CAPTURING MOMENTS

Yesterday at a restaurant with family…during our talking, laughing…eating

one again I realized how every moment’s fleeting.

A story is told, we laugh but that story’s laughter does not last

because another story takes its place and it slips into the past.

So when a moment surfaces…before the next one arrives to displace it

I try to let that moment surround me and quietly embrace it.

Basically when I am seated with friends and family near

I try to capture as many moments as I can before they disappear.

Which moments to capture are subjective…they’re for each one of us to define.

They could occur while looking at a menu…or ordering some wine.

When our nephew tells us of his travels or about the tennis he has played

or when his wife relives her marching in the Macy’s Day parade.

When our niece talks about turning 50…when her daughter shares her fears..

Or when her other daughter tells a story…only for our family’s ears.

(I will not give away her story…but here’s a little peek

It had to do with something that landed on her cheek)

Or the moment we celebrated my birthday early and I noticed a gleam in every eye

as they sang happy birthday to me…while I stuffed my face with pie.

When following Deborah and the crew as around town they golf carted…

or in the tenderness of the hugs when everyone departed.

These are just a few moments I captured recently

at a dinner in a restaurant...surrounded by family.

I know these moments are fleeting….that they have a small life span

which is why I like to stop….and catch them when I can.

Because once I capture a moment…I can store it in my memory

where a moment that once was fleeting…can last an eternity.

A PARENT'S INFLUENCE

After the birth of his first child a son asked his father,

“How much influence will I have in my son’s life 

and how far will my influence extend?”

The father looked at his son and smiled…

“Well son, that depends.” 

“Will your children grow up to be kind and loving?”

“Will they be people you are proud of?”

That depends on if you’re teaching them 

how to be kind, 

how to be gentle… 

how to love.” 

“Will they grow up with prejudices?”

 “Will hate and bigotry they pursue?”

“That depends on while they’re growing up 

if they see hate or acceptance in you.”

“Will they grow up unselfish and generous, 

or will they in themselves be immersed?”

“That depends of if your teaching them 

to put themselves or others first.”

“Will they grow up greedy and miserly…

will they take what isn’t theirs?”

“That depends on if you’re teaching them 

not only how to accumulate 

but how to share?”

“Will your children grow up happy 

or will they end up sad and blue?”

His dad looked him in his eyes and said, 

“Son, that depends on you.”

He is proud of the adults his children grew up to be

and when they ask him how far their influence will extend 

he’ll be ready with his answer

he will tell them…that depends.

AFTER THE FAMILY VISITS

Our family visited but they’re gone now…the house is empty

but it’s definitely not bare

for the memories they left behind are echoing everywhere.

If I listen closely…I hear them

their echoes and so much more

as they blend with all the echoes they’ve left behind before… 

I hear children chasing each other around the house…

I see them running fast…and slow

the way they did this visit…and so many visits ago.

I see them playing football outside…

they’ve all gotten so much taller

and I see them playing years ago…

when they were all much smaller.

I see one grandchild up in our climbing tree…

I see Nana cautioning him

and I see his mother when she was small 

sitting next to him on that same limb.

Echoes of so many funny jokes…

that my family said were lame

but on the echoes of their faces 

I see laughter just the same.

I see so many memories bouncing around…

an abundantly joyous amount…

so many echoes from so many years 

that I long ago lost count.

I love how the echoes of today…

the latest ones they cast

so easily blend with yesterdays…

and all the echoes of the past…

Which is why I walk around our empty house with a smile

as from room to room I roam

surrounded by all the echoes 

that make this house our home.

ON THE BACK OF AN OLD CLOSET DOOR

With the family visiting again this holiday..as they have so many times before

It was once again time to revisit…the back of our old closet door.

On it Deborah and I have placed one of our most treasured sights 

A history of our family’s growth recorded in our children and grandchildren’s heights.

Heights have been inscribed on this door for over 35 years

It was time to update our two youngest grandchildren…

who have grown 6 inches it appears… 

This closet door reminds us…as we read heights written in black pen

How every child grows…it’s not a matter of will they..

it’s a matter of when

(I wonder if growing taller is as big an accomplishment 

as we all might be thinking

Because, although we’ve not recorded our heights…

I think Deborah and I are shrinking.)

Be that as it may I can’t open this door without smiling

sometimes a tear finds its way to my eye

as I realize when facing it…how quickly time goes by.

With the future always one step away…a future approaching so fast

opening this door is a wonderful way to pause and revisit our past.

To look back on our children and grandchildren…

Now that they’ve all grown taller than us…

back to a time not that long ago 

when they were all smaller than us.

