Yesterday
by
Robert J. Firth
Copyright 2012 Robert J. Firth,
All rights reserved.
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-1278-8
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Preface
Yesterday is a book that each of us needs to write based on who and what we were and have become; the sum total of our education and experiences as we made our way through our allotted years. Any of us can do this at any time but, to me, it seemed that in my younger and middle years there was never time. What Yesterday is then is a general reminiscing, a ruminating if you will, over my life and times. It’s not about me per se, but rather focuses on those verities and understandings learned along the way that we all recognize to be true.
The book presents those thoughts and memories I felt worth passing on. In a way, writing this was like sifting through the detritus of seventy odd years, sort of panning for ‘gold,’ letting my collected thoughts and experiences swirl in the pan, looking for those shining bits of value. I’m certain that you too have such knowledge and I know that you too have probably considered setting them down for the ages- so, go ahead, do it!
Do it now. Once your mind ceases to function, overtaken by death or disease, memories evaporate like morning mist, as if they never were. While you can, I urge you to create, draw, film, write, do something to leave your mark. Keep a diary, record your experiences and thoughts. You are valuable, you are unique, don’t pass us by without a sound. We need to hear what you have heard, we need to know what you have learned! So, tell us!
Here you will find thoughts on choices and directions, values and truths, morality and relationships. We present a great number of facts and opinions and ask our readers sift though them, taking and using whatever you believe of value, enriching your own thoughts and hopefully, passing them on to others.
Robert J. Firth
Florida
CHAPTER 1
Yesterday
“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
ways to dusty death.” Act 5, Macbeth, Shakespeare
Once upon a day, so many days ago, I looked up into the sky and saw the silver flash of a high jet heading south. I thought of my Father who, at the time, was a senior pilot for Eastern Airlines. Those of us who look back more then most will remember that wonderful company. Captain Eddie Rickenbacker, the WW I Ace who flew in the Skies over France in a wood and fabric powered war-kite, started the company back in the 1930’s.
The Great War was well before our time and, in fact, all those who fought in that war have passed on, following the endless lines of soldiers from all the wars …
This book is not even for those who were in WW II, even though there are some of these men still around… not many, and less every day but, of course, there are some still…..
Instead, let’s talk about those millions of us who are just approaching what one might call elderly…
Looking back to yesterday, I often see myself as I once was, young, vigorous, athletic, ready for anything life could dish out and eager for everything life had to offer..… In my early morning dreams, there, just at the edge of awakening, I remember all too well those glorious days……. I take my coffee into the garden and, walking in bare feet on the damp grass, I wander into he long shadow of a great tree……. shielding the morning sun.
These precious moments are like a cool drink of years past. The area is still silent, before the rush of the coming day. I see clearly the beautiful streaming dreams of my youth… there run with me all the friends of those happy days, just as they were…. and will always remain… memories…
In these moments of extraordinarily clarity, the days of my life pass in brilliant flashes… a wonderful photo album, so dear- and so poignant ….. Some mornings, I travel to my days on the River and Barnegat bay... The grey blue choppy waters of the shallow bay were and remain fed from ocean inlets and the river…. The water has a taste of the oceans, but not so much…
The small sailboat was healing further that was safe against the strong gusts of summer wind ….. When it capsized, as it had to, the sail fluttered like a captured bird, killed by the wet waves…..finally, laying still on the surface… The boat, floating on its side, filled with water while we, the two of us, held to the sides…
Others in the race, saw us go over and, after a while, the club’s tender motored up helping us aboard….. My wallet was stuffed into some cubby hole or other and was lost….. I imagine it settling into the soft grey mud of the bay.. carrying my photographs, licenses and Navy ID with a few dollars, to the bottom….. I never found it…..but oddly, it remains a memory…
Once, we traveled in a small rowboat to the headwaters of the river, miles west, through twists and turns, shallows and shadows… The shores were thick with ferns, bushes, cedar trees, dragonflies and birds… In those days there were no developments or houses … Where the river was deepest, the water was dark. We had a very small outboard resolutely pushing us against the current flowing into the bay…
To get the boat under the low railroad bridge guarding the entrance to the river, we had to fill it half way with water and wait for low tide… The smell of the creosote timbers of the bridge remain in my memory and, without difficulty, I can recall in finite detail the underside of that structure…
The trip through the wooded shores to the origin of the river took us two days… Finally, we were brought to a great bog draining into a stream, which slowly gathered strength and became the river….
Seasons and years flash through my mind; I do not need to keep them in particular order... I enjoy playing with them, bringing them to mind like surfing through channels…. A winter day, the sleds and bright wool clothing… a day skating on the wide river in front of the small town… The power of the wind against a skate sail, pushing me far too fast … So many interesting and important moments to remember……One of the great pleasures of age and perhaps, its only consolation…….?
The sun rises higher, climbing over my shade tree and warming the still damp grass... My coffee cup is empty…I head home... I have no thoughts or regrets of where the hour has gone…no sense of time… Is it eight already…?
How do we measure a life...? Is it just a collection of minutes, hours, days and years- all stuck together like strips of a movie film? Can we use our memories in that way, with our minds as the projector, to see where and who we were? What value is such a pastime? Of course, to those with less in front than behind, this is almost all many are left with.
Of course, it is important that we travel back slowly to the beginning, through those winding roads of our lives. This is how and where we make sense of ourselves… This is how we measure where we are, by where we have been, who we are by who we have been. It’s not then purely with meaningless and weepy nostalgia that we examine our past. To remain alive, while we are alive, and to pass on something of value, something that our collective experience has given us as a polished truth, a thing that has withstood the pressures of time and therefore, has crystallized like a jewel…..something of value..