Some get printed on paper or on Free The People AK. All that’s ok, no I mean it’s a very very fine gift to me from the editors of that newsprint and online publication. You too could possibly be published here or there. It’s not up to me, in any way of course, but the editors, it’s theirs to decide and always should be. Think of it though, especially as the holidays approach. Maybe an article or song or poem dedicated to a loved one, or for me too, like my lovely wife of almost forty years. A walking talking miracle waiting to happen. That’s her. So dang fine that I have to wonder if, a perfect wife, the phrase wasn’t invented by old cupids, makers of arrow tips for his secret shots at loves lifetime addictions. Now I’m really not so sure that some small fat angel shot the heart of Teresa forty years back but something damn sure happened that really didn’t, then and especially now, really doesn’t make any sense.
Now my wife, to be, back then wasn’t blind or cross eyed either, I know because I ended up staring at her at every opportunity. And I had 20/20 vision in those days. She had to notice too, like her parents did, that this young guy wasn’t going to ever amount to much of any real value. But they love Teresa so let me come over and hang around, be in the way every day I could back then, and I did. Though I had a job, it was just oil-field type work and two hundred miles away too. There were plenty of “roughnecks” in Shoshoni already chasing her, way better established and closer to Teresa’s home there in Shoshoni, Wyoming, back in that day.
Well, sure enough, it did finally all work out and came six kids, and now many grandkids. She is with me still. Stuck up here in North Pole, a life sentence for just picking the wrong guy to get all starry eyed over and follow along, in worn out cars or pickups, across lonely roads like the Alcan or now, Richardson Highway, all the way across Canada in a big station wagon thirty years ago. Six kids then, the youngest less than six weeks of age, station wagon pulling a homemade pickup bed trailer with Teresa’s old dog riding in there on a piece of furniture, just one old antique treasure of a hardwood desk with mirror, long since broken by a life of hard experiences.
The dog was ok, sleeping on extra blankets on top, but only to eventually die from old age up here from years of dog devotion and protection of family. Teresa’s dog, “Mahogany” a border collie, best dogs in America if you should ever ask me. My wife, a Christian girl, now grown into a faithful and long-suffering mom and grandmother. Hard to believe how fast it happened. Her adult life spent in a barn house heated with firewood, constantly needing time and attention through frozen winters and long nights while I worked graveyard shift only to come home, beat, yet wanting to pursue my hobby of writing and reading books by the light of outrageous electricity costs. Firewood costs back them were reasonable though.
And she suffered alone many many nights, half frozen stoking fire, cooking meals into the Alaskan darkness without complaint or even asking recognition of her own discomfort and service to her family. What a wonderous lifetime gift Lord, this entity called simply, “my wife.” So many times, when I was talking to friends or work companion or whomever, wherever, whenever and now seemingly forever. Kids now grown, many having moved away, back to the states to find prosperity which Alaska somehow couldn’t or wouldn’t allow, even to the point of harassing them, walking home from fast food jobs, here in North Pole with its own child hating curfew laws. That the boys still remember.
So, now comes time for us to move south, probably, driven out by new woodstove and wood smoke laws, electric bills from hell swallowing up any and all extra grocery money. Hard, hard experiences of having had electricity shut off in winter for “lack of payment” when just to that point in life where survival and existence need addressed first and foremost, that of course, and taxes too. The Borough reality with its finest displays of government greed. Perhaps this “Round Eight” just a time of written refection, of memories of my yet beautiful, and forever so, my wife and companion of “better and worse” at its now passing “best” and new on-coming “worst,” or so it seems. Sometimes.
To leave Alaska, without looking back. Why fight your way to the grave when such words as “retirement” are yet spoken and practiced by many who will stay, government payments, like Borough retirement and insurance paid forever, I suppose, or state or federal of the same. More importantly I guess, “Round Eight” mostly a tribute to Teresa, her un-dying love and perfections indescribable here, where forty years of marriage and memory could not possibly be put to print in recognition of Teresa, my lifetime love.
Come on smoke police, we’ve even now got a hot fire burning in our double barrel stove as I wait, in its continued twenty years, or so, of faithful service. Come, take it away but please, not in summer when forest fire smoke is so thick and acrid that none could lock their doors tight enough to keep it all at bay. Smoke enough to cover all in gray and white, ash ridden clouds large enough also to even dim warm Alaska long lasting summer sunlight.
A new life, for old people now. I guess old, and worn and winding slowly down, wife yet here with me, still writing away into oblivions misty hidden future. God bless and best wishes to all anyway in this great country of “freedoms for all” designed to even include fools like me bent on enjoying that old “First Amendment” or at least in part, that of “Freedom of Speech.” Cheers Alaska, cheers for no doubt soon young people will come north to replace those like us who soon must return south, but not defeated by people but by the hard expense yet needed, to stay here.
If somehow this should be printed, thank you Teresa Ann, don’t know if you want your maiden name spelled out now but anyway thank you, so truly here written. The god of everything good, bless and provide, if need be, for you everything useful or wanted or desired by you, forever. God bless you Teresa as I, if I could, would hope to with word and deeds, far far into the future. What a wife you have been and continue to be, nothing anywhere on this earth compares to you nor would I ever desire to seek such if it ever did. Thank you, Teresa, and as an ending surely eventually approaches there is no reason nor need to not recognize a creator, again here printed under First Amendment Rights, to “Freedom or Religion,” to here enjoy giving thanks to a loving eternal father, in his providing Jesus, my Lord and savior to be condemned, in my place, allowing me heavenly redemption. Thank you, Lord. And he too providing a helpmate, one of great and enduring love and companionship, her name Teresa.
