Poetry

The Sound of Silence

Leo Lawton

Man, with his intelligence, could not control himself.

A voice in the darkness pleaded for salvation,

but none would listen,

and there was overpopulation on the land.

Man knew the earth could not sustain this onslaught,

and yet he multiplied unabatedly.

All could not be fed,

and there was hunger on the land.

When there was not food enough,

for all to have a share.

Man slaughtered all the beasts,

and there was shame upon the land.

When man needed still more land to grow the food,

for all those wanton born,

he mowed the forests,

and there was drought upon the land.

When still there was not enough to feed man,

he reaped the fishes from the sea,

and the fowl from the sky,

and only man remained upon the land.

Where there had been trees and flowers,

dust storms blew across the plains.

Man starved,

and there was silence on the land!

I Should Have Kept My Ford

It was late in the year of 1962.  My wife was pregnant with our first child.  I decided my older model 1953 Ford sedan was ten years old and maybe not up to the big occasion of getting to the hospital when it would be absolutely necessary for the big event.  I traded it off for a 1961 Chevrolet Biscayne with a stick shift.  I was not ready to think an automatic transmission was anything I wanted.  They were prone to trouble and expensive to repair when it came.

In the meantime I did odd jobs around the trailer park for Les Cox the owner.  Les had two vehicles.  There was an early 1950s model Chevrolet we used around the park for all sorts of odd jobs, and his family also owned a fairly new Cadillac sedan for normal transportation.  As Les was afflicted with Multiple Sclerosis I often drove him into town for various errands.  On these occasions we obviously drove the Cadillac so I kept a set of keys to it at my home.

During the night of December 16/17 my wife told me it was time to go to the hospital so we entered our Chevy and I backed it out of our driveway into the trailer court street.  Somewhat in haste I pushed the clutch and shifted it into first gear forward.  It stalled in the middle of the street.  I pushed the clutch, restarted the engine, released the clutch and it stalled again.  Once more I went through the same routine.  I got out, lifted the hood, and could see almost nothing in the night.  I rushed into the trailer for a flashlight, but I could see little with that either.  What to do?  We had to get to the hospital several miles away.

I rushed into the trailer once more, grabbed Les’ Cadillac keys, and proceeded to his garage.  My wife and I went to the hospital in style, in a stolen car.  Our son was born in the early morning hours.  I then returned to the trailer court with Les’ Cadillac and put it back in his garage.  I went to his door and apologized for using his car, but he would have none of that.   He told me he knew when he found his car gone, and mine sitting in the middle of the street, that he guessed approximately what had happened, and if his car could be of use under the circumstances it was marvelous.

During the day I found my stick shift Chevy stuck in reverse and first gear at the same time.  I adjusted the shift linkage correctly, and it never bothered again before I sold it in November of 1966.

Cox's Trailer Court

Within the first few days of April 1960 our 1953 8’ x 35’ Champion mobile home arrived from Norfolk, VA at Cox’s Trailer Court, 9842 103^rd St Jacksonville, FL.  The court, owned by Les and Helen Cox, was under construction at the time.  I thought it would be quieter, with less traffic, at the rear of the court so asked if I could park my home on a back corner.  As those spots were not yet developed Les told me I could have one if I wanted to develop it myself.  He would put up the materials and money if I wanted to do the labor.  So I developed my own lot on the back corner.  Looking at the sky view of the park a number 1 can be noted in the street in front of the spot.  We lived on that lot for a year or more.

I believe it was the spring of 1961 when our good friends Kent and Ellie Eshelman moved to a different court closer to Jacksonville.  We decided to move our home to the spot they left which was much closer to the front of Cox’s court.  During all of this time I worked part time for Les doing odd jobs around the court.  A number 2 is in front of this spot.

In early 1962 we traded our Champion home for a new 10’ X 50’ Peerless mobile home.  We had it placed on the roadside lot across the driveway from Les’ house.  A number 3 is in the driveway designating this spot.  Late that year I decided I was going to leave the Navy so I sold the home to a friend named Hepler.  Nora packed up and went to New York to stay with her parents for three months or so until my discharge date.

