat are two characters that I created for a Graphic Novel that's a work-in-progress.  My daughter is majoring in Art and Fashion Design. I illustrated a very crude rendition of what Man-Rabbit and Peace Cat look like and she created these two drawings for my manuscript. Man-Rabbit and Peace Cat's mission is teach Love, Peace and Tolerance to kids.  Which character do you like best? Vote for Man-Rabbit or Peace Cat.

For celebration of International Peace Day, I can't think of a better song than What The World Needs Now: Click here to watch an inspirational performance by the legendary Dionne Warwick:

Wednesday, September 9, 2020


Brothers of War, a Civil War novel was the first book I wrote. My novels are self-published under my pen name, J. Marshal Martin. I submitted manuscripts for many years to traditional publishing houses. I received what I call some "Damn good rejection letters." They were very promising. Yet no offers. For Brothers of War (BOW) I got positive feedback from editors like, "'Very sturdy writing. I like it a lot. However, US Civil War has only a US Domestic appeal.  We're looking for subject matter that appeals to an International audience. Another well-meaning Editor wrote, "Love your writing. Is there way to revise your manuscript and take out the violence?" No. I can't this is a Civil War novel. Wars are violent. So, several years ago print-on-demand (POD) publishing became mainstream. Now Authors could publish our own work. I was a relatively early adopter of POD and published BOW in January 2008.  My first novel is intended for boys in Middle Grade. However, many men have sent me positive reviews over the years and said things like, "I've never been a reader. Your book was the first book I ever read from cover to cover and enjoyed."  I loved this feedback. That's my primary goal as a writer--to pen stories for boys and men who might have never found a voice in literature that they identified as their own. Below is a synopsis of BOW. 

Two brothers from Kentucky get captured by the Rebel army. The brothers soon find they are fighting for survival in Andersonville Confederate Prison. They also search for their missing father, whom they believe is somewhere within the confines of the prison walls.

Boys as young as nine years old participated in this American conflict. We have no accurate records of how many boys enlisted for the Northern or Southern armies. Over four hundred thousand were involved directly in the war. National laws now prevent boys from participating in American wars.

Andersonville was one of the largest Confederate military compounds. The site has an award-winning lesson plan for teaching about historical places. More than forty-five thousand Union soldiers were confined here. To learn more, visit my home page, It will be an honor to me, if you purchase a copy and give it to a special boy in your life.

Friday, August 28, 2020

#16 It’s Late in The Game


It’s Late in The Game. 40 years have come and gone. You might say that we’re in the 4th quarter of our lives. Who knows how many broken bones and shattered Dreams lie ahead. Who knows how many Championships? Who knows how many touchdowns? How many amazing tackles? How many blocks lie ahead? How many ties and overtime’s we will face? One thing we know for sure is that we were Blessed to exist in a Special Community during a Special Time. This can never be replicated or recreated. Only recalled. We can only reminisce about our Glory Days.

Around 10 years ago, David Barrack and his Family took David’s Father, Irving Barrack to New York City where Irv grew-up to attend a Yankees Game. They asked Irv “Who was a Baseball Star the last time that you watched the Yankees play in-person?” “Joe DiMaggio” was his answer.

“Where have you gone Joe DiMaggio?”   One of the all time great music lyrics. Ladies and Gentlemen, this sums it all up for All of Our Story: “Where have you gone 1980 Magical Football Season?” 

It’s been an honor to share my perspective with all of my Old Friends. I’ve greatly appreciated your encouragement, patience and kind words as you have read online and replied. 

Now take time to blast Simon and Grafunkel and ask the Question: “Where have you gone Joe DiMaggio?” “Where have you gone 1980 Magical Football Season?”

Tuesday, August 25, 2020

#15 The Defense Continued

The Defense Continued. 1980 Team Picture. What a good-looking group of young men we were back-in-the-day. I miss you All. I wish I could write about every single person in this photo. I wish I could write about all my other great friends like Scott Rouse. The Rouse Chronicles are for another day. Every person in this photo contributed to the 1980 State Championship. An amazing, talented group. It’s time to wrap this Series up. I’m going to do only one more Post after this one and the last one will be short and sweet. When I started this Post Series my goal was to recognize the Coaches and the Seniors. That’s been my primary focus. From my point-of-view, I still need to closeout covering the Defense, Speciality Kicking Team and bring us to a final summation. Before I move forward though, please join me in a Moment-of-Silence to pay our respect and honor the four members of the 1980 Team who departed before us: Matt Quick (Trainer). Players: Cliff Russel, Jimmy Campbell and Charles Roach. RIP Brothers.

