FIN!

I made a crazy decision 364 days ago; my reasons were unclear;

To try to write a poem a day for one entire year.

To show I wasn’t thinking straight and what naivete it took

Not only did I decide to write them but to post them on Facebook!

Is it irony that the first poem I wrote in what was to become a year long chain

Was a little rhyme, 8 stanzas long, containing a message from Mark Twain?

In all likelihood it was Abe Lincoln who first these words did christen

But if Lincoln and Twain said the same thing perhaps I should have listened.

Tis better to remain silent and be thought of as a fool, was the message they sent out

Than to open our mouths and at that point suddenly remove all doubt.

Perhaps I should have heeded their advice from that first little rhyme...before...

I sat down at my computer and wrote another 364!

But I didn’t, I kept churning out poems, it was part of my daily grind

About anything I could think of, about whatever crossed my mind.

In a year of rhyming, while I thought about every sentence, every word and every letter

Along the way I came to know myself a little better.

I came to understand the importance of words and the power they possess

I came to understand what a great life I have, how lucky I am, how blessed.

I found a celebration in words--I learned it’s not only important how we choose them

But, once selected, it’s even more important deciding how to use them.

For you never know what meaning your initial whispers will pack

Or, after you’ve allowed them to fly, what words will echo back.

With today’s poem those echoes have come full circle which is the reason why

365 poems later...it is time to say goodbye.

Oh I imagine I will write again if you are sad, don’t get fanatical

After a year of writing a daily poem...think of this as a sabbatical. 

When I return fresh from the rest and unconstrained by time

I’ll offer up, not a daily, but perhaps an occasional rhyme.

Until then remember any time you look out your window at the world and are enthralled

You realize in that moment...there is a poet in us all.

THE LAKOTA SIOUX

I’m no expert on the Native American culture but I like the point of view

Of many of their beliefs and traditions...take, for instance, the Lakota Sioux.

Look at their name for example, and you’ll begin to comprehend...

They chose the name Lakota because it, essentially, means...friend.

The Lakota were very spiritual and with the land they would connect

They believed that all life, visible and invisible deserved reverence and respect.

They believed in the Morning Star, the first star shining in the East,

Which would greet them in the morning once the evening tide had ceased.

They gave great importance to this star and on it they would pray

For they relished what it meant to them...the gift of a new day.

They kept dream catchers over their beds so once they bid the day adieu

It would catch the good dreams in its web while the bad ones would slip through.

They believed in a healthy mind and body, and when the day was done

They believed in nature and trust and balance before the passing of each sun.

As I look at our America today and wonder could it possibly get any worse

Perhaps is’t time to heed the words and traditions of the people who settled here first.

THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH

Our bodies are getting older by the day yet we don’t accept this truth

We feel somewhere out there is the answer so we search for the Fountain of Youth.

We spend billions trying to stave off time; in some cases it’s become bizarre

The steps that we will go through to look younger than we are.

Buoyed by advertisements on TV, we think the effects of age can be chopped

We forget the people appearing in the ads have been air brushed and photo shopped.

We see and feel our bodies age on this Earthly carousel

And we make a simple assumption that our youth ages as well.

But what if we are wrong assuming the body and mind age simultaneously?

What if youth, for instance ages more transcendentally?

What if our bodies age from outside, hence the wrinkling of our skin

But what if the youth we so diligently desire to keep...what if youth comes from within?

We cannot control the ravages of age, no matter how much we conceal.

But despite the changes in our bodies, we can control the way we feel.

Sure it may take me longer to stand up now, and I may have more aches and pains

My hair is gone, my eyes are sagging but still I don’t complain.

Because underneath the wrinkles, sags and spots that age displays

Flows my very own Fountain of Youth and I sip from it every day.

Now when I look in the mirror I see that age has it’s own appeal

And every day I am amazed at how much younger I can feel.

LOOK WHO'S WATCHING

We are a funny creatures...man and woman...I’m sure everyone agrees

We have an odd sense of what’s important...some strange priorities.

We are upset to think Big Brother is watching us, we look on this unfavorably

We see it as a loos of freedom--a loss of privacy.

Yet we post our private lives every day on the social media spiral

Knowing our friends will see it and hoping it goes viral.

They are filming us on hidden cameras from New York to Amsterdam

But have you seen the pictures we post of ourselves on Snapchat and Instagram?

The National Security Agency is watching, I’m not quite sure where or how

But there’s a good chance in one way or another they are watching us right now!

