ZIEBACH COUNTY, SOUTH DAKOTA
Despite the comparative emptiness of the place, Thunder Butte has lived on in my father’s memory as a place of magic and adventure, a place where the lone cowboy riding across the grassy plain is an heroic figure with abilities far beyond those of the average man. This was a place where even the creatures—ranch dogs, ponies, owls, and rattlesnakes found in the countryside—took personas and significance far beyond those that we imbue our pets with today. This was a place where the sound of the wind blowing through the grass or the breeze whispering through the branches of an isolated tree sounded like music against the silence of the prairie. Perhaps many places possess similar magic, as remembered through the eyes of ourselves, as children. On the other hand, if your life depended on knowing well the subtlest of changes taking place among the things and creatures of this secluded landscape, your memories would be sure to center on the things that really stood out, whether fantastical or merely poignant.
Somehow, living many years and thousands of miles beyond the time and place of my father’s childhood, Thunder Butte lives on for me as an exceptional and memorable place—a place both of legends and tall tales, as well as a place that has helped to shape me and my family. Although I think of it in sepia tones and grey—because those are the shades of the old photos—doing so does not subtract from colorfulness of lives lived here, or the grip that Thunder Butte has on my imagination.
Influences travel through families and time, reverberating like the wavelets that spread out in a circle from a pebble dropped in a pond. Whether for better or worse, the legacy of Thunder Butte lives on in me and my family today. I know it will help to shape my child and his view of the world. Even though he may never know the place other than through the stories of his grandfather, Thunder Butte—this still empty land—will continue to live on in the thoughts and dreams of my son and his children.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
PARAGRAPH by MICHAEL CROWLEY
Despite the comparative emptiness of the place, Thunder Butte has lived on in my father’s memory as a place of magic and adventure, a place where the lone cowboy riding across the grassy plain is an heroic figure with abilities far beyond those of the average man. This was a place where even the creatures—ranch dogs, ponies, owls, and rattlesnakes found in the countryside—took personas and significance far beyond those that we imbue our pets with today. This was a place where the sound of the wind blowing through the grass or the breeze whispering through the branches of an isolated tree sounded like music against the silence of the prairie. Perhaps many places possess similar magic, as remembered through the eyes of ourselves, as children. On the other hand, if your life depended on knowing well the subtlest of changes taking place among the things and creatures of this secluded landscape, your memories would be sure to center on the things that really stood out, whether fantastical or merely poignant.
Somehow, living many years and thousands of miles beyond the time and place of my father’s childhood, Thunder Butte lives on for me as an exceptional and memorable place—a place both of legends and tall tales, as well as a place that has helped to shape me and my family. Although I think of it in sepia tones and grey—because those are the shades of the old photos—doing so does not subtract from colorfulness of lives lived here, or the grip that Thunder Butte has on my imagination.
Influences travel through families and time, reverberating like the wavelets that spread out in a circle from a pebble dropped in a pond. Whether for better or worse, the legacy of Thunder Butte lives on in me and my family today. I know it will help to shape my child and his view of the world. Even though he may never know the place other than through the stories of his grandfather, Thunder Butte—this still empty land—will continue to live on in the thoughts and dreams of my son and his children.
Somehow, living many years and thousands of miles beyond the time and place of my father’s childhood, Thunder Butte lives on for me as an exceptional and memorable place—a place both of legends and tall tales, as well as a place that has helped to shape me and my family. Although I think of it in sepia tones and grey—because those are the shades of the old photos—doing so does not subtract from colorfulness of lives lived here, or the grip that Thunder Butte has on my imagination.
Influences travel through families and time, reverberating like the wavelets that spread out in a circle from a pebble dropped in a pond. Whether for better or worse, the legacy of Thunder Butte lives on in me and my family today. I know it will help to shape my child and his view of the world. Even though he may never know the place other than through the stories of his grandfather, Thunder Butte—this still empty land—will continue to live on in the thoughts and dreams of my son and his children.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
THE BEST THING IN LIFE
Hunkered down by the truck
Just catch`n little shade
He`d had it for the day
At eighty eight and count`n
This decrepit old dude was done
His clothes were ragged and dirty
His life was full of holes
Nuthin ever went right
Since he was in his teens
Well, you have heard the story
Drink , women and cards
Leading a dissolute life
Self indulgence all the way
He never served any time
He was glad of that
His life was empty always
Drag`n bottom all the way
If only he`d done something
To make his kids feel proud
Hell ! They`d felt good to have a dad
Just to kick around
He never done a single thing
To make his life worth while
He just kept make`n big mistakes
Then he remembered and broke in to a smile
He was ---- a United States Marine
------Eagle Cruagh
THE BEST THING IN LIFE
Hunkered down by the truck
Just catch`n little shade
He`d had it for the day
At eighty eight and count`n
This decrepit old dude was done
His clothes were ragged and dirty
His life was full of holes
Nuthin ever went right
Since he was in his teens
Well, you have heard the story
Drink , women and cards
Leading a dissolute life
Self indulgence all the way
He never served any time
He was glad of that
His life was empty always
Drag`n bottom all the way
If only he`d done something
To make his kids feel proud
Hell ! They`d felt good to have a dad
Just to kick around
He never done a single thing
To make his life worth while
He just kept make`n big mistakes
Then he remembered and broke in to a smile
He was ---- a United States Marine
------Eagle Cruagh
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
.jpg)