Confessions of a (former Presbyterian) Catholic

I am in a serious mood, and don't know why. I feel as if I should start this diatribe by saying .. "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been more than three months since my last confession". Non-Catholics won't understand that, .... but I do.

I know that I have been very talkative of late. That's how it is with me. When I am not tired out from work, I tend to get on the blog and talk incessantly ... basically to myself. But, that's why there are blogs. People who want to talk, or write, and have no one to talk to or write to. People on blogs write because they need to talk and have no other outlet except for their BLOG. They do not write for you, or me, they write for them. It is the same with me. I am writing because I have to and basically I am talking to myself ... or an imaginary playmate. If anyone else in the world reads it or likes it or has any feelings .. good or bad .. about it, that is an extra. But I will continue to write as long as I feel the need to write. If I am the only one who reads it ... so be it. This is MY blog ... that means that it is news of my life and these are my feelings of the moment. I live alone and have time on my hands. I have thoughts and feelings running through my being and need to talk about the most inane things.

I sometimes wonder about something. If my father had been computer literate and had a blog, would he have killed himself? (He did so almost 24 years ago ... September of 1982.) He had come to a point in his life where he thought that he was useless. He had no future and no one cared for him, as far as he knew. But it was his fault and I think at the last he realized that. My father never loved me, or my brothers, or my mom. But I am not bitter, although I think both of my brothers would have benefited from some adult male supervision/bonding/guidance at home. But my mother, bless her heart, gave to us boys the best and the most that she could. We have always had the love of a great woman. I do not think that my poor father ever loved anyone, probably not even himself. He married twice and never loved either wife. He depended on his mother, but probably didn't love her as he should have. He once told me ... when he was drunk, as he usually (always) was when ever he talked to me, that he loved his brother L.P. but was very envious of him and his lifestyle. I am certain that he had affection for his sisters and Aunt Emma Hardy, et al. But, he spent his entire life trying to impress others. He never, as far as I know, tried anything or did anything because he wanted to or thought that he would enjoy it. He only did the things he did and belonged to the clubs he belonged to because he wanted so badly to fit in. I, on the other hand, have swung too far in the opposite direction in my six decades. I have loved hundreds of people, seriously, and probably still love a lot of them ... even the ones who "did me wrong". I have extremely fond memories of most of the women that I have ever known. I tried everything that I wanted to try , and attempted to do all the things I wanted. I wronged some people and hurt some people and possibly made some people happy. But, was I/am I any better off or smarter than he was? Probably not. I feel as if I have wasted much of my adult existence in minor trivial matters. But, as they say, it was hell of a ride. I got to meet many musicians, poets, freethinkers, cowboys, and my favorite adopted brother ... I have several ... Dr Stanley 'Valdez' McGowen. I have had the love (temporarily) of many nice ladies and fostered some friendships (however transient). I have tried to be a good friend, a good lover, a good husband, a good father and a good grandfather. I now have the love of a decent (I don't take that word lightly) woman and am grateful for the love of my mother and my nietos. I hope that no one has read this far, as it is depressing ... even to me.

I am feeling somewhat better, I have just watched a movie with Tommy Lee Jones on USA Network called "The Hunted" .... good flick, sad at the end ... Hilda would have cried.

But, as after my religious confessions, I feel a little relieved. And a little embarrassed.

PEACE ... LOVE .... HUGS