"We Were Always There..."

"We Were Always There..."

"Happy Labor Day..."

"We Were Always There..."

"We Were Always There..."

Statistics tells us that at least one of these fella was probably on our team... Which one do you think it was? I have two suspects: the chap in the middle right who certainly knows he playing peekaboo, and the fella on the far right striking the hand-on-hip pose. Of course we can't know for sure, but we do know that "we were always there."

"We Were Always There..."

"We Were Always There..."

"We Were Always There..."

Lately, I've been watching Ken Burns' "The War" and as I often do when I'm watching documentaries, I wonder about those stories that went untold... The stories of us, for we were always there. This letter  written and shared in 1961 to commemorate a WWII love affair that might have become so much more is one on those stories that went untold for decades.

Click to enlarge the image below

Originally published in the September 1961 issue of One magazine

"We Were Always There..."

"I Am Always Remembering..."

Another Journey of Life

An Allegory

Preface: This is an adaptation of Charles Dickens'  "The Child's Story" and is based upon that original work published as: “The Journey of Life” which was included in The New McGuffey Fourth Reader by William H. McGuffey, Compiler.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a traveler, and he set out upon a journey. It was a magic journey, and was to seem very long when he began it, and very short when he got halfway through.

He traveled along a rather dark path for some time, without meeting anything or anyone, until at last he came to a beautiful child. So he said to the little boy child, "What do you do here?" And the boy said, "I am always playing. Come and play with me."

So he played with the child the whole day long, and they were very happy. The sky was so blue, the sun was so bright, the water was so sparkling, the leaves were so green, the flowers were so lovely, and they heard so many singing birds, and saw so many butterflies, that everything was beautiful. This was in fine weather.

When it rained, the boy and the traveler loved to watch the falling drops and smell the fresh scents. When the wind blew, it was delightful to listen to, and imagine what it said, as it came rushing from its home, whistling and howling, and driving the clouds across the sky, bending the trees, rumbling in the chimneys, shaking the house and making the waves in the sea roar in fury.

But when it snowed, that was the best of all; for they liked nothing better than to look up at the white flakes falling fast and thick, covering everything with a soft fluffy blanket. They loved to watch and see how smooth and deep the drift was, and to listen to the hush upon the paths and roads.

But one day suddenly the traveler lost the child. He called to the little boy over and over again, but got no answer. So he went on for a little while without meeting anything or anyone, until at last he came to a handsome older boy. He said to the boy, "What do you do here?" And the boy said, "I am always learning. Come and learn with me."

So he learned with the boy about the stars and the moon, plants and animals, and the Greeks and Romans,--more than either of them could ever hope to remember; for they soon forgot a great deal of it. But they were not always learning; they played happy games and had many merry days.

They went rowing on the river in summer, and skated on the frozen lake in the winter; they went on long hikes and ran along the paths; they played catch and tag and all kinds of games and follow-my-leader, and more sports than I can think of: nobody could beat them. As to friends, they had beloved and dear friends, and so many of them, that I haven’t the time to reckon them up. They were all young, like the handsome boy, and were never mean or estranged to one another all their lives.

Still, one day, in the midst of all these pleasures, the traveler lost the young boy, as he had lost the child, and, after calling him in vain, went on upon his journey. So he went on for a while without seeing anything or anyone, until at last he came to a young man. He said to the young man, "What do you do here?" And the young man said, "I am always in love. Come and learn of love with me."

But the traveler lost the young man as he had lost the rest of his friends, and, after calling to him to come back, which he never did, went on upon his journey. At last he came to a middle-aged gentleman. So he said to him, "What are you doing here?" And his answer was, "I am always busy. Come and be busy with me."

The traveler began to be very busy with the gentleman, and they went on through the woods together. The whole journey was through a wood, only it had been open and green at first, like a forest in spring, and now began to be thick and dark, like a forest in summer; some of the little trees that had come out earliest were even turning brown in the shade of the bigger trees.

The gentleman was not alone, but had a handsome man of about the same age with him, who was his companion; and along the way, there were children who were with them too. They all went on as a family through the forest, cutting down the trees, and making a path among the branches, and carrying burdens and working hard.

Sometimes they came to a long green avenue that opened into deeper woods. Then they would hear a very distant little voice crying, "Fathers, I am another child! Wait for me!" And soon they would see a very little figure, growing larger as it came along, running to join them. When it came up, the man and his companion and their children all crowded round it, and hugged and welcomed it; and then they all went on together.

Sometimes they came to several avenues at once; and then they all stood still, and one of the children said, "Fathers, I’m going to sea, I want to be a sailor;" and another said, "Fathers, I’m going to college;" and another, "Fathers, I’m going to seek my fortune where I can;" and another said, "Fathers, I’m going to heaven now."

