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Arbitrary Reflections

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  • #16
    Originally posted by wwwamericana View Post
    Did y'all happen to see the KU / K-State BB game tonight?
    No? Well take a look at the end of it.
    Such rivalry - always has been, always will be.
    Human Nature at its finest.
    Why can't we all just "get along" ?
    Since y'all asked (even though y'all know the answer already) . . . there are too many people on this planet for each to be satisfied/content with what each respectively has.


    • #17
      Oh my, I find this very funny.
      I tip my hat to you, Mr Fenn.
      Now Im gonna go eat breakfast cuz it's getting cold.


      • #19
        Who's to say we begin in the Rockies?
        Perhaps the home of Brown is outside of the 4 state region.
        Have we misconstrued our boundaries?
        We would just have remember to "marry" those places outside to places inside.
        Could this idea fly or would it sink?


        • #20
          I may be searching to far south.. one location is kinda spread out, I would like to eliminate some needless search areas. I have ground to cover and there would be no need for me to overlook boundaries marked on my map. Ideas on focusing could help..


          • #21
            At the end of the path you should know, right? Focus needs direction plus X... and a base... it‘s like wwwh plus tiitcd to pibthoB... that should be the same... base, direction... X! This is a scavenger hunt at its best isn‘t it? Or is it math? Or... navigation? Or... all of that?

            I guess the finder will have to be a pirate, a dying man, a child, an indian warrior, a philosoph... all at the same time! It‘s got to come with the best mix of feelings as well... sadness, anxiety, thoughts of happy times, remembering the past, reliving special events, lonesome moments, sitting on a tree stump, the chopped trees of your life all around you, watching a waning moon getting tired, but knowing he‘s going in endless circles, tidbits of what the future will be like, smiles, shivers, a huge cake and its ingredients are feelings, chances taken and missed!

            The cake is your area, the ingredients are focal points, the end is a whole state.... a state of mind!
            „It‘s almost impossible to carry the torch of truth through a crowd without singeing somebody‘s beard.“
            G. C. Lichtenberg


            • #22
              You suppose we will all be able to laugh when this search is over?
              Prob oughta start now so as we can get in some practice.
              The last laugh is always the best, isn't it?


              • #23
                I'm ready for a new Scrapbook.
                Y'all think if we ask real politely like, Forrest might oblige?

                "Please Mr. Fenn, would you put your pen to the paper and write us a story."


                • #24
                  Originally posted by wwwamericana View Post
                  I'm ready for a new Scrapbook.
                  Y'all think if we ask real politely like, Forrest might oblige?

                  "Please Mr. Fenn, would you put your pen to the paper and write us a story."
                  The upcoming big surprises is probably keeping Forrest happy


                  • #25
                    Whoa Baby!
                    Ask and you shall receive - it works.
                    Got us all a new Scrapbook to read.

                    Bless you Forrest!


                    • #26
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                      Last edited by wwwamericana; 01-24-2020, 11:36 PM.


                      • #27
                        Originally posted by wwwamericana View Post
                        I'm ready for a new Scrapbook.
                        Y'all think if we ask real politely like, Forrest might oblige?

                        "Please Mr. Fenn, would you put your pen to the paper and write us a story."
                        You got your wish. Some people are reading hints into it. There may be a couple commonalities, but just like Forrest saying codes, ciphers etc etc are not needed but some people have gotten positive results so are there commonalities talking about a wilderness area in the Rocky Mountains.


                        • #28
                          Yellow Stone always makes me think of a Tiger Eye.
                          Love those stones - magical.

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                          Last edited by wwwamericana; 01-25-2020, 10:28 AM.


                          • #29
                            Originally posted by wwwamericana View Post
                            Just thot there might be a need to have a place for all to reflect a bit and share.
                            So blaze your own path y'all and definitely don't listen to me.

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                            As a child of 8 or 9, in the 70s, I was free to roam the neighborhood. Along with my friends, we ran everywhere. We crossed creeks, climbed trees and scaled the mountain in my back yard. Though less than 200 or 300 feet in elevation, it was surely a mountain by a child’s standards. This mountain, my backyard, was public land; acres of conservation land that was set aside and unable to be built on…I’m glad that decision was made by someone. Many children grew up in my neighborhood. There were a small few younger than I. Many were 2 to 4 years my senior and still more were 8 to 12 even 15 years older and no longer children by the time of this story.

