Leroy is demented. His mind no longer works in a reasonable fashion. He lives with his wife who loves him and wants to keep him home as long as possible. It is our job to care for him during the day, keep him warm, full and happy. Leroy is easily stressed and when he becomes stressed his adrenalin kicks in and he goes into fight mode. Today the staff is setting up for the Art Party. There is a lot of motion, a lot of carrying to and fro and people chatting in anticipation. Preparing for an event stresses the staff and it stresses Leroy.
Leroy approached the nurse's desk and one of the staff members told him to sit down. Leroy became upset, gave the staff member a dirty look and she told him to sit down again, in a louder tone of voice. Her voice set off another demented client who called Leroy a son of a bitch. Leroy flushed bright red and sat down, glowering. The stage was set and I was called in to "fix" things before they escalated.
I got Leroy a glass of milk because he likes milk. He asked for cereal too. I got him cereal. He calmed down and began to eat. It seemed reasonable enough to me to please him. Don't we all like to be pleased, demented or whatever passes for "not demented?" The staff, who had called me to "fix" things, because that's my business, did not like the way I fixed them.
"Well what are we going to do?" asked the nurse. "Feed him all day?"
"I think if we let him calm down you will see he won't want to eat all day. He will forget what he was angry about. What we need to do is not confront him. We all know the nature of his disease. He is the client and we are the professionals." I guess I should not have said that. I am not always smart.
"We can't put up with this nonsense," said another staff member. "He's a big man and I don't want to get hurt. He doesn't belong here."
Suddenly I hit the wall. "Then where does he belong? In a nursing home where they will tie him to a bed, drug him so he can drool and wet himself until he dies? We know what happens to our people once they leave us. Our mission is to allow these people to stay home as long as their families are willing to keep them home."
"They don't pay me enough to take care of him!"
DAMN! Those words make me crazy! All I can think is, "If you don't want to work here, why are you here? How much money is enough money to take care of the Leroys of this world?"
"Then let me know what you want to do with him!" I said. "It is obvious to me you don't want to work with him so it's your call. Get the staff together and make a decision. If you want him gone from here I can make that happen today!!!"
I went back to my office. I am sitting here wondering what it takes to give a frightened, demented man a glass of milk and a bowl of cereal and leave him alone to compose himself.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
It’s all about being right… Monday, August 27, 2007
It seems to me that life has two components…. what happened and the story we tell ourselves about what happened. Though the way we remember facts may be perfect, it is always tinged by our perception and emotions. So, our perception, emotion stained facts become a story that we tell ourselves, our friends, lovers, spouses and in time our children… who are already busy working on their own stories.
In our stories about our life the problems are always someone else's fault. Imagine that! The more we think about and tell our stories the more real they become until finally, to us, they become, not the story but the fact. Forgiveness becomes difficult, if not impossible, because we have become so entrenched in our story about what happened that we forget the other people involved are just that… people… imperfect and destined to make mistakes. Incredibly, they have their life stories too and in their stories, we are wrong.
Ultimately our primary goal becomes not to live our lives, but to be right about our life stories. And thus, we give up living in favor of being right.
In our stories about our life the problems are always someone else's fault. Imagine that! The more we think about and tell our stories the more real they become until finally, to us, they become, not the story but the fact. Forgiveness becomes difficult, if not impossible, because we have become so entrenched in our story about what happened that we forget the other people involved are just that… people… imperfect and destined to make mistakes. Incredibly, they have their life stories too and in their stories, we are wrong.
Ultimately our primary goal becomes not to live our lives, but to be right about our life stories. And thus, we give up living in favor of being right.
the Lamed Vav ...Thursday, September 06, 2007
Several days ago I had a conversation with a dear friend that today, has me thinking about "lamed-vavniks". Jewish legend has it that the "lamed-vavniks" are 36 completely righteous, good people committing acts of kindness, taking pity on the poor and compassion on the helpless and it was for their sake that the world was created. Legend also says that as long as God can find 36 righteous people the world will go on and of course, on the day He can't find 36 "lamed-vavniks" the world will perish.
The world is a complicated place populated by complex people and every day I am amazed that life goes on as well as it does. It seems to me the world operates by agreements and small acts of kindness. Most of us agree to stop at red lights and to pay for what we take from stores. If it were not for such agreements the world would be chaos. Of course I don't believe the legend of "lamed-vavniks." It seems to me however that some people are "lamed-vavniks" in their own right, working at "tikkun olam"… repairing the world and making a difference. Some of us march on Washington to right the problems in government…. some of us feed the hungry (though it's against the law in some parts of Las Vegas)…. some of us hold the hand of the ill and dying and some of us fight for our children, the children of the world. Some of us walk to raise money for Alzheimer's disease research or Diabetes and some of us merely extend a helping hand to our fellow man. Making a difference. In my mind it's the intention to do something to make a difference that keeps chaos at bay.
I have to believe that the majority of the people on the planet have some degree of righteousness or the legend of the "lamed-vavniks" would be real and the world would perish.
The world is a complicated place populated by complex people and every day I am amazed that life goes on as well as it does. It seems to me the world operates by agreements and small acts of kindness. Most of us agree to stop at red lights and to pay for what we take from stores. If it were not for such agreements the world would be chaos. Of course I don't believe the legend of "lamed-vavniks." It seems to me however that some people are "lamed-vavniks" in their own right, working at "tikkun olam"… repairing the world and making a difference. Some of us march on Washington to right the problems in government…. some of us feed the hungry (though it's against the law in some parts of Las Vegas)…. some of us hold the hand of the ill and dying and some of us fight for our children, the children of the world. Some of us walk to raise money for Alzheimer's disease research or Diabetes and some of us merely extend a helping hand to our fellow man. Making a difference. In my mind it's the intention to do something to make a difference that keeps chaos at bay.
I have to believe that the majority of the people on the planet have some degree of righteousness or the legend of the "lamed-vavniks" would be real and the world would perish.
Ramblings of a moving mind....Saturday, September 15, 2007
My home is full of boxes. I am packing to move and the process is disquieting. Today I am packing books and little things from my bookshelves. I found the acorns my granddaughters and I gathered from the cemetery in Georgia and the memories came back. It was cold and little Mary was a baby, just up off the floor. Her daddy put underwear on her head to keep it warm. Our JoJo lost a tooth in the lobby of the Atlanta Hilton and Evan helped her clean the blood, both of them grossed out and giggling. Kasia added her throaty laugh.
That night, the Hooch ate pizza with the little girls in the hotel while Jill, Lori and I ate dinner at Pitty Pat's Porch… black eyed peas, greens, cornbread and sweet tea, the food of my childhood. I consider that meal with my daughter and daughter-in-law a gift from my son.
Next day we went to Mass at Our Lady of Lourdes in Sweet Auburn. It was cold but the sun was warm and the music circled us in love. Little Mary walked away from her daddy and stood in front of the choir, mouth open as if to catch the notes. Everyone smiled. How delicious to spend time with my children and granddaughters in the place I grew up.
But today I am packing boxes.
I am clear about the lessons I am "relearning" from moving. The essence of life is change and all life is impermanence and this will not be my last move. The memories are moving with me, packed safely in my heart. Still, moving is disquieting to my soul.
That night, the Hooch ate pizza with the little girls in the hotel while Jill, Lori and I ate dinner at Pitty Pat's Porch… black eyed peas, greens, cornbread and sweet tea, the food of my childhood. I consider that meal with my daughter and daughter-in-law a gift from my son.
Next day we went to Mass at Our Lady of Lourdes in Sweet Auburn. It was cold but the sun was warm and the music circled us in love. Little Mary walked away from her daddy and stood in front of the choir, mouth open as if to catch the notes. Everyone smiled. How delicious to spend time with my children and granddaughters in the place I grew up.
But today I am packing boxes.
I am clear about the lessons I am "relearning" from moving. The essence of life is change and all life is impermanence and this will not be my last move. The memories are moving with me, packed safely in my heart. Still, moving is disquieting to my soul.
Page’s survey ...Thursday, September 27, 2007
I normally post these under bulletins but Page (the Monklet) posted it under blog so I will too. I feel like a follower today.
1. Why are you home?
because I am finished working and finished drinking coffee and talking so now I am home, thinking about working on my Manhattan skyline painting...
2. Have you ever seen the show Scrubs?
no… should I?
3. Do you like anyone?
no… and Monklet you know what it means and I know you know that I know you are playing with us acting like you don't know what it means…
4. Do you know anyone named Michael?
I do…
5. What kind of toilet paper do you use?
white
7. Do you like sunflowers?
I like the flowers, I like the seeds, I like the painting
8. How about sand?
what… sand has seeds? I didn't know that!
9. Do you have asthma?
only in the presence of strong smells
10. Do you think the word "fork" is weird?
no… but I think the word spork is weird… as mr jones says a spork is a bi-utensil
11. Which pet would you rather have if it were legal, a penguin or an alligator?
I already have a penguin… shhhhh…
12. What kind of vacuum cleaner do you own?
I don't know... but it sucks real good
13. If you could have any job you wanted, for just one day what would it be?
for one day I would like to be a billionaire… I'm betting I could give away a cool billion in 24 hours… ya think? wait... is billionaire a job? yeah I think so...
14. Can you draw a perfect heart?
maybe… whose heart is it?
15. How many rings do you have on?
8 on my fingers and the others are… uhhh…
16. Have any pictures on your dresser mirror?
not on the mirror… on the dresser… they won't stand up on the mirror
17. Which would you rather have, a great smile or a great body?
as Carin says it is a work in progress and everyone has a different definition of what a "great body" is… and I am going with Carin on that
18. When talking to a guy you're interested in, have you ever stared at their crotch?
what??? I mean seriously… WHAT???