So, with many sad tears at parting, they went, by themselves, down those avenues, each child upon its way; and the child who went to heaven rose into the golden air and vanished. Whenever these partings happened, the traveler looked at the gentleman and his companion, and saw them glance up at the sky above the trees, where the day was beginning to decline, and the sunset to come on. He saw, too, that their hair was turning gray. But they could never rest long, for they had to continue on their journey and it was necessary for them to always be busy.

At last, there had been so many partings that there were no children left, and only the traveler, the gentleman, and his companion went upon their way together. And now the forest was yellow; and then brown; and the leaves, even of the tallest trees, began to fall.

They came to an avenue that was darker than the rest, and they were pressing forward on their journey without looking down it, when the companion stopped.

"My husband," said the companion, "I’m called."

Together they listened, and they heard a voice a long way down the avenue say, "Father, father!" calling out to the companion.

It was the voice of the child who had said, "I’m going to heaven now!" and the gentleman cried, saying "I pray not yet. The sunset is very near. I pray not yet."

But the voice called out to the companion "Father, father!" without minding him, though his hair was now quite white, and tears were on his face.

Then the man’s companion, who was already drawn into the shade of the dark avenue, and moving away with his arms still around his neck, kissed him and said, "My dearest, I’m summoned, and I must go!" And he was gone. The traveler and gentleman were left alone together.

And they went on and on, until they came very near to the edge of the forest; so near, that they could see the setting sun shining red before them through the trees.

Yet once more, while he found his way through the branches, the traveler lost his friend. He called and called, but there was no reply, and when he passed out of the woods and saw the peaceful sun going down upon a wide purple prospect, he came to an old man sitting upon a fallen tree. He said to the old man, "What do you do here?" And the old man said, with a calm smile, "I’m always remembering. Come and remember with me."

So the traveler sat down by the side of the old man, face to face with the serene sunset; and all his friends came softly back and stood around him. The beautiful child, the handsome boy, the young man, the father, the companion, and children every one of them was there, and he had lost nothing. He loved them all, and was kind and forbearing with them all, and they all honored and loved him.

Dedicated to He who was to be the companion

Adaptation by Christopher Flournoy, Copyright 2006

"I Am Always Remembering..."

The Lover's Moon has come again tonight, as it has for a hundred plus times since that first autumn night when it shone upon the two of us and life seemed so nearly complete...

Now, the Man in the Moon casts his spell over me once more, taking me on a journey through the eyes of my mind to where my heart still beats next to his.  As I lie beneath the moon's soft glow tonight, I pray that the Man in the Moon seeds my dreamtime with a vision of what was and of what could have been.

I am always remembering...

"Lover's moon is high on the sky...143"

Stephen Christopher Harris

"Fear Eats the Soul"

"We Were Always There..."

"We Were Always There..."

"We Were Always There..."

"The Dreams Of Men Still Young..."

"We Were Always There..."

"The Truth About The Things You Remember..."

In what now seems like a lifetime ago, when I was with Sears I used to listen to this song 3 or 4 times a day, 5 days a week. This was the on hold music the credit call center used. It was never a good sign when you were placed on hold... 9 out of 10 times the agent would come back on the line and say, "I'm sorry, we don't any options for your customer."

"The Poet's Corner..."

Surprised By Joy

William Wordsworth

Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind

I turned to share the transport—Oh! with whom

But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,

That spot which no vicissitude can find?

Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind—

But how could I forget thee? Through what power,

Even for the least division of an hour,

Have I been so beguiled as to be blind

To my most grievous loss?—That thought's return

Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,

Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,

Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more;

That neither present time, nor years unborn

Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.

"The Truth About Love..."

In The Beginning...

It felt just like this

"I am always remembering...

And my greatest fear is that I may not live long enough to forget."

"I Am Always Remembering..."

It was around this time of the morning exactly 20 years ago today when I first read what had come from out of the ethereal mist as I had restlessly slept in the night... Seemingly, it was an innocent message that at the time I thought offered me a reason to hope. Little did I know that what would soon be viewed as the beginning of all my dreams coming true, would instead after the course of less than three short years turn out to be the sum of all my fears... 

And yet, after vainly trying to move on to what has in reality only been a similitude of life's dreams, every single day for twenty years has begun with "I love you, Stephen" silently spoken from lips that are now pale and chapped having long since lost the last blush of youth they held on that morning when I first read this.

"In The Beginning..."

Tuesday August 22, 2006 - 12:56 am EDT

Chris Stone has sent you a message

Tampa, Florida US

Sent To: Christopher

Hey Christopher

I was reading through your 360 Page and found it to be interesting. I added yours to mine in hopes to maybe have some dialogue at some point in the future.

"I am always remembering... 

And my greatest fear is that I may not live long enough to forget."