THE MORNING WAS BEAUTIFUL

----- This is the first piece I ever wrote except for things I had to write in school and such. I wrote it sometime between 1972 and 1975 when I was working on a push boat on the Mississippi River building and breaking down barge tows going to and from the North. This is also when and where I met my good friend from Californa, Jim Barry. I recently found it a few weeks ago. It really was only notes I wrote to myself which I was going to redo and improve. But I decided to write it in it's original form. I changed very little in it. So here goes nothing.

The Morning Was Beautiful

----- The morning was beautiful the day she left. But it was cold and cloudy the first night I spent without her. During the light hours of the day there were friends to occupy the thoughts of my mind. However, along with the darkness of night came this lonely, empty feeling inside.

----- As I lay here, arms and feelings unused, “Where was the turning point, why should we have to choose,” I think out loud. How could the laws of nature allow such a natural relationship to fade??? Ah, an obstacle!!! Is it possible, could Nature have overlooked??? No… But maybe, just maybe, I wonder??? I wonder if there’s a chance, a rare possibility to have a relationship, or feelings for someone that would be so natural,,, Naaa. Perhaps though, just perhaps. So natural that it wouldn’t be normal??? Normal, what’s normal??? Normal is,,, man I got to be going crazy!!!

----- Should my chain of thought wonder why and what or rather what and why? What did I do wrong??? why did she leave??? I should ask HER, YES, I should. I should question HER about these doubts I have imprinted on my brain. Maybe I’ve been drinking too much to think clearly. But the things she said, no,,, not the things she said,,, more then the way she expressed what she said.

----- Oh Lord the silence. The silence is,,, is deafening. It is actually deafening. I catch myself thinking out loud, “There’s nothing left, it’s all gone, all over with.” I know we had a lot of bad times but for God’s sake, the few good times we shared were by far more superior and dominating then all the bad times and agony in the world. I should have said something. I should have asked,,, HELL, I should have begged her to stay.

----- I have to stop all this. I have to stop thinking. Close my eyes. What use is it to close eyes when the mind is still open? She used to take these to help her sleep. Oh well, what’s good enough for her is good enough for me. I guess two ought to be sufficient with all the beer I’ve been drinking.

----- BEG I said. I can’t believe it. Why SHOULD I? Why should I lower myself to a degree of a peasant, kneeling before his queen??? No, stop. This is all wrong. I’m in the wrong frame of mind. I shouldn’t blame her for MY blindness, for My faults. After all she was only being honest. I should thank her. Ha, ironic, how could I possibly thank her,,, I love her too much. Well, no good giving up, I’ll again find a reason to believe.

----- Is it, no it couldn’t be. My mind must be playing tricks on me. Yes! That must be it.

----- So very deep in me, so badly I want her to be near me, to hold me. To whisper the words she knows so well to make me feel alive again.

----- I could have sworn I heard a knock, the knock, her knock. No, it couldn’t be, my mind MUST be playing tricks on me. OH, but that’s it! That’s the answer! I knew I would again find a reason to believe. Her knock, I’ll believe in her knock. Believe her knock WILL come and she WILL return to me. Her willpower, her spirit, her, her,,, her determination not to rejoin was very strong indeed. No,,, she’ll never change her mind.

----- I thought two would be sufficient to help me rest and to ease my pain. But it’s been hours sense I swallowed the last two, not to mention the hours of time which have past between them and the first two. And still, sleep refuses to rescue me from this endless arguing. With myself no less.

----- I think about the times we shared her and I. It appears to be a long time gone. Well I know it’s GONE for sure. But has it really been that long. During the light hours of the day there were friends to occupy the thoughts of my mind. Yes, occupied my thoughts so completely my memory cannot recall when I last had her with me, held her or called her mine. However, I do remember one thing in particular.----- The morning was beautiful the day she left.

----- Again the knock. The knock sounds so real. It must be her coming home. I couldn’t have possibly imagined the same identical sound, couldn’t possibly have mistaken the so familiar knock on the door. Da Javu, that’s it, an illusion, I’m actually imagining her knock like I have so many times before. Her knock WILL come and she WILL return to me. Believe it, I must. I simply must have a reason to believe. But, no, impossible, wrong again. She’ll NEVER change her mind.

----- Last two. Might as well indulge. If this doesn’t do the trick I’ll just put the idea out of my mind and wait to calliopes from complete exhaustion and frustration. Frustration ??? Where did that come from ??? One thing is certain, if I don’t go insane first, I surely will again find a reason to believe. Man! I just GOT to be going crazy.

----- I could never imagine, not even in my innermost thoughts, not even now, how a person could possibly fall so deeply in love that they would allow their emotions to over rule their reasoning. Would deny their brain the right to have power and control over their heart. I’ve heard and I’ve been told by many a wise men that love is the root of all evil. But how could one of man’s strongest, most treasured, most desired and most sought after emotion have any connection with evil? No, I refuse to accept it. I believe that a man must love in order to be loved and in return he must be loved in order to give love. Perhaps it’s the absence of love which is the root of all evil.

----- Absence of love is my present condition. So where is this so called evil??? Is it within me??? Where is this mysterious dark cloud??? Should I run and hide in the shadows??? What would I hide from??? Hide from this lonely, empty feeling inside me??? Is this the evil that comes with the absence or love??? How could one escape such a penetrating force??? If this is to last, it’s the worst evil which could be bestowed upon me. To live the rest of my life without ever loving or being loved again.

----- This time I’m positive. It’s not my imagination. It’s her for sure, I know it. All my doubts are gone, she has come home. It IS her knock. Not even with all her will and determination was she able to stay completely clear.

----- The question now is WHY has she returned??? Has she come for my benefit or has she come for her own satisfaction in order to witness the damage she has caused by departing??? Is it possible that this was all just a test??? She had no right to treat me like some type of toy to be experimented with before being handed over to a child at Christmas time.

----- ENOUGH of all this endless arguing and questioning. Why should I continue any longer when all the answers are as close to me as the door way???
YES ENOUGH. The time as arrived. I must let her in. She’s come home. This is the only real important matter for the time being. I love her and I must be held by her, must have her near me and must heart her whisper in my ear the words she knows so well to make me feel alive again.