19. Is the sound on your computer on right now?
can you hear it from there?
21. Have you seen the movie 300?
no, but John said it was worth going to the theater to see so it must be good
22. How about Chuck and Larry?
they didn't say
23. Isn't it annoying when commercials repeat themselves a million times?
Commercials?... I don't watch commercials with one notable exception… I love those caveman commercials and I am going to watch the show on October 2nd…. seriously… are you?
24. Have you ever been a victim of a cheesy pick up line?
the cheesiest!
25. Have you ever been bitten by a mosquito?
yes and other things too
26. Do you believe in angels?
they are the people who help you when you least expect it
27. Do you keep cards people got you for Christmas/Birthday etc?
sometimes… depends on who the peeps are
28. The last person you laughed at?
at or with? It's mean to laugh at people!
29. How many mirrors do you have in your house?
too many
30. Do you like to kiss?
what kinda question is that?
31. Do you like Cheetos?
with what?
32. Have any fans on?
what? fans? I don't wear fans!
33. Were you sad when The WB changed to CW?
what? The WB changed? now I am sad!
34. Are you lactose intolerant?
I am a tolerant person and I have nothing against lactose!
35. What's worse, being angry or being disappointed?
at what? or whom? how did this happen?
36. Dude, do you have a Dell?
Dude! I do!
1. Why are you home?
because I am finished working and finished drinking coffee and talking so now I am home, thinking about working on my Manhattan skyline painting...
2. Have you ever seen the show Scrubs?
no… should I?
3. Do you like anyone?
no… and Monklet you know what it means and I know you know that I know you are playing with us acting like you don't know what it means…
4. Do you know anyone named Michael?
I do…
5. What kind of toilet paper do you use?
white
7. Do you like sunflowers?
I like the flowers, I like the seeds, I like the painting
8. How about sand?
what… sand has seeds? I didn't know that!
9. Do you have asthma?
only in the presence of strong smells
10. Do you think the word "fork" is weird?
no… but I think the word spork is weird… as mr jones says a spork is a bi-utensil
11. Which pet would you rather have if it were legal, a penguin or an alligator?
I already have a penguin… shhhhh…
12. What kind of vacuum cleaner do you own?
I don't know... but it sucks real good
13. If you could have any job you wanted, for just one day what would it be?
for one day I would like to be a billionaire… I'm betting I could give away a cool billion in 24 hours… ya think? wait... is billionaire a job? yeah I think so...
14. Can you draw a perfect heart?
maybe… whose heart is it?
15. How many rings do you have on?
8 on my fingers and the others are… uhhh…
16. Have any pictures on your dresser mirror?
not on the mirror… on the dresser… they won't stand up on the mirror
17. Which would you rather have, a great smile or a great body?
as Carin says it is a work in progress and everyone has a different definition of what a "great body" is… and I am going with Carin on that
18. When talking to a guy you're interested in, have you ever stared at their crotch?
what??? I mean seriously… WHAT???
19. Is the sound on your computer on right now?
can you hear it from there?
21. Have you seen the movie 300?
no, but John said it was worth going to the theater to see so it must be good
22. How about Chuck and Larry?
they didn't say
23. Isn't it annoying when commercials repeat themselves a million times?
Commercials?... I don't watch commercials with one notable exception… I love those caveman commercials and I am going to watch the show on October 2nd…. seriously… are you?
24. Have you ever been a victim of a cheesy pick up line?
the cheesiest!
25. Have you ever been bitten by a mosquito?
yes and other things too
26. Do you believe in angels?
they are the people who help you when you least expect it
27. Do you keep cards people got you for Christmas/Birthday etc?
sometimes… depends on who the peeps are
28. The last person you laughed at?
at or with? It's mean to laugh at people!
29. How many mirrors do you have in your house?
too many
30. Do you like to kiss?
what kinda question is that?
31. Do you like Cheetos?
with what?
32. Have any fans on?
what? fans? I don't wear fans!
33. Were you sad when The WB changed to CW?
what? The WB changed? now I am sad!
34. Are you lactose intolerant?
I am a tolerant person and I have nothing against lactose!
35. What's worse, being angry or being disappointed?
at what? or whom? how did this happen?
36. Dude, do you have a Dell?
Dude! I do!
it’s about jobs or something like that ...October 03, 2007
My friend Emma and I have always agreed to disagree about some things and be tolerant of each other's views. Actually that's not true. Emma knows my beliefs and ideas and she has agreed to take every opportunity to try to change my mind and I have agreed to listen and not espouse my views because as she says, "I knew the moment I met you who you are and what you believe and I love you anyway." Emma's not the only person who loves me in spite of myself.
Emma's current campaign is called "those illegals" … read anyone who speaks Spanish.
"Spanish is practically the official language of California," she says. "There are Spanish TV stations in California! Kate, they are teaching Spanish in our schools! Now you know that's not right! They are taking all our jobs." Emma has a job and so do I. I refrain from saying, "At least they haven't taken ours yet." I pray daily for a civil tongue.
"They come across the border just to have their babies so they can get medical services and Kate, real Americans are doing without medical care." Emma is adamantly opposed to any kind of national health care because, "Kate, look what it's doing to Canada and England."
Now I'm not saying someone is right here; only that we hold differing views.
Last week we were in her kitchen drinking coffee and eating crème brulee. It goes without saying that Emma made it. Cooking is not one of my talents but it's certainly one of hers. "You make the best crème brulee I have ever eaten," I said.
"I love to cook as long as I don't have to do the dishes," Emma said. "You know when my husband and I owned the restaurant we had a dishwasher named Arturo and that man would not let me put my hands near dishwater. I have never felt so pampered in my life. He spoke broken English but he let me know his Senora could not wash dishes. He had the sweetest wife and a little one. My husband took him across the border to pick them up and I was a nervous wreck the whole time he was gone. I just knew they would catch Lenny bringing illegals across the border and he would spend the rest of his life in a Mexican prison and I would never see him again."
Okay, praying for a civil tongue has not worked. I slipped.
"Are you telling me you employed "illegals" in your restaurant?"
"Oh sure. They were really great workers and cheap too. And Kate, they were so loyal to us because we were good to them."
I am not drawing any conclusions here. As my friend lzbth would say, "I'm just saying."
Emma's current campaign is called "those illegals" … read anyone who speaks Spanish.
"Spanish is practically the official language of California," she says. "There are Spanish TV stations in California! Kate, they are teaching Spanish in our schools! Now you know that's not right! They are taking all our jobs." Emma has a job and so do I. I refrain from saying, "At least they haven't taken ours yet." I pray daily for a civil tongue.
"They come across the border just to have their babies so they can get medical services and Kate, real Americans are doing without medical care." Emma is adamantly opposed to any kind of national health care because, "Kate, look what it's doing to Canada and England."
Now I'm not saying someone is right here; only that we hold differing views.
Last week we were in her kitchen drinking coffee and eating crème brulee. It goes without saying that Emma made it. Cooking is not one of my talents but it's certainly one of hers. "You make the best crème brulee I have ever eaten," I said.
"I love to cook as long as I don't have to do the dishes," Emma said. "You know when my husband and I owned the restaurant we had a dishwasher named Arturo and that man would not let me put my hands near dishwater. I have never felt so pampered in my life. He spoke broken English but he let me know his Senora could not wash dishes. He had the sweetest wife and a little one. My husband took him across the border to pick them up and I was a nervous wreck the whole time he was gone. I just knew they would catch Lenny bringing illegals across the border and he would spend the rest of his life in a Mexican prison and I would never see him again."
Okay, praying for a civil tongue has not worked. I slipped.
"Are you telling me you employed "illegals" in your restaurant?"
"Oh sure. They were really great workers and cheap too. And Kate, they were so loyal to us because we were good to them."
I am not drawing any conclusions here. As my friend lzbth would say, "I'm just saying."
“old” glasses ...Sunday, October 07, 2007
Yesterday afternoon a friend and I sat on the grassy bank of a lake at Desert Shores. The water was a dark blue green and a little choppy. The chilly wind was blowing my hair and the sun was warm.
"This is a peaceful place," my friend said and I agreed.
"Did you notice how beautiful the sky and clouds are?" He pointed across the lake. I had noticed.
Emerald green headed Mallards and their brown ladies bobbed by as if in watery rocking chairs. Sleek little black coots upended themselves looking for food. Suddenly the mallards lifted themselves from the water and flew east around the lake and to the other side.
"I wonder how they all know it's time to fly like that." I said. "I mean, who gives the signal?"
My friend remembered V shaped flights of Canadian geese from when he was a child. "Funny," he said, "how we never really paid a lot of attention to those things when we were young and now, we notice the sky, the clouds, mountains, ducks, coots, the color of the water, the feel of the grass and they all seem more vivid than ever."
It's true. It's as if at some point nature fits us with our "old" glasses and what we see begins to take on new meaning. We see the pine cone or the feather on the ground beside us and it is important, as if we are storing it in our mind for later. The sun is a sudden golden memory warming our hearts. We miss the wrinkles on the face of an old friend and see him as he was when we cruised Fremont Street as teens… smooth and sweet. The hand that points to the returning ducks is once more young.
"Here they come."
The ducks soared past us and settled into the water again at a signal we couldn't discern. They took their positions, preening and bobbing. One flapped his wings and quacked loudly. The coots were undisturbed, still looking for food.
My friend and I sat on the grassy bank and watched, wearing our "old" glasses.
"This is a peaceful place," my friend said and I agreed.
"Did you notice how beautiful the sky and clouds are?" He pointed across the lake. I had noticed.
