DESTINY

We are fortunate to live in a land where we are born and grow up free

Free to select what path our life will take and choose each possibility.

Yet I often wonder how much freedom we possess, not over-dramatize,

Or if our lives are a bit more predetermined than we first realize.

For instance there are two important facts on which no one can deny

We don’t choose when we come into this world and we don’t choose when we die.

We didn’t choose our fathers or decide upon our mothers.

And we certainly didn’t select our sisters or our brothers.

We didn’t determine the color of our skin, or how tall we will one day be

Why we didn’t choose how we look at all, that’s family history.

Although some of our tastes evolve as into adulthood we all bloom

Aren’t most of our likes and dislikes established while still guests in our mother’s womb?

If I hadn’t been born with Mom and Dad’s genes would my baldness be this extreme

I may have even liked olives or beer or, God forbid, hated Neapolitan ice cream.

Is my love of chocolate and all kinds of treats a choice I made willingly

Or is it part of my genetic make-up...part of my sweet destiny?

(By the way if many of our propensities come straight from our creation

Doesn’t it make sense we also don’t get to choose our sexual orientation?)

If my parent’s hadn’t moved to Twinsburg would my life have paid the same dividends?

Would I have had the same education, same experiences, made the same friends?

It seems to me that all our choices, everything we have amassed

Is influenced or driven by the voices of our past.

And though many things about us are determined from above

We do choose the people who inspire us...the people whom we love.

True the voices of the past will always be there but with inspiration as our guide

Our destiny can be altered, our future modified.

As I watch the world go by I find that inspiration in my friends and family

I’m happy with the choices I’ve made and content with my destiny.

And I look eagerly onward to whatever die destiny will cast

As I blend my inspirations with the voices of my past.

MYSTERIOUS WAYS

I remember one day when I was young we had just returned home from church

When I immediately spread out a map and asked Mom and Dad to help with my search.

“What are we searching for?” Mom asked as she indulged me in one of my quirks.

‘Where God lives.” I said as I scanned the map. “Do you think he lives in the same town where he works?

“Where God lives?” Dad asked quizzically, “Why is that a subject you want to explore?”

(Parents! Why do they respond to a question with a question when it’s an answer that we’re looking for?)

“Well, Dad works and lives here in Twinsburg”, I said using logic I thought ironclad

Since I know where God works, I was hoping he too lives where he works, just like Dad.

“And just where does God work?” Mom smiled, trying to mask her lingering doubt.

“I think he works in Ohio!” I said, “At least that’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“How do you know he lives in Ohio? Dad asked, “What could possibly make you think that way?”

“Father McGinnis,” I said still searching the map, “he said so in church today.”

When he was talking about that girl who died he said, “We have to have faith and pray.”

“Even if we don’t understand,” he said, “remember God works in Mysterious Ways.”

“If Mysterious Ways is in Ohio, I could go to his house or give him a call

And ask him why he chose that little girl...why did she have to die after all.”

Mom smiled, put her chair next to mine then her long arms surrounded me

“Mysterious Ways is not a place,” she said, “its how we explain a God we can’t see.”

“What Father McGinnis was talking about, what I think he meant to say

Was that God doesn’t work in Mysterious Ways, Ohio but he does work in mysterious ways.”

“Faith doesn’t mean we understand everything, for often we don’t, but still 

Faith is accepting then knowing and believing...someday, somehow that we will.”

I never quite grasped Mom’s explanation, which is perhaps why I continue to try

To find where God lives so I can ask him myself, why did that little girl die?

It’s a question that has haunted me from that moment and is why when I travel today

I buy a new map, spread it out on the table and search for Mysterious Ways.

I’m not sure I’ll ever find it, but I’ll keep trying until the time of rebirth

And God I want you to know I’m getting closer...I just downloaded Google Earth!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

This Thanksgiving the kids are off camping in a tent that’s waterproof

While Deborah and I are staying dry under the safety of our roof.

Yes, when you reach a certain age it is comfort that impels

For we now spend our time camping at home or in hotels. 

Which leads me to wonder while I lounge before the fire with my wife

About the evolution of camping in my family and my life.

When I was young camping meant that overnight was spent

Outside in a sleeping bag, next to the campfire with no tent.

We graduated to those heavy canvas tents, the kind that in the rain would sweat

And you didn’t touch them from your spot on the floor unless you wanted to get wet.

You’d pack it up when you got home spread it out to dry and then....

Hope it wouldn’t be wet or smelly when you to set it up again.

Next came nylon tents, they were easy and they were light

They came standard with a hole in the top so you could see the stars at night.

For these tents you didn’t have to know how to tie all kind of knots

And our sleeping bags were off the floor as we each had our own cots.

The reason: when we were a little older after waking up one morning sore

Deborah and I decided we would no longer sleep upon the floor.

Tents remained light and easy but for our temperament and welfare

We ditched our cots for mattresses we could now blow up with air.

But tents were becoming the minority as it seemed what now cropped up

Were people pulling campers that they parked and then popped up.

Worse as we looked around the campgrounds we felt disadvantaged and deprived

Because now most people our age were in campers that you drive.

“You call that camping!” we would scoff as they turned on their porch light

“They don’t even have to leave their camper to use the bathroom through the night.”