----- Strange!!! For the first time sense our relationship began that I have finally admitted my true feelings toward her. At least to myself. Never to her. I do without a doubt love her. If I could have just told her all these feelings I have for her. But I didn’t. I must let her in and let her know what’s on my mind.
----- Why can I not move??? Why can I not budge to let in my true love??? She’s been knocking for such a long period of time. It was not my imagination but her all along. Her knock is getting louder, more tense. So why can I not move towards that door, to clearer skis. The realization is too unreal to except. Forgive me for all the pain I’ve caused you I didn’t mean to do this. I didn't deliberately plan this out come.
No words whispered now could make me feel alive again. I’m beyond words, however my wisdom is greater then it ever was or ever will be. Please forgive me.

----- The morning was beautiful the day he left.

Dedicated To The Experienced

By Peter Collins

I'M GOING TO TRY THIS AGAIN

Hi All,
----- I’m going to try and stay on line as long as I can. But if you don’t hear from me in a long time, you’ll know that I’m broke down again. (Still have to wait for Steve to get home to buy our new computer.) (LOL)

----- Next order of business, very important. I receiver an E-mail concerning a petition to sign and send to everyone you know after adding your name to the list. I’m sure all of you received it also. I added Cheryl and my name to the list but couldn’t figure out how to send it to everyone on my E-mail list. So I sent it straight to the address that was in the letter which was, commint@whitehouse.gov Within 2 minutes I received another E-mail from the Government saying that this address is no longer in use and gave me the new one which is, http://www.whitehouse.gov/contact/ I don’t know how to go about contacting anyone to let them know this. I do believe this is very important. So maybe one of you can forward this information to where it needs to go. Please let me know some thing about this.

----- We had an absolute blast Saturday night. Saw so many people I had not seen for so long. But I didn’t get to talk to them all. Just not enough time. But we did have fun. I bloged on Lilly’s site about the ages of Roy, Jeanette and out Aunts. Some one let me know their ages. Also if any of you got phone numbers and or E-mail address of any one who was there, please blog or E-mail them to me. THANKS.

----- Please, Please, Please,,,,Please, (I sound like James Brown) let me know when Simone gets her new computer and what her E-mail address is ASAP. Or some one show her how to blog so she can send it to me or some thing.

----- Time to go. I have to go cook supper for Cheryl and I.
----- TTFN,
--- L-U-A,
--------- Peter

I BET YA'LL ARE WONDERING AREN'T YOU

YYAAAAAAAAAAAAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, YYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHOOOOOOOOOOOO,YYAAAAAAAAAAAAHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

-----ALLO AVERYBODY,

-----What’s all the Screaming about ?? I said, WHAT’S ALL THE SCREAMING ABOUT ?????? I bet ya’ll are wondering aren’t you ?? I have a big surprise. I said, I HAVE A BIG SURPRISE. I bet ya’ll are wondering aren’t you ?? I guess I should tell ya’ll. Do ya’ll think I should tell ya’ll. I said, DO YA’LL THINKI I SHOULD TELL YA’LL ?? I bet ya’ll are wondering aren’t you ?? I guess I could tell ya’ll,,,, BUT,,,,, then It wouldn’t be a surprise any more. So do ya’ll want to be surprised now or later ?? I said DO YA’LL WANT TO BE SURPRISED NOW OR LATER ?? I bet ya’ll are wondering aren’t you ?? Well I guess I’ll tell ya’ll now. I said, I GUESS I’LL TELL YA’LL NOW. I bet ya’ll are wondering aren’t you ?? Would ya’ll show at least a little bit of curiosity. I said, WOULD YA’LL SHOW AT LEAST A LITTLE BIT CURIOSITY. I bet ya’ll are wondering aren’t you ?? OK here goes. I said, OK HERE GOES. I bet ya’ll are wondering aren’t you ??

-----Well that’s about it for now. Catch ya’ll on the next blog.

-----L-U-A,
-------Peter

Oh, but wait I didn’t tell ya’ll the surprise yet, did I ?? I said, I DIDN’T TELL YA’LL THE SURPRISE YET, DID I ?? I bet ya’ll are wondering aren’t you ?? I sure wish ya’ll would pay attention. I said, I SURE WISH YA’LL WOULD PAY ATTENTION. I bet ya’ll are wondering aren’t you ?? Never mine, if ya’ll don’t want to know then I won’t tell you. How do ya’ll like that ?? I said, HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT ?? I bet ya’ll are wondering aren’t you ??

-----Talk to ya’ll later,
-------L-U-A,
----------Peter

OH, BY THE WAY

P.S.-----Oh, by the way, Emily and Andre’ are pregnant. I said, EMILY AND ANDRE’ ARE PREGNANT. Now ya’ll don’t have to wonder any more.

P.S.S.-----We are all so excited. Can’t wait for the new Grand Baby.

LUV-U-ALL,
-----Peter,
Oh, sorry I meant to say,
-----Granpy

FARVORITES CONTINUED

-----I’m back!!!!! I thought the post “FAVORITES” was getting a little too long and I wanted to continue to comment some more so I’m continuing it here.

-----Ronnie, sorry but I can’t remember the name or how that concoction was made. I only remember that it was great. If I could remember I would try to make one myself. But boy it was good.

-----WOW, Do I ever remember The Rex Drive Inn. The greatest hang out ever. Bubba was the greatest waitress I have ever known or seen in my life. Boy and they had the best food too. I remember when I believed it really peaked was when the hot muscle cars came out and every one would drag race in front of “The Rex.” When the GTO’s, Chevelle’s, Mustangs’s, Dodge Dart’s and many more. Who had that red Dodge Dart? He was a friend of ours but I can’t remember his name ?? I remember one drag race in particular between Ernie and Fisher. They backed onto the highway in front of The Rex. Ernie’s GTO was about a 64 and he had it for I guess about two years or so. But Fisher had just got his brand spanking new 67 GTO. He maybe has had his for 3 or 4 weeks. They both backed up onto the highway in front of The Rex, some one singled them to go, Ernie shot out quick, smoking his tires. Poor Fisher. He tried to take off but he forgot his Goat was still in reverse. He busted his transmission and there were pieces of his transmission all over the road. He cried, we laughed. The Rex reminds me of the movie American Graffiti. All good memories in that place.

