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Author Topic: SUNSHINE SUPERMAN  (Read 3421 times)
« on: March 02, 2007, 08:58:34 PM »

SUNSHINE SUPERMANby r.andrew stokes
based on factual events

Cancer has a smell all its own; it isn't quite rotting flesh, but neither is it a healthy aroma; not in this Spring of divine daffodils and promising peonies. I embrace the compost evolution of coffee grounds, spent banana peels, and dutiful orange rinds, all gracing the garden soil, where the threat of fiercesome tomatoes is trumped up by the communication of my food with the earth. Cancer...terminal cancer...holds another promise, an additional threat.

It emanates from her feet, and from her female organ; an organ never played this time around, to its full symphony potential, and certainly to never bear the fruit of her precious stock. Her feeble walking has given way to collapses on the floor, the urinating uncontrolled, the self-imposed shame she cannot hide from her clear eyes. She never was a good liar.
I spoon-feed her food she cannot keep down for any length of time, and I wonder if she is starving herself, for my benefit; that she might exit quicker. She's too strong will, always has been, and Jack Kerouac's ghost conspires in my mind with Jim Morrison, to define her cool-moon-jeweled step-beat Indian soul pronouncement, drifting across roads of Eternal dust, a sunrise in Mexico where Allan-baby mourns the passing of another beautiful youth, never to be seduced. The Subterraneans approving, snapping fingers behind sunglasses of fabricated coolness; but to bathe, everyone becomes the Chevy BelAir basic model God created them to be. Flighty words can give wings lift, but we all end up on the ground, Rocky Horror-retching our folly, writhing spiral-seedlike into the ground, to hopefully sprout, a tree; the "nut" society always called us. The oak we always knew we were. And at some point in the journey, firewood. I have no qualms about this; I fell in love with the Universe, hopint it would forgive me for harsh words uttered or shouted in steamy brain-celled despair, when times were against me, and I even failed myself. Every night, when I gaze the distant stars, She tells me She does; others have done worse. Actually, Roy, you've been a gift.
« Reply #1 on: March 02, 2007, 09:15:26 PM »

I've learned that you listen through the night, sacrificing your own sleep to the slightest irregular cough-choke, the uneven rhythm of breath, the thud in the still night darkness that can only be her falling off the bed, onto her painful back, and feeling guilty for you having to pick her up. I've emphasized time and again that this is no real sacrifice; it's what life has asked us all to do, when the time comes. And none of us expects this kindness when the tables turn in our direction. Actually, we'll be shocked...and shamed?...when someone else has to wipe our butts, clear our snot, smell that smell day in, day out. How deeply it makes you embrace the Divineness of all Life. How honored it makes that distant star you pray to, and how connected to it you always have been. Somewhere...I know, in water molecules...Eternity is in you. All of Eternity is recorded in the water molecule, which never forgets; it traverses the entire bloodstream pulse up a tree, through the fruit, past your teeth, down your piss, into the springs that emerge pure again, because water knows what it's doing. Even when it carries cancer cells to the deserts of our follies, reminding us of days we cast our fate to the wind, water is faithfully and knowingly the servant of the Universe's Will, and it can carry the Titanic, or freeze part of itself to sink the Titanic. I acquiesce to the Universe's Will, with few requests,though they are specific. And She always smiles, and grants me my wish.

My little girl is dying, and she knows it; there is no more skirting the truth. The smell forbids it. Water, surfing its wave of sperm and egg, brought her here, and will be the same bus driver to take her on to the next destination. After beating my head against the wall and wailing out unrestrained pain, I amaze myself at how calm I am, now. I skipped a few stages, because I divorced denial, and I was never good at bargaining. I'm smart enough to go straight to acceptance, and so is she.
« Reply #2 on: March 02, 2007, 09:45:19 PM »

I now gaze upon each creature...all my relations...as entireties; a complete story, a statement, and a word in a string of words that...trillions of them to the tenth power...create a bigger story; a Uni-verse. I am at peace with most of them, though I'd like to see the Blue Jay once again harnessed to Robin's plow. Perhaps I'll live to see that. And George Bush held accountable for his foibles. I'm accountable; everyone should be.

I lieu of that, I am partly responsible for this cancer, oozing a defiant fuck-you finger at life's sperm-swim toward beauty, then fading as the daffodils, then laying itself at the altar of compost, for the next wave. My own cancers lurk in the shadows where they feel the most smug, until the chance emerges for then to storm-troop and conquer, the parasites of the Divine, ever-stupid to the fact that a parasite invariably kills its host, thus committing the most mindless suicide. Perhaps evolution will eradicate this abuse of the Universe's intent. Some of us attempt to educate those around us. Most of them don't care to listen; they're dealing with their own, cool-jeweled flaming shit-heels cancers.

