Living on Dugway Road ...II
Just a story about water ........
I had awakened in a sweat from night terrors sometime after midnight , that August had been hot , steamy and long . Summer in the White mountains of New Hampshire can be miserable and the humidity can seem endless . Yet only for a very few weeks , july and august only generally , depending on what kind of summer we were having . I was twelve and I had my own bedroom ,
This summer had been a rough one on our entire family , my brother Dougie had been killed right in front of our house by a hit and run drunk driver , Dougie .......was eight years old and I was twelve , as I had been the only witness , well you can imagine what happens with the police investigation , the trials , the emotional turmoil .
As I lay there in bed I remember taking my pillow , moving the top sheet and turning my head towards the foot of my bed , not unusual for me then and even later as a teenager , at the foot of my bed was the window !, and just outside that window was the best part of a boys life , if I wished to, I could raise the screen in the old wooden double hung window and climb out onto the nearly flat roof of our garage and wood shed ! And there was a place I would spend many many hours as a boy day or night , looking down across our back pasture to the meadows edge . And the best part , beyond the edge where the meadow dropped steeply away ......The
river ! Soo many nights I would while away my endless waking hours and stare blissfully at the silver moon reflections on the swirling surface of my river once in a while a bobcat or a raccoon could be heard growling in the night shadows as they fed or watered themselves at the rivers shore .
Or , I might be awakened in a start , as a speeding car or truck would fly by in the dark arrousing immediate memories of that one fateful day . Only to lie there in my isolation to instantly recall the tragedy of my brothers death . At about the same time my older brother Al had left for a little known place called Viet Nam . I remember watching the news each night secretly hoping to maybe see him in the 30 second video clips as Walter Cronkite and Dan Rather told us the weekly death count of our boys . My biggest fear then would have been to lose another brother over there !
One of the most difficult times for Americans and a teenager perhaps was to live on the streets and in high school with the great Anti- war mentality of the "sixties" culture expanding throughout our cities and towns . I would go to school in the day and listen to the anti-war rants of students and even some of our younger teachers , watch it in the news and then be torn with the knowledge that I also had to support my parents and my brother . Probably why I believe the now popular romance of the sixties revolutionary anti-war culture was a waste of time , braincells and lives .
Yet, those river sounds of the night I will always remember , I do truely believe that certain sounds of nature are all important for our healing ! The barely perceptible shushing of the whitewater as it swirls agains the giant boulders and the river bank will forever be there in the background of my very sanity , And I would highly recommend that anyone spend time at the sea shore or a on a little pond where the ring neck loons and the crickets of july await your troubles . On a raging river that reflects back at you the very purpose for healing well . The night , the moon , the water and maybe a little romance ! Hey ! You never know what THAT can do as well ! Or the sounds of a distant fog horn on a ship or a lighthouse . Go to sleep to these sounds , any of them . And the cure for all your ills awaits you ! Peace my friends ....Ed