Yes, we’ve been recording heights here for over 35 years 

and hope to record here for over 35 more…

But…if there ever comes a time we have to move away…

Moving with us…will be this old closet door.

THE CELEBRATION CONTINUES

I wished you a Happy Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with merriment and laughter

and now I wish you Happy December 26 the less well known…day after.

(If you are from the United Kingdom or Canada…put this poem away

You have solved December 26th’s dilemma by celebrating Boxing Day)

But in America December 26 is a day that attempts to be brave and save face

for it knows it could have been a holiday but had to settle for second place.

Yes, I’m afraid December 26 in history is fated to remain unreckoned.

doomed to stand in relative obscurity with its neighbor January 2nd.

Today I celebrate all those days who because of their chronological lateness

are destined to travel down the path of history...one day away from greatness.

Do you know the name of the first man on the moon? Of course, everybody does.

But do you remember the second, Ed Aldrin, his friends and family called him Buzz.

We remember Edmund Hillary, the first to scale Mt. Everest, the first to find his way

but who remembers, Tenzing Norgay, the sherpa who accompanied him that day?

They climbed the tallest mountain in the world but the second is almost as high

Yet K-2 is only an afterthought, kind of like the 5th of July.

We remember Snow White as the first movie Disney brought to the silver screen

but the second, Pinocchio must take its place next to the innocuous March 18.

Everyone knows Amelia Earhart, her story is one of courage and devotion

She was the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean.

The second was Geraldine Mock, at her even more accolades were hurled

for she kept going after crossing the Atlantic, and flew around the world.

Isn’t it funny how life works, for none of us could have foreseen 

that Geraldine would be disregarded in history like the day after Halloween.

But such is the way the calendar unfolds from January to December

Some days, like people, are destined for greatness while others we hardly remember.

I think it’s time we change all that and give these days and people their due.

for I believe second places and day afters deserve a home in our hearts too.

So hold your head up December 26th…you have no reason to whine…

After all you could come around only once every 4 years….

my condolences to February 29.

HAVE A JOYOUS CHRISTMAS

Merry Christmas everyone, 

I hope all your wishes come true

but I have to ask if you’re reading this, 

What’s the matter with you?

I suggest you immediately make it a point 

to bring this foolishness to an end

turn off your computers, 

your IPADS 

your phones 

your devices…

and spend time with your family and friends.

Wait! I just realized as I’m writing this…

I need to take my own advice…

So, though I am usually long-winded,

I shall make this poem concise….

I’m turning off my computer now

and with my friends and family I shall play.

before I go let me wish you all peace 

and may you have a joyous and safe Christmas Day.

Christmas Eve

I love Christmas Day with the giving of gifts, and the miracle of make-believe

but I also love the days that lead up to it…most notably Christmas Eve.

The gifts sit unopened under the tree, they’re wrapped and the bows are all tied.

Christmas Eve is the last night to dream about the presents concealed inside.

I love the anticipation, you feel it as you walk down the street

You see it in the smiles of children and faces of the people you meet.

I guess I shouldn’t be astonished by feeling this way anymore

because I carry with me a history of enjoying the night before.

I remember the night before my first date, I was filled with excitement and awe

I remember that night as affectionately as I remember the movie we saw.

I remember the night before my driver’s test…It’s one I can’t easily dismiss

I remember the night before my first dance and the night before my first kiss.

I remember the night before I was married, my face was in a perpetual grin.

wondering what the future held and waiting for that future to begin.

I remember the nights before my children were born as much as the days of their births.

I imagine if you looked you wouldn’t have found a happier person on Earth.

Yes, Christmas morning is special with the power to enchant and beguile

but Christmas Eve is another example of how it’s the journey that makes life worthwhile.

So as much as I enjoy Christmas Day there are many more reasons I believe

to wish all of you who are reading this a joyous and grand Christmas Eve.

HAROLD THE ANGEL SING

“Daddy, do you believe in angels?” The young boy asked obviously excited

“Why yes I do.” His dad replied and the young boy was delighted.

“Angels are good, aren’t they dad?” He obviously had something on his mind.

“Yes they are.” His father said, “They are loving, generous and kind”.

“I believe they’re here to remind us to stay innocent and pure

and when our heart is aching…to help us find a cure.”

“I believe they are here to remind us to find pleasure in every day

to keep our hearts and minds open to magic…

to help us laugh and run and play.”

“I believe they are here to look out for us…they try to stay hidden…out of view

and influence us to be good…I believe that’s what angels do.”

“Why do you ask?” The father questioned now obviously excited

“Because I have an angel!” the young boy said and his father was delighted.

“He says his name is Harold…and he says my angel he will always be

He says no matter where I am…he’ll always look out for me.”