Back to those three Corner Backs. I already mentioned Bruce Foster and his family legacy of Football fanatics from Woodland. Two additional Corners were #7 Randall Cook, our man with a million-dollar smile. Always outgoing. A tremendous QB himself who could run a Heck of an option. Randall had a nose for the ball on defense and was really tough to beat on a pass pattern. I once tried to get Randall to sell Amway for me. He was to be the first person to join my multi-million dollar Soap Selling Machine. He was nice enough to hear me out, but would not sign on the dotted line. Only Kari Schlafke’s Mom bought one box of soap. I failed at Amway. I was forced to go to College. And #35 Gary Quincy, our Great Outdoorsman—Spear-fisherman extraordinaire—better Trapper than Jeremiah Johnson and extremely versatile Football player. Gary could snag Pop-passes out of thin air when playing Tight End. As Corner, he was on the right side, always behind Skid and could stop a running attack on a dime. Gary could run like a Deer and that speed served him well running Track. Our Outside Linebackers were #86 Richard “Dick” Anthony and #23 Brad Miller. #53 Mike “Rocky” Blair could play Outside or Middle. Coach Brewster is the one who affectionally called Blair “Rocky” after the famous Pittsburg Stealer star, "Rocky" Bleier. #53 our Rocky Blair was a really solid Linebacker. Even though I was an Offensive Lineman, I trained with the Linebackers much of the time as a backup Linebacker. I really enjoyed pre-game warmup exercises with Mike. We passed a ball between us practicing interceptions before each game. #86 Richard “Dick” Anthony was Mr. Consistency. We all loved to call Richard “Dick.” Boys will be Boys and we said “Dick” with great vocal variation. We said immature things to Richard like “What’s up, Dick?” with amused pleasure. Richard was a good sport and never flinched. If I said “Dick” today, every member on the 1980 Team would know who I was referring to, our beloved, Dick. #23 Brad Miller was not just another pretty face. Brad was known for his good looks and his modeling jobs in Knoxville. His crowning achievement of good looks was winning the Dukes of Hazard Look-a-Like Contest and driving away with a big orange replica of the General Lee. What a lot of people might not know about Brad is that he was really strong and a Brown Belt in Judo. I learned this the hard way in Varsity Practice on the 1978 Team. We were Sophomores. During a two-a-day practice, Brad and I got into a little scuffle during a Linebacker drill. Coach Brewster loved it when we heated up and would allow us to go at it as if we were hockey players. Brad used a tricky Judo move on me and body slammed me to the ground. We were great, respectful friends from that day on. To this day, Steve Fitchpatrick reminds me of the day Brad got the best of me. Darn it! I didn’t know he knew Judo.

Special Teams Kickers: The two Senior Speciality Team Kickers were Jeff Lewellyn and Mike Henderson (Hendoo). “Hendoo” can’t just be read. You have to hear someone like Mark Berry say it to fully appreciate the beauty of the “Hendoo” sound. Jeff did a great job kicking Field Goals. Mike was a Punter and another great guy from Woodland. We were lucky to have Jeff and Mike as two of our Kickers. In 1978, when we were all Sophomores our Kicking Game outlook was dismal based on our JV performance.

One of the funniest stories is when John Carroll was attempting a Field Goal in a JV game. John stepped up and kicked the ball with his long leg and it shanked off to the far left like a wounded duck. His Cleat came off his foot and went straight through the uprights for three points! Our bench found this hilarious and it was the highest point of achievement for our JV Squad in 1978. We made the Bad News Bears look good. John Carrol never lived this down. We all learned to love John. Larry Rivas and I hated John Carrol and Steve Fitchpatrick when we first meet them.

