Talking to the Owl

Go back to sleep little one
the thunderstorms are blowing in the summer
it’s only thunder and it will pass
smell the fresh wet air like new grass
the fireflies are coming alive
like fairies from a Midsummer dream
the little sprites that follow our loves and lives
they will know we’re leaving this yellow house
because they can speak with the wind and rain
they will know we’re leaving this little yellow house
this yellow house where you were born
this yellow house where your sister was born

It’s a parade.  Sirens in the distance.  Closing in - anticipation.
Led by today’s hero.  A Vietnam veteran.
The workaday heros follow him.
Flashing lights.  Loud in passing. 
Ladder 19 is our security.  Engine 1 our history.
Wave at the fire fighters like you know them
Catch the candy as they throw some
High School Band follows proud.  White shoes stepping.
Ladies and Lions club fall in line.
Sallie’s dance class learning to keep time.
New police recruits in their best blues.
Some crazy guy in a tutu.
Church group advertising God’s plan
Precedes the punk band
A little boy dropped his ice cream
And I’m just watching
Watching the strangers at the parade.

I live in a pretty town called Lincoln near a state park that at some point was given by the Olney family to the State of Rhode Island.  The park has a pond with a swimming beach, mountain bike trails, picnic areas, and an historic cemetary with Olney graves that date back before the revolutionary war.

I often make the excuse of going for a bike ride just so I can spend some quiet time in the Olney cemetary.  I’m not morbid, but I love cemetaries.  They’re peaceful, respectful, and so uniquely human - place to honor the memories of our loved ones.  The time I spend in cemetaries gives me a chance to treasure my life, grieve for my losses, and ponder my own mortality - my own way of not going gently.

The gravestone in the picture dates 1871, but that’s not the oldest in the cemetary.  I photographed another but it was too weathered to read in a photo.  It says:

Sacred
To The Memory of Mr.
OBADIAH OLNEY
Who departed this life
March 12, 1798 aged
87 years, 3 months
28 days
Grandson of Thomas Olney
one of the fiſt founders
of the ſtate of Rhode Island

That funny “ſ”character is called the long S.  Thomas Olney was one of the lucky compatriots of Roger Williams, “invited” by the Puritans to leave Massachusettes.  I guess the Olney’s have been Baptists for a long, long time. 

ps. a shout out to my cousin Kim!  Thanks for the links! How’s the website going?