-----I knew about Danny passing but I sure didn’t know about Phyllis. How did she die ?? Was it sudden or was it expected ?? I also remember Danny’s little brother dieing by driving his go-cart under a truck in his drive way. That was a very sad time for us all I think.

-----BOY, I surely do really remember that “Bouray” game, now that you mention it. One of the few times I ever won anything at cards. And you are right I did pay for everyone’s drive inn that night. If I’m not mistaken we all met at The Rex.

-----A lot more good memories of “Down The Baya.”

-----Well that’s it for now. Oh, by the way Cheryl and I are probably going to meet Rosie on Grand Isle. But I think we are going very early Friday morning because Cheryl is working Thursday night. I want to try and do some crabbing. Hope to see ya’ll there.

-----L-U-A,
--------Peter

THE HEALING PROCESS

The very young man, with his shoulders back and his chest sticking out front, walks down the long airport concourse. Dressed in his military drab green uniform with his starched shirt and tie is looking for his departure gate. He never liked being late and always wanted to know ahead of time where he needed to be and when. He was way ahead of time for his departure flight that would take him home. So after finding his departure gate he began looking for what he really needed, a bar where he could have a very quite drink or a few and reflect on his past year or so of his life. He knew he was not of age to drink but was willing to gamble that it might not make any difference, with his uniform, to the server. He sits on the high stool and waits to be acknowledged. It doesn’t take long before the waiter comes to him and ask, “May I help you Sir ?” In his kindest voice he says, “Can I have a beer please?” “What kind of beer and do you have an ID, Please?” Miller Lite please and I do have an ID but to be honest, I’m not 21.” So the waiter ask him if he is just getting back from Vietnam because he notices the campaign ribbons on his uniform? Yes I was there for 10 months was the young mans response. The waiter smiles, says he will get his beer, just don’t cause him any trouble and forget about the ID.

Before his beer gets to him he feels a tap on his shoulder and he slowly turns to face a middle aged woman with a scorn on her face. “Did I hear you say you are just coming back from Vietnam, she asks?” Yes ma'm, that’s right he responds. She then spits in his face and slaps him across his cheek as hard as she can. The young man turns back towards the bar and takes a long drink of his beer. Another tap hits his shoulder and again he turns toward the woman. “Don’t you dare turn your back to me. How dare you, you child murderer.” She says. And again spits into his face. And as her hand goes up to again make contact with his face, he sees , at the corner of his eye, a black hand grab her wrist, and he hears these words so plainly, “You insult this fine young man once more and I will personally punch you out.” The man holding her wrist looks very stern and willing to deliver what he has promised. And also says, “I have a lot of money and quite a few lawyers to fight you on this matter.” The woman pulls her arm away from the mans grip and storms out cussing under her breath.

May I buy you a drink the black man says? No thank you I’m fine, says the young soldier. But I insist says the man, as he calls the waiter over, he says “Give this gentleman what ever he wishes for as long as he wishes,” and he puts $300,00 on the bar. “Sir this is not necessary, I appreciate it very much and thank you but I can get it from here.” “Thank me, THANK ME,” he said, “but no sir, thank you, thank you for all that you have done for me.” And he turns and walks out of the bar.

T hat man was none other then Sammy Davis Jr. And that solider was none other then ME.

True Story by Me,
Peter

FAVORITES

OK, I want to know what is ya’lls favorites. This is hard for me to answer but I’ll try. But I also want to know what is ya’lls favorites or is any of these some of ya'lls favorites also ??

Favorite movies:
Some of mine are:
“Planet of the apes”
“Star Wars”
“Harry Potter”
“Once Upon a Time in the West”
“Some Where in Time”
“The Time Machine”
“The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly”
“Titanic” (The newer one), (also love the music in this movie)
“King Kong” (All of them, but especially the one with Jessica Lang)
And there are many others, but that’s all for now.

Favorite Books:
Some of mine are:
“The Time Machine”
“The Hobbit” (My number 1 favorite)
“Treasure Island”
“Lord of the Ring” (Very Hard To Read!!!)

Favorite Recording Artist:
#1= Bob Dylan ( I truly believe this man is the most influential entertainer in the last at least 40 years.)

Dr. John
Van Morrison
Fats Domino
Bo Diddley
The Almond Brothers
Eric Clapton
The Band
The Traveling Wilburys
Roy Orbison
Janis Joplin
Bob Marley
Too Many to List Them All, But it’s a beginning.

Let me know if you ya’ll like any of these and add ya’lls own if you like. If you don’t know any of these just ask I shall try to give you an answer.

P.S. Lilly did you ever find, receive or have you read “The Time Machine ??”

P.S.S. Ronnie did YOU ever find, receive or listen to the “Ma Num Ma Num” song ??

That’s all for now. Hoping to hear from ya’ll soon.

L-U-A,
Peter

PICTURE PERFECT

I don’t think the three younger girls would remember “The Studio and Record Shop.” But I know the rest of us sure do because like myself and the “Older Ones” I think we all had our turns working there.

I started working for Daddy when I was 13 at my insistence of doing so. But that’s not exactly what this blog is going to be about. Not our work any way. But I remember Daddy working on color pictures. This was a time before color film. So how did he do color pictures. Daddy would sit down and actually color pictures by hand. Using what I believe to be oils like a painter/artist would use. He would take cotton balls and Q-tips and actually hand painted his pictures. He was amazing. I have asked many other photographers about this and I have not ever found or heard of any one else who ever did this but our Daddy. When ever I would walk into some ones home I would always look at their pictures that were displayed and I could always and I mean 100% of the time be able to tell if it was Daddys work or not. His hand painted pictures was flawless. This is one of the most fascinating things I think he did in his life. He was very artistic in many ways but this was to me by far his most professional artistic achievement. I just can’t find enough words or right words to express how good he really was. He did this some times for hours and hours none stop. I’ll never forget how good I felt about him when I watched him do this. This made him that much more amazing to me. He defiantly was truly one of a kind.

I don’t think I have one picture that Daddy colored this was. Do any of you ???

OK, lets here what ya’ll know about this.

