TERRY MOSHER
TOP OF THE TOWN ‑ We are in dark years today with the pandemic and the darkness spread by Donald Trump from the oval office. Hate to say this, but I’ve been there. I experienced my own dark years back in the 1950s and 60s. My mother died on May 25, 1953 when I was 15 days from becoming a teenager as the youngster of five Mosher children of Jesse and L.H. Mosher. I have talked about those years and the spiritual that I have experienced and my words always elicit silence from readers. We are losing our attachment to Jesus and Christian belief, research tells me. That saddens me. The basic foundation of life is a four letter world – L-O-V-E. It’s what Jesus taught. I had plenty of love, although it was never spoken, growing up. And the spiritual found me unawares. I was just nine years old when I had that first spiritual experience. I was sitting in my fifth grade class when a voice telepathy said this: “You will marry Mary.” Mary and I have been married for 53 years. The day that our granddaughter – Junior – died she talked to me. She said, “Don’t worry about me, I walk with the grace of God.” But before Junior talked to me, before Mary and I wed, before I had children (5 now), before darkness overcame me I had a idyllic childhood. A person couldn’t have asked for a better one. I had it going and light shone on me all the time. I was headed for a good life. Then my mother died, my father remarried and we moved from New York State to the West Coast and a dark curtain came sliding down over me. My life went from idyllic to idiot. I did not harm. I didn’t break laws. I just broke myself, turned inward and didn’t allow anybody in. I went from a B+ student to a D+ student to the best athlete by age to a no-athlete. Don’t get me wrong. I loved high school. It was the way to stay away from a home where except for my father I wasn’t wanted. Not wanting to hurt my father, I stayed away from home as much as possible, often taking long walks in the woods, on the railroad tracks, along the raging river. I also turned to music. It’s ironic that I made it by listening to the music of Hank Williams, who wrote and sang some of the more enduring and sad music of all-time. Hank was living a life of darkness and it came out in his brilliant songs. His darkness touched me and allowed me some relief knowing that somebody besides me was mired in darkness. Without him I would not have survived. Light started to shine through when Mary and I wed and eventually the darkness went away, so did the music of Hank Williams. But this morning as I write guess who I am listening to once again? Yes, Hank is coming through my speakers and it’s appropriate considering the dark days that hang over us from all the hatred of Trump. I figure I was off my spiritual path – we are all assigned one upon birth – for about 30 years. The death of Junior on May 26, 1989 snapped me to attention and I went on a year-long search for the meaning of Junior and her death by accident at the age of 3.5 years. I finally came to the realization that she was an Angel send here to straighten out our family. Mission accomplished. I don’t know what I’m supposed to accomplish in this life, but I do know that my life has been guided from the other side. I just have to have faith and listen for it. I should have been dead a long time ago. I did enough to end my life with risky moments that when I look back were just not stupid but a shout out for help that never came. By the grace of God, I’m still here. I’m still a little bewildered by it all. Sometimes I feel like I’m a black widow. A lot of people that were friends have died before their time. At last count the number was in the 30s. It started with the friend who listened to Williams with me back in the 1950s. She developed a terrible strain of MS at 21 and died 22 years later, strapped in a state institution for her last years in a chair and bed while blind and speechless. Horrible, horrible life. So why, do I ask, am I still here and she had to be saddled with a life so sad, so horrible? I will end it here. I wish for us all to have a good life. Remember as Trump spews out hate and divides us, that the great counter to that is love. Love conquers all. Hank Williams died the same year my mother did (Jan.1, 1953) and I’ll let him close this blog with “Why Don’t You Love Me Like You Used To Do.”
Well, why don’t you love me like you used to do
How come you treat me like a worn out shoe
My hair’s still curly and my eyes are still blue
Why don’t you love me like you used to do
Ain’t had no lovin’ like a huggin’ and a kissin’
In a long, long while
We don’t get nearer or further or closer
Than a country mile
Why don’t you spark me like you used to do
And say sweet nothin’s like you used to coo
I’m the same old trouble that you’ve always been through
So, why don’t you love me like you used to do
Well, why don’t you be just like you used to be
How come you find so many faults with me
Somebody’s changed so let me give you a clue
Why don’t you love me like you used to do
Ain’t had no lovin’ like a huggin’ and a kissin’
In a long, long while
We don’t get nearer or further or closer
Than a country mile
Why don’t you say the things you used to say
What makes you treat me like a piece of clay
My hair’s still curly and my eyes are still blue
Why don’t you love me like you used to do
Be well pal.
Be careful out there.
Have a great day
You are loved.