“They eat at tables, sit on cushions, use metal utensils and decorate with flowers

They watch TV, play video games, sleep in beds and use indoor showers.”

But secretly Deborah and I were through roughing it--we wanted to be pampered

Though we also realized there was no way we could ever afford a camper.

Don’t worry Deborah I comforted when we knew our camping days were through

When we travel we’ll make sure our hotel has a great view.

We told our children who are all grown up about our decision to no longer camp

We gave them our tent, our mattresses, and our favorite Coleman lamp.

“Won’t you miss it?” our children asked as they somehow failed to see

That we’ll wake up in a comfy bed with Wi-Fi and cable TV.

What about that great bacon smell that wafts through the camp all day?”

“I’ve got that covered,” as I showed them my can of bacon spray.

Yes this Thanksgiving as our children take their tent and off they roam

We’ll be sending them best wishes from the comfort of our home.

Darwin understood evolution and what it means for me and you

I’m sure he’d understand that camping goes through evolution too.

THE EVOLUTION OF CAMPING

This Thanksgiving the kids are off camping in a tent that’s waterproof

While Deborah and I are staying dry under the safety of our roof.

Yes, when you reach a certain age it is comfort that impels

For we now spend our time camping at home or in hotels. 

Which leads me to wonder while I lounge before the fire with my wife

About the evolution of camping in my family and my life.

When I was young camping meant that overnight was spent

Outside in a sleeping bag, next to the campfire with no tent.

We graduated to those heavy canvas tents, the kind that in the rain would sweat

And you didn’t touch them from your spot on the floor unless you wanted to get wet.

You’d pack it up when you got home spread it out to dry and then....

Hope it wouldn’t be wet or smelly when you to set it up again.

Next came nylon tents, they were easy and they were light

They came standard with a hole in the top so you could see the stars at night.

For these tents you didn’t have to know how to tie all kind of knots

And our sleeping bags were off the floor as we each had our own cots.

The reason: when we were a little older after waking up one morning sore

Deborah and I decided we would no longer sleep upon the floor.

Tents remained light and easy but for our temperament and welfare

We ditched our cots for mattresses we could now blow up with air.

But tents were becoming the minority as it seemed what now cropped up

Were people pulling campers that they parked and then popped up.

Worse as we looked around the campgrounds we felt disadvantaged and deprived

Because now most people our age were in campers that you drive.

“You call that camping!” we would scoff as they turned on their porch light

“They don’t even have to leave their camper to use the bathroom through the night.”

“They eat at tables, sit on cushions, use metal utensils and decorate with flowers

They watch TV, play video games, sleep in beds and use indoor showers.”

But secretly Deborah and I were through roughing it--we wanted to be pampered

Though we also realized there was no way we could ever afford a camper.

Don’t worry Deborah I comforted when we knew our camping days were through

When we travel we’ll make sure our hotel has a great view.

We told our children who are all grown up about our decision to no longer camp

We gave them our tent, our mattresses, and our favorite Coleman lamp.

“Won’t you miss it?” our children asked as they somehow failed to see

That we’ll wake up in a comfy bed with Wi-Fi and cable TV.

What about that great bacon smell that wafts through the camp all day?”

“I’ve got that covered,” as I showed them my can of bacon spray.

Yes this Thanksgiving as our children take their tent and off they roam

We’ll be sending them best wishes from the comfort of our home.

Darwin understood evolution and what it means for me and you

I’m sure he’d understand that camping goes through evolution too.

BASIC MATH

A brother and a sister battled all the time

Their fighting seemed to have no reason and definitely no rhyme.

Their parents did not understand and tried hard to keep the peace

But no matter what they did the fighting never ceased.

Their children were too young, too inexperienced, too unqualified

To see a parent’s love is not divided it’s always multiplied.

It took a while but, one day, the brother and sister comprehended.

They stopped their fighting and immediately each other they befriended.

Then life moved on and in the blink of an eye, the brother and sister were fully grown

And they found themselves both married with families of their own.

They were confident their children wouldn’t become an angry mob

They were smarter than their parents. They would do a better job.

But no matter what they did to try to keep the peace

The children did not listen and their fighting never ceased.

Dear brother, the sister lamented I don’t know what I’m doing wrong

I struggle, I bargain, I bribe but my children don’t get along.

Dear sister the brother responded, I too can do nothing right

I’ve used every technique from every book but all my children do is fight.

Finally in frustration realizing nothing they do would suffice

They did what any child would do, they turned to their parents for advice.

The parents comforted their children, “Don’t worry, no need to fuss.”

“We’ll give you the same instruction our parents once gave to us.

“Your children are too young, too inexperienced, too unqualified

To see a parents love is not divided it’s always multiplied.”

“It may seem like a simple solution but it’s patience you need to apply

For someday soon your children too will learn to multiply.”

Quit trying so hard to understand and put those parenting books back on the shelf

For once they comprehend the math the problem takes care of itself.

The children departed and the parents smiled as they watched them walk down the path

“I guess you’re never to old,” Mom said, “to learn about basic math.”

“Yes,” Dad grinned, “and one day when their children ask for help with their mayhem

They’ll be ready with the same advice their parents gave to them.”