As disturbing as this is to think about, I wonder about all the fuss

I wonder if we’re not too preoccupied with governments watching us.

The eyes we should worry most about are not hidden or federalized

They are not on our phones or computers, they are not concealed or disguised.

They are the eyes of all our children and on this point I do avow.

Wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, their eyes are watching you right now.

WHAT MAKES US BEAUTIFUL

Sometimes I wonder if we’re the most advanced species...Look at the things we say and we do.

Sometimes I wonder if we’re as intelligent as we think...Sometimes I wonder-don’t you?

Take beauty for instance; in a world overflowing with beauty don’t you think it a little bizarre

That we humans are the only life form that needs to be told how beautiful we are.

The cardinal who comes to my feeder, or the blue bird or yellow gold finch

Never imagine as they get a little older their face needs a lift or a pinch.

The trees that majestically stand up to the weather with no shelter day out and day in

Never think about losing their leaves in the fall or worry about the wrinkles on their skin.

The animals that swim in the ocean never dream of Botox injections

They don’t worry what the sun and salt water are doing to their silky complexions.

The flowers that color the landscape don’t care if their sepals are tilting

They aren’t looking for some flower surgeon to keep their petals from wilting.

No, nature isn’t worried about bags under her eyes, or tummy tucks or frizz

Because nature doesn’t need a mirror to know how beautiful she is.

If we start viewing everyone as we view nature then beauty becomes a little more concrete

Before we know it we’re able to find beauty in all the people we meet. 

We’ll find our natural beauty, we’ll find our distinctive appeal

When we realize beauty comes not form what we look like but more from the way that we feel.

We’ll look past those little imperfections, those wrinkles, those bags and those scars

And we’ll know we don’t need a mirror or TV to tell us how beautiful we are.

Yes sometimes I wonder if we’re the most advanced species...Then again when I give it some thought

I don’t need to wonder if we’re as intelligent as we think...Because when I think about it...I’m sure we are not.

WHERE IS HEAVEN?

I was brought up quite religiously; we were taught heaven was up in the sky,

When we died, if we were good down here, there was a place for us on high.

A place where miracles happen every day where we’re surrounded by angels and love

Where we walk among the softness of the clouds, where our paradise floats above.

When I grew up and began to think for myself, to question and clarify

I kept returning to this concept of Heaven and couldn’t help but wonder why...

Why do we look up to Heaven, for when we look straight ahead, side to side, up or down

Look at all the miraculous sights we can see right here on the ground.

Look at all the life that’s created from the earth we find neath our feet

From natures beauty that surrounds us to the daily foods we eat.

I have been at the birth of my children and grandchildren and don’t think it’s preposterous to say

In the maternity ward of a hospital you walk among angels every day. 

I’ve experienced love and I’ve seen beauty, I’ve seen a family grow, blossom and thrive

I’ve known happiness and peace, I’ve seen sunrises and sunsets, all while I’m still quite alive.

I wonder if I’ve had this concept of Heaven all wrong...if religions aren’t a little remiss

As I look around at the blessings in my life I wonder can it get any better than this?

Sure there may be a Heaven high up in the sky which we may experience in our rebirth

But for me I prefer to think I’m already living in Heaven; today...right now...here on Earth.

HAIR THE MUSICAL...AFTER 50 YEARS

It hit to me as I watched Hair the Musical last week how the times really are a changin’

One look in the mirror and the lyrics to Hair I must be rearrangin’...

(Sung to the Tune of Hair...with my apologies)

I ask myself why, why was I such a hairy guy?

I was hairy noon and nighty night night, but now my hair is out of sight

My hair is gone, where did it go, don’t ask me why cause I don’t know

It’s not for lack of bread, that my hair is dead

Darlin’

Now my head is bald, my hair has been recalled

My scalp is shining, gleaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen

There’s no more hair up there, BALD, I look like a cue ball, BALD
Here baby, there, momma, everywhere, daddy, daddy.

Bald, bald, bald, bald, bald,

Bald, Bald, Bald, Can’t grow it, or mow it, everybody knows that I’m bald

No longer does it fly in the breeze or get caught in the tees, there’s no home for the fleas cause I’m bald.