While still in 9th Grade, they got invited to one of Kathy Hurley’s infamous house-parties. Man, those were fun. Larry and I didn’t appreciate Carroll and Fitchpatrick encroaching on our Jefferson Girls. How did these two Robertsville Boys get over to our side of town in the first place? I think Laura Marshall invited them. Larry and I found them obnoxious. Steve could dance like John Travolta and John. Well, a man who needs no introduction. John went crazy over my girlfriend, Carolyn Lovelace. I didn’t like that at all. Larry and I did a pretty good job of defending the Jefferson Turf. Eventually, the Robertsville Boys wised-up and started hosting parties on their side of town. The Zulliger’s hosted fantastic parties and that’s how Bill, #47 and one of the Captain’s of the 1980 Team stole Marsha from Jefferson. In the end, we all became close friends. It was indeed a rocky beginning.

Now I’m going to start an argument. What Team was the All-time ORHS best? Was it 1958, 1975, 1979, 1980, 1991? If I brought this sensitive topic up at Big Ed’s Pizza it could possibly end in a friendly way or it might not. If I brought this up after Midnight at a local Watering-Hole, it would start a bar fight. This is a very serious and sensitive topic in Oak Ridge and should never be discussed when Wildcat Fans are intoxicated.

I think the only way to definitively answer this question is to turn it over to the Cray’s Super Computer at ORNL. A group of Computer Scientist could develop an algorithm and feed it to the computer. I imagine though ORNL is working on more important scientific discoveries.

So we’re left with anecdotal speculation. Sure, I’ve heard the 1958 argument. We won by a much wider point margin—“We were the National Champs”, the Grumpy Old Dudes say—blah, blah, blah. Move over Old—Old School Guys. This logic is outdated. I’ve heard it argued that the 1979 Team played a tougher regular season lineup and had to travel to more out-of-town playoff games and that the travel was long distances. In comparison the 1980 Team played an easier regular season lineup and had more Home Field advantage playoff games. Those are interesting, subjective points, but don’t win and they sound a wee-bit like whining. I’ll argue that the 1980 Team went up against four players that eventually played in the NFL. Austin-East sent 3 Stars to University of Tennessee and all 3 made it to the NFL: Joey Clinckscales was one of them. Don’t feel sorry for him, he eventually made a lot of money. Reggie and Raleigh McKenzie, the twin behemoths were the other two from Austin-East. We also went up against an incredible Running Back from Warren County, Jeff Womack. Womack played for Memphis Tigers and made it all the way to the Minnesota Vikings. Every argument is flawed. That’s why it’s easy to end up in a bar fight or food fight if you’re at Big Ed’s.

For me, the best team ever was 1979-1980. I argue this is only One Team. One Team that won 22 consecutive games and 2 State Championships and was ranked number 3 in the Nation in 1980. The 1980 Opponents were much stronger and faster than the 1950 Opponents and therefore point-spread is a neutralized argument. Ha! The Coaching Staff was exactly the same in ’79 and ‘80. Many of the players were exactly the same. The Seniors on the 1979 Team were like Big Brothers to the 1980 Boys. The 1980 Team were like Little Brothers to the 1979 Seniors. Everything I have written about the 1980 Team applies directly to the 1979 Team. I could write the same admiration about the ’79 Seniors like Jim Kolopus, Jimmy Norman, Donald Sumner, Larry Hamrick, Chuck Mathews, Johnny Burgress, Keith Palmer to name only a few. Please note, if this starts an argument, I will not reply and rebut online. If you live in Oak Ridge, you will not be able to assault me without driving 2,549.4 miles to the Pacific Northwest. It’s not worth the cost of a plane ticket to track me down. I’ll deny everything. It’s only High School Football, so Chill-out.

