These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

Prose Poem: "Slip, Sliding Away (the Snow-Covered Version)"

Free Form Experience: When we lived in Oklahoma, I remember some of the best snow events of my life. Snow drifts up the side of our house when we lived in Guymon, and the following event was when we lived in Enid, if I remember correctly. It was maybe a few inches of snow. The whole family bundled up in heavy coats, piled into the car with my disc sled at the ready. The sled was round and concave, like a wok with two leather loop handles to help me hold on. We drove around looking for a nice place to try out the sled. Finally, we decided on a hill behind the hospital. I went up the hill, sat down, and leaned forward to let gravity do it's job.

The first part of the ride was fun as I gained speed going down the snow-covered hill, but then there was the matter of the curb at the bottom of the slope. It dented my sled as I bumped up a little, continuing to move forward into the hospital's parking lot. I learned that day, that wok-shaped sled's do not have breaks. Even if it had, I might not of worked much because the parking lot was covered with ice.

I kept sliding, and sliding, and sliding as the family and I learned the gravity of the situation, and the lesson of lack of friction. I kept sliding, and sliding, and sliding, until finally I stopped, before sliding under a parked car.

Amazingly, my parents and little brother were not that far behind me, though how they got there that fast, I will never know.

Mom was all about not doing THAT more than once. So, I guess we must have gone home because I don't remember any more sledding on that day, or any other days as long as we lived in Oklahoma. I must have been about 8 or 9 because we were living in Georgia the first time when I was 10.

We didn't go sledding anymore. Can you believe that? Maybe Mom didn't want Paul Simon to sing my dirge.

Prose Poem:

When we lived in Oklahoma, I went slip, sliding away on my brand new wok-shaped sled. Snow, like the snow of 2026, looked exciting for a little boy, who hadn't even finished his first decade of life.

The hill behind the hospital in Enid drew my attention for the first slide on my brand-new sled. Slip, sliding ZOOM down the fluffy powder snow. There I'd go in the icy goodness, but would I be dead or tossed on my head? These were things my Mommy wanted to know.

Top of the hill, then Go, go, go! Down the hill toward my family, but "I can't stop, Mom. I'm slip, sliding away." So, sliding, sliding, sliding. Fun, fun, fun! Where would it end?

Near a parked car, that's where it ended!
No more fun for today!
No more fun ever after!
My Mommy was scared because "my life flashed before her eyes."

I had so much fun as I was slip, sliding away.
Mommy had no such fun when I was slip, sliding away.

Mommy was not ready for a funeral with a small pine box. Besides, how would she contact Paul Simon to sing the funeral music. We didn't even know Paul Simon, personally, but he sure could sing, and I sure could slide.

Jay O'Toole