The blogs the last couple of days have been rather mild and layed back. Even No_U is scratching her head. Nova is on a virtual panty raid and SJG is avoiding STD. The new girl keeps jumping in front of the bus, but has good spirit. The men are behaving like gentlemen, (sorry Nova not you. Not until you get over your dominatrix mother). Tomlet and Gnome have been quiet, guess I'm going to have to start a new conspiracy or government cover up. No lack of material there.

I'm going to tell a story of a long walk home, nothing really funny or interesting but it does contain one small miracle and reinforces my belief in God. It is completely true, but scientifically unprovable and without documentation, it was meant for me so the miracle as small as it was, still remains with me and it's meaning as well as it's promise has never failed me. God has saved me many times, but I was thankless and ignorant. Even during this small miracle I didn't realize it's significance until another greater miracle or just dynamic forces saved my entire family's lives.

I was 22 years old, my last year in college and a friend wanted to smoke a joint with me. It had been a while and remembering all the good times, I had with my friends many  lonely miles away, I was on it, like green fly on shit. I held that smoke deep into my lungs. Way ahead of my time I didn't want to add CO2 to the atmosphere, so I held it hard and I held it deep.

My Friend had one more class and I couldn't even care if I did. This was when I first experienced paranoia after smoking pot. It had been a while so it hit me really hard and all I wanted to do was crawl under my sheets until the bad people went away. 

It was twenty miles home from Algonquin College to Vanier. I couldn't face anyone and started walking home. I took a route that followed under power lines towards my home. Most of the route was overgrown with small trees and a small path. I saw one old man in leiderhosen (German leather shorts) tall socks, cane and a Schnauzer. His dog barked at me, he smiled a toothy grin and continued on.

It was about three and a half hours into my walk I was feeling really hungry and thirsty. The sun was warm but not too strong, a small breeze blew through the field.  By this time, about four in the afternoon, my lunch far behind me I needed sustenance. I entered into some deep wooded area. I didn't have any money, not a clue where I was, and was getting a little worried. I thought if I could find a major road I could use my bus pass to get home quickly. The paranoia kept me on the trail through the woods and the breeze camouflaged any road sounds.

I could see a small clearing, the rays of light piercing the canopy of trees. I saw before me a small rock outcropping with some large boulders on top. It looked like a natural place of rest and I walked toward it. On top of the largest rock I saw a big red apple, beside that a brown lunch bag with its top lovingly folded.

Was this a mirage? Is this what happens when you are so thirsty and hungry you imagine an oasis? I touched the apple, it was real. I held it to my nose and could smell the blossom from whence it came. I opened the lunch bag, there inside were two beautiful, lovingly created bologna sandwiches, cut on the diagonal, just like mom's. 

I carefully spread the slices apart, to peer inside, the butter was thick and frigid and the smell was like pulling back the sheets that belonged to a high priced French prostitute. The meal was awesome the apple was sweet.

I looked down as I ate my God given lunch, there bubbling from the rock was a small fountain of spring water, fissured through the rocks. I got on my knees, smelled the rock cleansed liquid, sampled it, liked it, finally drenched my face in it, and quenched my thirst with it.

I was able to make it about eighty five percent the way home, when I stumbled onto a bus stop, a familiar driver having a smoke break, I flashed him my pass, he appreciated my formality, but indicated no need for it. I got on the bus, went home, played a tune on ol' Heitzman and had a long lonesome snooze.

God bless the pot, God bless the trail, God bless the struggle, God bless the food, God bless the water, God bless the way back home, God bless my piano, but most of all God Bless God!

Bless Sparks for his sweet and subtle comments!