In the Making

It took me years to learn I was not meant for

college. I grew up in a time when high school

was all that was required to get a job and make

a decent living.

It took me 3-years to understand that military

service was not a lifetime occupation for me.

For a time, I managed wear the uniform and

serve my country honorably.

It took me 17-years to admit I married too

young. And at nineteen years old, I was too

immature to make that unholy union work

out satisfactorily.

It took way too long to learn that the suit and

tie, shined-shoes and compliant mentality my

father taught me in my youth was not the way

for me to succeed amenably.

It took me years bouncing around from job

to job trying unsuccessfully to find a proper

livelihood fit for me. Working for “the man”

was never meant to be.

It took me wasted days and drunken nights,

hangovers and ugly sights in the mirror looking

back at me to see more clearly the reality of my

depressed futility.

It took blood, sweat and tears and one detour after

another to get me here. And having learned through

my experiences along the way, eventually I muddled

through my own self-inflicted misery.

My art was the god-seed within me which inevitably

lead to my salvation. And given all those nourishing

crumbs of heaven scattered across creation, somehow

I managed to survive.

Damn, near seventy-four years in the making.

                         -30-

Chris Hanch 1-26-2021