CROSSWORD PUZZLE LOVER

I love crossword puzzles, they’re like a mini quest

I’ve always found the New York Times Monday puzzles, for me, to be the best!

I like to buy them in big books, for if there’s an answer that I lack

No need to worry or strain my brain, the solutions are in the back.

There’s a puzzle in the Times every day but what sets the Monday ones apart

Is many of their clues I can solve on my own and that makes me feel smart.

As I completed the last Monday puzzle in the book I had a feeling I never had before.

I thought, “Monday puzzles have become too easy,” and I wanted something more.

I only wish I would have thought it out, reflected, then used my head

Perhaps I would have moved to Tuesday or Wednesday, but I chose Sunday instead.

As I purchased a book of 200 Sunday puzzles. I boasted, “ I’ll finish them all!”

But then I hit the first obstacle...the printing was much too small.

“So I have to squint.” I told myself, “I imagine everybody does.”

But the next obstacle was even more difficult...I’m not as smart as I thought I was.

I have been to colleges and soaked up all the knowledge they dispensed

But the clues in the Sunday crossword failed to make any sense.

I don’t know my Norse Gods. (Who does?) And my Greek myth’s I’ve forgotten. 

Who knew there was an eight letter word for a variety of cotton!

There are clues for songs I’m supposed to know that I couldn’t sing a word of?
And how in Heaven’s name can I name the capital of an island I never heard of?

I didn’t know the cylindrical roller inside a typewriter is called a platen

And who in their right mind knows verb origins in Latin?

I do not know composers or philosophers, or the places they have dwelled

And I don’t know my Jewish months let alone how they are spelled.

I don’t remember dates or times or names or Bible verses

I don’t know the names of rivers let alone what state each one traverses.

And if not understanding the clues wasn’t enough to make me feel tense

Even after I looked them up...the solutions made no sense.

I could go on and on about the things I thought I knew...but don’t

However, in order to stop your boredom and retain my sanity...I won’t.

Suffice it to say I paid fifteen bucks for this book and as a piker I shant abate

If you’re wondering...piker is a 5 letter word that, basically, means cheapskate.

Oh I’ll finish these 200 Sunday puzzles, I’ll get through this whole ordeal

No matter how long it takes me...no matter how dumb I feel.

And when this Sunday debacle is over, when it mercifully comes to an end

I’ll happily return to my Monday puzzles...and I’ll never stray again.

HERE'S TO TRADITIONS--OLD AND NEW

I love traditions, but we learned long ago with our blended family

We needed to look at our traditions with more objectivity.

With so many relatives to be considered and only so much time in any holiday

We decided to uphold tradition but in nontraditional ways.

Even Shakespeare, I believe, would have found a way to spin it

He’d say though this be madness, yet, there is a method in it. 

For instance Christmas at our house has a tradition our children first conceived

We eat pizza and open presents not on Christmas, but Christmas Eve.

Then we’d put Christmas music on the car radio, and look at lights along the way

As we drove to their other parent’s houses where they’d wake up on Christmas Day.

Even now with our children grown Christmas Eve we still hold dear

As this is now the tradition we look forward to each year.

Shakespeare, never a playwright who was afraid of twists or change 

Might agree by saying this is different but it is also wondrous strange.

Take Thanksgiving, though we celebrate it as it once was celebrated

We may not always celebrate on the day that’s designated.

This year our Thanksgiving had all the traditions as it did in times of yore

Only our dinner with all the trimmings occurred the Saturday before.

While, for most of you, Thanksgiving was still five days away

We celebrated yesterday with our traditional buffet.

(Bryan was the only person missing but we have a computer with web cam

And all our phones and devices have Facebook, text and Instagram.)

It’s a simple fact that all parents in every family have found

As children grow up it gets more difficult to gather them around.

So we’ll give thanks on any day and change dates quite cheerfully

In order to be surrounded by our friends and family.

For nothing makes us happier, beguiles or enthralls

Than the sound of family laughter as it echoes off the walls.

We parents know as families change and our children become grown

It’s up to us to establish new traditions of our own.

Yes, if Shakespeare was alive today I’m sure that he would tweet

That which we call Thanksgiving on any other day would taste as sweet.

A CHOICE EVERY ONE OF US CAN MAKE

Dayna Morales, ever heard of her? I didn’t until just the other day

She’s a waitress in New Jersey who wasn’t tipped simply because she is gay.

Not because the service was poor, the food was awful or there was a long delay

No, Dayna didn’t receive a tip for the sole purpose...she is gay.

In lieu of a tip a note was left on the receipt right next to the butter knife

Saying I’m sorry I cannot tip you as I don’t agree with how you live your life.

It’s interesting to note Dayna hadn’t a clue and it was only after the service was complete

That she noticed the non-tippers cowardly message on the bottom of her receipt.

Not leaving a tip because someone is gay is as illogical, I surmise,

As not leaving a tip because you didn’t like her height...or the color of her eyes.

Dayna doesn’t have a choice of who she is anymore than you or than me

No, the only woman who had a choice in that restaurant chose ignorance and bigotry.

I do feel sorry for Dayna and the bigotry she endured I deplore

But in some ways, because of her ignorance, I feel sorry for the non-tipper more.

For I bet she didn’t know Dayna was a former marine who battled unselfishly

So every person, even the non-tippers, could live in a land that is free.