No home for the fleas, no hive for the buzzin’ bees

Where are the birds, there ain’t no words for the barren, the ruin, the wasteland of my:

Bald, bald, bald, bald, bald,

Bald, Bald, Bald, Can’t grow it, or mow it, everybody knows that I’m bald

They call me slick, chrome dome, shiny, bowling ball, Buddah, Baldilocks, and shiny

My head is smooth, glossy, polished, shining, streaming, gleaming, flaxen,

Lustrous, glistening, satiny, sunny, sheeny,

So much abuse and wisecracking, all because my hair is lacking.

Oh say, can you see the shine?
If you can, then my hair is gone

Bald, bald, bald, bald, bald,

Bald, Bald, Bald, Can’t grow it, or mow it, everybody knows that I’m bald.

No one will be ga-ga at the go-go when they see me in my toga

My toga looks like crap without hair...

If I had a wig I would wear it, Halleluha I swear it, Halleluja  Mary loved her son, why don't my mother love me?

Bald, bald, bald, bald, bald,

Bald, Bald, Bald, Can’t grow it, or mow it, everybody knows that I’m bald

FAMILY & PANCAKES

As I was making pancakes in the shapes of olives for Aden’s birthday the other day

I remembered how I used to make them for our children on Saturdays.

And as I was pouring out the shapes on the griddle, adding colors, I could see

How these pancakes are actually a representation of what is a family.

Although it was my hands creating the shapes, it was my hands doing the fixing

The hands of my ancestors were also there helping with the mixing.

Family is a continuous thread stretching back to the beginning of time

It is strong, it is spiritual, it is transcendent, it is noble and sublime.

Family, like my pancakes, is an adventure but I think throughout eternity

An adventure is exactly what...a family is supposed to be.

An adventure built on the shoulders of our ancestors--the past where we came from

To the present moment we are experiencing and to the future we will become.

Yes, we, our children and our children’s children on through perpetuity

Are shaped as we climb the branches to the top of our family tree.

And a family, like my pancakes, is never flawless, never perfect, never chaste

For the proof of a family is not in the presentation...the proof is in the taste.

As I watched Aden eat those pancakes a thought occurred to me

How wondrous is the thread that links the members of our family.

I only wish more people would see how the threads of ancestry

Make all of us related...make everyone family.

Then not only would the world be more compassionate, more accepting and more fun

But in the morning every Saturday it’d be pancakes for everyone.

MOUNTAIN TIME

This poem was a little late today, not because I couldn’t find the rhymes

You see once we hit the North Carolina border we switched to mountain time.

It’s not that we’re less conscientious or have become some kind of maniacs

It’a just up her in the mountains we know how to relax.

Our pipes have burst there’s water gushing from inside our kitchen wall

We’d like it fixed today if possible so we give the plumber a quick call.

Bobby Lee’s out hunting and Jimmy’s having trouble with his van

Cliff is finishing up his oil change but he’ll get there when he can.

9 o’clock the store opens, the sign reads: Get Anything You Want...And More

But it was a little after 9:30 when Frances opened up the door.

Apparently the soil under her tomatoes she needed to aerate

And the extra time she gave them made her a little late.

The line at the grocery store moves slowly because Peggy Sue has stayed

To tell the cashier her latest batch of honey is the best her bees have made.

But there’s something to be said for the easygoing way

In which the people in the mountains saunter through their day.

It makes them a little more carefree, their demeanor a little more sweet

Many of the people we’ve met in the mountains are the nicest people you could meet.

Cliff fixed the plumbing perfectly and France’s store was really great

Peggy Sue’s honey was delicious. You might say they were worth the wait.

We need to ask ourselves this question as time constraints make us fuss

Are we controlling time...or is time controlling us? 

So tomorrow or the next day I’m not sure when I’ll post my rhyme

If I’m a little late, no worries...you see I’m on mountain time.

A WORD IS DEAD...

When you think about the following quote...what Emily Dickinson said,

It’s ironic most of her poetry was published after she was dead

‘A word is dead when it is said, some say.

I say it just begins to live that day.’

Emily was correct; words we’ve written on paper that have never been seen or read

Are like words we’ve formed within our minds that we’ve never spoken; never said.

Words on paper mean nothing; no one will ever heed them

If the paper is not disseminated, if there’s no one there to read them.

Words in our minds remain useless, no one can ever get near them 

If they spend their life in silence, if there’s no one there to hear them.

There is poetry in all our words, there’s no limit to what they can be

But unless we breathe life into them they’ve no hope for immortality.

So with my apologies to Emily, hopefully she won’t be too adverse

I’ve taken her classic poem and added a second verse.

‘A word is dead when it is said, some say.