Sunday, August 23, 2020

#14 All of Our Story


All of Our Story. Welcome back Ladies and Gentlemen. Thank you for being good sports by allowing me to runoff to a little fantasy, fiction and darkness in that last Post. I really wish I could hear Voices speaking to me from beyond. When you can do that, you can charge good money for it and call yourself a Psychic. I ran-off to fantasy because reality was too difficult. I was frightened by unexpected grief. As a small boy I learned to protect myself with my imagination. This is an entirely different Story. The Story that I’m telling right now is All of Our Story. If this was a real book, All of Our Story might be the best title. What triggered my grief? What trigged my grief was Larry’s obit that my Mom had cut out of the Oak Ridger and sent to me in Seattle 19 years ago. Larry died about two weeks after our 20 year Reunion. At that time I had a 7 month old baby girl, mortgage, car payments and a stressful job. I didn’t have time, nor know how to grieve. I stashed that clipping unread in my ’81 Oak Log and only discovered it again last week, 19 years later. My grief had been perfectly preserved in a hermetically sealed time-capsule, patiently waiting for me to return. Grief is really patient and unescapable. I don’t hear Voices and I don’t see Ghost and I imagine few of you do either, but some of you may. I think we all get touched by glimpses of intuition. A gut feeling. Something raw, gnawing at our heart. It’s not cerebral. We can’t figure it out by thinking about it. There’s no Killer App for grief. Maybe a good therapist can help you. For me, only being still works. Being in solitude. Walking in woods or on a beach. Sitting. In Prayer and or Meditation messages come clear. What was really clear to me last week was that I’m missing something and or somebody in Our Story. My gut told me at least part of what’s missing is related directly to Emory. This was very clear to me. That’s why I said “Emory is upset. He won’t be silent.” My intuition was telling me that I had left or missed a critical piece of the puzzle that belonged to our Fearless Leader. Also, a person. Someone left out was speaking to me through my subconsciousness. That someone was saying something like this: “You left me out. You always leave me out. Don’t forget about me. You’re leaving me, just like you did before. This is Our Story. All of Our Story and I too was there.”

Last week I heeded a “Call-to-the-Wild.” That’s where I go when I need clarity. I’m drawn to the Wild of Olympic National Park. It’s primitive landscape of Snow covered Glacier Mountains, Old Growth Rain Forest, rushing white Rivers and the mighty Northern Pacific Ocean. This is a place which Speaks to me. 

On day two of my trip last week, I went into a small town called Forks, WA (setting for Twilight). While having breakfast at a diner, I was flipping though my Oak Log and stumbled across Larry’s obit. I read it for the first time. I felt a minor grief burp while reading Larry’s obit, but I kept my stoic composure in front of the waitress. It didn’t hit me until I was driving down the twisting road that leads to the Ocean. I’ve been dealing with a lot of death lately. My Dad in May. My sister, LeAnn in July, and seeing Larry’s picture and reading what I had hidden away for almost 20 years unlocked a swell of repressed grief. I’m not going to do a deep-dive into Larry and all the others that we have lost. I’m not going to list all the friends that we have lost. I fear I will leave someone off our list. I know that the hard-working volunteers that Host our Reunions do an amazing job of creating a special place of tribute to those we have lost. I’m going to keep telling Happy and Funny Stories. I do need to digress and tell a funny Larry Rivas story because it’s important to my Story and how I made the leap from Woodland Pothead to starting Left Tackle. Larry and I smoked pot pretty much everyday. One of our favorite times to burn a joint was on our way to school. We had perfected how to smoke just the right amount of pot in the morning. We wanted to be high, but not too high. We had been experimenting with this ritual since seventh grade. One day, in tenth grade, Larry and I were walking from Woodland to High School. We had just finished a “Goldilocks” joint—it was just the right size and were functionally-high. Out of nowhere, Bruce Pernell came flying up in his car and came to a skidding stop. He rolled down his window and yelled, “Get in!” We were more terrified of Bruce than Coach Brewster. Larry and I didn’t know if we should run for safety inside McDonalds or scream out for help. Bruce commanded again, “Get in the car, now!” We obeyed. Bruce peeled-off out of the parking lot. It was about .15 minutes before first bell. Bruce proceeded to light a gigantic joint. At this point, I knew this was going to be really bad. I was going to be really stoned and really late to class. Bruce made us. I mean made us smoke that entire joint that was rolled like a thick cigar. Knowing Bruce, he may have even made us eat the roach. I don’t remember. I do remember that he sped us like a madman up and down Providence while we watched from his car windows the last students hurry into the building. Bruce didn’t have a care in the world. He finally released his Hostages. Like Beavis and Butt-Head, totally Baked, we scurried to our first class. It was Mrs. Swartzendruber’s English class. Larry and I were both in it. We sheepishly opened the door. The class was already reading from a Literature book. Mrs Swartzendruber gave us a stern look over her reading glasses. We took our seats. I opened my book and could barely see the words. They blurred and letters seem to move like tiny ants. It was a round-robin reading exercise. I sat anxiously waiting as my turn to read was quickly approaching. Eventually it was my turn. I barely got through it. The girl sitting next to me was Valerie. She leaned over after I finished reading and whispered, “If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re stoned off you’re ass.” I felt as if I had dodged a bullet when my reading turn was over. Larry couldn’t do it. He was too Cooked to read. He stumbled through the passages and eventually Mrs Swartzendruber let him off the hook. The bell rang. I dashed for the door and Swartzendruber blocked my path. She let Larry leave. Alone, in her Classroom, she looked me over. I thought for sure she was going to say, “You’re busted! Come with me young man.” She didn’t. She said something like, “You might make it.” She gave me one more of her stern looks and shooed me into the Hallway. Nothing else needed to be said. 