Emerald green headed Mallards and their brown ladies bobbed by as if in watery rocking chairs. Sleek little black coots upended themselves looking for food. Suddenly the mallards lifted themselves from the water and flew east around the lake and to the other side.
"I wonder how they all know it's time to fly like that." I said. "I mean, who gives the signal?"
My friend remembered V shaped flights of Canadian geese from when he was a child. "Funny," he said, "how we never really paid a lot of attention to those things when we were young and now, we notice the sky, the clouds, mountains, ducks, coots, the color of the water, the feel of the grass and they all seem more vivid than ever."
It's true. It's as if at some point nature fits us with our "old" glasses and what we see begins to take on new meaning. We see the pine cone or the feather on the ground beside us and it is important, as if we are storing it in our mind for later. The sun is a sudden golden memory warming our hearts. We miss the wrinkles on the face of an old friend and see him as he was when we cruised Fremont Street as teens… smooth and sweet. The hand that points to the returning ducks is once more young.
"Here they come."
The ducks soared past us and settled into the water again at a signal we couldn't discern. They took their positions, preening and bobbing. One flapped his wings and quacked loudly. The coots were undisturbed, still looking for food.
My friend and I sat on the grassy bank and watched, wearing our "old" glasses.
the big move… Friday, October 19, 2007
Reverend Dave and the Holy Movers… listen, I don't make this stuff up… that's their real name… were supposed to arrive at 7 am Friday. Reverend Dave called on Thursday at 5 and said they had to come at 6, that very night. That very night! My friends Dianne and June were there to help me. There was nothing for it but to move right then and there.
Reverend Dave and the Holy Movers arrived at 7:30 (not 6) and the show was on! Five men, all over 6 feet tall and good looking started shrink wrapping the furniture and schlepped it out to the big truck while Dianne, June and I packed the little stuff.
We left for the new place at 10:30 and by 1am Reverend Dave and the Holy Movers, Dianne and June were gone and I was left with a house full of furniture and other stuff everywhere. Everywhere!
George and Winifred had a quiet night tucked right next to me in bed. This morning they got busy exploring the place. Winnie has discovered another cat in the mirror on the closet door. It looks suspiciously like her but she doesn't know that! George, who I suspect has a touch of Kitty Alzheimer's, has spent most of the day asking, "Now exactly where did you put the litter boxes again?"
I found the coffee pot and made some coffee but I haven't seen hide nor bristle of my toothbrushes and I have 14 toothbrushes at all times! Ask anyone who knows me. I have found some clothes but I am not sure they are all mine. When did I buy that burgundy hoodie? Does anyone remember? And those black shoes? I like them but I have no idea where they came from.
The first thing I did was put the cloud Ashley painted for my birthday on the mantelpiece. It looks really good there. I hooked up the cd player and put on some Keely. She sounds good here. This may become home yet.
Tomorrow morning? The Alzheimer's Memory Walk! Maybe I'll wear that burgundy hoodie! I like it!
Reverend Dave and the Holy Movers arrived at 7:30 (not 6) and the show was on! Five men, all over 6 feet tall and good looking started shrink wrapping the furniture and schlepped it out to the big truck while Dianne, June and I packed the little stuff.
We left for the new place at 10:30 and by 1am Reverend Dave and the Holy Movers, Dianne and June were gone and I was left with a house full of furniture and other stuff everywhere. Everywhere!
George and Winifred had a quiet night tucked right next to me in bed. This morning they got busy exploring the place. Winnie has discovered another cat in the mirror on the closet door. It looks suspiciously like her but she doesn't know that! George, who I suspect has a touch of Kitty Alzheimer's, has spent most of the day asking, "Now exactly where did you put the litter boxes again?"
I found the coffee pot and made some coffee but I haven't seen hide nor bristle of my toothbrushes and I have 14 toothbrushes at all times! Ask anyone who knows me. I have found some clothes but I am not sure they are all mine. When did I buy that burgundy hoodie? Does anyone remember? And those black shoes? I like them but I have no idea where they came from.
The first thing I did was put the cloud Ashley painted for my birthday on the mantelpiece. It looks really good there. I hooked up the cd player and put on some Keely. She sounds good here. This may become home yet.
Tomorrow morning? The Alzheimer's Memory Walk! Maybe I'll wear that burgundy hoodie! I like it!
son song ...Saturday, January 06, 2007
christopher robin called tonight
midnight his time
to play guitar
sing
jockey full of bourbon
two pair of pants and a mohair vest
superheroes
crawling on the planet's face
creatures called the human race
a little bob marley
we don't need no trouble
what we need is
swan swan hummingbird
6/8 time
D minor
goodbye to my juan
goodbye rosalita
adios mis amigos
jesus y maria
fingers filled with childhood
voice of stone love
across the country
christopher robin called
sang his life
to the woman who brought him to it
midnight his time
to play guitar
sing
jockey full of bourbon
two pair of pants and a mohair vest
superheroes
crawling on the planet's face
creatures called the human race
a little bob marley
we don't need no trouble
what we need is
swan swan hummingbird
6/8 time
D minor
goodbye to my juan
goodbye rosalita
adios mis amigos
jesus y maria
fingers filled with childhood
voice of stone love
across the country
christopher robin called
sang his life
to the woman who brought him to it
d and bonanza ...January 19, 2007
over there
on d and bonanza
the pavement is cold
life is cold
he peers from a brown hood
stained lonely
lips move
trying to tell him why he is here
fingers thick with want
pick up butt
finger to finger shift
not knowing
what else to do
he listens to his lips
talk about children
he thinks he remembers
was that a little boy
holding his once hand
did he ever touch a baby
its breath in tiny puffs
was that his long ago lips
on a soft woman collarbone
was she flesh and blood
or a flash of frozen dream
itch on a cold foot
wet
in the corner of his mouth
pulls blanket closer
useless bid for warmth
scratches behind ear
lips talking
wind brings sand
crushed krispy kreme box
sweet frosting
his fingers drop butt
wipe sweet into mouth
lips forget to talk
about children
woman
past
...gone
in moment of
licking sweet
on d and bonanza
the pavement is cold
life is cold
he peers from a brown hood
stained lonely
lips move
trying to tell him why he is here
fingers thick with want
pick up butt
finger to finger shift
not knowing
what else to do
he listens to his lips
talk about children
he thinks he remembers
was that a little boy
holding his once hand
did he ever touch a baby
its breath in tiny puffs
was that his long ago lips
on a soft woman collarbone
was she flesh and blood
or a flash of frozen dream
itch on a cold foot
wet
in the corner of his mouth
pulls blanket closer
useless bid for warmth
scratches behind ear
lips talking
wind brings sand
crushed krispy kreme box
sweet frosting
his fingers drop butt
wipe sweet into mouth
lips forget to talk
about children
woman
past
...gone
in moment of
licking sweet
Harley ...Wednesday, April 04, 2007
I have noticed
his face has grown longer
his pace slower
he is but a gray wisp of breath
once a bold
western jay of a man
his call harsh
scratchy
he feared no one
extended his hand to all
hi
I'm Harley
recognition lighted eyes
strangers took the hand of this boy man
listened to tales
of when he was in the blanket
smiled with indulgence
now the word is on the window
painted
blocking sunlight
he sits quietly
hands
large wet moth wings on his knees
eyes
pale daylight moons
Harley is leaving us
and does not know it
but I know
and I long to sit with him
my arm about him
cradle him
as when he was in the blanket
his face has grown longer
his pace slower
he is but a gray wisp of breath
once a bold
western jay of a man
his call harsh
scratchy
he feared no one
extended his hand to all
hi
I'm Harley
recognition lighted eyes
strangers took the hand of this boy man
listened to tales
of when he was in the blanket
smiled with indulgence
now the word is on the window
painted
blocking sunlight
he sits quietly
hands
large wet moth wings on his knees
eyes
pale daylight moons
Harley is leaving us
and does not know it
but I know
and I long to sit with him
my arm about him
cradle him
as when he was in the blanket
music therapy with Telford and Herb ...Saturday, April 07, 2007
if you ask Telford
he does not know how old he is
this he knows
Dominica is a green and sandy island
at dark
covered in music
estrellitas at counter point
Dominica conjours
street jump ups
moko jumbies striding
colors loosed from kaleidoscope
swirling free
steel bands
children's hands patting
women's hips swaying with delicious
men smiling big teeth
and he
kept the pulse
with his djun-djuns
hands slapping goat skin
bare feet patting dirt
joy
lapping at his mouth
if you ask
he does not know where he lives
this he knows
his djun-djuns are gone
his wide hipped wife
who rocked him slowly is gone
his children are gone
if you ask
he does not know who he is
this he knows
he misses
Dominica
a green and sandy island
______
he cannot speak
this tall and beautiful man
but if you remind him
that he once played trumpet with Count Basie
his brown eyes swim
and he scats
beedley bop bop booey
diddley dot dot dooey…
dah dah dah dah dah dah dah
and if you mention
One O'Clock Jump
his good hand cannot be still
moves that slide memory
back and forth
tears pouring down his face
and there
in tall silent silhouette
appears Herb
the young man
who once played trumpet
with Count Basie
he does not know how old he is
this he knows
Dominica is a green and sandy island
at dark
covered in music
estrellitas at counter point
Dominica conjours
street jump ups
moko jumbies striding
colors loosed from kaleidoscope
swirling free
steel bands
children's hands patting
women's hips swaying with delicious
men smiling big teeth
and he
kept the pulse
with his djun-djuns
hands slapping goat skin
bare feet patting dirt
joy
lapping at his mouth
if you ask
he does not know where he lives
this he knows
his djun-djuns are gone
his wide hipped wife
who rocked him slowly is gone
his children are gone
if you ask
he does not know who he is
this he knows
he misses
Dominica
a green and sandy island
______
he cannot speak
this tall and beautiful man
but if you remind him
that he once played trumpet with Count Basie
his brown eyes swim
and he scats
beedley bop bop booey
diddley dot dot dooey…
dah dah dah dah dah dah dah
and if you mention
One O'Clock Jump
his good hand cannot be still
moves that slide memory
back and forth
tears pouring down his face
and there
in tall silent silhouette
appears Herb
the young man
who once played trumpet
with Count Basie
it's about life and communication...Saturday, May 12, 2007
Mind is a linear arrangement of multisensory total records of successive moments of now… code name "stack." When an experience is perceived as being in any way like a previous experience the stack falls in… "stack attack"… and we react in the way we reacted the first time.