Only a month or so later I changed my mind, and decided to re-enlist in the Navy for another four years.  With that idea also came the thought of buying yet another new mobile home, the second in that same year.  So we bought a Pacemaker 10’ X 50’ home and placed it where the number 4 is in the street.  To sum it up we lived in that court over three years, in three mobile homes, on four lots.

In the first spot we lived in Stan and Donna Norton lived beside us.  While yet living on that same spot our good friends Charlie and Barbara Norton bought a Frontier mobile home and moved in a few spots up the street.

While living there we survived Hurricane Donna in 1960.  It holds the record yet today for sustained winds of 115 or more for nine days straight from September second through September tenth.  On the night of September 10/11, 1960 I chose to remain in our mobile home although many warnings suggested everyone go to secure quarters.  At 22 years of age I thought I’d seen everything so why worry about some wind and rain.  During the night the winds from the south were pushing our home’s wall in several inches.  I opened all windows in the home to relieve pressure on the walls, and allowed the rain to blow in as it would.  Horrendous noises were present all night long.  Needless to say we got no sleep.  On the morning of September 11, 1960 we were able to look at near devastation through the part of the trailer park we could see.  I drove our 1953 Ford to Cecil Field in conditions almost unbelievable, but we did arrive there.  Within an hour of our arrival Donna had passed by and we returned home shortly thereafter.

Norfolk To Jacksonville

In March of 1960 I was transferred from the Naval Air Station at Breezy Point on the Naval Base at Norfolk, Virginia to NAS Cecil Field, Jacksonville, Florida.  I had bought a 1953 Ford sedan the previous year, and I loved that car.  For you mechanically minded guys, this was the last year of Ford’s flatheads.  Fords the next year had the newly developed overhead valve engines.

Before leaving Norfolk I made arrangements to have my 8’ X 35’ Champion mobile home towed to Jacksonville and stored to await our arrival.  My wife and I then came to northern New York to visit our parents.  Nearly a month later we left New York headed for our new destination in Florida.  The first day we got to central Virginia before stopping for the night in a motel.

We awoke the next morning, jumped in the car, and drove corner ways down over a four inch curb to the street.  The car’s engine fan went through the radiator!  Believe it or not I actually located a man that would work on the car even though it was a Sunday morning.  He surmised the fan had come loose from the engine in some manner and hit the radiator destroying it.  He located a used fan and radiator and installed both at quite a reasonable fee while we ate a leisurely brunch, and we were once more on our way.  That night we spent in a motel in Jacksonville, Florida.

The next morning we awoke to a beautiful day, until leaving the motel we drove corner ways down over a four inch curb to hear once again the same sound as the previous morning.  Absolutely, the fan went through the radiator again.  As luck would have it I spotted a garage that worked on radiators a block or so up the street.  When I told the mechanic the fan had came loose from the engine and ruined the radiator the day before, he started checking further.  It seemed the front engine rubber mounts had disintegrated causing the engine to shift allowing the fan to strike the radiator.  The fan had been destroyed by contact with the radiator rather than coming loose like the man in Virginia had surmised.

For the second time in two days we were repaired and got under way again.  Our radiator was repaired, a second used fan, and new front engine mounts were installed.  I then drove to the local office of the national mobile home mover that was storing our home awaiting our arrival.  They had never heard of us, much less were storing our home.  A call to Norfolk discovered our home was being stored there.  We spent two more nights in a motel while our home was towed to Florida, but at least that gave us time to locate Cecil Field and a Trailer Court in the vicinity, so when our home arrived it had a place to stop.

Our new mobile home park was named Cox’s Trailer Park, and was located at 9842 103^rd St, which headed west from the southern part of Jacksonville to the Cecil Field Naval Air Station.  We were located only three miles or so from where I would be working at VF-174 a training squadron for the F8U aircraft.  One of our new neighbors, whom we would meet in due time, were named Eshelman. 

Back To The Pond

On Tuesday, the 15^th of November 2011, I rode back to the pond to look at whatever I might see there.  I never know if I will see anything, or possibly a multitude of wildlife species.  On this date Bucky Beaver decided to show off for a couple of minutes.  All of that brown colored brush in the near background is now under a foot of water or more due to the beaver’s diligence in dam building and maintenance.  Bucky, the larger male, as compared to Eager the female, swam out from the left side near the background brush.  He made a couple of circles of his domain to insure I was not going to be a problem for him, before he moved off over to the right and disappeared into the brush.  It can be noted it was late afternoon by the moon’s reflection in the afternoon water.  That was it for the day.

