Once when camping alone over the years at Housatonic Meadows and Macedonia Brook on those long nights with no fellow human beings for miles... I would sip on a few beers. I would meditate upon the sounds of the night and watch the glowing eyes of the coyote packs and by occasion catch the gleam of the eyes of those sneaky 'big cats'. What was that sound ?? A beer off and on seemed to taste good back in those days. As a drug it would obviously dull some of the keen senses. Its unfortunate to not identify every sound of mystery in the long long wee hours due to a few beers !!! All the souls that lived and wandered these woods in generations back scattering in unwelcome cold burial sites amongst these parks perhaps cry and beg for some conversation on a cold long night. What if I told you I shared beers once or more with the deceased while at Housatonic Meadows or Macedonia Brook?? Would you believe me ? I will in my opinion tell you by fact I have shared with the memories of our deceased brethren during long cold lonely nights ALONE but that was back when a beer was legal. Being totally 100% sober has a tendency to reduce the desire for long reflective conversations with the struggling souls of the night of these blessed campground lands.....

breakfast forever

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We live as long as we are remembered......Old Russian Proverb...


Today we walked where others walked

On a lonely, windswept hill;

Today we talked where other cried

For Loved Ones whose lives are stilled.

Today our hearts were touched

By graves of tiny babies;

Snatched from the arms of loving kin,

In the heartbreak of the ages.

Today we saw where the grandparents lay

In the last sleep of their time;

Lying under the trees and clouds -

Their beds kissed by the sun and wind.

Today we wondered about an unmarked spot;

Who lies beneath this hollowed ground?

Was it a babe, child, young or old?

No indication could be found.

Today we saw where Mom and Dad lay.

We had been here once before

On a day we'd all like to forget,

But will remember forever more.

Today we recorded for kith and kin

The graves of ancestors past;

To be preserved for generations hence,

A record we hope will last.

Cherish it, my friend; preserve it, my friend,For stones sometimes crumble to dust And generations of folks yet to come will be grateful for your trust.

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