Life is a rip-off when you expect to get what you want. Life works when you choose what you've got. Actually what you got is what you chose even if you don't know it. To move on, choose what you've got.
Conflict disappears when we experience something totally rather than storing it up in a matrix of concepts and beliefs. Obviously, when it is completely experienced, the experience is complete. Nothing remains; it has disappeared. We have experienced it out.
We are the source of our own experience. No one can make us experience anything unless we choose that experience. Every human being bears the responsibility for "sourcing" his own life.
The more energy invested in being "right" (or wrong, which is actually another version of right) the less energy there is for aliveness. The paradox is that while mind exists to protect our being, it actually prevents us from experiencing it.
If we get off our considerations and our need to be right we have a chance… slight, but a chance… to truly experience life.
Life is a function of communication. The quality of our lives is directly related to what we are willing to communicate. When we are busy blaming, we are not communicating. When we are busy defining others, we are not communicating. When we are busy defending ourselves, we are not communicating.
Communicate and watch miracles happen.
If you don't get it, don't worry. Most people don't.
Life is a rip-off when you expect to get what you want. Life works when you choose what you've got. Actually what you got is what you chose even if you don't know it. To move on, choose what you've got.
Conflict disappears when we experience something totally rather than storing it up in a matrix of concepts and beliefs. Obviously, when it is completely experienced, the experience is complete. Nothing remains; it has disappeared. We have experienced it out.
We are the source of our own experience. No one can make us experience anything unless we choose that experience. Every human being bears the responsibility for "sourcing" his own life.
The more energy invested in being "right" (or wrong, which is actually another version of right) the less energy there is for aliveness. The paradox is that while mind exists to protect our being, it actually prevents us from experiencing it.
If we get off our considerations and our need to be right we have a chance… slight, but a chance… to truly experience life.
Life is a function of communication. The quality of our lives is directly related to what we are willing to communicate. When we are busy blaming, we are not communicating. When we are busy defining others, we are not communicating. When we are busy defending ourselves, we are not communicating.
Communicate and watch miracles happen.
If you don't get it, don't worry. Most people don't.
it’s about work and those infernal meetings… Wednesday, June 20, 2007
an observation about meetings…
When the director begins to use words like matrix, paradigm, modalities, sets and subsets I shut down. My eyes glaze over. I mean really… what is proactive? Does it follow that there is a conactive?
When he begins to speak in acronyms… ASDO… DAS… CHIP… NASW... I hear:
LBJ took the IRT
Down to 4th street USA
When he got there
What did he see?
The youth of America on LSD
LBJ… IRT…USA… LSD…FBI…CIA
Soon I begin to hum. I always loved that song. The director does not notice. He is too busy admiring what he has to say.
Humming, talking... the end result is always the same. The director is happy and I can go back to work.
When the director begins to use words like matrix, paradigm, modalities, sets and subsets I shut down. My eyes glaze over. I mean really… what is proactive? Does it follow that there is a conactive?
When he begins to speak in acronyms… ASDO… DAS… CHIP… NASW... I hear:
LBJ took the IRT
Down to 4th street USA
When he got there
What did he see?
The youth of America on LSD
LBJ… IRT…USA… LSD…FBI…CIA
Soon I begin to hum. I always loved that song. The director does not notice. He is too busy admiring what he has to say.
Humming, talking... the end result is always the same. The director is happy and I can go back to work.
relationships
I believe to the extent we are willing to let the other person be exactly who they are without trying to change them we can have a great relationship.
I believe to the extent we are willing to let the power flow freely back and forth we can have a great relationship.
I believe to the extent we can do all of the above and make ourselves vulnerable to the other we can have an outstanding relationship.
I believe to the extent we are committed to each other's life desires we can have a dynamic relationship.
I believe to the extent we are willing to express our relationship in the world we can be blown away.
I believe to the extent we hold ourselves back, we will stunt our relationship.
Entanglement is not relationship, so if you have something you can't get free of and you've been calling it a relationship, you need to rethink it.
I believe to the extent we are willing to let the power flow freely back and forth we can have a great relationship.
I believe to the extent we can do all of the above and make ourselves vulnerable to the other we can have an outstanding relationship.
I believe to the extent we are committed to each other's life desires we can have a dynamic relationship.
I believe to the extent we are willing to express our relationship in the world we can be blown away.
I believe to the extent we hold ourselves back, we will stunt our relationship.
Entanglement is not relationship, so if you have something you can't get free of and you've been calling it a relationship, you need to rethink it.
this morning's lesson... June 27, 2007
This morning I counseled a young woman whose husband owns a gun. He put it in her ear at breakfast. Raisin bran, coffee and a gun in her ear. Her eyes were red and she sniffed. I handed her a Kleenex. Her 5 year old son leaned against her, his eyes dull as if trying to unsee what he had seen at breakfast. Though he knows more about guns and abuse than I ever will I asked a colleague to take him to the kitchen for juice while his mother and I talked. Life suddenly became intimate and intricate for me. I turned off my radio… the Captain & Tennille singing. "Love Will Keep Us Together." I slid my Chai latte grande behind the computer and asked her how I could help.
"I don't know." She said.
"Talk to me."
She did. She told me she felt worthless and she could never make him happy. She said she worried about her son. She said she was afraid to stay and afraid to leave. She said he would "track her down like a dog and kill her." He might. I don't really know. It has happened before, hasn't it?
I asked her if she would consider Safe Nest. "No," she said. "He will know where I went and the other women and children will be in danger."
For almost an hour I listened.
She hugged me before she left and told me she appreciated me. I had only listened. I had no solution for her and if I had, she may not have wanted it. People must do things in their own time and own way.
The lesson, of course, was for me. My Chai latte was cold and suddenly unimportant. My life is peaceful, no guns, no abuse. I eat breakfast in a sunny room with a cat purring in the next chair. I am blessed and this morning a young woman whose husband owns a gun, came to my office to remind me of that.
"I don't know." She said.
"Talk to me."
She did. She told me she felt worthless and she could never make him happy. She said she worried about her son. She said she was afraid to stay and afraid to leave. She said he would "track her down like a dog and kill her." He might. I don't really know. It has happened before, hasn't it?
I asked her if she would consider Safe Nest. "No," she said. "He will know where I went and the other women and children will be in danger."
For almost an hour I listened.
She hugged me before she left and told me she appreciated me. I had only listened. I had no solution for her and if I had, she may not have wanted it. People must do things in their own time and own way.
The lesson, of course, was for me. My Chai latte was cold and suddenly unimportant. My life is peaceful, no guns, no abuse. I eat breakfast in a sunny room with a cat purring in the next chair. I am blessed and this morning a young woman whose husband owns a gun, came to my office to remind me of that.
Friday morning at Dead Poets Bookstore... June 29, 2007
lamentations was my morning song
Tarot said I have been towered
must begin again
what
begin again on a Friday?
never
takes too long
at the Dead Poets bookstore words leak from books
flow around corners
vortex
surely one will find me
untower me
old man
linen face under straw hat
explains freedom from disturbance of mind
trembling bone of a finger
holding book place
tomorrow he leaves for New Mexico mountains
cool air and his daughter
I smile
young girl
leaning against shelf
startles
what are those yellow flowers?
van Gogh sunflowers
remember them
they can see you
the owner Linda and I
talk little girls
hers in Poland
mine in Florida
Mary said and Lilia said…
and oh!
those funny baby girls
we laugh
grandmothers longing for miniature voices
huge lost moments of life
we remember our sons' long ago faces
hummingbird painted on the fence
in memory of Ian
Ronn looks good she says
I almost didn't know him
and I am so glad you are buying these books
her hugs are soul quickening
magickal elements
yellow square
silver crescent
untowered
soul redeemed
I leave Dead Poets bookstore
a set of Picasso books in a Bebe Sports bag
somewhere
a word found me
Tarot said I have been towered
must begin again
what
begin again on a Friday?
never
takes too long
at the Dead Poets bookstore words leak from books
flow around corners
vortex
surely one will find me
untower me
old man
linen face under straw hat
explains freedom from disturbance of mind
trembling bone of a finger
holding book place
tomorrow he leaves for New Mexico mountains
cool air and his daughter
I smile
young girl
leaning against shelf
startles
what are those yellow flowers?
van Gogh sunflowers
remember them
they can see you
the owner Linda and I
talk little girls
hers in Poland
mine in Florida
Mary said and Lilia said…
and oh!
those funny baby girls
we laugh
grandmothers longing for miniature voices
huge lost moments of life
we remember our sons' long ago faces
hummingbird painted on the fence
in memory of Ian
Ronn looks good she says
I almost didn't know him
and I am so glad you are buying these books
her hugs are soul quickening
magickal elements
yellow square
silver crescent
untowered
soul redeemed
I leave Dead Poets bookstore
a set of Picasso books in a Bebe Sports bag
somewhere
a word found me
Take your daughter to work day… July 07, 2007
What began as "take your daughter to work day" is now "take your sons and daughters to work day," which is as it should be. When we were younger I took my daughter to work and in time, she took her daughter to work.
