White Rock Road

White Rock Road and I Still Believe In Magic. I was born in 1960 in Denver, Colorado. The story of my childhood at home was not a pleasant one for my father was an abusive alcoholic that was controlled by the Vodka that he drank in great quantities. My childhood was no different than countless of other sons and daughters that grew up in an alcoholic environment except for one thing. I had a magical place to go to in the summers of my youth. Growing up for me was a very confusing and scary time. Growing up with an alcoholic father left its emotional and physical scars and I probably will never heal completely from, but, for me I had some magic in my childhood. Just as Dorothy had the yellow brick road in the “Wizard Of Oz”, I had a white rock road to travel that to me was far above more wonderful than Dorothy’s “Oz”. By far my best memories of childhood were located at the end of that white rock road that led to my grandparents, uncle, aunt and cousins farm southeast of Alamota Kansas on the wind swept wheat fields of Lane County. At the end of that white rock road was my Mom’s family, her parents and her brother’s family. To me it was my Heaven on earth, it was my sanctuary. My wonder years of my youth were spent under those big skies and lonely white rock roads of Kansas. I remember walking through the wheat fields before harvest as the wind created waves like an ocean as I barely touched the top of the wheat stalks with the palm of my hand. I felt – free – I wished it had never ended.

White Rock Road
I quit counting, hard to remember, so many years,
Of a Kansas white rock road, childhood memories reappear.
Winding white rock road, memories past,
Summer heat during August, unsurpassed.
Two houses await, end of white rock road,
Swirling white dust, settle on the car as we unload.
Uncle, Cousins, Grandparents house’s await,
Being there was wonderful, there is no debate.
Tree house, catching fireflies, hide and seek,
Hot Kansas nights, to me, had a mystique.
Defending our fort, our tree house, wars, won and lost,
Countless dirt clods, pretend hand grenades were tossed.
4th of July, Grandma’s chicken, fireworks at the Lane County fair,
All of this, many memories, brought forth riding the wind – the air.
Memories traveled down that white rock road,
Away with me, stories to my children all have been told.
I miss that Kansas winding white rock road,
Of all the Loving memories it bestowed.
By Kurt James

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Kurt James

Kurt James was born and raised in the foothills of the Colorado Rocky Mountains. Kurt’s family roots were from western Kansas and having lived in South Dakota for 20 years, Kurt naturally had become an old western and nature enthusiast. Over the years Kurt has become one of Colorado’s prominent nature photographers through his brand name of Midnight Wind Photography. The Denver Post, PM Magazine, and 9NEWS in Denver, Colorado featured his poetry. Kurt is also a feature writer for HubPages and Creative Exiles with the article’s focused on Colorado history, ghost towns, outlaws, and poetry. Inspired at a young age by writers such as Jack London, Louis L’Amour, and Max Brand have formed Kurt’s natural ability as a storyteller. Kurt has published 16 books all based in and around the Colorado Rocky Mountains. Using the Midnight Wind Publishing brand, Kurt James novels, short stories, reference books, and poetry, are available in print or download on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Goodreads, and other fine bookstores. And a few shady bookstores as well. Kurt has 3 books that he is currently writing. The 8th book in his Rocky Mountain Series - Raphael Eye for an Eye. His third ghost town reference book, Kansas Ghost Towns, Hauntings, Treasure Tales, and Other BS. And a western/horror novel - Devil’s Tower Spirit of Chiha Tanka. Kurt is a proud member of Western Writers of America.

16 thoughts on “White Rock Road

  • January 16, 2017 at 10:12 AM
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    An absolutely wonderful and nostalgic trip down memory lane – I’m certain each one of us could substitute the state name for the one where we grew up and be instantly immersed in the language. I bet that my old fort is still standing on my grandparents old property and some new kids are enjoying it as much as I did. Thanks for sharing this piece.

    • January 16, 2017 at 11:59 AM
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      Memories are most of the time wonderful things and all of us should have happy ones from our childhood – I feel sorry for those that do not. It made me feel good that you enjoyed this piece RJ…

  • January 16, 2017 at 12:00 PM
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    Kurt, I had a few places like this, all in the country with relatives. Similar conditions as yours.
    Your verse almost had me in tears. My mind raced putting pictures together of ‘then vs now’ as your words paved that road back thru’ time. Thanks for the flashback.

    • January 16, 2017 at 1:23 PM
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      Thanks Roger for taking the time to read what I wrote and if it took you down a path of memories than writing it was worth it.

  • January 16, 2017 at 2:38 PM
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    Great work on this one, Kurt. I didn’t have an abusive parent but I did enjoy the times we would visit my grandmother, uncle on their small farm and the good times spent with cousins having wonderful childhood adventures. White Rock Road will forever be in your memory.

    • January 16, 2017 at 2:41 PM
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      Thanks John for you kind words… As I had stated in the piece above, those years were my wonder years… Nice to know some folks grew up with out the abusive parent…..

  • January 16, 2017 at 4:35 PM
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    Wonderful memoir and poem, Kurt. The happy childhood memories are like jewels, to be kept within our treasure chest in the heart. You have some great ones with your Mom’s family. I remember reading about your Uncle who lived there at the end of White Rock Road – a fine man he was to give so much needed love to you. I so enjoyed reading this post. Well done Kurt.

    • January 16, 2017 at 4:46 PM
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      Thank you so much for your heart felt comments Phyliss, Yes my Moms family were my saving grace as I grew up and my Uncle Larry was the biggest part of why I am the man I am today…. thank you for stopping by…

  • January 17, 2017 at 8:03 AM
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    What a lovely heartfelt trip down your memories Kurt. I miss those days where life was carefree and the biggest worry was defending the tree fort, and is there enough food for 4th of July. Nice work.~Paul

    • January 17, 2017 at 5:55 PM
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      Thanks Paul for stopping…. life was good when all we had to worry about was defending the tree fort…lol

    • January 17, 2017 at 6:03 PM
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      I love Brooks and Dunn and I never thought about it until now, I like their song Red Dirt Road….too funny…thank you for your kind words.

  • January 18, 2017 at 6:54 AM
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    For me John Denver strums and I hear country roads take me home.. If the path through childhood gets rough every child should have their own personal White Rock Road thank you for taking me back on your journey to childhood.

    • January 18, 2017 at 12:34 PM
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      Of course John Denver works for me to. Thanks for your kind words Rasma

  • January 20, 2017 at 12:26 PM
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    So emotive your words are Kurt..How vividly you have described the white Rock road from your memories and all the happy childhood moments you had at your mother’s house..Thank you so much for sharing and have a lovely day!

    • January 20, 2017 at 3:19 PM
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      Thank you for your kind words Anjana.. ou have a wonderful day

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