                            My neighbor across the street contributed about 6 or 8 to the child population, depending on when you cut off childhood. To me, several of those neighbors were full grown adults but, I’m sure, they were always just kids to their parents. He owned 2 or 3 acres of land – quite a bit for our neighborhood where most lots were between a quarter and one-half acre. Most of his land was set back behind his home and consisted of two distinct patches, separated by a row of bushes and a few older, larger trees. On the right side, was the manicured lawn with walkways, fruit trees and benches. To the left, the strip of land, which ran like a corridor behind several homes situated on the adjacent street, was more or less, in its natural state. Some trees were taken down and an area appeared to have been carved out by some equipment or force of nature but, mostly, this untamed area was a meadow; one in which I and other children played or used as our expressway back and forth to each other’s homes. One late spring day that followed a heavy winter, while returning home after playing with a friend, I was meandering through the field, looking at the neatly trimmed hedge and noticed, for the first time, that the elevation of the natural area was lower than the landscaped portion of the yard; not much lower – maybe 2 or 3 feet. How had I not noticed the roots of the trees extruding from the side of the bank? Now, awakened to the fact, I got curious and walked over to explore those exposed roots and the holes in the bank. It was during this exploration that I noticed something that was out of place – a piece of wire…about the diameter of kite string. Weathered, rusty and dirty, it blended in with its surroundings and could be easily overlooked without careful inspection. Curious, I pulled on the wire. It did not come easily, as it was covered by some yard debris and leaves and may have been tied to a root or something. So, I stopped pulling on it and traced its path with my hand. That path took my hand under the exposed roots, into a sort of alcove caused by erosion. I don’t quite know what possessed me to reach into the hole – curiosity of a child, I guess – but, as I did, I felt something. I couldn’t see what it was I laid my fingers upon for, even in the light of day, this area, this alcove was shaded and dark. As I continued to reach in and feel around with my left hand, I turned on my side. To the imagination of some, I may have appeared to be as a ship that might list in the seas, on its side. When I had reached into the hole as far as my arm could go, I felt around some, grabbing some loose items. Roots or stones probably.

                            I can’t explain to you how I felt when I pulled my arm all the way out and looked down into my hand to see what I had retrieved. Impossible. How? Who? In that hole? When? All I can tell you, amid the questioning wonder, a smile arose on the face of a young boy who had come across an unlikely trove. I looked around and saw that, as before, I was alone, in there, in the meadow. I reached in again and retrieved some more of my unlikely find. The earlier questions were now replaced by joy over my good fortune. As I gathered my newfound treasures, I found I had to use my shirt like a pouch so I could carry them.

                            As I renewed my journey home, still in a bit of shock over my find, I walked toward my neighbor’s house, which I would need to pass by along with my newfound goods. I realized that I should do the right thing and knock on his door to see if he or one of his sons (all quite a few years older than I) might be aware of the stash.

                            I rang the doorbell on the back porch, nervously anticipating who might answer and what they might say. Finally, the door opened and there stood one of the older sons, who was about 11 or 12 years older than I. He looked down at me, said hello, then asked what it was I wanted. I told him I was walking home and I found these, motioning to my mock pouch with a downward glance of my head.

                            He looked puzzled, pensive, for a moment then he smiled, let out a laugh and said, “Holy sh*t! I wondered if anyone would ever find those.” I must have hid them about 10 years ago!”

                            I was nervous, not wanting to hear the answer, afraid I might misread his face, but I asked, “Would you like them back?”

                            He said, “No. You found them, they’re yours now.”

                            And that’s how the little green army men became comingled, in a transcension of time, with the Frontiersman and Indians of my Fort Apache playset, a gift from Santa the previous Christmas.

                            Thank you, again 3WA, for the opportunity to reflect arbitrarily.

                            Orion, the Hunter

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                            • #30
                              The best part of that story is that the 1st person you told was the one who hid them.

                              ORION whoops- I really can read, sorry..
                              Last edited by Rose Livingstone; 01-25-2020, 03:39 PM.