L-U-A,
Peter

"DEE DEES TEE GROS BATOU"

HI GANG,

I didn’t realize that “Dee Dees Tee Gros Batou” would stir up so many comments. So I figured it deserved another blog. This blog is for two purposes: One: For a picture of “The Batou.” Every one start looking in all of your old pictures to see if ya'll may have one. I’ll do the same. However, I think that the picture I took and mounted on that piece of wood that I varnished and gave to Daddy is the only one that ever existed. But we may find it like in the back ground of another picture that was taken around the same time. I’ll be looking and I hope ya’ll will too. Another, however, is that I think the picture was offered to me and I turned it down saying it was for Daddy. It could have been thrown away because I didn’t want it at the time. Two: For more stories and adventures of “Dee Dees Tee Gros Batou.” I’ll start it off.

Let me start by saying that I believe that this “Batou” was the one that Daddy kept the longest. I know it’s the one that I had more fishing and shrimping trips in then any other. So here’s the first story which I know ALL of you either remember or heard about. And that’s the story he always blamed on Momma. It’s the story when Momma wanted to go fishing with him and he took her. Not that he agreed to but he had to or play H _ _ L for a long time when he got back. Get the picture ??? (LOL) Daddy backed up the “Batou” into the water and told Momma to keep her foot on the brake. YEA RIGHT, like she knew what a brake pedal was. I gave Momma her first driving lesson and believe me she had no idea what the difference was between the brake or the accelerator pedal. So before he could get back to the car after launching the “Batou” the car had backed up into the water and disappeared underwater. Ha Ha Ha Ha. But that wasn’t the funniest part. The “Batou” was just floating there still attached to the trailer but you could not see the trailer or the car. One of his fishing buddies came by who was returning from fishing and saw the “Batou” just floating there away from the bank and he asked Daddy, “Mai’ Frrrddie you need some hlp ??? You want me to bring yo both back to shore ?” Daddy responded by saying, “Mai’ non that’s alright I gottit ancored down REAL good.” Ha Ha Ha Ha, LOL,LOL,LOL,LOL. And he told me this without as much as cracking a smile, which made it that much funnier. GOD, I laughed rolling on the ground till I cried and cried with laughter. Daddy was really one
H _ _ L of a funny man. I’m crying right now just trying to blob this. I’m getting my key board all wet.

Hope ya’ll like this one.
Later, I have to go finish laughing. (LOL,LOL,LOL)

Peter

"I WALKED UPON THE SAND"

Once I walked upon the sand,
my brother and I hand in hand.
Made fires and camped you know,
where no longer any one can go.
Ate fish that washed upon the sand,
from shrimp boats we could see,
when we would stand.
Dug holes so deep,
so children we could see.
So we could protect them you know,
from the depths from down below.
Woken up late at night,
to be told we had no right,
to dig holes that might,
hurt others within their right.
So we laughed and laughed you know,
as we refilled the holes so no one would know.
The fun we had on the sand,
my brother and I hand in hand.

Once I walked upon the sand,
my lover and I hand in hand.
Snot nosed sister walked behind,
knowing that our relationship ,
was something fine.
My lover and I talked upon those sands,
knowing that we would always be,
hand in hand.
We loved each other,
as lovers should,
and hoped one day
we could have children,
maybe not so soon.
The children they did come,
and for a long time,
I was not able to walk upon the sands,
with my lover hand in hand.

Once I walked upon the sand,
my Parrin and I hand in hand.
Drank beer so slow,
knewing that he would know.
How we felt upon his death,
as we realated on his life,
and what he ment to us this night.
How I remember his hands,
showing me the things,
I didn't understand.
He was one heck of a man,
my grandfather,
whom I called Grandpaw.
He showed me how to use bread,
to catch fish instead,
of using other things that I had read.
He showed me how to trap,
nutria and other things,
still in their beds.
As strang as this my seem,
he was the world to me.
And although I never walked,
upon the sands,
with him hand in hand,
I will always know,
he loved me so.

So I hope for all of you,
to one day walk,
with some one you love,
hand in hand,
upon the sand.

By Peter Collins

"OH HOW THEY DID FLEA"

HI GANG,
This is one of my uncompleated works. I had it finished at one time but loss the entire thing when my computer crashed and I didn't have a backup. I worked on it for almost two years. What a loss it was to me, I cryed. So this is the first part of it. I don't have any idea when I'll complete it again. I thought you might like to see something I'm currently working on. And I would like to get your openion on what you think it means and where you believe it will go from here.

“Oh How They Did Flea”

Oh how they did flea.
Some put the blame on mankind,
some put the blame on Mother Nature,
some put the blame on God,
some put the blame on themselves,
to some degree.
But ALL did flea.

You could no longer see the Sun,
through the darkened skies,
filled with things,
some even alive.
You could hardly breath,
the air so thick.
Yet time went on,
like a clock that tics.
Oh but how they did flea.

The beautiful blue waters,
you could no longer see,
for they turned in color,
even in the seas.
They turned to black ,brown and green,
like a man bruised,
who was beaten down to his knees.
Oh but how they did flea.

The birds no longer sang,
no longer spread their wings.
For in the skies,
there was just too many things.
So they sat in the barren tree tops,
and looked down below.
Knowing sooner or later,
Man would surely, just have to go.
Oh but how they did flea.

They fled from mountains,
into the valleys.
They fled from the valleys,
to the highest mountain tops.
All looking for a place to hide,
but there was no relief,
not even inside.
Oh but how they did flea.

Some fled to the waters,
where large bubbles waited for them,
down below.
Some fled to the skies,
and beyond you know.
In large cylindrical objects,
they would go.
Oh but how they did flea.

Some were chosen to go to be leaders.
Some were chosen to go to be breeders.
Chosen by whom,
no one seemed to know.
Some were chosen for their Race,
some for their creed.
Some were chosen for their Color,
some for their religious beliefs,
to try and preserve,
what was now being destroyed.
why,,, is beyond me.
Oh but how they did flea.

The poor fled from the rich,
for fear of losing the little bit,
they had left and wanted to protect.
The rich fled from the poor,
for fear of having to support.
Having to give any thing,
to any one any more,
just seemed like a repeat.
Oh but how they did flea.

The weak fled from the strong,
for fear of being overpowered.
The strong from the weak,
for fear of their numbers.
The good from the evil,
for fear of being converted.
The evil from the good,
for they knew not where they stood.
All looking for a place,
down below or for a ride up above,
but this was not to be,
for they were not of the chosen few.
Oh but how they did flea.