This all relates directly to my Football experience. I knew I could not keep smoking pot and cigarettes and play football. I was puking everyday running Banks. I had to choose. I chose Football. To this day, I carry Survival Guilt around Larry. Larry felt that I left him. I know now I didn’t leave Larry. I left the life that Larry and I was living. Even back then, as a fifteen-year-old Stoner from Woodland, I knew I wanted something more from life and being a Wildcat was my path out. I have much thanks to give specifically to Emory and many, many great Oak Ridge Families that supported me. I’m the Poster-Child for it takes a Village. Our Village Story is All of Our Story. 

This Story is All of Our Story as it relates directly to the 1980 State Championship. Almost the exact same Story could be told about the 1979 State Championship by only changing the names of the Seniors. Kevin Hurt was special though. Kevin unexpectedly popped into my head.

Let’s now ask a fair question: “If Kevin was here with us today, what would Kevin do or say if he really thought Big E was upset?” Here’s my speculation: Kevin, being the consummate leader that he was, would speak with Big E and calm him down. Kevin would convince Emory that this is not his Story and that the 1980 Championship was not really his Win, but All of Ours. The entire Oak Ridge Community: Every single member of this humongous Team—Seniors, Juniors, Sophomores, Trainers, Coaches, Special Assistant Coaches, Volunteers, Dr. Tittle, Cheerleaders, Flag Girls, Majorettes, Band, Entire Student Body, Teachers, Families and especially all of those diehard Wildcat fans throughout our very Special Oak Ridge Community. This Story is not just about the starting Seniors who got to live a Dream. It’s All of our Story. For all us boys who got to live a Dream in 1980, there were those boys watching from that gigantic hill, under the Autumn Moon with a tinge of hurt. These boys were super athletes as well. Boys of broken bones and shattered dreams: Joe Carey, Jim Easton, Steve Fitchpatrick. These are three that come to mind. Joe Carey was an outstanding Defensive Nose Tackle. Coach Brewster loved Joe. Joe was destined to be All-State. Jim Easton, the same. Brewster loved Jim. Jim had incredible speed and strength. I think both Joe and Jim had knee injuries that prematurely ended their Football. Steve was a tremendous Tight End as well. He had terrific hands. Steve shared this with me about his experience: “I remember Dr Tittle setting my dislocated shoulder on the field for the third time and the shame I felt because I thought it was my fault for not being able to play out the Dream we all had. I remember distinctly standing up on the hill with tears streaming down my face the night the Team I grew up with won a State Championship and I was no longer a part of it.” There are many aspects to Our Collective Story. All those Players who got to play and didn’t get to play. It’s all of Our Story and we all participated in it and we’re all celebrating the 40th anniversary.

Now back to Kevin. If I could, I would try to tap into Kevin’s wisdom. I would say, “Kevin. Something is missing in this Story around Emory. Kevin might tell me this: "Attention must be made to such a person!” And I would reply, “What? What in the world are you talking about, Kevin?”