Now, I work with my daughter, Lori, one day a month. She is the RN who signs off on our medical charts. We have worked together for 6 months. At first I thought it would be a hoot just having her here. It has been a hoot and much more.
Though I thought I knew her well, I have never known her as a professional woman. I am impressed with her skills and intelligence. My daughter.
Lori was with us when the bus driver hit the gas main and we had to evacuate our seniors in a hurry. My first thought was of my child and, I learned later, hers was of me. We ignored our concerns and did what we had to do. After, we stood together, shaking and pleased with the job we had done. We are both adrenalin junkies. Imagine that.
We have pored over charts together and always we are like minded. It amazes me. And yet, she's my daughter.
The LPN's she supervises tell me how pleasant she is and that they enjoy working with her. My little girl.
I have watched Lori work with our frail seniors… holding a hand here... rubbing a shoulder there… giving an encouraging word… and it pleases me to think that somehow I had a hand in this delightful, caring woman.
Taking your daughter to work is fun but the opportunity to meet my daughter as a professional and a co worker has been an amazing experience.
Now, I work with my daughter, Lori, one day a month. She is the RN who signs off on our medical charts. We have worked together for 6 months. At first I thought it would be a hoot just having her here. It has been a hoot and much more.
Though I thought I knew her well, I have never known her as a professional woman. I am impressed with her skills and intelligence. My daughter.
Lori was with us when the bus driver hit the gas main and we had to evacuate our seniors in a hurry. My first thought was of my child and, I learned later, hers was of me. We ignored our concerns and did what we had to do. After, we stood together, shaking and pleased with the job we had done. We are both adrenalin junkies. Imagine that.
We have pored over charts together and always we are like minded. It amazes me. And yet, she's my daughter.
The LPN's she supervises tell me how pleasant she is and that they enjoy working with her. My little girl.
I have watched Lori work with our frail seniors… holding a hand here... rubbing a shoulder there… giving an encouraging word… and it pleases me to think that somehow I had a hand in this delightful, caring woman.
Taking your daughter to work is fun but the opportunity to meet my daughter as a professional and a co worker has been an amazing experience.
truth and life... July 15, 2007
Truth is universal. Say not, "I have found the truth." Say instead, "I have found a truth." We all know the universal truth and yet, because we tend to get lazy and allow our minds to slip shut, we need reminders at times. And so we find ourselves invited to a refresher course provided by life and its participants.
This week I attended a short course on relationships hosted by someone I hold very dear. He reminded me that any sort of relationship works as long as those things the participants agree on matter more than those things they don't agree on.
Parse that.
This week I attended a short course on relationships hosted by someone I hold very dear. He reminded me that any sort of relationship works as long as those things the participants agree on matter more than those things they don't agree on.
Parse that.
the director again
When the director paces in front of my desk, talking about interfacing with Adelson, Molasky, Wynn, Reid, and the other big players and begins to speak in terms of joint synergy and increased productivity I long to tell him we are working with people! Yet I realize he is in need of admiration and I stretch back in the blue chair the previous director, MJ, left me when she retired and take refuge in the fact that there are some of us left who remember what we are about. And from my blue chair I can listen to him admire himself. And when he is finished, I realize it is a social worker's job to help people and he is a person.
somewhere between A and B
It seems to me that humans generally respond in the same fashion to similar experiences. It is what I call the "Aà B stimulus reaction thingy." Generally speaking, once we are hit with A we go straight to B without thinking, allowing ourselves to respond in the same fashion we did the last time something similar occurred. Still, there is a tiny nanosecond between A and B in which we can stop, think and choose our reaction.
The director came to my office about 40 minutes ago under the guise of brainstorming about the upcoming Adult Day Services Week observation. What he really wanted was to tell me that in the fall, his daughter, Heather, the opera singer, is appearing at Lincoln Center with Clair Barry. "You remember Clair Barry, don't you?" he asked.
My first response was to be irritated with his trivia test AND the fact that he was talking about Heather… AGAIN! But today, for some reason, I took that tiny second and saw him as who he is, a proud father who wants to talk about his daughter. I also realized that we all want attention and long to be recognized, so I listened while he told me about Heather. I lost 30 minutes of work but he left happy and I heard him down the hall asking someone else, "You remember Claire Barry, don't you?"
So to all of you who patiently listen to me when I rhapsodize about what Little Mary said on the phone the other night, or how well Maddie is doing in gymnastics (she REALLY is) I want to say, "Thank you for listening." To those of you who have never had to listen to me, I hope to talk to you soon.
The director came to my office about 40 minutes ago under the guise of brainstorming about the upcoming Adult Day Services Week observation. What he really wanted was to tell me that in the fall, his daughter, Heather, the opera singer, is appearing at Lincoln Center with Clair Barry. "You remember Clair Barry, don't you?" he asked.
My first response was to be irritated with his trivia test AND the fact that he was talking about Heather… AGAIN! But today, for some reason, I took that tiny second and saw him as who he is, a proud father who wants to talk about his daughter. I also realized that we all want attention and long to be recognized, so I listened while he told me about Heather. I lost 30 minutes of work but he left happy and I heard him down the hall asking someone else, "You remember Claire Barry, don't you?"
So to all of you who patiently listen to me when I rhapsodize about what Little Mary said on the phone the other night, or how well Maddie is doing in gymnastics (she REALLY is) I want to say, "Thank you for listening." To those of you who have never had to listen to me, I hope to talk to you soon.
... a conversation with you.. maybe...
well nuts
I didn't think it would be like this
the pathos you gave me
once described my kitchen walls in varied shades of green
some of the leaves are yellow now
some brown
I think it's too late for water
at dawn I lie huddled under
a new blanket
soft
warm
shades of blue
a confused sky
I have changed the sheets
to pale blue
the sheets with flowers
wanted me to be content
I wonder what kind of stones Aunt Emma put in her pockets when she walked into the water
were they plain ugly granite
and slag
or polished white rounds of quartz
shot through with pink
delicate and worthy
of her conveyance
you remember the stones in Aunt Emma's pockets
don't you?
am I what?
no
no
I was just considering the stones
in Aunt Emma's pockets
I didn't think it would be like this
the pathos you gave me
once described my kitchen walls in varied shades of green
some of the leaves are yellow now
some brown
I think it's too late for water
at dawn I lie huddled under
a new blanket
soft
warm
shades of blue
a confused sky
I have changed the sheets
to pale blue
the sheets with flowers
wanted me to be content
I wonder what kind of stones Aunt Emma put in her pockets when she walked into the water
were they plain ugly granite
and slag
or polished white rounds of quartz
shot through with pink
delicate and worthy
of her conveyance
you remember the stones in Aunt Emma's pockets
don't you?
am I what?
no
no
I was just considering the stones
in Aunt Emma's pockets
The brush arbor July 17, 2008
the brush arbor light was low and golden on the field
your breath
though long absent
crept close to the ground
looking for my cheek
knowing a caress would turn me back
I stood
waiting for the right wind to blow
and lift
this hair shirt I wear from habit
to loosen me
to feel real
as fire and stone
the whisper came like this
seek a new light
set your house in order
look among the stalks
for sheaved reality
and then
the feel of your breath
spun out by the golden light
caught me
the warm blade
poised for harvest
the wind stilled
and the brush arbor grew dark
your breath
though long absent
crept close to the ground
looking for my cheek
knowing a caress would turn me back
I stood
waiting for the right wind to blow
and lift
this hair shirt I wear from habit
to loosen me
to feel real
as fire and stone
the whisper came like this
seek a new light
set your house in order
look among the stalks
for sheaved reality
and then
the feel of your breath
spun out by the golden light
caught me
the warm blade
poised for harvest
the wind stilled
and the brush arbor grew dark
Martha and the internet ...August 04, 2008
The internet is an amazing thing. It is a source of information, a way to stay in touch with people you love, the means of finding people you have long since lost, a quick way to pay bills, check out library material, purchase your heart's desire, receive new pictures of your grandchildren, buy music, ad infinitum.
It was the internet that brought me to the quiet lobby of the Founder's Inn in Norfolk, Virginia, July 8… just a few weeks ago.
I met Martha on My Space, thanks to our mutual love of Jackson Browne, and I knew right away we were kindred souls. We talked back and forth through messages, laughed and lamented the state of the world. Martha was there when something troubled me. She dispensed her gentle wisdom as needed.
When I said I was going to Virginia in July, Martha offered to drive 4 hours to meet me! To say I was excited would be a HUGE understatement! I looked forward to seeing my grandchildren and spending time with my daughter and granddaughter in New York but I was actually going to meet Martha! How incredible!
Martha arranged to stay in the same place we were staying. I had been waiting for her, full of excitement, and now she was here… upstairs in her room. So there I sat, watching the elevator, waiting. The doors slid open and a small, lovely woman with silver hair and big blue eyes stepped out! Martha! I would have known her anywhere!
We hugged, stepped back, looked at each other and giggled. She was exactly as I expected! We hugged again.
Martha drove us all over Virginia Beach and we talked! We talked about mothers, children, men, my grandchildren and Martha's desire to have a grandbaby and then we talked some more. Martha took me for lunch at The Jewish Mother, a place where she used to go. I fell in love with it. We ate blintzes and talked some more. We told each other secrets as if we had been friends forever. It was as if we were trying to fit our whole lives into the few hours we had together.