Hope you like it. Let me know one way or the other.

L-U-A,
Later,
Peter

IRISH / CELTEC COLLINS FAMILY CREST, COND.

According to an old saying, there are two types of Irish-those who actually are Irish and those who wish they were.

This sentiment is only one example of the allure that the high romance and drama of the proud nation's history holds for thousands of people scattered across the world today.

It's a sad fact, however, that the vast majority of Irish surnames are found far beyond Irish shores, rather than on the Emerald Isle itself.

The population stood at around eight million souls in 1841, but today it stands at fewer than six million.

This is mainly a tragic consequence of the potato famine, also known as the Great Hunger, which devastated Ireland between 1845 and 1849.

The Irish peasantry had become almost wholly reliant for basic sustenance on the potato, first introduced from the Americas in the seventeenth century.

When the crop was hit by a blight, at least 800,000 people starved to death while an estimated two million others were forced to seek a new life far from their native shores--particularly in America, Canada, and Australia.

The effects of the potato blight continued until about 1851, by which time a firm pattern of emigration had become established.

The above is the Origins of Irish surnames.

On The World Stage:
Mary Cathleen Collins, Bo Derek
Pouline, Ray, Stephen, Annie, Bill, Tai,Jackie, Joan,Wilkie,William,Andrew,Billy,Ann, Phil,Bootsy,Catfish,Edwyn,Judy,Allen.Albert,John,Joseph 'Lighting Joe',Michael,Kate,,Doug,Jerry,John,Paul,Steve,A.E.J. All these important people had the last name of Collins.

If you want to know the history of any of them, let me know and I'll blog it to ya'll.

Hope ya'll like this. I don't think we have any Irish blood, I just think this is interisting.

LUV-ALL
Later,
Peter

VERONICA ANN, DO YOU REMEMBER

LOL,LOL,LOL SERIOUSLY LOL.
Was again thinking about some of you and I's good times to remember. Do you remember THIS: (don't know if this is spelled right and there is no spell check for this.) Hint; put a little music to it.

Mu Nu Ma Nu,
Do Dooo,,,,Do Do Do,
Mu Nu Ma Nu,
Do Do Do Do,
Mu Nu Ma Nu,
Do Dooo,,,,Do Do Do,
Do Do Do,,,,Do Do,,,, Do Do Do Do.

If you do remember,,,,, again,,,,,LOL, LOL,LOL. I'm in happy tears right now.
LUV-U
Later,
Peter

If you do remember, explain it to the rest of the clan.
Peter

COLLINS,O'Coilea'in,O'Cuillea'in

While in Tenn. in a Irish /Celtic shop I found a Family Crest of the Collins Family. Although we all know that our heritage is French, I found this interesting. In writing I understand the Crest is a Pelican. How ironic a Pelican, Louisiana, so fourth and so on. But the Crest I purchased was two lions facing each other on their hind legs and each touching the others front paw. The best I can understand, it all depends on what Collins family you follow or understand.
But here we go. COLLINS,(Coilea'in.) The surname Collins has a dule origin,it can be of Irish Gaelic origin, as an anglicised from of O'Coilea'in, a sept, who were located in Co. Limerick, as well as, the O'Cuillia'in who had their stronghold in west Co. Cork.(What all this means I don't know.) Then it says Bla,Bla, Bla Bla Bla. Collins now ranks as the thirtieth most numerous name in Ireland.Bla,Bla,Bla. The name being sixth most numerous in Co.Limerick.
MOTTO: The wounds of life (and) By valour and skill.
NAME variations include: O'Coilea'in(Gaelic), O'Cuillea'in(Gaelic),O'Collins, O'Cullane, Cullane, Collinson.
There is a lot more but that's enough for now. If you want to know more let me know and I'll blog. other information from time to time.
LUV-ALL
Later,
Peter

"THE SISTER FLUTIST"

Hi Ya'll, IIIIII'M Baaaaaack.
Cheryl and I had such a wonderful, GREAT time in Tennesse with our two Girls and our two New Sons. Too GOOD to explain at this time fore that is not what this blog is all about. But stay tuned for other blogs or E-mails about our trip.

This blog deals with a story I wrote quite a long time ago. Believe it or not, it took me about a year to write, and it still is not perfect. You will notice some of it you read in my blog titled, "SOUL TO SOUL." That is because that writting was my foot notes to this story. Sorry for the repeat.

I believe this is the best I have ever written. I hope you enjoy it.
LUV-YOU-ALL
Later,
Peter

THE SISTER FLUTIST


The beautiful young woman sits at the bed side as her tears fall upon her shiny silvery flute. The notes float pass every closed door down the long corridor, all the way to the nurses station. Not one person is able to ignore the lovely sounds coming from the only private room on the floor. No one listens to their hospital supplied radios or televisions. They are all too mesmerized by the girls amazing ability to capture her audience. And wondering how her life’s outcome will be, at the end of her performance.

As the gentle early morning rain drips upon the smoked colored glass, you can’t help wonder if the dawn will rescue her, from her deep pain and troubled thoughts. The long, black clouds are very low. It's dark, almost too dark to see. And the rain falls down upon her consciousness. She sits and plays her magnificent music, her mind wondering to another simpler situation, long ago, when she was just a child in the eyes of her loved ones.

The sun raises high above the dense clouds. The light is dull. And as the night ends, so does the music. She stands up from her bed side chair, bends over the bed and whispers into the ear of the patient. Then she straightens up and begins to separate the pieces of her instrument and pack then carefully into the black, leathery looking case. As religiously as a Christian goes to church every Sunday, this event takes place every night until the Sun rises. No one seems to know exactly who she is or specifically why she is there. But she knows. And although there isn't anyone else to notice, the unconscious patient, smiles as tears run down her pale cheeks.

Through the large revolving doors, down the old, gray, cracked up sidewalk, straight to the cemetery is where her walk ends. In front of the two identical tombstones is when the reflections of that similar situation long ago begin to stir her senses, again. The carved names are the focus points as she flashes back to years gone by, but not unnoticed. One reads “Mommie”and the other reads “Poppa." She wonders and questions the true safety and possibility of no return to this world and life of her one person audience. The words become crystal clear in her mind. Written by the person she refers to as “ Poppa.”

