Everyone is a Writer, Family Writing Part 5

Duke Cramer

Take a walk with my dad. He was eighty-seven the year of this writing.

Wind

This morning, January 14, 2005, I began my morning walk around the bent horseshoe somewhere around 7:45 a.m. Due to a less than friendly right hip I use a cane as a support to make the walk as pleasant as possible. The general distance traveled measures out at three-eighths of a mile. In following this bent horseshoe one boxes the compass for different periods of time. In other words my face is exposed to the East and West and the North and South for different moments of time.

This morning was cool with wetness to the air, and softness existed, making the walk quite pleasant. However, a strong wind, which came from different directions, became my morning interest. The flag on the flagpole stretched out in full form changing its course as the wind directed it. As I faced the flagpole, it bent and swayed as wind pressure peaked and diminished in intensity.

As I followed the contour of the bent horseshoe, I was met with the wind on my face as it came in bursts and varying amounts. At times it met my face full force with a cleansing action equivalent to a soft brush rubbing against my cheeks and forehead. While it was pressing against my face, it emitted a pleasing sound, maybe a song, announcing that it was momentarily visiting me. While following the bent horseshoe, I met the wind in several directions: sometimes head on, sometimes at an angle to my face, and sometimes from the rear. In each direction there was this forceful but gentle private music provided by the force behind it. Whatever the direction of either my travel or the direction of the wind, the changing force varied as well as its companion music, which I heard almost silently.

It is difficult here on paper to describe the inner sensations that were introduced to me while on this morning walk. However I felt and heard the wind and found an enjoyment that I will look forward to in the many future walks that will be my pleasure to have.

Wellington M. Cramer

I’d stood nearby, watching him on this morning ritual. No matter how aging affected him, he remained resourceful, and I continue to draw strength, remembering his abilities to face, to cope, and to create adjustments to aging.

My realization is, “By the words that we use, we build writing structures that are unique to us and so valuable to others.”