Test Pattern

 Originally published 7/12/21

We weren’t the first of families to own a TV set.  They were novelties then and whenever relatives were together, if a TV was available, we would gather and watch.  There wasn’t much in the way of programming at the time.  Whatever the programming was it was in black and white and I don’t recall channel choices during the ‘50’s in Kansas. 

I do recall sitting on the floor in front of the TV before the Saturday broadcasting began staring at the test pattern that featured the Indian Chief and listening to that test tone.  My God, the anticipation of staring at that image while having that unwavering low fidelity tone blast through my head.  It was divine in such an unacceptable way by today’s standards.  In order to distract kids during the pre-programming test pattern period some crafty entrepreneur packaged up a clear vinyl film with a few crayons and sold them to frazzled Mom’s.  We had one.  The film was pressed onto the screen where we would “color” the test pattern.  The crayon could be wiped off of the vinyl with toilet paper so every day the Indian chief could be a different color.  Of course, you couldn’t get too imaginative because there were only 5 color crayons. 

The One

 Originally published 10/26/2022

A time of change in a young life where an established place had been found but no longer fit. 

Now, on the bottom rung, looking up, who do I trust? 

Looking for a face that is slightly less afraid than my own

Or one that will accept me as you I am, fears and all.  

Hoping for an open door it seemed like forever.

But it was just a blink of an eye in the arc of a life before that face found me.

In Spanish class where there were two “Juans” so I was called, “Eduardo”.

There was only one “Mel-veen”.

The door cracked open and we became Mel-veen and Eduardo.

I was safe.

Time moved on. 

We grew. 

Friends came and went. 

Some disappointed.  

A precious few stood the test of time and remained to prop us up when we faltered.

The few become fewer.

And then there was only one.

The one that I wished I was more like.

 The door remained wide open

The brilliant sun shone in

Ideas and experiences were shared

Some not-such-good ideas but always something learned

And always there was trust

With “The One” who was always there.

“The One” who would always tell me the truth about myself

Especially when I needed it the most but didn’t want to handle the truth.

“The One” who encouraged me to seek and find my own direction

Nudging, leaving breadcrumbs, but was sometimes forced to resort to a 2 x 4 across the head to gain my attention and make me listen

“The One” who also shared his concerns and fears and looked to me for ideas when I  felt unworthy.

And then one day the call came.

The door was closed.

What had I missed?

Where to from here?