A Song for You 04

Be Happy

Her name is Katie Kirkpatrick. She is 21 years old. Next to her, is her 

fiancé, Nick. He's 23 and a deputy sheriff in Lapeer County, MI. 

This photo was taken prior to their wedding on January 

11th, 2005. Katie has terminal cancer and spends 

hours in chemotherapy. Here Nick awaits 

while she finishes one of the sessions. 

Through the pain of her organs shutting down, with the help of 

morphine, Katie took care of every single part of the wedding

planning. Her dress had to be adjusted several times,

due to constant weight loss.

Katie had to use oxygen during the ceremony and reception. The other 

couple in this photo is Nick's parents. They were very emotional 

at the wedding to see their son marrying the girl he 

fell in love with in high school. 

Katie , in a wheel chair listening to her husband and friends singing to her

In the middle of the party, Katie had to rest for a bit and catch her breath.
The pain does not allow her to stand for long period of time.

Katie died 5 days after her wedding. To see this fragile woman 

dressed as a bride with a beautiful smile, makes me think;

Happiness is always there, within our reach, however

long or fleeting a moment it may last.

Enjoy the simple pleasures.

Love one another.

Life is too short.

~

Work as if it were your first day.  

Forgive as soon as possible.  

Love with no limits.  

Laugh out loud.

Play in the dirt. 

The Right to Think

Have you ever been curious about where our beliefs come from - really come from? I have dissected the question over the years - always arriving at the same crystal conclusion - most of our beliefs are inheritances. They are passed from one generation to the next, like my Grandfather's uniquely tattooed twenty-five pound Bible - of the giant print variety, or in my case, his still functioning Sears & Roebuck 12 gauge shotgun. That old gun lives in my personal closet among other multifarious relics from the past, whose ghostly remains are now precious to me. I love that worn-out chunk of southern hardwood and rusting metal. Handling it often brings tears to my eyes, as I travel the years, in an instant, to the days when Grandpa would invite me to plod along behind him, through grasses, towering over my head, on the occasional rabbit hunt. These memories are filed away, with many like them, as splotchy old movie clips of more innocent years - cherished more now than then.

Much like Grandpa's shotgun, I also remember his faith. I have no desire to forget. If I listen closely, I can faintly hear an earnest baritone crying out to the God of his inheritance. Grandpa could vibrate the whole house in a strangely gentle way, as he pled with the almighty for protection of each family member - by name - then always, the President of the United States. I distinctly remember kneeling across the room from him - hair standing on the back of my neck and arms, in wonderment of his absolute relation with God. It often felt like Grandpa was God! I loved him then, and will cherish his memory for the rest of my life. From what I've learned of him over time, he was a stern conservative man, tamed finally by old-age and tenderness of heart. I got the better of his life it seems.

Today I write, from a liberated mind, these recollections of life as a youngster growing up inside the confines of a microcosmic system of religious belief - alien to much of the greater civilization that lay beyond my reach. It became my inheritance, and in the years that followed, I would digest it all, grow into its fullest capacity, and ultimately reject it through bitter tears. I have long espoused the notion that children have rights, which are just as valid as those of their parents - in some cases more so. Still today I rage against the scars of my heart - left there by the loss of all I knew, years of fear and the lonely journey into an even more frightful unknown, by the sweaty dreams who stole into my bed on many lonely nights, and the oft felt throb of an amputated soul. Christianity was my inheritance - not my choice.

I am human, as are you -

as are your children 

and their children too. 

Please don't rob them 

of their right to choose 

what they will think -

what they will do.

Along this life's cheery path,

we'll all meet God -

bask in his love

and not his wrath.

Think Before You Believe,

Pappy