After lunch we walked down by the beach and the 34-foot-high bronze King Neptune statue. A lady kindly took our picture. We stood watching the water and talked. On the way back to the Inn… we talked.
That evening Martha joined my very loud family and me for dinner. Afterwards, my daughter, granddaughter and I rode back to the Inn with Martha. The others went up to the room but Martha and I sat on the porch in large rockers and we talked… about dreams and memories and "that certain summer." It had been such a remarkable day I hated to let it go.
We met the next morning for breakfast and talked some more and then… Martha was gone. I walked back to the room, stopping on the way to sit on a bench and ponder this amazing thing that had happened. If it were not for the internet, Martha and I would have never met.
Martha, I love you and miss you! I have so much more to talk to you about!
It was the internet that brought me to the quiet lobby of the Founder's Inn in Norfolk, Virginia, July 8… just a few weeks ago.
I met Martha on My Space, thanks to our mutual love of Jackson Browne, and I knew right away we were kindred souls. We talked back and forth through messages, laughed and lamented the state of the world. Martha was there when something troubled me. She dispensed her gentle wisdom as needed.
When I said I was going to Virginia in July, Martha offered to drive 4 hours to meet me! To say I was excited would be a HUGE understatement! I looked forward to seeing my grandchildren and spending time with my daughter and granddaughter in New York but I was actually going to meet Martha! How incredible!
Martha arranged to stay in the same place we were staying. I had been waiting for her, full of excitement, and now she was here… upstairs in her room. So there I sat, watching the elevator, waiting. The doors slid open and a small, lovely woman with silver hair and big blue eyes stepped out! Martha! I would have known her anywhere!
We hugged, stepped back, looked at each other and giggled. She was exactly as I expected! We hugged again.
Martha drove us all over Virginia Beach and we talked! We talked about mothers, children, men, my grandchildren and Martha's desire to have a grandbaby and then we talked some more. Martha took me for lunch at The Jewish Mother, a place where she used to go. I fell in love with it. We ate blintzes and talked some more. We told each other secrets as if we had been friends forever. It was as if we were trying to fit our whole lives into the few hours we had together.
After lunch we walked down by the beach and the 34-foot-high bronze King Neptune statue. A lady kindly took our picture. We stood watching the water and talked. On the way back to the Inn… we talked.
That evening Martha joined my very loud family and me for dinner. Afterwards, my daughter, granddaughter and I rode back to the Inn with Martha. The others went up to the room but Martha and I sat on the porch in large rockers and we talked… about dreams and memories and "that certain summer." It had been such a remarkable day I hated to let it go.
We met the next morning for breakfast and talked some more and then… Martha was gone. I walked back to the room, stopping on the way to sit on a bench and ponder this amazing thing that had happened. If it were not for the internet, Martha and I would have never met.
Martha, I love you and miss you! I have so much more to talk to you about!
Camping...August 15, 2008
I went camping at Lee Canyon in the Toiyabe National Forest. It was my first camping experience and I loved it! I learned a lot about camping in the mountains.
Things you will need:
....
A tent.
Plenty of food. It gets hungry in the mountains.
Pots and pans to cook. I don't know why but I thought you cook every thing on a stick. Ha!
Very warm jammies and about 7 or 8 very warm blankets. It gets cold at night in the mountains. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise.
Toilet tissue!!!
A couple of water jugs. Did you know you have to fetch water from down the road a piece? Did you know you have to heat water to wash dishes?
You will also need lanterns, flashlights, a stove, propane and many other things I never even knew existed…
....
Things you will not need:
....
That wonderful bubble bath you just bought.
Makeup, not even lipstick.
....Cologne.... or perfume.
Your new Skechers. Don't even think about wearing them.
....
I also learned:
....
How to put up a tent. I think I could do it myself.
A bag of potato chips will explode and scare you to death at 8,500 ft.
Bees like me. I am not so fond of them.
You don't throw food like peanuts and bread for the critters right behind the tent. (Hey, how was I supposed to know?)
It's fun to take a shower by flashlight. If the water is cold and you yell, "Oh my gosh this water is cold" several times someone (I don't know who) will yell back, "If you turn it all the way up it will get warm!" It will too.
There are no mirrors in a campsite.
You dress and undress IN the tent! What a feat that is.
You must be quiet after 10 pm. 10 PM! I'm just getting started at 10!
If you think you hear a snake, it's probably a squirrel. Stay IN the tent!
If you think you hear a squirrel it's probably a snake. Stay IN the tent!
If you have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night you have to get OUT of the tent in spite of snakes or squirrels. What kind of contradiction is that?
For some reason still unknown to me, you get up early. Campers consider sleeping later than 7am lazy. I don't get it. They go camping to relax then get up at the crack of dawn when it's finally beginning to get warm enough to sleep!
....
Other things I learned:
....
Every thing you eat in the mountains tastes delicious.
When you say, "I am only going to eat one more marshmallow" you are probably wrong.
Mountain air smells very different from valley air.
It's very, very quiet at night. Do you know sound travels a long, long way in the mountains? Don't say anything you're not willing to share with the whole campground. Don't even whisper it.
You can put your tent right on the edge of the mountain and the view from the zip up window is unbelievable.
The stars from atop a mountain are amazing. It's hard to believe they burned out long ago.
This earth is a mighty big place and we are very small and inconsequential.
....
Things you will need:
....
A tent.
Plenty of food. It gets hungry in the mountains.
Pots and pans to cook. I don't know why but I thought you cook every thing on a stick. Ha!
Very warm jammies and about 7 or 8 very warm blankets. It gets cold at night in the mountains. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise.
Toilet tissue!!!
A couple of water jugs. Did you know you have to fetch water from down the road a piece? Did you know you have to heat water to wash dishes?
You will also need lanterns, flashlights, a stove, propane and many other things I never even knew existed…
....
Things you will not need:
....
That wonderful bubble bath you just bought.
Makeup, not even lipstick.
....Cologne.... or perfume.
Your new Skechers. Don't even think about wearing them.
....
I also learned:
....
How to put up a tent. I think I could do it myself.
A bag of potato chips will explode and scare you to death at 8,500 ft.
Bees like me. I am not so fond of them.
You don't throw food like peanuts and bread for the critters right behind the tent. (Hey, how was I supposed to know?)
It's fun to take a shower by flashlight. If the water is cold and you yell, "Oh my gosh this water is cold" several times someone (I don't know who) will yell back, "If you turn it all the way up it will get warm!" It will too.
There are no mirrors in a campsite.
You dress and undress IN the tent! What a feat that is.
You must be quiet after 10 pm. 10 PM! I'm just getting started at 10!
If you think you hear a snake, it's probably a squirrel. Stay IN the tent!
If you think you hear a squirrel it's probably a snake. Stay IN the tent!
If you have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night you have to get OUT of the tent in spite of snakes or squirrels. What kind of contradiction is that?
For some reason still unknown to me, you get up early. Campers consider sleeping later than 7am lazy. I don't get it. They go camping to relax then get up at the crack of dawn when it's finally beginning to get warm enough to sleep!
....
Other things I learned:
....
Every thing you eat in the mountains tastes delicious.
When you say, "I am only going to eat one more marshmallow" you are probably wrong.
Mountain air smells very different from valley air.
It's very, very quiet at night. Do you know sound travels a long, long way in the mountains? Don't say anything you're not willing to share with the whole campground. Don't even whisper it.
You can put your tent right on the edge of the mountain and the view from the zip up window is unbelievable.
The stars from atop a mountain are amazing. It's hard to believe they burned out long ago.
This earth is a mighty big place and we are very small and inconsequential.
....
dude...September 07, 2008
Yesterday morning I had occasion to drive my 13 year old granddaughter Jordan aka JoJo to school.
First, we picked up her best friends, India and Jared. In my car I had two long legged girls in black shirts that read "My Chemical Romance" one shorter boy in a black shirt with a skull, 1 huge black backpack, two black "messenger bags" that read "My Chemical Romance" my purse, two violins, one viola and a whole lot of young energy, none of it mine. Still young ones are a joy to be with and I was enjoying myself.
"Dude," Jared addressed me from the back seat, "how you doing?"
"Uhhh... just fine dude. How 'bout you?"
"Ah, you know."
The girls fell into giggle heaps which is not all that easy with a violin case on your lap.
"Listen India" I said, "I need you to do me a favor."
"Sure dude."
(You are addressed as "dude" regardless of your gender, dude. Got it?)
"I want JoJo to go to LVA ( Las Vegas Academy of Performing Arts, one of the best high schools in the country) and she says she doesn't want to go unless you go too. So tell me you are going to audition!"
"Dude I don't know! I think we're moving to Colorado!"
"WHAT?" JoJo and I asked together.
"Or Puerto Rico or the Bronx," Jared said.
"WHAT?" By now JoJo was bent over her violin case moaning "Issues, I'm having issues…"
"Don't worry JoJo," India said, "Our parents haven't decided anything yet. I don't think it will be for another year and we can so totally visit each other after we move."
"Oh issues…" JoJo moaned.
"Dude," I said, "why are you moving?"
"There's just nothing for kids to do in this town…" said Jared. "It's not like it was 'back in the day' you know. Now it's all about who you date and what drugs you take and we aren't real happy with that, you know?"
Suddenly, several things were going on with me at once. I was feeling sad for JoJo who might be losing her two best friends, sad for India and Jared who didn't particularly like living here, very pleased with what Jared had said about "dating and drugs" but real confused about what an 11 year old boy considered "back in the day." But, the adolescent is a skittish critter and must be approached gently. If he thinks you are laughing at him he either clams up or delivers swift and nasty retribution.
