The Trooper

What folly it is to even begin this balled,
a song of words for a man unheard.
Usually kept to himself–quiet and deep,
But I’ve known this man for 4 years,
and tonight he made me weap.

What folly it is to summerize a man of such skills and education,
Whose friends–a bullet would take–the highest adoration.
Whose butch demenor and sensitive side a man it does reflect,
a friend to some, a brother to few–the loyal he does respect

What folly it is to write about a man who is so greatly adored,
Whose kindness as a friend and devotion as a human being is so generously overpoured,
A guy who drops it all for you, travels to you, joins in hand with you, This HAS to be implored.

What folly it is to read this tribute
to a man that hates good-byes,
but this is something that I had to do
to eliminate the lies.

This is the man, the bear, the legend
The soon to be trooper,
And if you ever need to know or were dying to ask,
His name is Cody Cooper.

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Photos Are a Beautiful Thing.

It’s a curious thing…pictures. They are everywhere nowadays. You can’t go anywhere without someone snagging your photo, or attend a gathering without having some sort of photograph taken of you within the night. When I first used facebook in 2006, I thought it was a sight to upload photos and share them with people, share your many “faces.” As the years progressed, facebook has revolutionized photos. “It’s a Myspace Photo” people would always say. Now, they laugh as they proclaim, “This is so facebook,” or, “This is so going on facebook.”

I would be willing to wager that we have reached a point in time, where more photos have been taken in the past 10 years, than in the previous 30. With digital cameras and “oops” photos, we take an obscene amount of photos.

“Why is he talking about photos?”

Well, just the other week, I was looking through my families old photo albums. I flipped through photo upon embarrassing photo of my sisters and I when we were too young to know what the heck we were wearing. As I turned each glossy, sticky page…I began to realize something. Back then, photos were a beautiful thing. It was a snapshot, no mistakes…or very few, of the best memories we had. Candid snapshots of the funniest moments, the lovely scenery, the warm holidays, the hot lawn chair days. And they were put into Albums, to be passed to our kids. When they flip through them, as I did this week, they will be able to see a life they never knew, experience feelings they never felt, and witness people who loved them, when we were too small to say I love you back.

Photos are a beautiful thing. Treasure them….not just for facebook.

Ode to a Mother

What caliber of Love can take excrement and wipe it off of a babies bottom, over a thousand times? We’re talking about only one kind of Love here people. This is the Love of a parent. You may not admit it, but we have all been shaped and raised by parents. Whether you keep their views and beliefs as your own is not the issue. Their Love for you can only be described as supernatural.

This is for all the Moms out there that put up with our terrible two’s and our treacherous teen’s. When we thought you didn’t understand our emotions and had NO IDEA what Love meant. When we screamed in the hallways, parks, store aisles, funerals, weddings and gatherings. When we pooped at the most inopportune time, and the countless date nights we prevented from happening. Thanks for the kisses on the knee to make it go away, the arms to pick us up when we bumped our arm in play, the hot soup to warm us up after a long winter day…Thanks Mom. Thanks for the years of Love and the years to come, for the endless hours we slammed on the drums, for the men/women you knew we would become…Thanks Mom. Thanks for the long talks that we tried to escape, for the that toy we wanted with the lights and the cape, for the moments too precious to to miss on tape…Thanks Mom. TODAY we solute you…for everything you endure. I couldn’t have made it, become mature. If there was anyway at all that I could assure….I Love you, with all my heart, of that I’m sure.

Love your Son,

Eric