"I knew a man, knew him since before I was born. I knew this man by many different names. But for me, there was but one name. I always did and I always will call this man my Poppa. As a child when I was asked why this and not Father, Daddy or Dad. I would simply say because he's special. When I grew older and I was asked what makes him so special. I would simply say because he makes ME feel special, so very special to Him.”

As the young woman reflects on the past she remembers one day as she entered her home she saw her worst fear in her Mothers tears. As she said to her "Your Poppa is no longer near.”
Even as young as she was then she can still remember asking her Mother,“Oh, Mommie please can you tell me why, why did my Poppa leave?” Thru weeping eyes she responded to her daughters question by saying, “Death is only one of God's many mysteries.”
The child replies, “ Oh, Mommie I don't want to be mystified, I just want to know why, oh, why did my Poppa die?”

He always told her neither the havens above nor the fires down below could ever part their souls. She knew him well this man she called Poppa. The love he had for them and for the things that they did together is still as clear in her mind today as they were when she was a child growing up. He believed in hugs, kisses and tender fare wells. Just in leaving for work or saying good night right before bed. This he believed as we all do and he practiced it religiously as we all should. A day never went by that the children didn't hear "I love you." coming into their tender ears. She still remembers how he loved to hear her play. Music from her flute would make his whole day. Music unites our souls, he would say, even if we are separated miles and miles apart he would always reinforce. If ever either of them was lonesome or feeling blue. If ever they needed comport or to be reassured they need only to, "air their flute."

So, she “airs her flute.”

" Mommie " was easier to understand. There were no written words to decipher. And, the bonding was unmistakably the most loving, the most caring, and the most true unconditional love that could ever be between a mother and her daughters. And so unusual was the fact that they both considered their mother their best friend. These are the things which bonded the three of them soul to soul for all eternity. Yes literally soul to soul. Words and music, yes, words and music. The words shared between the three of them and the music the two of them played is what made it all possible. Possible for them to receive comfort and reassuring from “Poppa” and the best of love and friendship from “Mommie.”This is throughout all eternity simply by “airing their flutes.”
So, she “airs her flute."

The difference in her usual, predictable entrance was immediately recognizable and noticed by all whom new the routine. The dress changed from casual to beautiful lady like. Her slight smile showed strength, courage and strong will. Her stride even seemed sturdier and more sure footed. Her soul radiated conference and determination. The same soul that is so closely united with the other three. Two names on the tombstone and the unconscious, helpless, lifeless patient, she has been playing and praying for sense the very first day of admittance to this unit. Above all this, what was even more curious, is the absences of the black leathery looking case which housed the flute. Instead there is a flute in each hand. The very shiny silvery one everyone had seen and heard her play. So shiny it seemed you could see your reflection as well as looking into a mirror. The other was just as shiny, but the most impressive color of gold ever witnessed by the human eye. Across one arm is another change of clothing identical to the outfit she is wearing.

Just past the nurses station she pauses then turns back and announces that first thing in the morning the patient in the private room, and herself would be leaving the hospital. Please notify the doctor, nursing staff and any other concerning personnel. Although it was very nice to ask and offer, but no doctor referrals, transport arrangements or any other assistance would be necessary. This has been by far the most information voluntarily conversed by her to anyone. The physician is called, security is called and every one is put on alert to any number of possibilities. To observe, listen and wait for morning when the physician makes his rounds.

The music begins again. The sound is just as beautiful as ever. There is a calm which settles among all the employees who come within an ear shot of the room.

The music goes on thru the night. And just as dawn is braking thru the clouds, there is a hush amongst the staff. The physician walks onto the floor. Straight to the nurse’s station, very much confused and asking questions about the previous night’s performance and phone call his answering service received last night. A report is given and he proceeds down the long corridor. Half the distance between the nurse’s station and the patients’ room, he stops. Left foot forward, body slightly twisted to the right. He bowels his head forward and his ear turns to the only private room on the floor.

The music has changed and the physician turns to his followers and says, '' That is not one instrument, that is, '' he pauses and listens. '' that is two flutes being played,,,, listen! '' The music was magnificent before but now it was unbelievable. None of them had ever heard such tones and notes. Not from just two instruments any way and for sure never in the hospital.

They all rush to the door their anxiety at very high levels. The Physician slowly and quietly pushes the door open without even thinking about knocking, which is not his normal routine. As they all enter they can’t believe their eyes. Both women are sitting on the bed playing their flutes together like nothing has happened.

This patient has been basically in a coma for almost a week. The battery of test, physician consults, and phone calls throughout the world, everything that could be thought of was done and no diagnosis could ever be made. There wasn’t any medical reasoning why the patient could not or would not respond. And now here she is sitting on the bed playing her flute. Everyone just stands there listening kind of dumb founded until the song ends.

There would be no answers or comments to all the questions being bombarded at the two of them by a very confused staff. The two beautiful young women stand up from the bed each holding their flute in one hand and joining their other hand with each other. They walk to the door whispering to each other. Although there were some attempts to delay them they continued on their way as if nothing had happened until they reached the opening to the corridor. There they stop, turn to face each other, nod and smile at each other. Then the woman who had been playing her flute all week turns her head to face the astounded doctor and nurses in the room and smiles to them. Her only words were, “We’ll be back soon, but next time it’s going to be MY turn.”

As they walk towards the elevators whispers of speech between the two of them can barley be heard. One asking questions so rapidly she could hardly be understood. And the other was attempting to answer her as quickly as she could. There seem to be many questions. “How are they? How was it there? Could you actually hear me playing ? Did they like what I played ? Did my playing help your time there ?” Were you in Heaven? Did you see other people there? When can I go?”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold on a minute.” The other one says. “They are very well. Yes you will go, they are waiting very excited to get to see you. We heard you playing the whole time I was there.” “But I didn’t play the whole time, only from the time I got off work till dawn.” “Time is very different there so we were able to hear you the whole time. And no it’s not Heaven but a place between here and there. Only under special circumstances can any one do what we have done. It’s a very rare and beautiful experience. I’ll explain everything to you within time but there is something very important we must do first.” Then the elevator doors close and they are gone.