"So Jared, I think I missed the meaning of 'back in the day,'" I said carefully, willing to withdraw my statement if need be.
"You know, 2006, 2007. Things were like totally different then."
"Yeah I know," I said, smoothly. "So I am sure things will work out best for all of us."
"Yeah, we probably won't move for a year or so. India and JoJo can go to LVA together for about a year if they get past the audition."
"Get past the audition?" JoJo yelled.
"You so totally wish you were as smart as we are!" Issues seemed to be over for the moment.
"Dude, you doubt we can get into LVA?" India squealed.
"I don't doubt it," I said as they piled out of the car with violins, violas, back pack and messenger bags that read "My Chemical Romance" and joined 1500 other young people wearing black shirts, carrying instruments and back packs. "I don't doubt it at all."
I waited till I was well around the corner to laugh.
First, we picked up her best friends, India and Jared. In my car I had two long legged girls in black shirts that read "My Chemical Romance" one shorter boy in a black shirt with a skull, 1 huge black backpack, two black "messenger bags" that read "My Chemical Romance" my purse, two violins, one viola and a whole lot of young energy, none of it mine. Still young ones are a joy to be with and I was enjoying myself.
"Dude," Jared addressed me from the back seat, "how you doing?"
"Uhhh... just fine dude. How 'bout you?"
"Ah, you know."
The girls fell into giggle heaps which is not all that easy with a violin case on your lap.
"Listen India" I said, "I need you to do me a favor."
"Sure dude."
(You are addressed as "dude" regardless of your gender, dude. Got it?)
"I want JoJo to go to LVA ( Las Vegas Academy of Performing Arts, one of the best high schools in the country) and she says she doesn't want to go unless you go too. So tell me you are going to audition!"
"Dude I don't know! I think we're moving to Colorado!"
"WHAT?" JoJo and I asked together.
"Or Puerto Rico or the Bronx," Jared said.
"WHAT?" By now JoJo was bent over her violin case moaning "Issues, I'm having issues…"
"Don't worry JoJo," India said, "Our parents haven't decided anything yet. I don't think it will be for another year and we can so totally visit each other after we move."
"Oh issues…" JoJo moaned.
"Dude," I said, "why are you moving?"
"There's just nothing for kids to do in this town…" said Jared. "It's not like it was 'back in the day' you know. Now it's all about who you date and what drugs you take and we aren't real happy with that, you know?"
Suddenly, several things were going on with me at once. I was feeling sad for JoJo who might be losing her two best friends, sad for India and Jared who didn't particularly like living here, very pleased with what Jared had said about "dating and drugs" but real confused about what an 11 year old boy considered "back in the day." But, the adolescent is a skittish critter and must be approached gently. If he thinks you are laughing at him he either clams up or delivers swift and nasty retribution.
"So Jared, I think I missed the meaning of 'back in the day,'" I said carefully, willing to withdraw my statement if need be.
"You know, 2006, 2007. Things were like totally different then."
"Yeah I know," I said, smoothly. "So I am sure things will work out best for all of us."
"Yeah, we probably won't move for a year or so. India and JoJo can go to LVA together for about a year if they get past the audition."
"Get past the audition?" JoJo yelled.
"You so totally wish you were as smart as we are!" Issues seemed to be over for the moment.
"Dude, you doubt we can get into LVA?" India squealed.
"I don't doubt it," I said as they piled out of the car with violins, violas, back pack and messenger bags that read "My Chemical Romance" and joined 1500 other young people wearing black shirts, carrying instruments and back packs. "I don't doubt it at all."
I waited till I was well around the corner to laugh.
today .. January 19, 2009
This morning I set out to write about why today is important to me. I grew up in Georgia, a state where despite the passage of federal civil rights legislation, public facilities remained segregated in many areas well into the 1970s.
I was going to write about the segregated schools I attended and living in the designated “white” area. I was going to write about the fact that, what is now called, the “n” word was the preferred term for African Americans and most people didn’t even flinch when it was used. I was going to write about that but then I remembered the murder of 14 year old Emmett Till in Mississippi and I became mired down in memories.
Segregation was more than different schools, water fountains, restrooms, and the balcony in the movie theater where African Americans sat. Segregation was also the Klan, house bombings and cross burnings. It was Governor Lester Maddox who kept ax handles called "Pickrick drumsticks" near his restaurant's front door to “discourage” African Americans seeking to eat there. And of course, Georgia is the birthplace of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. which brings me full circle.
Three years ago my son and his wife, my daughter and four of my young granddaughters met in Atlanta. We visited my old home and I told them about growing up in Georgia. We also visited Sweet Auburn, the black neighborhood of several blocks which includes Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birth home, the Ebenezer Baptist Church where he was a pastor, and his gravesite. I felt a mix of shame and pride for my home state.
Today we celebrate the birth of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and tomorrow we will watch as our first African American president is inaugurated. It is almost too much to take in if you were reared in the segregationist south. Almost but not quite. Today is a day of great celebration. Mark it well. Today I have renewed hope for our nation.
I was going to write about the segregated schools I attended and living in the designated “white” area. I was going to write about the fact that, what is now called, the “n” word was the preferred term for African Americans and most people didn’t even flinch when it was used. I was going to write about that but then I remembered the murder of 14 year old Emmett Till in Mississippi and I became mired down in memories.
Segregation was more than different schools, water fountains, restrooms, and the balcony in the movie theater where African Americans sat. Segregation was also the Klan, house bombings and cross burnings. It was Governor Lester Maddox who kept ax handles called "Pickrick drumsticks" near his restaurant's front door to “discourage” African Americans seeking to eat there. And of course, Georgia is the birthplace of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. which brings me full circle.
Three years ago my son and his wife, my daughter and four of my young granddaughters met in Atlanta. We visited my old home and I told them about growing up in Georgia. We also visited Sweet Auburn, the black neighborhood of several blocks which includes Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birth home, the Ebenezer Baptist Church where he was a pastor, and his gravesite. I felt a mix of shame and pride for my home state.
Today we celebrate the birth of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and tomorrow we will watch as our first African American president is inaugurated. It is almost too much to take in if you were reared in the segregationist south. Almost but not quite. Today is a day of great celebration. Mark it well. Today I have renewed hope for our nation.
For Lori and Chris
If it were up to me
I would ask death to wait
for an October Sunday
just after dusk
the seventh game of the World Series
an hour away.
I'd make iced tea the slow way,
let it brew
till it was dark
as the inside of an urn
then I'd pour it into the old mugs I love.
I'd think about the sea
sandcastles we built
how one of us cried at sunset
when waves taught us
the ache of letting go.
We'd sip tea with sugar
share a red bowl
of popcorn
and I'd be grateful for it all
our family's pain
and sweetness,
that love survived these seasons
and forgiveness eased us into second chances.
I'd ask for one last dance
the three of us close
Jackson Browne singing "The Loadout"
and I'd beg Death to take me then,
before the music ended,
and let the last touch
of my life be your breath upon me
something to keep in the shadow of souls
where you'll find me
lonely,
my arms open,
weeping your names.
I would ask death to wait
for an October Sunday
just after dusk
the seventh game of the World Series
an hour away.
I'd make iced tea the slow way,
let it brew
till it was dark
as the inside of an urn
then I'd pour it into the old mugs I love.
I'd think about the sea
sandcastles we built
how one of us cried at sunset
when waves taught us
the ache of letting go.
We'd sip tea with sugar
share a red bowl
of popcorn
and I'd be grateful for it all
our family's pain
and sweetness,
that love survived these seasons
and forgiveness eased us into second chances.
I'd ask for one last dance
the three of us close
Jackson Browne singing "The Loadout"
and I'd beg Death to take me then,
before the music ended,
and let the last touch
of my life be your breath upon me
something to keep in the shadow of souls
where you'll find me
lonely,
my arms open,
weeping your names.
Homeless.. October 8, 2008
I spread my sleeping bag in the doorway of that empty building on Bonanza and D
a young woman I'd seen in the food line
squeezed into the corner next to me
she had no jacket
no blanket
she was cold
I told her to get into my sleeping bag and warm herself
while I went to look for a cup of coffee
next night as I spread my sleeping bag
she was back
here I am
homeless
with a roommate
a young woman I'd seen in the food line
squeezed into the corner next to me
she had no jacket
no blanket
she was cold
I told her to get into my sleeping bag and warm herself
while I went to look for a cup of coffee
next night as I spread my sleeping bag
she was back
here I am
homeless
with a roommate
My birthday call... October 11, 2009
I knew when the phone rang this morning it was my son Hooch and his bevy of beauties calling to wish me Happy Birthday.
Little Mary was first.
"Happy Birthday Nana."
Of course it's a Nana's job to be a little surprised. "Why Little Mary, thank you so much! How are you?"
"I'm a little bit sick."
"I'm sorry to hear that. What's wrong?"
"Ursula screams too much and it makes me sick." I did not laugh. A squealing baby can make a big sister feel a bit queasy.
"I got a wagon as my gift for your birthday Nana."
"Will you let me ride in it when I come there?"
"Of course and I'm going to take you to Chik-Fil-A too." This child KNOWS the way to her Nana's heart.
"What are you doing for your birthday Nana?"
She knows about going to lunch but try explaining Medieval Faire to a 3 ½ year old. She understood dancing ladies though. Little Mary loves to dance and wants to be Shirley Temple when she "grows up."
I spoke to the rest of the girls (there are 4 of them) and Jill, my daughter in law, then the family sang "Happy Birthday to You" three times… each time louder and faster.
After the traditional reciting of "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere" we played a rousing game of "Older or Younger Than John McCain." You know that game, don't you?