Of course that shouldn’t have mattered. Dayna did not deserve her enmity.

She deserved to be treated as a human being, with respect and dignity.

Isn’t that what we all wish for? It’s not such a lofty aim

For everyone, no matter who they are, to be treated exactly the same.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if people were accepting of others and were kind just for kindness sake?

And just so you know Miss Non-Tipper, that’s a choice every one of us can make.

WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN

Every now and then an evil so horrific rises up unexpectedly

And we realize we’re not as civilized as we would like to be.

An act of senseless violence that cuts us like a knife

To remind us of both of the wickedness and the sanctity of life.

In 1963 I was 10 years old when the entire student body was brought

Into the auditorium of our school and told President Kennedy was shot.

I remember the scene so vividly because it was surreal and stupefying

For as I scanned the auditorium that day, every adult in the room was crying.

At the time I was too young to understand what they were crying for

That somehow with those gunshots our world had changed forevermore.

As I grew up I understood not only were they crying about that mortal sin

But their tears were also flowing for a world that might have been.

What would our world look like today, what wonders might have arrived

If President Kennedy wasn’t shot, if somehow he had survived?

Was he a great president? Some say yes and some say no.

One of the tragedies of his passing is that we’ll never know.

50 years after Kennedy’s death lives are lost to evil every day

And more and more of our own innocence is slowly chipped away.

With each unimaginable act of brutality we are more and more bereft

Until I’m left to wonder, do we have any innocence left?

There are many reasons for their deaths, many people we could blame

But the truth is they are gone and our world will never be the same.

That is the true tragedy of losing President Kennedy and all lives lost in vain...

We’ll never know where their lives might have gone, what wonders they may have attained.

As we remember President Kennedy and look at the world we now live in

We mourn not only the loss of a president but the loss of what might have been.

OUR SECOND THANKSGIVING DINNER

Yesterday at 12:55 our enthusiasm increased

As we met Ava at her school for our second Thanksgiving feast.

And just as we did with Aden, this being a Thanksgiving encore

We followed the same procedure as we had the day before.

Ava was so excited, so delighted, so upbeat

She had a difficult time eating and staying in her seat.

The wonders of being a grandparent are positively ample

And let me take a moment now to give you some examples.

When Ava asked to eat her blueberry muffin first, her parents might have been distraught.

As grandparents Deborah and I looked at each other, smiled and said, “Why not!”

And here’s another illustration of my grandparental view

“When you’re done with that muffin, Ava,” I asked, “Do you want my brownie too?”

As parents we work hard at parenting, we teach sometimes we scoff

But the minute we become grandparents, it seems, all bets are off.

As a grandparent, if you’re lucky, you are seldom overtaxed

And the time spent with your grandchildren is more tranquil...more relaxed.

You see the world through more tender eyes, you’re wiser, more well-versed

And you’re not bothered if your granddaughter wants to eat her muffin first.

For you know it’s not about the food, that’s just a Thanksgiving myth

Thanksgiving is about the people you’re eating dinner with.

Then Ava saw her teacher wave and our Thanksgiving dinner was through 

It ended with a hug and a kiss, as all good dinners do.

“Is Ava a vegetarian now,” I asked, “Because she didn’t touch her meat.”

“No,” Deborah said rolling her eyes, “She filled up on that muffin you let her eat.”

I nodded and smiled heading out the door as all the parents dispersed

Realizing this second Thanksgiving dinner was as wonderful as the first.

Parents, as you teach your children, as you work hard...don’t dismay

For you too, if you’re lucky, will be grandparents someday.

OUR FIRST THANKSGIVING DINNER

The first Thanksgiving dinner in the New World was held in 1621

That feast lasted three days before the Pilgrims and Indians were done.

So it only seems appropriate that Deborah and I, though it won’t make us any thinner,

Joined Aden at his school yesterday for our first of 3 Thanksgiving dinners.

Here’s a little bit of advice for the school, if you want your students to thrive

They should learn lunch is eaten in the middle of the day, not 10:25.

We met Aden in the cafeteria and, for us, nothing can ever replace

The joy within our hearts when we saw that smile on his face.

Is there a better feeling in the world than when your eyes first search then zoom

Finally landing on your grandchild waving at you from across the room? 

Aden led us through the serving line and his enthusiasm never ceased

As the lunch lady handed each of us our first Thanksgiving feast.

This being a school cafeteria there was no wine for us to uncork

But we were happy drinking tea and eating dinner with a spork.

We had turkey, potatoes, stuffing and brownies--the food really did taste great!

(Of course Deborah, being a vegetarian, left her turkey on her plate.)

We talked with Aden, took his picture and wished the time would somehow slow

But soon his teacher said, “Line Up!”...it was time for him to go.

What made our first Thanksgiving dinner special wasn’t the turkey or the sides

It was the time we spent with Aden that left us satisfied.

That is the beauty of Thanksgiving on this or any other day

The time we spend together can never be taken away.

Just as it was in the New World so many years in the past

The food was only secondary, it’s the memories that will last.

That’s a good thought to keep in mind as today we make the drive

To meet Ava for her Thanksgiving dinner...same spot...12:55.

WHO AM AI?

