Distant Voices

"Mother is the word for God on the lips and mouths of small children..."
-Eric Draven

"Relatives are annoying and if they are not annoying then they are dead..."
-Kitty Foreman

"A man who honors his teacher, honors himself"
- Chinese Proverb

For my beloved wife Jenn who lost her father, Jeff on August 30th, 2017.

( I read once a story about how in a distant land, long ago that during a famine old people were ordered to be killed to leave more food for people who can work. In this story a man who loved his mother tried to hide her but she told him to leave her in the woods. On the way after discovering her leaving trail markers so he doesn't get lost, he lost heart nd took her home. Long story short they get invaded and with her help the village solves riddles that spare them.

The following story isn't about saving people from a conquering army but rather the value of parents. No matter how much they piss you off or not, they are valuable.)

[This is a true story]


I was in the jungles of Costa Rica.  I had been here a few weeks when we were told that in order to help win hearts and minds we were to go clear out jungle that over grew a school house construction site.

We arrived and got off the bus after first having had to raid the local police academy's yard tools. It was humid and uncomfortable.  We really had our work cut out for us as the jungle had even enveloped the foundation and cement walls of the small 4 room building.

As people began picking up tools to work I noticed a long machete leaning against a fence. I picked it up and felt a wave of nostalgia pass over me. My Mother's image began to take over my mind. I shook it off and listened to the plans for the day.

I had been told to begin hacking the jungle away. I began the task, swinging the machete back and forth low. Each pass reaped the tall grass and bushes leaving a trail behind.

Half-heartedly I began to chuckle to myself. I remember my Mother sitting on a stool with a cigarette watching me work in my youth. She would sit there sometimes drinking coffee spouting out instructions and tips to me. She used to use things like this to teach me stuff.

I tried to push it away as my blade kept mowing down the jungle. I began to realize that my technique was faltering.I could hear her telling me to keep my "alive" hand to my chest to protect me.

"Yeah right! Moms gone! She can't see me!" I thought bravely to myself...

I paused ,took a quick look around and then sheepishly put my "alive" hand to my chest before she could see me.

"Watch your blade! You're swinging crooked. It's not effective!" I heard her say.

Obidiently I corrected my grip and once again sliced through the foliage like air. My arm began to tire as I worked.

"If you are tired, switch hands!"

I switched the blade to my left hand. Still keeping the pace with my right hand I continued slicing through the jungle.

"Watch your breathing! " she yelled out.

I noticed that I was panting. I began to breathe through my nose. Deep even breaths like I had been taught.

"Use the air, don't waste it!" She said when she noticed the improvement.

I was pouring with sweat. Every muscle was tired and sore. Still I kept on swinging the blade. I could feel her eyes on me, watching my cuts, waiting for me to mess up. I drove on deeper into the jungle. I had even cut down small trees with the machete to her silent approval.

After a while the jungle had been removed. As we were picking up the tools I felt the urge to look back but hesitated.  Would I see nothing? Would I see her? Would I never see her again?  Could this be the last time?

Finally I looked back, I did not see her but I could hear her telling me to go home. I stood there staring at the silent jungle until my friends called me to get in the bus to leave.

( I used to say that only Children should bury their parents, Parents should never bury their children. I personally believe that you honor your parents by doing the burying.

Being a parent is many things. I learned from my Mother that a good parent is an Instructor and both my parents despite it all were excellent instructors in their areas of expertise.

We are our parents. People will see your parents in the way you act and the things you do. Maybe even in the things that we don't do.

I will always carry my Mother in my heart and in my training. People can and do see her in my movements and habits. People will look at me and see the man my Mother wanted me to be.

and my Mother will be honored.)
-B