San Francisco Bridge? Older, but just barely. Boulder Dam? Younger. The Great Wall of China? Hmmmm… I need to think about that one.
I am having a wonderful birthday. Thank you all for the wonderful gifts, cards and wishes.
Little Mary was first.
"Happy Birthday Nana."
Of course it's a Nana's job to be a little surprised. "Why Little Mary, thank you so much! How are you?"
"I'm a little bit sick."
"I'm sorry to hear that. What's wrong?"
"Ursula screams too much and it makes me sick." I did not laugh. A squealing baby can make a big sister feel a bit queasy.
"I got a wagon as my gift for your birthday Nana."
"Will you let me ride in it when I come there?"
"Of course and I'm going to take you to Chik-Fil-A too." This child KNOWS the way to her Nana's heart.
"What are you doing for your birthday Nana?"
She knows about going to lunch but try explaining Medieval Faire to a 3 ½ year old. She understood dancing ladies though. Little Mary loves to dance and wants to be Shirley Temple when she "grows up."
I spoke to the rest of the girls (there are 4 of them) and Jill, my daughter in law, then the family sang "Happy Birthday to You" three times… each time louder and faster.
After the traditional reciting of "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere" we played a rousing game of "Older or Younger Than John McCain." You know that game, don't you?
San Francisco Bridge? Older, but just barely. Boulder Dam? Younger. The Great Wall of China? Hmmmm… I need to think about that one.
I am having a wonderful birthday. Thank you all for the wonderful gifts, cards and wishes.
last night... November 5, 2008
Last night I invited friends in to eat dinner and watch the returns. We had a delicious dinner (compliments of my friends… we know I don't cook.)
We thought we were in for a long night of it so with cups of coffee and tea we settled down to watch the news. We watched in amazement as the numbers went up and up and before we knew it… it was over. I expected cheering and high fiving but there was silence and awe. We began the evening sure in the knowledge that Obama was headed for the White House but suddenly the enormity of what we had just seen hit us. It was a few minutes before any of us spoke and then there was cheering and laughter!
We watched John McCain's gracious concession speech and I truly felt sorry for Sarah Palin, who held such high hopes.
Obama's speech was sheer brilliance. He spoke to us… the people… and reminded us of where we have been and what we are capable of. We heard echoes of Dr. King in his speech when he said, "We as a people will get there." and we all took up the cry, "Yes, we can!" And, like Jesse Jackson and probably thousands in our country, some of us cried. It has been a long, hard campaign and there were times when all of us just wanted it over. But last night we witnessed a great moment in history and we were reminded that we are not a collection of red states and blue states but the United States of America and that in America, all things are truly possible.
So let me say it again! Yes, we can!
By the way... tomorrow morning my grandson Chris leaves for his second deployment to Iraq.
We thought we were in for a long night of it so with cups of coffee and tea we settled down to watch the news. We watched in amazement as the numbers went up and up and before we knew it… it was over. I expected cheering and high fiving but there was silence and awe. We began the evening sure in the knowledge that Obama was headed for the White House but suddenly the enormity of what we had just seen hit us. It was a few minutes before any of us spoke and then there was cheering and laughter!
We watched John McCain's gracious concession speech and I truly felt sorry for Sarah Palin, who held such high hopes.
Obama's speech was sheer brilliance. He spoke to us… the people… and reminded us of where we have been and what we are capable of. We heard echoes of Dr. King in his speech when he said, "We as a people will get there." and we all took up the cry, "Yes, we can!" And, like Jesse Jackson and probably thousands in our country, some of us cried. It has been a long, hard campaign and there were times when all of us just wanted it over. But last night we witnessed a great moment in history and we were reminded that we are not a collection of red states and blue states but the United States of America and that in America, all things are truly possible.
So let me say it again! Yes, we can!
By the way... tomorrow morning my grandson Chris leaves for his second deployment to Iraq.
Veteran's Day November 12, 2008
I never know how to mark Veteran's Day. It makes me sad.
I always think of my dad and a postcard he sent his dad on June 14, 1949. It reads:
Dear Dad,
Arrived Guam today stay here for a day or two then our next stop is Manila. It sure is hot here. Hope you are well and will see you before you realize I have been away. I sure miss my girls. More later. Love to all.
I think about my tiny maternal grandmother. In her kitchen window hung a service banner… red with a white field and 4 blue stars… a reminder that all 4 of her sons served on active duty during WWII. She rarely knew where they were. There were no cell phones or internet then.
I have a service banner in my kitchen window with 1 blue star. It's for my grandson Chris. He's a Riverine, serving in Iraq. There are times I gaze out my kitchen window and wonder how he feels. Is he cold? Is he tired? Did he have MRE for dinner or something good?
This morning began with a message from my friend Martika, who said in honor of Veteran's Day she was thinking of Chris.
I spent the day with two old friends who arrived from Georgia yesterday. We laughed our way through a 2 hour lunch, remembering old times and the trouble we used to get into.
After lunch we went shopping. My friend Joe and I were ooohing and ahhing our way through Pier One, touching and feeling everything when a tall blond woman approached Joe.
"Sir, are you a veteran?" she asked.
"No ma'am, I'm not."
"Well," she said, "I never know exactly what to do about Veteran's Day so I thought I would just take a chance and if you were I would tell you I appreciate you."
Joe, who has known my Chris since he was a baby said, "My friend has a grandson in Iraq."
The woman put her arms around me and said, "Will you please tell your grandson how much I appreciate him? I will pray for his safety."
There, amidst the reed diffusers and sachets, Joan and I talked about all the military who serve in various places and how we hold out hope for their safety. I told her a little about Chris and his family and his wife who misses him so much. Again, we embraced and she went her way and I mine.
Tonight I am thinking about how much I appreciate her taking time to spend a moment with me. She served to remind me that no matter what is going on we live in the best country in the world with some very kind and thoughtful people.
So this Veteran's Day is for my grandson Chris. It's also for his wife, Nicole. They also serve who only stand and wait.
I always think of my dad and a postcard he sent his dad on June 14, 1949. It reads:
Dear Dad,
Arrived Guam today stay here for a day or two then our next stop is Manila. It sure is hot here. Hope you are well and will see you before you realize I have been away. I sure miss my girls. More later. Love to all.
I think about my tiny maternal grandmother. In her kitchen window hung a service banner… red with a white field and 4 blue stars… a reminder that all 4 of her sons served on active duty during WWII. She rarely knew where they were. There were no cell phones or internet then.
I have a service banner in my kitchen window with 1 blue star. It's for my grandson Chris. He's a Riverine, serving in Iraq. There are times I gaze out my kitchen window and wonder how he feels. Is he cold? Is he tired? Did he have MRE for dinner or something good?
This morning began with a message from my friend Martika, who said in honor of Veteran's Day she was thinking of Chris.
I spent the day with two old friends who arrived from Georgia yesterday. We laughed our way through a 2 hour lunch, remembering old times and the trouble we used to get into.
After lunch we went shopping. My friend Joe and I were ooohing and ahhing our way through Pier One, touching and feeling everything when a tall blond woman approached Joe.
"Sir, are you a veteran?" she asked.
"No ma'am, I'm not."
"Well," she said, "I never know exactly what to do about Veteran's Day so I thought I would just take a chance and if you were I would tell you I appreciate you."
Joe, who has known my Chris since he was a baby said, "My friend has a grandson in Iraq."
The woman put her arms around me and said, "Will you please tell your grandson how much I appreciate him? I will pray for his safety."
There, amidst the reed diffusers and sachets, Joan and I talked about all the military who serve in various places and how we hold out hope for their safety. I told her a little about Chris and his family and his wife who misses him so much. Again, we embraced and she went her way and I mine.
Tonight I am thinking about how much I appreciate her taking time to spend a moment with me. She served to remind me that no matter what is going on we live in the best country in the world with some very kind and thoughtful people.
So this Veteran's Day is for my grandson Chris. It's also for his wife, Nicole. They also serve who only stand and wait.
for Martha… my Sunday morning muse
the church is large
the kneeler hard
and my thoughts cannot remain within cold incensed walls
they take me to Aunt Celeste's long ago table
her mother's lace tablecloth
plates of rich red food
laughter
the memory of Uncle Dom's hand passing the bread
but today the priest in white speaks of Uncle Dom's departed soul
and Aunt Celeste sits huddled in the shadow of her grown children
on the front pew
a smaller
clearer version of the woman she used to be
the others fly to my waiting mind
Aunt Einnie no longer holds a 5 o'clock martini with an elegant hand
Aunt Angie is a frail piece of cut crystal with snow white hair
Uncle Charlie's laugh shrunk with his beer belly
his old hat sits on a lonesome shelf
Aunt Eve touches our faces in love
with a paper palm that smells of times yet unknown
not as solid as they once were
waiting to be memories
the anchors to our youth
our grownups
are leaving us
the kneeler hard
and my thoughts cannot remain within cold incensed walls
they take me to Aunt Celeste's long ago table
her mother's lace tablecloth
plates of rich red food
laughter
the memory of Uncle Dom's hand passing the bread
but today the priest in white speaks of Uncle Dom's departed soul
and Aunt Celeste sits huddled in the shadow of her grown children
on the front pew
a smaller
clearer version of the woman she used to be
the others fly to my waiting mind
Aunt Einnie no longer holds a 5 o'clock martini with an elegant hand
Aunt Angie is a frail piece of cut crystal with snow white hair
Uncle Charlie's laugh shrunk with his beer belly
his old hat sits on a lonesome shelf
Aunt Eve touches our faces in love
with a paper palm that smells of times yet unknown
not as solid as they once were
waiting to be memories
the anchors to our youth
our grownups
are leaving us
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