My Life Between the Dimensions

Claudie and Grace’s Bridge Fishing, the Snake-Killing Dog and the Fish-Catching Cat 1958 View towards creek from Claudie and Grace's Bridge in 2020 I cannot reflect on my childhood without remembering Reece’s Creek.  The creek flowed parallel and in front of my Grandmother Bessie’s home in Wayne County, Missouri. The creek was shallow in most parts, the water always flowing with purpose, crystal clear over gravel bottom.  The denizens that inhabited it were small in these parts, tiny sunfish, redhorse suckers, and assorted minnow species.  Of course the crawdads were there. And hours were spent turning over rocks to find them and catch them, ever fearful of the rock that revealed a banded water snake.  Of course, all water snakes were “water moccasins” to us then and, at least in our adolescent minds, fierce and venomous. We were convinced that if one bit you, you would die right then and there.  On the spot. In the few parts of the creek such as...

911, AMERICA, AND INVADING THE EAGLE’S NEST Perspective From a Proud American By Keith Wayne Ragan There are a few events in our lives so catastrophic that they remain etched in our memories for permanent recall,usually not by preference or design.  A date on a calendar, national and world events, an image on a T.V. or movie screen, a post on social media, or a simple flashback are often the trigger for “instant replay”.. I have a dozen or so of these tucked away commanding space of what is left of a once competent memory.  The announcement of the assassination of President Kennedy remains as clear to me as the glass of water on my desk in spite of the passing of a half century of years.  Most of the rest are repressed images and events experienced firsthand during the war in Vietnam. But, the al- Qaeda September 11, 2001 assault on the Twin Towers in New York and the Pentagon, and all that ensued after, are images of a time in American history tha...

Sometimes I think I am trapped there.  Destined to spend eternity there. The contest is not over.  Will it ever be over? Some experienced a firefight.  Some experienced several. I experienced a firefight, or several, almost every single day for a year, some of which I participated in physical actuality; most I experienced as a remote participant, fully engaged nevertheless. Safe from most of the physical scars. Rife with emotional scars, etched savagely in both heart and brain. I am a time traveler.  I will , it seems, never surrender the field.  I think, as years pass, along with my mortal presence, you will find me there still.  Walking among those faceless spirits, scores of them, searching. I wish I knew, “for whom or for what”? Maybe they will know. When they visit again tonight I hope I remember to ask them. Keith Wayne Ragan