I say it just begins to live that day.’

And once alive these words will fly wherever the wind doth blow

For once we have released them...there’s no telling where they might go.

DOES GOD GET SICK?

God can mean so many things to so many different people 

Whether you visit a mosque, a synagogue or pray under a steeple.

Many struggle their whole lives looking to find a way

To understand who their God is and what he or she is trying to say.

For proof of a God look around you, look to all inhabitants of Earth

The flowers that bloom, the rain that falls, the miracle of childbirth.

Look to the birds that fly, the winds that blow, look to the changing ocean tides

I think wherever you find innocence and beauty that’s where God resides.

Perhaps He is not as complicated as we make Him out to be

Perhaps the essence of God is in Her simplicity.

I’m reminded of a story about a doctor who in a hospital one day

Had a heart attack, fell to the ground and in an instant passed away.

His son, also a doctor, couldn’t get his father’s heart to beating

(How often we are reminded how life is nothing if not fleeting.)

The son was having a hard time coping with the sudden loss of his dad

He tried hard to fight the bitterness that came with being sad.

He was doing rounds one afternoon and walked up to a young boy’s bed

“You look so sad,” the young boy observed, “is that because you’re dad is dead?”

“He was a good doctor,” the boy said. “I bet that’s why God called him up to Heaven?”

A very insightful observation from a boy who just turned 7.

The doctor ignored the young boy’s assertion, trying to remain stoic.

“Doctor, can you tell me, do you think that God gets sick?”

The doctor looked at the boy and stopped tending to his task

“I hadn’t ever thought about it, Billy, tell me, why’d you ask?”

“Well the way I figure it,” Billy said, “God must be feeling pretty bad

He’s got plenty of doctors in heaven but he still preferred your dad.

The doctor smiled and in that instant emerged from his cloud of gloom

Proof that, although unseen, God was somewhere in that room.

Why do we spend our lives endlessly searching for ways to ease our strife

When the answers lies before us in the beauty and innocence of life?

MISTER BOJANGLES

Is it wrong to love a fast food restaurant, to develop a serious love triangle?

You wouldn’t think so if you ever ate...a dinner at Bojangles.

Oh yes I love my family and their affections I do vie for

But Bojangles biscuits melt in my mouth and their sweet tea is to die for.

If I could eat at Bojangles once a week...now wouldn’t that be great!

Unfortunately the closest Bojangles to me in Florida is across the freakin’ state.

So until the CEO of Bojangles decides to move their Florida locations

I must be satisfied with going to Bojangles when we are on vacation.

But that is not a problem, in order for my Bojangles obsession to survive

I’ve scoped out all the Bojangles on our 600 mile drive.

I may not remember my children’s birthdays- what am I a memory machine?

But I can tell you the first Bojangles out of Florida is in Georgia at exit 16.

I may not always remember the exact day of my anniversary... is it really that taboo?

But I can tell you to reach the 2nd Bojangles...take a left at exit 62.

There’s a Bojangles in Franklin, North Carolina, the franchises are still growing

But the one in Franklin is special, we can stop there coming or going.

And when we get to our cabin, after driving so many hours in a day

There is a Bojangles patiently waiting for us just 8 short miles away.

So here’s my vote for Bojangles...the best fast food restaurant in the south

And kids, if you want me to remember your birthdays make a biscuit that will melt in my mouth.

And remember when this old man goes...when I’ve finally up and died

Bury me with a buttermilk biscuit at my mouth and some sweet tea on the side.

WHAT IF...

As you watch the world unfold around us edge closer and closer to the cliff

A host of questions come to mind all beginning with, ‘What if...’

What if we didn’t think of one another as foe or enemy

What if, instead of fighting one another we fought together to be free

What if we hugged and kissed one another, like family members do

What if we danced and played together no matter what our views.

What if we sat and talked and walked and consoled each other’s tears

What if we listened to one another and shared our laughter and our fears.

What if we realized everyone is beautiful, every sister, every brother

What if we finally understood how we complemented one another.

What if we don’t do anything and the world as we know it falls off that cliff

As we’re falling to our doom will we wonder then...what if...

WE ARE ALL NOVELS

I was straightening the bookstore the other day, before we opened...all alone 

When it hit me how every person in this world is like a novel of their own.

An ongoing and unfinished novel that too our happiness or dismay

Is being written, edited and rewritten a little every day

Neath the binding of our skin, we, as author or playwright, 

Transcribe our story every day in words of black and white.