Through the large revolving doors, down the old, gray, cracked up sidewalk, straight to the cemetery is where their walk ends. In front of the two identical tombstones is when the two young women simultaneously raise their instruments to their lips.

And The Sister Flutist, “ Air Their Flutes.”
The Beginning,

By Peter Collins

SOUL TO SOUL

Hallo Avery Body,
I wrote this many years ago. It began as foot notes for a story I wanted to write. But I ended up writing a poem instead. However, there is a story which came from it. And I'll probably be posting when we get back from our vacation in Tennesse. Hope ya'll like it.

LUV-U-ALL
Peter

“SOUL TO SOUL”

I knew a man.
Knew him since,
before I was born.
I knew this man,
by many different names.
But for me,
there was only,
but one name.
I always did,
and I always will,
call this man,
my Poppa.

As a child,
when I was asked,
why this and not,
Father, Daddy, or Dad.
I would simply say,
because he's special.
Oh, so very special,
to me.
When I grew older,
and I was asked,
why is he so special.
I would simply say,
because he makes,
ME feel so special.
Oh, so very special,
to him.

Than one day,
as I entered my home,
I saw my worse fear,
in my Mommies tears.
As she said to me,
your Poppa is,
no longer near.
Oh, Mommie please,
can you tell me,
why did my Poppa leave.
Thru weeping eyes,
she said to me,
death is only one of,
GOD'S many mysteries.
Oh, Mommie I don't want to be mystified,
I just want to know why,
oh, why did my Poppa die.

He always told me,
“Neither the havens from above,
nor the fires from down below,
could never, ever part our SOULS.”
Oh, Mommie, Mommie please,
I don't want to be mystified,
I just want to know, why,
oh, why, did my Poppa have to die.

I knew him well,
this man I call,
Poppa.
The love of us,
and for the things,
that we did.
He believed in hugs, kisses,
and tender fare wells.
Just in leaving for work,
or saying good night,
right before bed.
This he believed,
as we all do.
And he practiced it,
religiously as we all should.
A day never went by,
that I didn't hear,
" I love you, "
coming into my tender ears.

I will always remember,
how he loved to hear me play.
Music from my flute,
would make his whole day.
“Music unites our spirits,
even if we are separated,
miles and miles apart,” he would say.
If ever I was lonesome,
or feeling blue.
If ever I needed comfort,
or to be reassured,
“I need only to air my flute.”

Dedicated to My Girls.

By Peter Collins/Poppa

MY OLDEST SIBLING

“SIMONE”

The oldest of our siblings. And I don’t mean that in a mean or ugly way. It just means that you have had attention and love longer from this family than the rest of us. And deservingly so.
Fragile and worm hearted. Strong and enduring. Never has anything bad to say about any one. Has always seemed to be willing to sit in the background quietly with little or no attention. Always willing to help and comfort one when needed.
Simone, let me share with you some of the things I remember about my big sister that I will never forget.
My first memory was how skinny you were when we were younger. You, Larry, Ronnie and myself rough housing in the front yard along with Flossie. Remember our pet ?? Hearing Mom screaming at the top of her lungs at us to “ya’ll better stop that before one of you gets hurt. Don’t come running to me if one of you starts to cry.” Now who else would we go running to if not her if we were hurt or crying ?? We used to play pretty rough with each other and many times ended up in fights. I can remember when we would end up fighting and I don’t mean arguing I mean FIGHTING. Flossie would get between us and stop us from hurting each other. True story in my eyes. That was one H _ _ L of a dog.
I also remember parties at the house when You and Larry would have your friends over for a dance party. Ya’ll were so close in age that almost all of your friends were the same. Kenneth, Anaise, Jennette, Fred, Yancy and many others. Ronnie and I would be allowed to watch for a short period of time then we would have to leave the room because we were “Too Young.” But before we were dismissed Dad would put on an Elvis Presley song one of you would give me a broom to pretend it was my microphone and I would imitate Elvis by singing and dancing like him with my microphone in hand. You remember that ?? I don’t know if every one enjoyed it or if they all thought I was just a fool. But it was fun and gave Ronnie and I just a little more time up before being sent to bed.
Music and dancing was always a big part of our lives. Daddy used to have so much fun putting on those Record Hops every Sunday afternoon at the American Legion Hall. I can still see him standing on stage swaying to the music and watching every one dance. Especially his children. Man those were such good times. Don’t you think so Simone ?
Our summer vacations were so simple. Cabins on Grand Isle for a week. Such simpler times yet so enjoyable. How many times the three of you would bury me in the sand because it was getting late and I was getting cold. If Mom and Dad knew I was cold we would have to go back to the cabin till the next day. So I was buried to try to keep me warm and most of all to keep my mouth shut so we could stay on the beach longer. And crabbing on the beach. Great crabs that became our supper for that night. WOW!!!!
When you quite high school and moved to New Orleans to attend Beauty School. I remember going to N.O. with Mom and Dad to visit you at your school. I don’t recall the name but I know it was on Canal St. and very close to the river. You introduced us to every one and I heard some comments from some on how you were right that I was a handsome boy. I was so proud that you talked about me in that way however I do think some of them were men who were gay. (LOL) But what I do remember the most is every one at school called you Sim. I asked you if you liked that name and you looked at me and said “no I hate that name.” I made a mental note not to ever call you that and I never said that name again. I also remember you coming home for a week end from time to time and you always had a different color of hair. And I don’t mean your normal blond, brunette, or red head I’m talking orange, purple and green.
Than Joe came into your life and our time together was a lot less. I couldn’t understand it at the time but of course now I know you were in LOVE. Ya’ll were married and at one point moved to Boute. You were working at a beauty salon on the West Bank. One day I went to visit you at work and you asked me to do you a favor. It was Joe’s birthday and you did not have time to get his gift so you asked me to pick it up for you. Do you remember what you asked me to buy for him?? A railroad watch. He really loved that watch. I believe that is when Joe truly became my friend instead of some one trying to take my big sister away from me. All the times I would go to ya’ll house, sorry trailer, in Boutte and drinking many, many little Miller Ponies.
Eventually Donaldsonville became ya’lls resident where ya’ll would raise your family. Those were good times too. We would go there for Hurricanes. Nancy would cook great food. We met the rest of Joe’s family. Than Guy was born and later, much later, Minta came along. And you spent your time raising your family. And I must add did one H_ _ L of a great job. It is such a pleasure to see and talk to Guy and Minta. They are both so nice, respectable and well adjusted adults. I love both of them very much even if I don’t see them as often as I would like.
Than Joe unfortunately pass on. I’m not going to dwell on this for I know it’s a sore spot for us all. But I do remember that day in the hospital when he died. I loss a very, very good close friend that day. But what hurt me the most was seeing and felling your pain. And just like yourself, I’ll love him forever.
I will always remember how strong you have been with all your medical problems. You never loss your great sense of humor. Nothing seems to ever bother you when it comes to yourself but any one else and you have always been there. You are amazing.
One more thing I remember which is very important to me. Momma always used to say that you cried from the time you were born until you started school then you never cried again. Upon my return from Vietnam when Mom, Dad, Rosie and myself got out the car from the airport everyone was waiting for me inside the house. But I remember you did not stay inside the house. You came out the door and met me on the porch, hugged me and began to cry. I can’t remember what we said to each other. But I DO remember you crying in my arms and heard the words clearly in my ears what Mom used to say about you not ever crying. That memory, that one moment has been and always will be burned in my heart and soul for all eternity.
Simone I will always cherish these things about you, your fragile soul, your gentleness, your kindness, your love and most of all your friendship. Fore you my oldest sibling, are not only my sister but you have always been and remain still today a very, very dear and close Friend.
I will love you always.
Your Little Brod. And Pal
Peter