Three events occurred yesterday that served to mystify

As they compelled me to answer a simple question and wonder...Who am I?

First, an old friend posted a picture of my class from back in 7th grade

I was delighted by the simple innocence and the smiles we displayed.

Skip ahead to last night, on the web, a picture of Deborah and I

At a recent wedding (since 7th grade, 50 years have drifted by).

Still last night I applied for a part time job, a process meant to diagram

From the application I was filling out...exactly who I am.

I immediately stopped and thought to myself, “Is there any information whereby

I can honestly answer the question posed...exactly who am I?”

Am I the boy in that 7th grade picture: 1st column, 7th row from the top?

Or that old guy standing by Deborah wearing a bow tie as a prop?

The answer is both...and neither for aren’t we all truly herein

A blend...an amalgamation of every person we’ve ever been?

Yes, I’m the young boy in 7th grade, and the old man with the tie

I’m a husband, a father and a Pop Pop, all of these I can’t deny.

It seems there are a lot of people mixed up inside of me

And it would be an oversight to view each one separately.

For we are constantly developing and, if I’m not mistaken

We’ve already changed immediately after a photograph is taken.

Yes, when you think about it, in a life that often passes in a blur

A photo doesn’t tell us who we are...it only tells us who we were.

Who I am is a combination of every old photo ever taken of me

That blend with new photos daily and make me who I’m going to be.

Perhaps that’s why we love looking at pictures, why they give us so much joy

When we find inside each photograph that little girl or boy.

For they help us to appreciate the people we are today

And realize those people in those old photos are never far away.

So who am I?  I’m not sure. Today, with some confidence I might proclaim

But ask me again tomorrow...chances are...my answer won’t be the same.

As I stood in the store wrestling with this question my head began to throb

For I realized, the manager’s watching...and I’ll ever get this job.

MEMORY

From the first time I laid eyes on them I’ve loved the paintings of Monet.

I love the subjects, love the impressions and the way the colors interplay.

I’ve also loved da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, I like to linger with her awhile

And enjoy the details of that landscape and the elusiveness of her smile.

I think memory is like these paintings for when a moment does unveil

It’s brushed upon our mind’s canvas, like a da Vinci, in detail.

Yet over time our memories seems to blend a little everyday

Until, when we grow older, we remember in Monet.

The last three days I’ve dipped into my memory, it felt great to be among

The memories of our children when life was simpler and they were young.

But as I discussed these poems with Deborah, although she didn’t want to berate

She informed me my memory was lacking...that I didn’t have my facts straight.

What building were Bryan and I in at Florida State? My memory is insecure.

Did we drink Gatorade, I think it was Gatorade but I do not know for sure.

Was Rit dye the kind that Ali used?  At one time I’m sure I knew.

And was it Ali or her friend Chrissy whose hair was colored blue?

Was it Ryan’s baseball card or hot wheels collection... Hmmm toy cars or baseball stats,

You think I would remember a small detail like that!

Luckily with Deborah’s help, like two birds of a feather

We sorted through our memories and pieced the facts together.

Initially I remembered those moments as they did first appear

But slowly as time intervened the details became less clear.

As I look back I shouldn’t be surprised at how these memories converge

Why da Vinci memories tend to fade and Monet’s tend to emerge.

Perhaps the moments of our life are meant, as we live our days,

To dissolve into an impression, to fade into a haze.

Perhaps it is this blending that makes these memories last

And we are left to find small details in our impressions of the past.

Perhaps we are meant to look back and smile at the impressions that we see

For is that not the nature of art...and the beauty of memory.

KKK (?)

Bryan’s torch story is finished as is Ali’s blue hair tale of woe.

But we have three children which means we still have one to go.

Today it’s Ryan’s turn who while sitting in our front yard

Innocently got in trouble for his love of baseball cards.

He had a card collection and his friends Jared and Gary had one too

“Hey Guys,” Ryan announced one day, “Here’s what we’re going to do.

“We’ll find out who else loves baseball cards here in our neighborhood

And get them all together to form a baseball card brotherhood.

We’ll get all our friends to join us, it really won’t be tough

We’ll have meetings, make club ‘T’ shirts and all cool kinds of stuff.”

They mentioned the club to Deborah and I, we gave it our OK

We smiled at their resourcefulness, and the club was on it’s way.

We let them handle everything, we thought the experience would be great

We let them plan the entire thing and their own card club create.

They worked hard together...yes those three boys got on a role

In retrospect perhaps we should have exerted some control.

They watched a lot of TV, yes they were young but they were wise

For they knew the best way to get the word out would be to advertise.

So they made a bunch of fliers announcing the Kard Kingdom Kids club and hey!

To make it attract attention they decided every word would start with K.

Then these three young budding capitalists on this point all agreed

They’d abbreviate it for their friends and make it easier to read.

They designed their own club fliers and on an entrepreneurial whim

Decided to use Jared’s dad’s printer unbeknownst to him.

Yes, every mailbox in the neighborhood got one of their fliers that day

Announcing, come to our house for the next meeting of the KKK!

We were proud of Ryan, Jared and Gary as we watched their confidence soar

That is until the policeman came knocking at our door.

Apparently one nosy neighbor, the kind always looking out for sin

Saw the KKK was meeting at our house and quickly called it in.