However I returned on the 22^nd, when the temperature had dropped to below the freezing point.  This photo is of the portion of the pond on the south side of the road.  One of Bucky and Eager’s kits has taken up residence there.  Note that even though the temperature is below freezing the water is fully open.  There appears to be a slightly oily sheen on the water’s surface.  I do not know what causes this or if this has any effect on the water’s state of freezing.  Also for whatever reason this part of the pond stays roiled all of the time now.  Possibly the beaver is digging mud to build the dam higher.  I don’t know.

This is the north side of the road.  Although it is north of the second photo I don’t think the ten feet difference accounts for the fact this side is now skimmed over with ice.  That is where Bucky and Eager have the sluice pipe plugged in the lower right corner.  You may notice slightly more ice along the edge of that.  Winter is approaching if not here yet.

I moved along to where Bucky and Eager’s second kit, whom I have named Little Beaver (remember Red Ryder and his faithful little companion), is beginning his new life away from home.  As I drove along side of his pond I noted a growing stash of limbs that Little Beaver is intending to use for his winter food supply.  On foot I approached his domain to get a photo.  Just as I neared the water’s edge I heard a loud splash, and a roiling of the water as he dropped out of sight near the stored branches.  I never saw him before he announced his presence and departure.  He left behind that six foot diameter hole in the skim ice in the foreground.  That’s his brush pile, in the water, just behind the open water.  Looking to the right is toward his dam he has constructed during the past few weeks.

This last photo is nearly the same as the previous one, but it reaches all the way to the dam over on the right side.  Soon they will need that stored food.  I hope they have planned well.

Old Country Church

Old Country Church

Leo Lawton

As I trod along a country road, I heard a church bell ring,

and as I entered through the door, I heard the children sing.

They sang to me of Jesus Christ, who on a fateful day,

was nailed upon a wooden cross, and carried far away.

And like the song they sang that day, I too was far from home,

I had wandered in the open door, because I was alone.

I felt so sorry for myself, I was among the very few,

who sat within that lonely church, as I dropped into a pew.

Once more I found my maker, upon that lonesome day,

when I chanced upon that olden church, I found along my way.

Tears welled up in this old man’s eyes as I pondered all my sin,

my thoughts then turned to mama as I tarried there within.

And mama’s voice then spoke to me, as if she were right there,

“Son,” she said, “I knew your load was way too much to bear.

And so I’ve waited in this church for you to come along,

And now that you have found your way, know that you belong.”

Mortality

When we were children few of us took any notice of our ultimate fate.  Mortality had no real meaning to those of us who had a happy existence.  Dying was something that great grandparents did, or at a minimum, grandparents.  When we only saw them a time or two a year their disappearance meant little.

As young adults our ideas began to change a bit.  Here and there some friend’s parent died and we mused they had passed on much too soon, but yet it never registered that it could also happen to ourselves.  Death was something that happened to others, usually much older folks, and we were living proof that we were not vulnerable.  Only on rare occasions did death touch our safe little environment.

When we approached a more middle age, we began to note that a former schoolmate had died, or possibly our own parent had succumbed to the rigors of life.  It seemed that death while not staring us in the face, was at least something that could happen to someone we knew, if not to ourselves.  The grim reaper was beginning to hang out in our circle, if not at our own doorstep.

Then someday we find we are older than the average person we read about in the daily obituaries, and we wonder how did that happen?  What did we do that was different that allowed us the dubious distinction of living longer than our friends, acquaintances, or siblings?  After much soul searching we discover the answer to be, nothing!  We led no exemplary life.  We didn’t refrain from all of the frailties of mankind.  We merely existed on this planet in mostly the same manner as all others that we knew.  Yet we are here, knowing that we will die in the future.  All living things die sooner or later, but we now realize, finally, that our mortality is an event that absolutely will happen.  We stare it in the face on a daily basis, we look it in the eye, not with defiance, but with the knowledge it can’t be that far ahead in what little future we have remaining.