I've carried this little girl for eleven years, and like everything else my inner-voice has explained to me; I don't own her.

I don't own the daffodils,
tomatoes, or the formula for compost to resurrect into life, again. I do not own water, but all of the elements I am welcome to, because I asked. Sometimes, my requests are denied, and I am confident that the Universe...and Her waters...know what they are doing. So if death isn't swift, it is because my little girl is earning her Christedness through attendant suffering. My heart-spirit the gushing wave upon her entirety, it is not cowardice to acquiesce to the Rules; it is an acceptance of them. I spent a boatload of time rebelling against them; the prodigal son has come home.

"It'll take time, I know it/ but in a while
 you're gonna be mine, and I know it/ so do it in style." Donovan's song, "Sunshine Superman".

My little girl's name is Sunshine. For eleven years I've been her Superman. Kryptonite is my Achilles' Heel, even though I went skinny-dipping through that process, to be invincible. I'm not, and neither is she.
The sheepish times she tried to lie, she couldn't, successfully; her wagging tail, even now, shows her true spirit. Her four feet, agonized by a chemical her stubborn head demanded she walk in, are wretched in driftwood uselessness. She just HAD to follow me, even when I said "NO!"

But dogs follow you anywhere. Including the end of time.

Eternal friends don't keep linear dates; they embrace you in the  here and now. Here and now is Eternity; if you ever see it breaking up, you know it is an I-Ching solid line, run its course, onward to be the stardust it was created to be, and then on to where the Galaxies need you. And us.

And sometimes, it needs us to die. To live. And speak the truth in actions, odors, stumbles, and acquiescence.


Sunshine Stokes
March 15, 1991
April 28, 2005
"She dared to ripple my pond."

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« Reply #3 on: March 02, 2007, 10:22:34 PM »

Thank you Roy.... your writing brings back memories of a kinder and gentler time when we had time for each other.   Sadly many of the younger people today have likely never experienced this kind of compassionate connection to any other being. The headlong rush to ? ? ? leaves no time to consider matters that won't directly benefit us. This lack of compassion is obvious when you consider our acceptance of the mayhem that we let our leaders create.

What to do?

Becoming as insensitive as our leaders so we can destroy them is not the answer, we will then just replace them on the bloody trail.

I believe the answer is presented in the kind of compassion you portray in this story. In the midst of all the chaos we need to again build communities based on the kind of values you describe. We must stick to those values no matter what comes our way. It won't be easy, but I would rather go to my grave holding these values than survive through giving them up.

Well done  :clap:


~ risk fear ~
"We are the world and the world is us" - Krishnamurti
« Reply #4 on: March 02, 2007, 10:34:53 PM »

« Reply #5 on: March 04, 2007, 11:47:22 AM »

Angry by r.andrew stokes

I don't want to be angry, anymore.
Understanding the human element,
      I cannot be angry.
      Unless you show me
      a book that tells us
      how to navigate through Life.
      A book uninfluenced by Freemasons.
Now a computer is my studio wall.
      The curser cusses, instead of me.
      Because I don't like being angry.
      I don't want to say "fuck you" to myself;

      and you are me.
      We are the same; We came from the same source.
      I don't steal from you;
      I steal from myself, if I take something
      of yours'.

And I acknowledge your greatness,
      even if you are only a drunken bum.
      You are still me.
      And I love Myself, now,

                  because I am no longer angry.

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Posts: 992

« Reply #6 on: March 04, 2007, 12:33:06 PM »

The postal worker who delivers mail to the office told me a touching story of pet loss.  His friend's son was a teenager when his dog became terminally ill.  The brave boy said he would put the dog down himself.  He took the dog a short distance from home into the woods where he built an altar where he'd cremate the body.  The boy took his time celebrating all the fun times he'd had with his pet until it was getting dark.  His father had begun to worry when he heard a lone gunshot.     