And now onto a note not so personal and positive but yet needs said, as I see it. Lisa Morecowcrap, now that was an accepted vote, I was told, by a Joe Miller volunteer when Mrs. Murkowski ran her crooked “write in” campaign the last time she ran for U.S. Senator of Alaska. Well, having watched her lately I’d say it’s time she quit the Republican pretense and go ahead and join up with the Marxist Socialist Democrats like Herr Fookemallstein or I mean Senator Dianne Feinstein to make a nice little team of man-haters, wouldn’t it. Then add a Hawaiian senator who somehow forgot, in her rant, to tell Chuck Schumer also to “shut up.” Guess he’s a man too but then who could ever say what any of them might be, day to day, the democrats I mean. Maybe Senator Murkowski might consider telling her young military constituents what her “planned” desire is for their future hopes in having their families include children. Murkowski’s desire for that yet unborn future generation would be to chop em’ up, test tube them, squeeze out some D.N.A. or spinal fluid, or whatever a baby is made of, then sell to the highest bidder any and all useful parts. For “science,” of course.
I guess you could let the “perfect ones” grow up and serve for the great senator’s protections. Someone for the senators to off to protect Clinton cash, that fair and honest elections might be held in the future (haha). Speaking of elections, you can bet that even though I had voted consistently for Frank Murkowski years ago, now I’ll never vote for that name again. But then I’m getting on in years, and in bad health so some might need my graveyard vote that Demoncrafts like to use. Hell, they’d probably turn me into a useful voter for all of eternity which is about how long they figure to keep the power, I’d suppose.
Well anyway since you want to bear up the wife and daughters, with very graphic details, of a supreme court nominee, maybe you should go buy an excuse me card from the porn shop to send them. Then they might learn to respect and appreciate such a woman of great power, like yourself. But I would guess more of America is waking up than any of you know and I mean all Americans, Native, or of Latin decent or African American. More everyday are coming to see what and who all of you really represent or choose to enrich and empower, that being you, and them, every time no matter the cost to regular Americans. Here I can’t say best wishes to you Senator Murkowski and wonder who in Alaska really could. Instead I hope it all comes around someday soon and we, the American citizens, will get to watch prisons fill with guilty democrats, locked away forever. Subversion and treason are still crimes in America so I’d guess collusion with them would also bring a guilty verdict by a Grand Jury. To continue, cheers and a thank you to the power, the real one that “hates all liars” and that put falsely accusing men right up there, in stone, with murder.
This too, locally, also. Vote Kawasaki, and other democrats, if you want your kids and grandkids to donate more of their P.F.D. earnings to the “Independent” governors and their great socialist cause. Check out Venezuela too, they’ve got one of those socialist democracies and now had to change the whole meaning of “dog food” and “cat food” as their new gangs come around all hungry and eat that all up too. Dog ear soup anyone? Damned empty store shelves, too much work when you got used to free college, free gas and free everything, back in the day, thirty years or so I guess in Venezuela. By the way, Mrs. Clinton was an admitted Marxist socialist democrat, still is I’m sure. Vote people vote, it counts up, unless you don’t love your dog, then why bother? Oh yeah Hollywood Sean and friends, property’s cheap down in Venezuela now, I hear. Burn em’ up Bernie probably want some of that action too.
Oh, I forgot Senator Murkowski. Must be some reason you and the socialists so love abortion, and its heartless death results. Like murder, butchery, bloody experimentation with a living being. There must be an incentive somewhere that would make you so love defending and enabling such an ugly and deadly enterprise. I suppose “science” has somehow convinced you immortality comes from mortality. Perhaps you will be frozen while “research” learns how to not only preserve dead bodies but also rejuvenate them, at a future date, to live forever. Or a brain in a jar, oblivious to pain or memory or love or respect for even the beginning of life in its once protective environment, safe then from intrusion with stainless tools of Satan’s own medical bag of gadgets and tricks.
Perhaps “Roe vs. Wade” proves such desirable in the name of “Women’s Rights” I don’t know that answer but I do know that the first time I heard of “abortion” was probably in 7thor 8thgrade. I couldn’t believe that women could do that to their unborn children. Now they even allow it done to living babies, called “partial birth abortion” as I hear it. Now maybe you have sons or daughters of your own. Maybe they would like to hear how many of their brothers or sisters were destroyed by and for such ugly law. Really none of my business, except for the fact that I vote and can’t help but wonder about the continuous longevity of my nation when, fact is, millions of the last few generations are gone already. A population problem, I guess, wasn’t it sold that way? Now though, please would someone explain all of that to the countless Muslim populations. Well maybe you could somehow find room in your seemingly cruel heart to take time to consider more important things like the survival of your own nation, its law that empowers, enriches and enables you in your apparently secret pursuits of destruction. Well when Dianne Feinstein finally gets her wings maybe you could fly way with her.
When maggots hatch their way out of the swamp piles of rotting flesh, their new fly wings just seem to send them looking for new filth to consume. Good luck with that senators, please fly way, that’s unfortunately, how I see it. There are truly many many reasons, though for me not to like abortion. Each one of those reasons has a name and life. Those names are the names of all my children and grandchildren. And so, ends Round Eight.