Back in June 2016, I started a new "series" of posts... if you will...
And so on Wednesdays; I've been posting an old photograph to inspire your creativity.
Write a poem!
Plot out a short story.
Have inspiration for a piece of art or composition.... let your artistic soul shine.
--and occasionally I write my own sordid story or poem.
(you can click on the photos in this post to make it larger to see).
~~~
Donny grew up in Detroit. The youngest of 5 brothers, he never felt like he quite fit in.
His father was a mechanic. His grandfather was a mechanic.
All of his brothers were mechanics.
But Donny dreamed of the circus.
As a child, he often would tell folks that one day he would run off and they would never see him again.
He practiced jumps on his bike over bricks in the streets. He climbed up the sides of old buildings and walked the edges like a tightrope dancer.
He was constantly doing pull-ups in doorways and climbing fences to build up his upper arm strength.
And one day he did it. He disappeared. He was 15, and on his own.
He never wrote his family, although one day his father saw an advertisement for the "Great Gotama."
Supposedly, a dark warrior from the mountains of East Indies who would be performing a daring feat.
Of course, his father knew it was him. .. but he did not tell the family.
Instead, he drove countless hours in the decrepit Chevy to Niagara Falls, where Donny would be going over the falls in a barrel.
The crowd was thick. The air was crisp. Donny's father was nervous, and rightly so.
No one had succeeded in going over the falls, and lived to tell the tale.
Donny was not nervous at all.
As he told his friend, "Either I will be famous, or I will be infamous... but at least they will know my name."
And so it was. Donny in fact, did not survive. Truth be told, they never found his remains either.
Donny's father went home, and never said a word... his family continuing to believe that he was out there... somewhere...
And perhaps in a way he still is... in the hearts of everyone who dares to be different.
In the eyes of those who look to the horizon and dream of something better than what they have.
And in that... The Great Gotama lives on.
Donny grew up in Detroit. The youngest of 5 brothers, he never felt like he quite fit in.
His father was a mechanic. His grandfather was a mechanic.
All of his brothers were mechanics.
But Donny dreamed of the circus.
As a child, he often would tell folks that one day he would run off and they would never see him again.
He practiced jumps on his bike over bricks in the streets. He climbed up the sides of old buildings and walked the edges like a tightrope dancer.
He was constantly doing pull-ups in doorways and climbing fences to build up his upper arm strength.
And one day he did it. He disappeared. He was 15, and on his own.
He never wrote his family, although one day his father saw an advertisement for the "Great Gotama."
Supposedly, a dark warrior from the mountains of East Indies who would be performing a daring feat.
Of course, his father knew it was him. .. but he did not tell the family.
Instead, he drove countless hours in the decrepit Chevy to Niagara Falls, where Donny would be going over the falls in a barrel.
The crowd was thick. The air was crisp. Donny's father was nervous, and rightly so.
No one had succeeded in going over the falls, and lived to tell the tale.
Donny was not nervous at all.
As he told his friend, "Either I will be famous, or I will be infamous... but at least they will know my name."
And so it was. Donny in fact, did not survive. Truth be told, they never found his remains either.
Donny's father went home, and never said a word... his family continuing to believe that he was out there... somewhere...
And perhaps in a way he still is... in the hearts of everyone who dares to be different.
In the eyes of those who look to the horizon and dream of something better than what they have.
And in that... The Great Gotama lives on.