Wishbone Moments

image borrowed from psychcentral.com

Wishbone Moments

“Crap in one hand, & wish in the other--then

note the results.”-- Earl Carpenter (my grandfather).

At ten, I sat on a puncheon bench

    in Lincoln Park, staring west out into

            Puget Sound at those forested islands

                  in the stream, with the majestic Olympics

                           as backdrop, & I wished for success as a 

                  writer, in order to afford a wonderful cabin out

             there somewhere in those emerald isles,

my future creative refuge,

my fortress of solitude.

                                  At thirteen, girls were no longer just a

                   shrill nuisance as they became mysterious

             and fascinating creatures. I really wished

      the one of them, preferably a buxom blond,

would become interested in me, with

my newly developing musculature

& blossoming intellect.

At seventeen, I wistfully wished that my family

had been wealthier, rather than just another

                upper lower class blue collar statistic, so that for

                crying out loud I could drive something newer than

a rust bucket jalopy with bald tires & collective 

dents, and that perhaps I could actually attend

           the senior prom--the flowers, limo, & restaurant;

           but alas, I survived intact without fulfilling my

           youthful fantasies.

There was no way my family could afford to help me go to

college, so at twenty, with student loans, I started college on

my own. I graduated first in my class from community 
college, but sadly I wished that my mother had not been
dying of cancer, as she bravely sat in the front row cheering
me on, oblivious to the reality that she had less than a year
to live. 

I certainly wished that I could have avoided serving in the 
military during the Viet Nam War--but conscription was a
strict determinant. Yet I emerged almost unscathed from the
chaos, & was grateful for the G.I. Bill & veteran’s
rights.               

Wishing & planning

are healthy pursuits, but one

must accept what comes.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub