Am I Dead And Just Forgot To Check Out - Poem by Clinton Siegle
Desire is something I know. I have wanted this is this, and that is that since the beginning of time it would seem. The story I am about to tell is one of the wonders in my eyes. If you find it interesting great. First one has to see through a child of four's eyes driving a tricycle out to visit his bull. Sammy bull was his name. The absurdity of that moment is one caught in a moment of time and reality that few will understand till later in this story or my life. A two thousand pound bull, he was my bucket calf that I had raised for the past year. He had grown up while I had only a circus whip and my second dog Toughie pup along for company. When death comes calling people say the world slows down. That day was the fourth time in my short life that I can recall reality slowing down to be real close encounters. The bull was huge. His spit or snot would remind me years later that those playing rodeo's clowns, and bull riders are insane. I know to a small child the bull could not be that big as I recall him but his face is still something I remember in the nights at times when I think and thank the creator for whom I am and while that I am still here. Humor, death is part of life. Life is part of death. Animals are cute and sometimes I wish I could have grown up to be a cowboy. Humor I would not have made a good cowboy but maybe a fair one.
I have a lot of initial memories. The first time almost dying from allergies in a haystack. I could not breathe. I was chasing a kitten that was so soft and cute. When I could not breathe. I was pulled out of the hay by my legs and rushed to Mile's City, hospital. My breathing was so shallow they thought I was dead for a while.
I survived. However, that summer I meet my great grandmother Shattuck, great grandfather Haman, and grand mother Leier in Velva, North Dakota. As a grand kid I enjoyed that visit more than most people. I got to play with toys that were old even then. Being the only grand kid there and being named after her late husband, I enjoyed great grandmother Shattuck and she seemed to enjoy me.
That next year considerable grandmother Shattuck will pass away.
Life has many ways to teach you something.
My life story could be told with the passing of cars in my life and how each held something new or different in experience.
The first car of memory was a Plymouth 1973. That car took me on the journey during an experience most people do not get to have. Lightning, then hail, water for a flood, all happening at once the week prior to my parent's divorce. The situation living on a farm my mother took the car and us into Glendive, , Montana to shop. The storm came in with howling winds and hail the size of golf balls. The car was getting smashed and driving home to the farm a valley curve was full of water. Just when we entered the curve. Water coming through a car door at the age of five is something. Mom quickly backed out and went down another dirt road to cross to the farm. That road the valley was flooded also. On the other side, an uncle was trying to cross the same path. That day the knowledge that there was and is someone greater than my father or family came home to rest within me.
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