Point Loma


A man will carry to his grave with wonder the memory of his first and his last kiss from a female.  The ancient ritual mixed with young hormones starts him on his way into this mystery.  The final rite filled with love sends him to his destiny.  Great overtures have been written, masterpieces sung, paintings dedicated to the tender art of the kiss.  While the curtain begins to lift on this tale, I must caution you here within is no Rembrandt, it is no magnum opus.  Some would call it simply love.

At sixteen years of age I had ego cracks and introverted social identity issues that were to track my life for a decade more.  Years later with grey at my temples I came to understand the social isolation, poor self esteem, peaks of colors and intensity that marked my adolescence as definitions of the autistic spectrum.  I knew the humiliation of misunderstanding, the over reactions in crowded interactions, the dishonesty, and the undefined shame.  I knew I was different, I just didn’t understand why.  Never said to those around me were my intuitions that could read their thoughts without the knowledge of how to process such complexities.  I could understand their sins, but I could not bear them.

The description above might help you understand why extraordinary things happen to me, on a special anniversary in mid April when the weather is perhaps warmer than it should be.  May be it is on that engagement at a certain time I can smell Point Loma and see the Pacific black against strange heavens.  It’s possible that I’m an awkward sixteen year old, and she’s very close before me, pressing warmer against me, guiltless chocolate curly locks cascading into my senses.  Wet explosions of aroma giving birth to falling stars in my hurricane.  Girl to boy closer in my spring then anyone ever dared approach before.  Lips filled with red question and curiosity asking for me.  It is that I am seeing colors again, and yes I am helpless.

My first kiss by the sea will never fall asleep while April lingers.  The blessing for a confused reclusive boy into the acceptance of desire has equalized many of this man’s bumpy introspections.  When my sin grows too heavy, when I sense I am apart, or the tremors in my left hemisphere mixes shadows with my right, I am there, and my first acceptance is real, as she whispers “beautiful”.

The truth above does not negate the blessing that my life has become it adds to it.  I look at my gorgeous wife who will be the last to kiss me, and the young beautiful blonde goddess and stunning olive skinned Messiah we have brought into this world.  I understand even more the importance of that first kiss upon this extraordinary image YHWH has drawn into me.  I tried to locate my first kiss a few seasons ago only to discover she had been the victim of a drunk driver tragically ending her life.  She was the first to touch me and let me know how beautiful I am and I hope her life was filled with happiness until it’s end. – DS 11/23/2013

In the beginning………

I had an abundance of thought for my first post.  There were words of sage wisdom, philosophical meanderings, snotty logic and yes spiritual wisdom.  I even entertained the notion of doing some slap stick comedy.  Why not show my wit, really impress.  The wise verbiage I read on how to formulate a blog suggested using visual aids, links, videos, and photographs.  All in all most ideas would probably be stellar if used but as I am still unsure of the purpose of my blog I will forgo all above mentioned.

May be a little history on myself will render some logic to the rare reader if not myself on what I need to do here.  A little bit of reasoning about the way that I view the world might assist as well.  My route in reaching solid conclusions most of my life has been to after all write.  The problem though at the moment is what do I have to say?

There are blogs ad nauseam supporting partisan thought that agrees with at least 50% of the political readers.  There is an abundance of writings giving religious advice and commands to those who for whatever reason are unable to obtain a close knit relationship with the supreme being of their choosing.  There are fan blogs, how to blogs, support blogs and enough pet peevish blogs to kill the entire planetary forest for paper if they were to be printed upon the million or so printers it would take.  While this is all no doubt factual and perhaps libelous in nature it does not bring this writer any closer to the purpose or the reason for his blog.  Or does it?

The common thread appears in all that is given above.  Even from my most cynical perch in snooty snootiness at my lofty keyboard something occurs to me.  What all writers want is an answer and to share.  Even the blind that cannot see, can teach and in return learn from the feedback they receive.  So it is then that I have my answer.  I will share about many things I see or have seen in my own blindness.  Some facts, some fiction, some fun and some not.  In the coming days and months I will put out the written word now and then and hope it returns some feedback.  I will learn if it does, I will learn if it does not.

I think it might be interesting to write about the time my grandfather stood for review by General John J. (Black Jack) Pershing.  Other interesting topics might be what it was like to read an original Franklin W. Dixon Hardy Boy book in the early 1970s.  For the romantic I might throw in the story of a first kiss at 16 years of age on the moon touched bluffs of Point Loma, California.  Always one thinking of the family I might throw in a couple of funny kid’s stories to boot.  For the poet may be I’ll analyze a couple of Rainer Maria Rilke’s poems, may be throw in a couple of my own.  I might just wax elegant on what it’s like to drive up hwy 287 from Fort Collins, Colorado to Laramie, Wyoming.  Sky’s the limit I tell you.

In the days to come I hope you read what I write and that you comment.  As Rilke said, “I want my grasp of thngs to be true before you”.  I hope you give me ideas and thought.  Most of all I hope you like what I submit and you reach a point as you read or watch that a warm feeling takes you under to a place in your soul of what life has been and can be again.  This world has grown far too hard and cold.  I desperately want to find my eyes filled with spirit again, and I hope this is my way of bringing you along with me. – DS 07/13/2013486831_10201209687470171_909470766_n