The Ambush of Memory

Feels like it was another lifetime...

Copyright © 2024

By Ralph F. Couey

"Our lives are our story, unfolding each day, page by page.

People we meet become characters in our story, as we become characters in theirs.

It is in these chance encounters that we recognize 

that every life is a story waiting to be told."

--Ralph F. Couey

I'm now nearly five months into my job as a tour guide for the USS Missouri Memorial in Pearl Harbor.  While learning the tour presentations presented some challenges for my aging and leaky brain, I've managed to put them in one of the few reliable areas within that mysterious organ.  I've found that I really enjoy doing the tours, partially because public speaking has always been easy and enjoyable for me, but mostly because the ship has such an amazing story to tell.  My biggest problem seems to be not being able to shut up, as my tours usually last way too long.  Working on that...

I underestimated the impact of the innumerable memories that ambush me in every compartment, and down every passageway.  Sometimes they drift in and out, much like the clouds that drift over the harbor.  Then there are the powerful ones, tied to significant events and relationships from those long-ago years that charge in, hitting my most vulnerable places.  As Paul Simon once wrote, 

"Time it was, and what a time it was, it was...

A time of innocence, a time of confidences

Long ago... it must be...

I have a photograph

Preserve your memories

They're all that's left you."

Jubilation...Devastation

 

Union Station, Kansas City, MO

Copyright © 2024 Kansas City Star

"You think you're lost, but you're 

not lost on your own.

I will stand by you, I will help you when you've done all you can do

If you can't cope, I will dry your eyes

I will fight your fight

I will hold you tight

And I won't let go."

--Rascal Flatts

Copyright © 2024

By Ralph F. Couey

Written content only

It was a day of celebration in Kansas City.  The Chiefs had won the Super Bowl yet again and from all over the heartland, people gathered to celebrate.  A glorious, warm mid-winter day, a gift this time of year, added a bit of spring joy to the atmosphere.  In the over one million fans gathered, it would have been tough to find a care in the world.  

A two-mile parade brought the heroes to the place in the city that had seen jubilation before.  Two previous Super Bowl celebrations, and an epic World Series party that, while nearly ten years in the past, still resonates in the memory.  It had always been a place of joy.  It had always been a place of safety.  Nobody ever thought twice about crowding onto the lawn between Union Station and the World War I Memorial, nor lining up 7 or 8 deep along the parade route.  The players got down off the double-decker buses and came right up to the fans, shaking hands, high-fiving, fist-bumping, even hugs.  Jerseys were signed, selfies were taken.  Heroes usually worshipped from afar, became close and personal.

This was KC; it was home; everyone there were neighbors and friends, even if only vicariously.  

There were speeches, fueled by alcohol to be sure, but the kind of thing that gets the heart going and the spirit soaring.  We were champions, and nothing would ever change that.

In that massive crowd, however were a group of people who were not there to celebrate.  They had come to settle a score.  With bullets.  It mattered not that there were innocents present, especially children.  The only thing that mattered was their anger, their hate, their vengeance.  In a moment that will forever live in darkness, they pulled out guns and opened fire.

Bug Time

 

I think I got his best side...

Copyright © 2024

by Ralph F. Couey

We usually take a passing note of things nature, usually because there are things that require our more urgent attention.  But sometimes, nature pulls up a chair, sits down, and forces us to pay attention.

I was at work earlier this week assigned to the entry line, which is actually down on the pier.  There, people show up with their tickets for the Battleship and their tours.  My job is to give them a safety brief, which goes something like this:

"Welcome aboard the Battleship Missouri!  Just a few words to the wise... She's still configured as a warship, so please watch out for tripping hazards, things sticking out from the sides around your arms and head.  The ladders are steep and narrow, so please use both hands on the rails going up or down.  There is no eating, smoking, or vaping. You can drink as long as it is a covered container, like a water bottle.  Please obey the posted signage.  It is there for your safety.  And please hold on to your belongings.  If it goes over the side into the harbor, then it belongs to King Neptune now and forever."

We do this to remind folks that the ship hasn't been modified for visitors and there are hazards around.  That last bit about King Neptune I throw in to get a few smiles.  It's one of the pleasant posts we stand because this is where people first arrive, and we get a chance to give a good impression to start.  When it's busy, that little speech is given a lot as people move through the tent.  When its not, there's time to strike up some conversations.

Then there are days, and times during those days when I might not see anyone for 30 or 45 minutes.  There is time for contemplation.

On this particular day, one of the young ladies from ticketing, gave out a short shriek.  When I looked, she was pointing at a trash/recycle receptacle (made from 1,179 recycled milk cartons).  I followed her point and found that we had a visitor.  Sitting on the side of the container was a preying mantis.  I hadn't seen one in quite a long time, and as I came closer, it showed to tendency to flee.  With nothing else to to at that moment, I decided to take a closer look.