Fred has a secret

AR365 Day 41, Week 6; Theme: Thankful

I met Fred while walking back to the car. (I had just had a fine meal of Salmon at a banquet.)  He saw me looking around with my camera, and asked if I might take his picture. I was able to buy him a sandwich.


One of the things I ask from time to time is "How do any of us become the people we become?" How much of who we are is sheer dumb luck, how much is determined by genes and environment (and in what mix) -- How much of what we become is the result of personal choice -- and how much belongs to the unseen purposes -- even grace of God. I am not sure we will ever untagle those riddles, though somethimes, when I consdier my place in life, I am deeply thankful.



Could'a   KSJ  5/2001


Could’a been a Tyson

Slice’n chicken, or your face
Could’a been the sliced
Could’a been your face with teethy ear.
(Either way, I’d make some bucks
or fade away amidst the clucks)

Could’a been a coon dog
with a culinary nose
Could’a been in Birmingham
near the fire hose –
Catching liquid cannon balls, or
Blasting back your uppity
insurrection –

Indeed, Could’a been the one to say
“I’m not riding at the back today”
Could’a been the one to place
shackles on your hands --

Could’a been old Bobbit
now at half-a-man.
Could’a made the scissors
at the factory …
Could’a been ol’ Jimmy D.
with a giant olfactory.
Could'a been the pilot of the Inola Gay.
Could'a been some new born kid
slightly in the way -- of light.

Could’a been some buxom blonde
Before your camera lens.
You asked me to stand
right over the fan, and
I fed your lust while acting
like I didn't know.

Could’a been your weak-willed husband,
burning anger deep inside,
but without the will to take you home.

Could’a been old Abe
Or Grant or Lee
Found that vision flexes with geography,
Could’a been a blend
of honor, necessity or lies,
Led the nation into blood
Or sparred us from the greater wrath of God.

Could’a done the goose step
Could’a been a goose
Could a been the hangman
Could’a been the noosed.
Could’a been so hard, as to fan the oven
Could’a been so twisted, as to join a coven

Could’a been the ripper
or the ripped.
The hooker or the hooked.
The bookie or the booked,
The bastard or the dad,
The vulture or the lad -who didn't find fresh water.

Could have been the woman that I hold …
Could have been the child that I scold.
Could have been
any of a hundred folks on the other side of me ...

Could’a begged my change – for booze
Could’a caught my glare
Could’a begged some dimes to live
Could’a shared the air
Could’a waited for my tip
or needed a kind word,
Could’a looked to me for light
but found me self absorbed.


Indeed, Could’a been a Jeckle or a Hyde,
held a dozen people deep inside;
Could’a felt as if my brain
would fly into a trillion parts.

(okay, this I can believe.)

Could’a been a David,
Good at writin’ psalms
Could’a a been a crowd
Good at wavin’ palms.
Could’a been a Kirk
Then I’d really be a jerk.
Could’a never needed to think odd.

Could’a been a rock
called forth to sing Your praise.