“I applaud your children’s ingenuity,” the policeman chuckled, “But there is one little flaw,

They’re frightening your neighbors...and it seems they broke the law.”

“I realize your neighbor is something of a quack

So don’t worry we won’t be pressing charges as long as you get these fliers back.”

“By the way as a father myself I understand,” he said, after the kids had been dispersed,

“But wouldn’t it have been smarter if you both had read this first.”

We thanked the nice policeman, and apologized for our disregard

As we tried to hide the white sheets they put out to display their cards!

We helped them retrieve every flier, then told them of the KKK

And how it’s illegal to open other people’s mailboxes...on this or any day.

Who knew a tiny neighborhood baseball card club would end up being so judicial

Just because three young boys used incorrect initials.

So there you have it, the story of how innocence got in the way

When our son Ryan and his two close friends almost enrolled in the KKK.

SCHOOL SPIRIT

Yesterday I told a story about Bryan, it mentioned the Olympic torch...and sweat

Suddenly I realized I hadn’t embarrassed our other two children yet...

So today let me tell you about Ali who in high school was so cool

And filled with more school spirit than anyone in school.

It was the week of the big football game when Ali and Chrissy (her partner in this crime)

To show off their school spirit came up with a plan they thought sublime.

Throughout the week, instead of doing homework, they were thinking, “What do we do?

How do we display our school spirit in our school colors: orange and blue?”

It was getting late, they had no plan, and both were feeling a little deflated

When Ali noticed a package of blue dye and an idea was created.

It was a simple plan yet ingenious plan and one that Ali knew

Chrissy, once she heard it, would think ingenious too

“Everyone,” Ali said, “will wear school colors as I’m sure you are aware

But how many people,” she surmised, “will actually dye their hair?”

So Chrissy came to our house and before the night was through

She had dyed her hair bright orange while Ali dyed hers blue.

The next morning not only were they looking good in their blue & orange school threads

But they were so ecstatic to have those colors on their heads.

Yes, that day at school and that night at the game the whole school will admit

Chrissy’s orange hair and Ali’s blue were really quite a hit.

But before I go much further let me throw out this one thought

Sometimes the simplest plans are the best plans...and sometimes they are not.

The problem comes the next day when I heard our Ali shout

“Dad! Something’s wrong here...I can’t wash this blue dye out!”

“Chrissy said her orange washed out and it didn’t take very long.

For the life of me I can’t figure out what I am doing wrong.”

“Where’s the dye,” I inquired, “that you used yesterday?

I’ll read the directions and find out exactly what they say.”

Without lifting her head as she went back to shampooing her blue locks

She groped around, grabbed onto it, then handed me the box.

“Hmmm, I think I see the problem.” I said smiling in spite of myself.

This is probably one box of dye you should have left upon the shelf.”

For if you’d read the directions I’m sure you’d have been aware.

That this is RIT dye, Ali, It’s used for fabric...not for hair.” 

I imagine Chrissy used a dye for hair, your Rit dye’s a little stronger

While she washed her orange out this morning, I’m afraid your blue will last a little longer.”

I’ll never forget the look on her face as she screamed, “What am I going to do?”

Her eyes were wide, her face was red and her wet hair was still blue.

“Not to worry Ali,” I comforted, “One day you’ll bid this color adieu,

If not you could always go to college in Michigan...their motto’s Go Big Blue!”

Oh eventually her hair grew out and I can speak now on her behalf

When we look back on that day it gives us all a laugh.

As for me, I was glad to see all the fruitful lessons Ali’s simple plan begat

She learned there is a special dye for hair, and that she looked good in hats.

THE OLYMPIC TORCH

November 9th of this year while the International Space Station swayed

2 Cosmonauts took a spacewalk and history was made.

They exited the station, the whole of space was now their porch,

And with them they had taken the Sochi Olympic torch.

They simulated with that torch an on-Earth relay race

The first time the Olympic torch had been in outer space.

It’s funny when I see the Olympic torch something in my head abruptly clicks

And immediately I’m transported back to 1966.

July 2 1996, to be exact, I’ll never forget that date

It was the summer orientation I took Bryan to Florida State.

The date is etched inside my head and always makes me frown

It’s the day the Atlanta Olympic torch was relayed through the town.

We were having such a wonderful time, the orientation was going well

But it was July in Tallahassee and it was hot as hell.

We were sweating so much in the Florida heat that our stamina started to fade

So we bought ourselves 2 giant bottles of ice cold Gatorade.

But as anyone who’s ever drunk a gallon of Gatorade will know

Sooner or later after you finish...you’re going to have to go.

So we stopped to use the restroom in some building made of brick

(And here’s the part that when I think back always makes me sick.)

First a little history to put things in context

It’s the Olympic flame that’s relayed from one venue to the next.

From New York City, to Chicago, from Tallahassee to Sacramento

The person who carries the flame keeps the torch as a memento.

We had just finished in the bathroom when a runner in a voice so deep and low

Said, ‘Could you please hold this for me, I really have to go.”

He handed Bryan the Olympic torch and though we did not get his name

We knew it was the same torch that would soon carry the Olympic flame.

I quickly took out my camera, “Bryan, raise it up and smile at me.”

I wanted to capture that particular moment for all eternity.