"Attention must be made to such a person!" He would say. “John, listen to me, you understand this line from Death of a Salesman. Attention must be made to such a person!” Eureka. I would reply, “Yes! That’s it, Kevin. Thank you! Now I understand why Emory will not remain silent. He’s due. He’s overdue full-respect. He’s not asking for shameless, self-promotion. This great Coach is way too humble and proud. Emory Hale has yet to be rightfully recognized for his personal achievements while leading The Wildcats.” Kevin would probably nod in agreement. Only Kevin could help us hear this. That’s the kind of Leader that he was. Kevin would then give us that smile, that beautiful smile of Kevin’s that I will never forget. Kevin would then fade away like an elusive Wildcat silently stalking through Old Growth Forest.

It’s time Ladies and Gentlemen: Attention Must Be paid to Emory Hale. It’s time for his Bronze Statue at Blankenship. Armstrong got the Stadium name with 4 State Championships. Attention Must Be paid! It’s time to commission an artist to create an Emory Hale Statue. On this historic 40 year anniversary of the 1980 State Championship. Attention Must be Paid. Dear Honorable Randy McNally, Lieutenant Governor of Tennessee, Attention Must Be Paid to Emory Hale. The Time is Now! Dear Booster’s Club, Attention Must Be Paid to the Man who brought our Community 3 State Championships: 1975, 1979 and 1980. In 12 years, Emory Hale delivered an impressive overall record as Head Coach: 114 wins and 21 loses. His last 6 years in Oak Ridge he won 86 games and lost only 9. Attention Must Be Paid to the man who coached Steve Spurrier at Science Hill High School in Johnson City, TN. Attention Must Be Paid to the Man who positively influenced so, so many boys and girls in Oak Ridge and helped many boys receive Football Scholarships. It’s time to start raising money to memorialize Emory Hale as one of the Greatest ORHS Coaches of our generation. Attention Must Be Paid. This is All of Our Story!

Friday, August 21, 2020


INTERMISSION. Hello Everyone, it’s now time for our Intermission. I hope that you have enjoyed the show of Our Story of 1980 so far. Before we break, I have an announcement. Being proud and stubborn as myself, I have not yet been able to calm Emory down. He’s still ranting as if we're trying to perfect a special play. Very interesting though, a Ghost appeared while I was hiking this morning in Old Growth Forest. It was hard to discern the voice in the mist. It came like an elusive Wildcat. I do believe it was our very own Kevin Hurt. It could have been Larry Rivas or John Reece. Old friends who have visited me over the years with important warnings I needed to hear. As for Kevin, many people don’t know that he belonged to us, the Class of 1981. Even though he graduated in 1980, he was one of us. An off-the-charts intelligent and intense boy who hailed from Emory Vally. A prodigy of Woodland Football. Kevin spent his early life playing side-by-side our Woodland brethren like Scott Monger. He was so smart, he skipped fifth grade. That’s right Folks. Kevin went from forth to sixth at Woodland. That’s why he was a year ahead of us graduating. Yet, he was ours. He belongs in Spirit to 1979 and 1980 Teams. As for John and Larry. John was one of my first best-friends in early childhood. He grew up on the same cul-de-sac as Scott Monger. Larry was my best-friend at Jefferson. Oddly, a few years ago, I glimpsed John Mother’s Patty and Larry’s Mother, Pearly on the same day at Panera Bread within one hour. When visiting OR, I often start and end my day at Panera for free wifi and unlimited coffee and tea refills. When I saw each of them that little Voice told me not to get up and go over. In hindsight, I should have, but I didn’t. 

As we go into our break, a couple of housekeeping announcements. Refreshments are in the hallway and you’ll find the restrooms down the stairs and to your right. When you see the lights flicker on and off, please return to your seats for the second half of our show. Also, if you haven’t noticed already, there’s a Program that was on your seat. In the back of the Program you’ll find a poem that I wrote in honor of Larry and John after seeing their Mothers. We have lost so many great friends and family members along Our Journey. Now I must go and find out exactly who this Ghost is and what he or she is trying to tell us.

Mother's of Dead Sons

On the same day, within the same hour, I passed two Mother's of Dead Sons.

At first glance we recognized each other.

Maybe, maybe not; we chose not.

What was there to say?

My life was still unfolding, her son was gone.

We both knew it was too painful to see her son's life in my eyes.

"Hey!  It's me--see me--please see me--see your dead son in my eyes..."

I moved on

On this day, within this hour, there was nothing to say to Mother's of Dead Sons.