Lessons
learned. To this day, I still curse
some
of the things my memory has retained
along
the way. Unless struck with amnesia,
a
clean sweep, the housecleaning of the brain
is
nearly impossibile to achieve.
Some
will say that even the offensive serves
to
teach us a lesson learned. Then, given that
sagacious
premise, I should be the wisest man
alive.
Alas I must admit, for the choices I have
made
in life, most are assuredly not worthy of
being
awarded a prize.
Occasionally,
I lay blame on some things which
I
claim came naturally. Granted, having been
taught
to read and write with a moderate level
of
competency, and learned to apply math with
a
degree of acceptable proficiency, I have man-
aged
a life of respectable sustainability.
Of
course there are those acceptable and repre-
hensible
behaviors which develop either naturally
or
were administered to me parentally or societally.
In
any case, inevitably, good or bad, I had choices
to
be made.
Today,
in my present old age state of being, I
happen
to be plagued incessantly by The Battle
of
Hastings, 1066, the blasted event in time
which
I was forced to memorize in the 6th or 7th
grade,
which to this day is seared indelibly into
my
72-year old memory, which still occupies a
space
in my musty and cluttered vault of cognition.
After
all these years, The Goddamned Battle of
Hastings,
mind you, 1066, claims a space in my
brain
where something of more value to me could
be.
In the mixed bag which has turned out to be
my
life, and as far as I can see, it has gotten me
absolutely
nowhere.
Chris
Hanch 12-10-19
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