“Now it’s my turn,” I said, but something happened we couldn’t prevent

The man exited the stall, took the torch, thanked Bryan and off we went.

“Dad don’t worry,” Bryan comforted as we both watched that runner flee

“By the way, did you get my good side when you snapped that shot of me?”

Later we watched that same man carry the flame held high with pride

I applauded with the multitude but my disappointment I couldn’t hide.

You see I couldn’t help thinking from the safety of the stands

That I would have got to hold it too, if he’d only washed his hands!

Doctors have a list of reasons why we should wash after exiting the stall

I’m sure me holding the Olympic torch isn’t on that list at all...

In retrospect it was a wonderful moment...one fortuitous vignette

When Bryan got to hold the torch...a moment we’ll never forget.

Yes that day Bryan got a great picture one for all his friends to see

While all I got was this story and one painful memory.

WORDS

Words are only combinations of letters formed within our heads

But they have the ability to evoke emotions the moment they are said.

A word by itself is not beautiful or ugly, complimentary or demeaning

It’s the people who utter them that give our words their meaning.

Some words when spoken from a place of love have a musical refrain

While others when spoken in anger are meant to damage or cause pain.

Some words make us feel good and bring us happiness too

Like freedom, smile, joy, peace, love and family to name a few.

Some words when they are uttered leave fear and sorrow in their wake

LIke Alzheimers, Aids, war, death, tornados and earthquakes.

Yesterday a friend of ours informed us her doctors wanted to see

If cancer was growing inside her so they performed a biopsy.

Biopsy, another word that fills your heart with fear

As you wait for the doctor to say, hopefully, the words you want to hear?

It’s interesting that once her story got out and we read words written by her hand

Words of encouragement came rushing in from all across the land.

Words of love, of compassion and support...words easy to comprehend

Drifted softly through the heavens and landed on our friend.

Our words were the only way to show her we were behind her and we cared

And to let her know her suspense was something we all shared.

The next day as we all waited for our world to realign

Our apprehension transformed to exhilaration when we heard the word...benign.

Yes, one day one word can cause us woe, or anguish or concern

And the next day another word replaces it and makes the joy return.

That is the nature of our words in this or any other day
We never know what kind of words will randomly drift our way.

If we spend our lives using kindly words that help us gather friends

Then one day when we need them, those words pay dividends.

For when I think about our friend and the words of her friends I recall

Perhaps words of sympathy and kindness are the most beautiful words of all.

A SIMPLE LESSON

Many years ago I had a friend whose life came suddenly to an end.

What could have caused my friend to die before I chanced to say goodbye?

For a while I drifted aimlessly as I tried to understand this tragedy.

What could have caused his life to go?  Why so sudden? Why didn’t I know?

It was a passing that was unforeseen, what, if anything, could it mean?

It showed me how we never know our time to come or our time to go.

I made a vow at his gravesite then, to never let that happen again.

To tell my family and all my friends before our lives come to an end

How lucky I am in their lives to be and how very much they all mean to me.

It’s funny how the simplest things that set our world aglow are oftentimes things we already know.

But sometimes it takes a tragedy to help us be the person we’d like to be.

I think of my friend often with a smile and a sigh and I’m sorry I never got to say goodbye.

Even today there is nothing I wouldn’t give to tell him how his death taught me to live.

I’d thank him for teaching me long ago to tell people how I feel before we go.

So I will never again have to wonder why...or have regrets when we say goodbye.

Thanks old friend for helping me keep that vow...Hmmm...I wonder if he hears me now?

100 DAYS

100 Days ago I made a decision to throw caution to the wind

A choice I hoped in the long run would not leave me chagrined.

I thought I would write a daily rhyme, (OK nothing crazy about that yet!)

But in my infinite wisdom I thought I’d post them on the net.

Why I did this is a mystery I still have yet to solve.

When I think back I have to wonder if alcohol was involved?

Whatever! I thought Facebook was the perfect place to let these rhymes run free

After all, everyone on Facebook I have friended...or they have friended me.

It was the perfect place I assumed among people I have known

To try something this scary and leave my comfort zone.

What better place to post the great pieces of literature my mind begat

Than a place that offers recipes, funny e-cards and videos of crazy cats?

Ever since I can remember if there was a special time

My family and friends knew they’d be receiving a copy of my rhyme.

They usually seemed delighted, like my poem gave them a lift.

Little did they know, till now, it was much cheaper than a gift.

They said I should write for other people, they said it’d be a snap.

I’m sure they thought they shouldn’t be the only ones who get to read this crap!

So buoyed by their urging and my own naivete

I decided it might be fun to write a poem a day.

It wasn’t an easy decision to make...to write this daily rhyme

But I somehow found the courage to hit POST the very first time.

It’s now been 100 days and these daily rhymes have not abated

I’m sure my family and friends didn’t expect the monster they created!

I imagine you might like one poem while another you think is a flop

It matters not because, since I started, there’s no way that I can stop.

It has now become an obsession...I think your help I should enlist...

Is there a doctor out there who specializes...perhaps a poetry therapist?

On second thought don’t feel bad for me for everyday I feel blessed

That my poems have been around the world and met with some success.

In truth I have one follower in Germany which really has no glamour

Because the only reason she reads my poems is to correct me on my grammar.