It’s an epic novel where we learn from our mistakes and hope they aren’t repeated

And not until the day we die will our novel been completed.

As we age our spine may sag a bit, our cover may degrade

Our pages may discolor and our bindings may get frayed.

Yes the ravages of time on our book may take it’s toll

But a good book never loses it’s heart and will always have it’s soul.

Besides anyone who enjoys a book and calls themselves a book lover

Knows you cannot, you mustn’t ever, judge a book just by it’s cover.

Remember, yesterday’s words, once written, are permanent, no sense trying to fight it.

But we can alter the outcome of our story tomorrow when we write it. 

For that is the beauty of our novels, each day the book expands

And no matter what happened the day before, the ending is in our hands.

LESSONS IN OUR OWN BACKYARD

One never knows where our lessons will arise, we should always be on our guard

They crop up in the strangest places, like out in our own back yard...

We have some beautiful palm trees which need a little care

When their fronds die they don’t always fall off but hang there in the air.

Sometimes you can give them a little tug and this will set them free

Other times you need to climb up and cut them from the tree.

There I was the other day beginning a morning of yard work

When I noticed one such hanging frond and gave it a little jerk.

The frond stayed attached to the tree as, of course, you might have guessed

But when I tugged upon that branch I disrupted a doves nest.

I hadn’t noticed the nest tucked into the security of the trunk

But when I heard it hit the ground my heart immediately sunk.

The mother dove quickly flew to our fence, the first landing spot she could find

Then immediately started warbling me a piece of her angry mind.

As I was apologizing profusely, in between her angry tweets

I discovered her two babies, on the ground next to my feet.

One hopped once, then twice, then immediately breaking the suspense

Flapped his wings and joined his mother perched upon the fence.

The other baby tried his best but could only hop around

He wasn’t ready yet to fly, he was stuck upon the ground.

I watched him hop until he found himself a secure place in which to hide

I apologized to the birds again but they didn’t seem pacified.

I left him there and went about my yard work, cleaning up the lawn

When I came back to check on him later, that little bird was gone.

I wasn’t sure what happened to him, what was his consequence

Until days later when I saw the three dove family sitting on my fence.

Had they returned to show me they survived and were now all on their own

Or had she brought them back to see the man who destroyed their house and home?

Perhaps they wanted to remind me the next time I see a palm frond hanging in the air

To smile as I pass it by...there could be a family living there.

LAST DAY

We’ve heard the question before; it’s a common paradigm

If you had one day left to live--how would you spend your time?

If you were told this is your last day then you’ll be leaving everything behind

I wonder, after hearing that, what pops into your mind?

Is there a person you just thought of, anyone at all

To whom you might want to write a letter, or, perhaps give them a call?

Is there a person you’ve been missing who you’d want once more to see

Would you say, ‘I love you’ to those who matter--to your friends and family?

Would you watch the sun rise one more time or count the stars up in the sky

Is there any place you ‘d like to go before you say goodbye.

We never know...today just might be the day we disappear

There is no guarantee this won’t be our last day on this sphere

If this is our final day on Earth, the final moments Fate allows

Then it stands to reason, if you think about, the most important time is now.

Each day, each moment it’s important before we leave this world behind

To do the things that a moment ago popped into our mind.

So please excuse me if I abruptly finish this poem I intended, first, for you

You see there are a lot of things I feel I have to do.

OUR DUTY

We have a duty to the children of the world from the moment of their births

A duty to make them feel safe and happy on this planet we call Earth.

A duty to teach them right from wrong, to respect the plants and birds

A duty to show them the actions we take are more valuable than our words.

A duty to show them kindness and love, to help them grow and cope

A duty to teach them honor and justice and fill their world with hope.

A duty to teach them about friendship and of the things we must learn to accept

A duty to show them all life is precious and how promises are kept.

A duty to help them handle failure, to show how good manners are never outdated

A duty to show them how tenderness and charity can never be overrated.

A duty to let their imaginations soar, to show it’s not weak to say when we’re wrong

A duty to show that compromise and acceptance are ways to prove we are strong.

A duty to teach them to sing and to dance, to draw and to paint and to write

A duty to show them how to enjoy life from the morning on into the night.

A duty to teach them everyone is important no matter their sex, color or race

For when we fulfill our duty to our children the world is a much better place.

We must not forget this duty to our children we must fulfill it before they are grown

How else will they understand their duty when the duty becomes their duty alone?

