SNYDERMANIA: JOHN WAYNE'S GHOST

Sunday, December 12, 2010

JOHN WAYNE'S GHOST - Part 1

John Wayne’s Ghost
by William Z Snyder
© 2008 William Snyder

Chandler, Arizona - 2009

1.

11 comments:

JJ said...: Great story! Looking forwad to the continuation.; December 12, 2010 at 1:32 PM
JJ said...: Actually, I am looking forwa"R"d to the continuation.; December 12, 2010 at 1:33 PM
#167 Dad said...: Thanks, JJ.
As for the typo, I'm the typo king...; December 12, 2010 at 2:01 PM
Unknown said...: Tamales and eggnog..... as you do. Looking forward to more of this.; December 12, 2010 at 7:18 PM
Midlife Roadtripper said...: I love stories of struggle, mainly because I can understand the words that don't come out of the pencil. Write on #167 Dad.; December 13, 2010 at 8:07 AM
Susan R. Mills said...: Can't wait for the rest! You are quite the story teller. And, there's absolutely nothing wrong with tamales and eggnog!; December 13, 2010 at 9:54 AM
Clif said...: Good stuff as always, W.Z.!; December 14, 2010 at 2:51 PM
Tom Hakkinen said...: Great atmosphere. Hope to read the rest of it.; December 14, 2010 at 3:07 PM
#167 Dad said...: Kate,
Thanks for taking the time to tead my story.
I guess pretty much everything goes with tamales. Then again, the same is probably true of tamales...; December 18, 2010 at 7:07 AM
#167 Dad said...: MJH,
Thanks for reading...; December 18, 2010 at 7:09 AM
#167 Dad said...: Susan,
Thanks for the good mojo. Much appreciated.; December 18, 2010 at 7:14 AM

NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Goethe's final words: "More light." Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry: "More light." Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier's field. Little tiny flashlight for those books we read under the covers when we're supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home- Lead Thou me on! Arise, shine, for thy light has come. Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light.

FIELD OF DREAMS

Well, you know I... I never got to bat in the major leagues. I would have liked to have had that chance. Just once. To stare down a big league pitcher. To stare him down, and just as he goes into his windup, wink. Make him think you know something he doesn't. That's what I wish for. Chance to squint at a sky so blue that it hurts your eyes just to look at it. To feel the tingling in your arm as you connect with the ball. To run the bases - stretch a double into a triple, and flop face-first into third, wrap your arms around the bag. That's my wish, Ray Kinsella. That's my wish. And is there enough magic out there in the moonlight to make this dream come true?