Be that as it may...100 poems, it’s a number that does amaze.

And I’m sure you can’t wait to read what’s coming in the next 100 days.

Will they be happy, thoughtful, heart wrenching, or perhaps a little fun

You be the judge for the poem you’re reading is now one hundred and one.

VETERANS DAY

The other day Deborah and I were discussing the wonders in America we can see.

We realized how lucky we were to live in a land where we were free.

A land where freedom allows us to come and go as we please

Where we are afforded the ability to travel around with ease

It made me wonder about freedom and what that word entails

From the many different forms it takes to the miracles it unveils.

V-  Freedom is not Voluntary in this or any land

     It is the right of every individual...something to demand.

E- Freedom, true freedom, when all is said and done

     Enhances and respects the freedoms of Everyone.

T-  Freedom is Tolerant of others and unequivocally embraces

     The differences between us that tyranny erases.

E-  Freedom is what we pray for at the bedside of every birth

     For freedom, as Abe Lincoln knew, is the last best hope on Earth.

T-  Freedom must Radiate from each of us, it’s a song the world must sing

     From every bell in every church freedom’s message should always ring.

A-  Freedom derives from Action, it should be the goal of you and me

     That every person in this world can say with confidence, “I am free.”

N-  And though most of us in this country know freedom and feel blessed

      We must remember No one is truly free when others are oppressed.

S-  Finally freedom is Spiritual, it truly make a person whole

      When the freedom in their heart matches the freedom in their soul.

Today we celebrate Veterans, it’s a day to formally address

And thank the veterans for the freedoms all Americans possess.

Ah, but freedom is a curious thing...as many with freedom have forgot

That either everyone on Earth is free...or everyone is not.

So we pray for the day people everywhere will come and go as they please

That they’ll be afforded the ability to travel around with ease

We pray that someday in every corner of our planet freedom will be on display

But until then be thankful for the freedoms we have...and thank a veteran today.

OLD JOKES

When I used to talk about the older generation of which I am now a part

I was the first to kid around, you know, say something funny, wise or smart.

Like, “Hey Dad do you know how I can tell you’re getting older in this life?

Because that little old lady you help across the street happens to be your wife.”

“Good one, son,” Dad would smile and say, “but on your mother’s and my behalf

That joke was just so funny that I forgot to laugh.”

As you can see my dad’s witty comebacks...well they almost always bombed.

Makes me wonder where I got my talent for humor...must have been from Mom.

At any rate I guess it’s only payback now that I’m one of the older folks

That I must listen and accept the telling of old jokes.

So I laugh along with the people, who are not as funny as they think

When they remind me now that I’m over the hill and I’ll probably start to shrink.

“But, don’t worry about getting shorter.” They chortle loudly with youthful vigor

Because, your nose and both your ears will continue getting bigger.

They are quick to remind me how I’m almost bald and when the laughter clears

They inform me if I’m looking for hair to check in my nose and ears.

They say I’m slowing down a bit, that I’m not the same go-getter.

Most likely because my eyesight’s getting worse and my hearing is no better.

They ask, “Does your wife wake you up in the morning or is she checking if you’re dead?”

And God Forbid if I ask, “Have you seen my glasses?” when they’re perched upon my head!

They remind me how I reminisce about the ’60’s...about how the good old days are gone

They say the only grass I talk about these days is out in my front lawn.

They certainly don’t mean any harm, I know they hold me in good stead

Besides they also know tomorrow I won’t remember what they said.

In truth it really doesn’t bother me when the these old jokes they do unfold

Because I know it won’t be very long until they too will be old.

It’s part of life to grow old, we’re all growing older every day

And it’s healthy if we can laugh at ourselves as we journey along the way.

So you see I’m quite content with getting older; I don’t think it is unfair.

For slowing down a bit is healthy and I never have to comb my hair.

And think of all those wonderful aromas and the fantastic sounds I’ll hear

With a nose the size of a cucumber and my two enormous ears.

Yes I’m satisfied to giggle at their levity and share in the laughter too

And I’m quite happy knowing the little old lady I help cross the street is the one I’m married to.

TOGETHER

Together...what a simple word with a very simple mission

But sometimes it’s the simplest words that give life it’s definition...

When you’re first married you have no cares you float on the wind like a feather

You dream of happiness, perhaps starting a family and growing old together.

Then one day you see all your responsibilities and wonder how you’ll ever muddle through

But you do and you wake up one morning to the realization you’re dreams have come true.

You understand life hasn’t always been easy, you haven’t always floated on the wind like a feather

But you’re healthy and happy; you’ve made it...you have grown old together.

True so much time as passed you have difficulty knowing when, or how or where...

But the kids are grown, the grandchildren growing and there’s happiness in the air.

It’s a wonderful feeling as once again you float on the wind like a feather

For now you’re ready for the next phase...growing even older together. 

It’s funny when you’re building a family, when you’re making that daily climb

No matter how you try to extend it, there never seems to be enough time.

In some ways time is your enemy and you wonder if that feeling will ever end

Then overnight all that changes...and time becomes your friend.

And what has made all this work somehow, what has been the glue...the tether?

Near as I can figure, in my life anyway, it’s that we made it through together.