AMERICA FOR A MOMENT

We spend our days as a country divided--so many different groups and factions and clusters

So much so that the melting pot of America has lost it’s glow, it’s allure, it’s luster.

Our country was founded on the concept of freedom; it is at our core...our very heart.

Yet this freedom to be different keeps pushing us further and further apart.

Democrats, Republicans, Christians, Protestants, Yes to guns, no to guns, Straights and Gays.

Black and White, Rich and Poor--we’re becoming as different as night and day.

This in itself is not a problem, our differences make the world a more interesting place

The problem arises when these differences in others we fail in ourselves to embrace.

Then America becomes a country we call the land of the brave and the free

Only as long as everyone in America thinks and acts just like me.

As I watched the World Cup Soccer matches and fireworks on the 4th of July

I couldn’t help thinking for a little while at least America was unified.

Americans watched our soccer team, Americans celebrated Independence Day

There are moments every now and when we celebrate America the old fashioned way.

One country, one people, one America united for a moment in our beliefs and our views

Americans celebrating America--Americans when we win or we lose.

Tomorrow we go back to being an America divided, me being me; you being you.

I only wish that united feeling would last...longer than a moment or two.

CHOCOLATE DAY

In the past year I’ve written poems about many items we drink and eat

I’ve posted them to Facebook, they’ve even shown up in my Tweets.

Whatever I’ve said about other foods, today all seems so lame

Because today is reserved for chocolate--which puts all other foods to shame.

Did you know chocolate is considered a vegetable? It comes from the Cacao tree,

And vegetables, as everyone knows, are as healthy as can be.

So let me suggest a menu to start you on your way

And help you celebrate, as best you can, this year’s Chocolate Day.

Start off your day with a chocolate cereal, Count Chocoula may be enough

You might try Cocoa Krispies, Cocoa Pebbles or how about Cocoa Puffs.

A nice tall glass of chocolate milk will keep your taste buds satisfied

And for those with an extra sweet tooth, a chocolate donut on the side.

About midmorning you’ll feel like a snack--a chocolate candy bar will do

A Snickers or some Hershey’s kiss will help to see you through.

For lunch a chocolate bagel as to chocolate you once again revert

Another glass of chocolate milk and chocolate pie makes a great dessert.

For a healthy mid-afternoon snack--chocolate covered raisins, there’s no dispute

For the chocolate is your vegetable and the raisins are your fruit.

At dinner sip a chocolate liqueur or a chocolate martini and for heaven’s sake

You’ve got to finish off your meal with a piece of chocolate cake.

Before you go to bed at night what shall be your late night chocolate source?

Why a bowl of chocolate ice cream covered with chocolate sauce, of course!

You’ll smile through your chocolate dreams...Can there be a better way

To celebrate from start to finish this year’s Chocolate Day?

I understand there may be people out there who find chocolate unappealing

Although for the life of me I cannot understand this strange and awful feeling.

If that’s the case, if you hate chocolate, if you’ve never been Hershey Kissed

I suggest you immediately see a doctor who will recommend a therapist.

Therapy will help alleviate your symptoms, your craziness and your fear

And you’ll be ready to celebrate with the rest of us, Chocolate Day next year.

ONE QUICK QUESTION

As I watch the protesters in California shouting to the immigrants, “Go Back To Mexico.”

I must admit as an American to feeling a little low.

How would our ancestors have felt when they came to America looking for a new day

If the Indians, who were already here, met the Mayflower and turned it away.

Has it really been that long a time? Have we come so far only to lose our way?

At one time we were all illegal immigrants...America was founded that way.

When we forget this little detail in the America we now seem to be shaping

Aren’t we becoming exactly the same people we were initially escaping?

BIKINI DAY

Today we celebrate Louis Reard, a French designer par excellence

He created, as far as men are concerned, a fashion renaissance.

The year was 1946 when Mr. Reard this day unfurled

What he would happily advertise as the smallest bathing suit in the world.

He took 30 square inches of cloth which he deftly fabricated

Into a bra and panties for the beach and voila, the bikini was created.

Since the Atomic bomb test on Bikini Atoll the year before garnered such acclaim

He chose the name bikini thinking people’s reaction would be the same

He was right, women immediately bought the bikini and he knew he had a hit when...

He received 50,000 fan letters right away--all of them from men.

So today we celebrate the bikini, we celebrate it’s design, it’s simplicity, it’s reach

And the only reason any man has for going to the beach.