How fitting that this very special blog coincides with A stroke of Life’s 100th post. Welcome to the Centennial ladies and gents. Thanks for taking this wild and crazy ride with me. We may not always agree, but I will keep interesting.
We all have treasure chests where we keep our most valued possessions and secrets. A lot of times long forgotten treasures can be found in our attics, real and imagined. Recently, I found myself going through a box of long forgotten items. Memories and snapshots of my life, days, and moments I’ll never see again except in the mirrors of my mind. It was in this box I found a long forgotten treasure that may indeed be one of my greatest.
For those of you who have been on this journey with me since the very beginning you may remember my second post was about sibling rivalry and growing up with a younger brother who was a BUG A BOO. Then I found out that one day he would indeed become one of my best friends. When you’re parents are crazy- not saying ours are- who can you call and share their antics with but your brother or sister? No matter the circumstance I have a short list of calls I make no matter how good or bad the news is. Not always in the same order, but I always call my mom, Nick,and my baby brother, who has grown into a hell of man and he gives great advice.
Back to this great treasure I found. It isn’t worth a dime, but it is the most precious gift. Every artist goes through periods of time that they doubt their own talent. As many of you know I am finishing my second book. My deadline is today at 11:59 p.m. something tells me I won’t make it. I have been letting doubt and fear of success creep deeper into my mind and soul every day. So of course I haven’t been writing. Since I was avoiding writing and finishing my book and kicking myself for having the audacity to think I could, or should write a book I had a little extra time on my hands. I decided to go through some old boxes and clean house. That brother of mine did it again and now that he’s grown he doesn’t need graham crackers and juice to get me back on track. He uses trickery like the poem below. I’m telling you he’s evil. He’s always acting all innocent about it though.
By J.Wheaton December 1998
Gifted, talented writing and reciting
She expresses thoughts and actions in poetic journeys
Addressing issues of love, pain, happiness and anything concerning
The heart, mind the soul,
It comes natural to her
At least least that’s what I was told
Rhyme and reason
Expressing the season
Vocalizing a poetess at work
She turns the world into words
The people, the places, feelings and sometimes even birds
I hope, I pray, I believe she be lifted
Lord because she is so incredibly gifted
My treasure chest is an old journal my brother gave me for Christmas in 1998. It was filled with poems and book outlines long forgotten. Yes, that means thanks to that Wheaton guy you are going to hear lots more from me. Often what makes our gifts special isn’t the price tag it is the thought and the sentiment behind them. That ladies and gentlemen is what I found in that dusty old box. to me it is more priceless than the Queen of England‘s treasure chest. The inscription on the first page of the book was the poem above “GIFTED“ written by my baby brother. I guess he thought if he didn’t mention the journal was for writing I may not know what to do with it :-). When I found the journal I almost cried. No, of course it didn’t move me to tears I mean it’s just a book, and now that I think of it the dust is probably what caused my eyes to water, if they did indeed water. Besides it was like 4 am. Everyone’s eyes water when they are tired and can’t sleep. Of course I called my mom and told her about the treasure I found. She acted like it was no big deal, but she is probably still sitting there with the kleenex box. I called my brother and asked if I could share the poem in the front of my sweet treasure. He obliged of course, come on I keep telling you I’m his idol did you think he’d say no. Stop your nonsense. The best thing about the treasure I found this morning it reminded me we all have assignments and journeys. Mine for what ever reason is writing. So now that I took a brief sabbatical it’s time I get back to it. I have a few books to write. Treasure can’t always be measured in dollars. One of my best treasures is the man who used to be my baby brother. I love you bro.
- I don’t want to forget (tersiaburger.com)
- One of the most important Men in my Life – (sheisnotapoet.com)
- Blooming Flowers (astrokeoflife.wordpress.com)
- Your Memory Becomes a Treasure (diaryofanut.com)
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