P.S. To all my other great sisters, I would greatly appreciate it if at least one of you would make sure our “Oldest Sibling” sees this.
Thanks,
Peter

THE HOUSE OF THE RAISING SUN !!!!!

"The House of The Raising Sun" done by the Animals is surely one of the most popular songs ever written about New Orleans. Its been around for years. I know all of you have heard it. Not too long ago I heard a song that sounds just like it but the words were changed. I only heard the first verse. So I began to add other words to it. I don't want to take credit for it being completely my idea, but I wanted to contribute to it. Remember these words/verses go to the same music as "The House of The Raising Sun."

There is a team in New Orleans,
That seldom win a game,
And I don't want to embarrass them,
So I wont tell you their name.

The owner sells a lot of cars you know,
Thru out the teams land,
But the only time he is satisfied,
Is when he dances under his umbrella.

The fans they wear paper bags on their heads,
and shout things thru out the croud,
Like "Who dat, Who dat, you say,"
Gonna beat my team today.

Now fans tell your children,
Not to follow this team no more,
They look very good on the field you know,
But they'll never make the Super Bowl.

One foots on my tailgate,
The other is on Poydras,
I'm going in the dome today,
To see who dat,who dat, gonna beat my team today.

Ahhhhh, There is a team in New Orleans,
That seldom win a game,
And I don't want to embaress them,
So I wont tell you their name.

Contribute if you like. And don't get me wrong, I will die a S_ _ _ _ S fan. And I have never worn a paper bag on my face, but I usually have been drinking when I watch a game on TV.

Hope you like it.
Peter Dgreat.

HERES ONE FOR YA'LL

O.K. Lil sis, in one of your blogs you asked me to "show you what I got."Well try this on for size.(Oh this is for the rest of you too, I don't want to leave any one out.) But for my lil sister Lilly this is a NA,NA,NA,NA,NA. (LOL), (I SAID LOL)

This is a little poem I wrote some time back. Some of it is fiction and some true. I'm sure ya'll will be able to pick out the truth from the fiction.
Peter

The Rain Keeps Falling

Is it rain on my cheeks I feel or is it tears in my eyes ?
When I meet you now in the street I never know,
If it’s a cloud in the sky or my heart that has burst open.
I see you from across the street, hand in hand looking so sweet.
And I think how lucky he is, like I was when it was me.
When you walked away, my soul died.
But I remember the hot humid days when we waited for a gentle
Summer rain and go strolling down the walk.
And the rain keeps running down my cheeks.
So now I walk in the rain alone to hide the tears in my eyes.
When you walked away, familiar faces became only strangers.
And strangers in the night became my lone companionship.
But I remember the warm summer nights with a slight cool breeze blowing through the open window, and us sharing our souls.
A world without you is like that window being shut on my life leaving my essence hot, stuffy and without a spirit to share with any one else, ever.
I tried to forget, I tried to move on, I tried to find someone else, but my heart just keeps reminding me that you are the only one.
So I suffer in the darkness of night praying for The Dawn to rescue me from my sorrowfulness.
But I remember an era of our lives when we loved and made love and lay in each others arms silently, but yet, each of us hearing the loving pounding of our hearts.
I don’t know if God will allow me to enter Heaven, but if he should there is one thing I know for sure, you will be there, or will be coming, hopefully soon after.
I’ll love you forever, even in the Heavens after death.
Peter Collins

TIME,PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE

Hi Avery body,

Ever since I saw the movie "The Time Machine" I have been fascinated with the concept of time travel. I was a very young boy when I saw this great movie. So as soon as the librarian at the Golden Meadow Library thought I was old enough to read and understand Jules Vernes book "The Time Machine" I ansiously checked out the book. I couldn't put the book down. I was more fascinated with the book than the movie.



Then the movie "Planet of The Apes" came out. I was still pretty young. I was in N.O. with Daddy putting in an order of records for the studio and record shop. While we waited for the order to be filled, Daddy toke me to the old Sanger Theater on Canal St. to see "Planet of The Apes." We both really enjoyed that movie. We had a good time. I thought I was so special for Dad to ask me to go with him to the big N.O. and then take me to such a great movie. (P.S. We also had breakfast on the way in none other then the city of Boute. I was big shoot that day.)


I have seen several time travel movies since then and I pretty much love or at least like them all.


I truly believe Man at some time in history will develop a means of Time Travel. I just fell that this is going to happen. It would be the ultimate means of transportation. I believe this going to be the topic of the next story I'm going to attempt to write.

But here is a thought I need to work on. If man will and does develop a means of time travel,which I think he will, then where are all the people from the future ??? I want to try and explain this in my story so I thought ya'll would contribute your ideas and thoughts on the subject.

Later,
Peter