The Reapers Highway

09/08/2019

My family was blessed with a slew of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Gatherings were rich with laughter, stories, and history. Delicious meals were followed by long good byes that started in doorways. Two hours later there would be break-lights at the end of the driveway because someone forgot to ask Aunt so-and-so about the thing at that place. And on it goes, this endless reaching for more of you and them, the blood never willing to let one another go. [ 516 more words ]

My family was blessed with a slew of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Gatherings were rich with laughter, stories, and history. Delicious meals were followed by

09/02/2019

Hello world!

I’m so glad that you’ve stopped in to visit. I really don’t know what you expected to find. Let me take a moment to tell you what this page isn’t. It isn’t a Halloween fest that celebrates the grim reaper. Neither is it a place to celebrate death and mayhem. This is where we acknowledge that life and death are entwined and to live one is to accept the other.

I love driving, cruising along the highway, with music serenading me. With no one to hear me, I belt out song lyrics with no shame. My fingers tap out rhythms on the drum of my steering wheel. There’s no greater feeling than embarking on a road trip, or even just a trip across town. I simply love to drive. As much as I love my gas pedal, my seat belt, my cool key-chain, and Sirius, I’ve grown wary of traffic.

The grim reaper has been portrayed as a tall, skinny guy who creeps through darkened horizons with only moonlight and shadows. My Grim is very different. He’s short and sweet and sad, terribly sad. He hates his job, gets sick at the sight of blood, and is very discouraged by our inability to let him sleep a whole night through. Our inability to be careful on the highways and byways is a source of grave concern for him. My goal is to help Grim retire and to make our highways become safer for you and for me.

09/02/2019

Memorial Drives

Not all Sunday drives are on Sundays. Not all roads are created equal. Not all drivers should have a license. And lastly, not all people reach their intended destination.

When people don’t make it home, loved ones gather where they died. They erect a bright white cross and surround it with flowers, stuffed animals, and whatever they feel, brings comfort. For a couple of weeks, people pull over on the shoulder, rest their hands on the steering wheel, gaze through the windshield at that simple cross, and remember. Some weep in loud screaming jags of pain and loss. Others shake their head and fight the burning in their eyes before they drive on. Another person lies in a dark bedroom, as still as can be, wishing they’d been in the car too.

As time passes, friends stop taking the detour to bow their head at the cross. Winter comes, one year, then two. The cross begins to lean with the wind. The paint chips and fades. Plastic flowers blow away with the breeze or burrow into the high grasses. No one has forgotten but the need to stand in that exact spot has faded.

Except for me and Grim, that is. We will always come back to take a moment to pause and reflect. We’ll pick up the flowers, and straighten the cross. Grim weeps each and every time.

09/02/2019

It's early days and I'm trying to get the kinks out here. I appreciate your patience while I continue to alter a few things. In the meanwhile, here is the beginning. Please share the heck out of it!!! Thank you for joining me on this journey!

09/02/2019

Tom ~ 25th St and tracks in New Castle, In.

It's a little brighter now...

So, who was Tom?

There are shards of reality that can slice you right through when looking for crosses. Grim is the softer of us but we both mourn the quiet souls as we as we stand on their ground. A street in New Castle crosses the railroad tracks, and there is a simple cross with faded white paint.

Tom ~ 25th St and tracks in New Castle, In. It's a little brighter now... So, who was Tom? There are shards of reality that can slice you right throug

09/02/2019

I pulled this cross from the ground and trust me, it wasn't easy. This memorial was meant to last and was as sturdy as could be. The cross itself was made with two separate wooden pieces bolted together. The foot is metal and prevented the wood from soaking in the wet earth. I believe someone made this foot specifically with the intention of protecting the wood.

I pulled this cross from the ground and trust me, it wasn't easy. This memorial was meant to last and was as sturdy as could be. The cross itself was made

09/02/2019

I've met very few drivers who actually pay attention to those pesky white signs with the numbers and letters. You know the ones, they look like algebra equations, 70 MPH, 50 MPH. Some have real small numbers like 10 or 15! What the heck? Since we're all here, let's talk about speed. I'm not going to be a hypocrite and tell you that I drive the limit. It simply wouldn't be true.

I've met very few drivers who actually pay attention to those pesky white signs with the numbers and letters. You know the ones, they look like algebra eq