Kindness is the language the blind can see and the deaf can hear. 
Mark Twain
« Reply #7 on: March 04, 2007, 01:05:19 PM »

« Reply #8 on: April 09, 2007, 01:04:28 PM »

Dear Friends;                       April 28, 2005

     It is with sadness, yet great relief that I inform you of Sunshine's passing. It was a brutal fight against cancer, and she lost, finally. She died comfortably at home, on the farm.
      I know how much she touched many lives, and countless people were encouraged to adopt dogs because of her.
      She worked along side of me, we slept and ate together, and Lord knows how many highway miles we traveled together. She was fairly unique in her Life position, due to the fact that she did accomodate me in everything I did, and everywhere I went. My thought for this letter was to highlight some of our adventures together. (She was my four-legged Huck Finn...)
« Reply #9 on: April 09, 2007, 01:22:45 PM »

     After a days' work, we prepared to sleep in my van, near the river. In those days, Annie ran her horse carriage in Olde Towne, and she parked her carriage in the parking lot where Sunshine and I slept. Hobo (the horse) could be heard clopping down the pavement two blocks away, and when they arrived, I helped Annie unharness him. Sunshine and I spent many nights walking along the river, the lights of Washington (D.C.) shimmering across the water. She often met other dogs she approved of, and off to tear up the grass they'd go.

     During a very harsh Winter, when we still slept in my van, two nights in a row the temperature dropped to ten degrees, and we held each other to stay warm. There is no doubt that she kept me alive.
     During my hey-day in radio, she quietly lay on the studio floor , while John and I played music, between broadcasting Simpsons impersonations. John and I twice travelled to Massachusetts, to attend Titanic Historical Society functions, never having to worry about sneaking her into the room; the hotel staff always loved her.
« Reply #10 on: April 09, 2007, 01:35:16 PM »

     For at least ten years she tagged along with me to the Emmanual Episcopal Church, where I still maintain the buildings, and keep the pre-school in good order. For that long, she had been the "unofficial" mascot of the pre-school, and many children got the greatest joy from a dog being where a dog shouldn't be. The staff have been so very kind and loving, the only real sadness is that she won't ne visiting there, anymore. The enduring joy will be the stories about Sunshine, those people, and the days we were graciously given to share together.

     When we were home, in the Shenandoah Valley, we often went down to the river, and swam together.
« Reply #11 on: April 09, 2007, 01:42:43 PM »

     One day, while swimming, we came bobbing up behind a father and son, fishing, and they were quite surprised to see us. Just as we arrived, the boy hooked a fish. Sunshine and I headed up to shore, to walk back to the van. Near the van, the mother/wife had been sitting in a beach chair, and I announced that her son son had just caught his first fish. She asked if I wouldn't mind going back to tell them to come in, now. So, Sunshine and I splooshed into the middle of the river, and bobbed downstream to deliver a wet Western Union.
« Reply #12 on: April 09, 2007, 02:09:15 PM »

      I began taking her into the Home Depot [materials supply store] with me, while procuring the materials I needed for a day's work. No leash, she'd trot right by my side, stopping when I did, moving when I did. This was nothing she was trained to do; her Spirit simply moved in harmony with mine. Eventually, I gravitated to Lowe's [competitor to Home Depot] and my home store is located on route 1 in Alexandria. To this day, [yes; even here in 2007] you can ask about a dog named Sunshine, end every employee will have a special memory for you. They gave her a children's "Lowe's" apron, and Janice adorned it with play tools. Sunshine would wear this apron when we went through Lowe's, and she became known as "The Lowe's Dog".

     Please let me express the highest gratitude to those of you who accepted her into your lives, along with me. For a dog, she had a fabulous life, and she not only enriched mine; she touched everyone's heart she met. Her Spirit was such that she never complained about pain, was always grateful for her food, and always behaved gently around children, and adults, alike. Her perpetual Golden Retriever smile is part of her enduring brightness, and I'm certain she is much too humble to approve of these words, but I feel them, because I lived them.

     She will always be a part of us. Her presence will always be in the seat behind me when I drive. She taught me life and love.

     We love our family and friends so dearly, and it's tough to let them go. But letting them go allows them to return to the place that they came from.

      Her name was "Sunshine". And that's where she returned to.

                                                                       Your friend,
                                                                       Roy Andrew Stokes
« Reply #13 on: April 09, 2007, 02:32:11 PM »

He spoke through tears
of fifteen years
    how his dog and him
travelled about.

The dog up an died...
        up and died...
        after twenty years, he still greives.


« Last Edit: April 09, 2007, 02:34:35 PM by royster » Logged
« Reply #14 on: April 10, 2007, 10:25:16 AM »

Tappitty tappity tap tap tap!

chu-chink-ta-tapitty tap tap tap....(smile)

TAAApitty tap tap tap tappity tap tap...(present stage prop) (smile agiain) TA-tappity tap tap tap...clickitety clickety snap clink PLOMP

(Angelic bow only royster can do.)

Go to the lounge, and be recieved.
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