Country Boy

By Mark O. Decker

Country Boy captures the breadth and depth of life in the political world of Washington, DC, with his soul mate, Molly; a father helping to raise a young son; observing human nature at home and at work through the eyes of a simple country boy who found, in joy and sorrow, that he had a gift for writing. His poems express the joys, concerns, hopes and dreams of life as it is lived day-to-day. His words are as powerful and relevant today as when they were written in 1977. As one of Mark’s friends wrote about the poems in an earlier volume, “Each poem has a different feeling, a different energy, yet they come together to represent some very fine work.” Another wrote, “These are beautiful, thoughtful poems. You have a gift.” And, another, “The depth of spiritual awareness is awesome”.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Apr 11, 2018
• ISBN: 9781483482262

Mark O. Decker

The years 1973–1975 are included in Volume 2. These years were full of wide-ranging emotion, and these were very busy times. Mark married the love of his life, Molly McEwan, was working in the White House for Presidents Richard Nixon and Gerald R. Ford, and was still reeling from the tragedy of the Kent State University shootings, where the Ohio National Guard shot thirteen students—four of them were killed. Mark was a junior at Kent State when the shootings took place, and one of the four students killed, Sandy Scheuer, was a friend. He lost his father, Miles Burris “Bud” Decker, in January 1975, to cancer, at the early age of sixty-three. His dad included Mark in many of his activities, such as hunting, fishing, golfing, and wildcatting (oil well drilling). Vietnam was raging and an open wound that created enormous disagreement, personal and family friction between parents of the “greatest generation” who fought and won World War II and children who were college-age being sent to Vietnam. The Watergate debacle was an experience every day for all Americans, especially those who lived in Washington, DC, and most especially for those who worked in the White House for President Nixon. Mark also started law school while working full-time during this period, graduating in 1977 with a JD from George Mason University School of Law. Molly and Mark were there together as Watergate all unfolded. That was quite an experience for two young people in love. Molly spent several years working in the Senate during this period. First for the presidential campaign staff of Lloyd Bentsen (D-TX) and then for Senator Gaylord Nelson (D-WI) and then for the chairman of the Senate Committee on Small Business. Mark noted, “It was a different Washington then. Much more collegial, much less adversarial. A happy town, and both the White House and Congress were respected much more than today.”

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DECKER

Copyright © 2018 Mark O. Decker.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-8349-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-8227-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-8226-2 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 03/26/2018

Footnote: The authors frequent use of the word man is intended to refer to both men and women/male and female. It is not intended to connote gender preference. He admits he is a remnant from the days long since passed when use of that form of reference was not politically incorrect – or, incorrect in general.

I’m Running Again

Babe, I saw a lot of life,

On the horizon,

As I was comin’ down the road.

My back is good an’ strong;

My mind is sound;

I’m thinkin’ I can carry the load.

Just let me sing my songs;

Let me be a travelin’ man who longs

To head down to the station;

You can catch me if you can.

It looks like, babe, I’m back

To running again.

The best times are hard enough;

The bad times are worse;

I’ll never ask you to go that route anew.

You came around the tough bend

With me in your saddle;

When I come back, you’ll be in mine;

My dream is gonna find itself

A place in time.

That’s My Little Boy

Touches his leg with his bottle;

Watches his fingers;

Imitates a duck

With a graceful, duck like waddle.

He just never, ever dawdles.

All his observations are

With total wonder;

The world, and everything in it

Still, so new to his eyes.

That’s my little boy;

There’s not an opening

Within his reach

He’s not found a way to breach;

Not a sound runs through the air

That, wherever he is,

He doesn’t hear.

His eye catches everything,

From Sam, the cat,

To a wee, tiny ant;

I love being where he is.

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An Echo In the Fall of the Year

With my face pressed against the glass;

Pressed against the back door glass;

Against the inside,

Which leads to the outside, to creation.

I strain to see the multi-colored leaves;

It is the fall of this year.

This time is most crisp;

This season is fresh, is dear.

I turn away and return

To write about what I saw

And what I’ll never see.

The world was there before me

If only I had seen it.

I felt it, and reached;

It fled.

Now, as I sit here alone,

Through the echo in my head

I see it again;

Next time, maybe, I’ll know when

To look.

At Sixteen Years Old

Sixteen years;

A life with few tears

And not yet any beers

In each of the first

Of sixteen years.

The first five

Are for learning how to hide;

The next six

Are for learning lots of tricks;

The last five

Are for beginning to feel life;

From there on

It’s a daily battle, and

If you’re very smart,

A daily song.

On Life’s Good Side

Life sings an eternal song

To people who care to go along

For the ride;

To people who learn to be strong,

Not hide.

Life promises us no thing, but

Holds itself out to be captured.

The victors are those with knowledge;

Those who have sense;

Those who know life is precious and dear.

There are not answers

For everything that troubles us;

Some things must be left to faith.

Those with no faith must leave theirs to fate, and

Fate is cruel to mortals.

Today, I’m on life’s good side;

To be otherwise

Would mean a part of me has died.

Saying Good-bye to Writing Poetry

The evening hustle and bustle is over,

Is quelled;

A clock tick-tick-ticks, and

I can hear water draining

From the bathtub in the upstairs apartment.

I am alone with my thoughts;

I am desirous of expressing

The life that flows inside of me,

One of God’s gifted childlike creatures.

However, my poetic vein is seemingly diminished;

I have need to move forward.

Poetry is the pure, intuitive, initial stage;

An enjoyable phase of one’s writing progression;

But I do not care to remain suspended in such a state;

New callings are afoot.

So, to poetry, who is, literally, my brain’s child,

I tip my cap and bow in gentlemanly grace to say,

You have been a fair mistress and I shall love you, always;

It was a beautiful session we had, you and I;

You have taught me how to write, how to think;

You have held my hand;

You have let me sip and drink

From your youthful fountain;

You blessed me when I held you in my arms and we cuddled.

Law School’s Demanding Examinations

How can one learn all that there is to know?

Counting, every day, each flake of snow

Would be easier.

It is impossible to learn

Everything that can be discerned;

But, if you spot the issue,

Rest assured you won’t get burned.

Bears prepare for winter by hibernating;

Should I prepare for exams by examinating?

Or, should I fall to my knees hyperventilating?

Spotting the issue is easy, but

The task then becomes more difficult;

Like trying to describe the difference

Between the texture of toilet paper, and

That of Kleenex tissue.

If is eludes you, do not fret;

You can put your family’s farm down

As a bet

That there are many, many others

Who feel the stress.

The Days of the Lone Ranger

Back then, we could have heroes;

Bullets only killed one bad guy at a time.

Bombs injured buildings,

Not entire cities.

Our heroes grunted, and

Stared death in the face,

Defying death to come closer;

It wouldn’t.

Destruction was limited

To an acceptable scope;

Mankind did not fear

The death of all creation

Except for the Russian nuclear threat

Which we skillfully evaded

By getting our little bodies under our elementary school desks.

Killers, fiends that they were,

They could be stopped.

Today, it is different;

Today we have organized bodies of people

With the kill-all mentality.

The Barefoot Boys from Plains

The President Ford to Carter transition…

The boys who won agree

That they’ll be leaving

Sweet Georgia’s soils;

But, don’t forget,

Although they leave their homes,

To the victors go the spoils.

They will not want for security or attention;

None will leave this town,

Eight years hence,

Without some sordid tale

That he or she dare not ever tell.

Here, the pawnbrokers, the stockbrokers,

The cattle traders meet and greet

As shuddering equals;

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