The is no other place that compares to the ocean. Her power over man’s elation bonds the soul to her majestic beauty. I bonded shortly after learning to walk to her shorelines. My all-time favourite place for solitude being “Saint’s Rest”. A stretch of beach on the Bay of Fundy, west of Saint John, New Brunswick. Where from the age of six, I would often disappear to when I runaway from yet one more foster home. In latter teenage years, I would take pilgrimages to her mighty shores. Hoping there to find solace and solitude . There, amongst the songs of crashing waves. Listening to their rhythmic heartbeats. Her songs of serenity. With eyes closed, my body swaying, Siren’s songs whispering, Carried upon salt scented winds, Far within seaside caverns. Standing in shame guilted Broken promise like a flower wilted I left home 45 years ago. Reasons I still not know. Betraying an oath of devotion Long ago sworn to that ocean Never to return. Forever to miss the rhythm of cascading waves...
Christmas Joy Does Not Reside In My Heart Christmas is a season of joy and family togetherness for most families. Not so, for my family. Christmas at LightHouse Dann’s is marred with a traumatic childhood, suicides and murder. I was 22 years old when I finally got to meet my biological mother, Mary. The Mother/Child instinctual bond grew strong and fast. Sadly, it would not last. We finally met in the autumn of 1979. I was fresh out of Dorchester Federal Prison. At the time , my Mom, Mary Verner, had recently evicted her lowlife, leeching, alcoholic boyfriend, Robert George Stephenson from, not only her home, but also from her life. Her new, sober, life. Long story short, I shared twenty months of love with her. Mom was the happiest woman in the world as she attended my marriage to my first wife, Michele, on May 16th, 1981. That Wedding went very well. Your ‘ atypical downhome ‘ family event with the only sadness being we only had one day to celebrate. She was far more ecs...