“That’s wonderful!” his father said, “and where did you two meet?”

“We met In church this morning…we were sharing the same seat.”

And when the chorus sang Hark! Harold the Angel sing

He said, “This is my song”.

Then he floated up to the alter, played his harp, and sang along.

The father smiled at the innocence of his child…his love for him was strong

He was glad he found his angel inside a Christmas song…

And as his father watched at his son’s heart beam…

his own heart began to throb

he was glad to know…

from this point on…

Harold, the angel, was on the job.

TIME AND JOY AND SORROW

Time is often hard to comprehend…she can be our enemy or she can be our friend.

She can mark the joy of a new beginning or the sorrow that surrounds an end.

We’ve all have similar experiences sharing the joy of a special day

or the sorrow of the date and time a loved one passed away.

We are in each moment for a second only...and then that moment’s gone

replaced by yet another moment as Time moves ever on.

If that moment is a joyful one we wish for time to journey slow.

We are glad we had that moment but sad to see it go.

If that moment is a sorrowful one it is often Time we want to blame.

We curse her arrival, we plead and wish that moment never came.

But be it joyous or be it sorrowful Time moves straight and she moves swift

which makes me pause to wonder...perhaps that is her gift.

I do not believe it is Time’s intention to aggravate or annoy. 

She is only seeking balance between our sorrow and our joy.

Finding joy in a joyful moment is easy and sublime

but finding joy after sorrow, well, that takes a little time.

Perhaps that’s why our yesterdays so quickly become tomorrows:

to give our joys more opportunities to overtake our sorrows

Perhaps the best that we can do is hold onto one another

as our joys and sorrows ebb and flow

as we ride upon the wings of time…

Wherever she may go.

THE JOY OF READING SLOWLY

I am an avid reader now that I’m older, but not so long ago

back in school I was admonished because I read too slow.

For many years I did not read: no books…no prose…no verse

I’m reading again but I now see my slowness as a blessing…not a curse.

When I open a book I never know what the author has in store.

Will there be drama, comedy, mystery or perhaps a little something more?

Once I saw a book as only words on paper...that made them seem so bland.

Now I see them as stepping stones into another land.

From the comfort of my bed or chair the adventure doth begin

for once I turn a page I’m going to a place I’ve never been

I can journey to exotic lands, witness untold beauty so sublime...

It’s even possible in a book to go traveling through time.

I can help solve difficult cases, know what’s lingering behind that door

I can feel the joy of love when it emerges, or the horrors of a war.

Where else can I travel the globe and experience such wonderful panoramas

all from the safety of my home while still in my pajamas?

Which brings me back to reading slowly, if I can travel from the present to the past,

from one world to the next, why would I want to go fast?

No, I prefer to take my time…for it’s part of my overall plan

once I’m in a book, to linger as long as I can.

So to my old teachers I say do not worry

although my reading skills have not improved with age

the joy I get from reading

lasts a little longer on each page.

THE PERFECT COUPLE

They were the perfect couple

like two colors of one flame

both a little different

both a little bit the same

She was a bright yellow

sparks from her would fly

flashing for a moment 

before disappearing in the sky

His color burned as bright

but with its own distinctive hue.

it was a little more restrained

being the color blue

She had no trouble saying , “I love you.”

without reservations

without fears.

Her words flashing for a moment

before resting on his ears.

Though he felt his love as strongly

his words wouldn’t alway rise

yet she heard them in his smile

and saw them in his eyes

They were the perfect couple

two colors in the night

two colors creating one love

one flame

forever burning bright.

FOOTPRINTS

Her father was a gardener his shoes were never clean

They were always brown and dirty…which helped his thumbs stay green.

She remembers watching him with his plants…she remembers being amused

Sometimes all she saw of him was the bottom of his shoes.

He could grow anything he put his mind to…flowers…vegetables…fruits…

and as each new growing season awakened he’d slip on his old boots.

She asked him once why wear those old shoes…why not get something new…

He smiled and said, “Their comfortable and I trust them.” 

and she thought…they’re just like you.

She was cleaning out his workroom the summer after he died… 

deciding what to keep and what to lose…

when in the corner where he always left them…

she saw her dad’s old shoes.

She smiled, picked them up, held them close…

and when she lifted them…some dirt

from the bottom of her father’s shoes

had rubbed off on her shirt.

She keeps his old shoes as a reminder…

of a father who was wise and gentle and kind

and every time she holds them 

she thinks of the footprints he left behind.

NOT YOUR OLD GENERATION GRANDPARENTS

From the moment we became grandparents we have felt conflicted

at the way, in books and media, grandparents are depicted.

But we’ve been grandparents for a while now 

(one grandchild just graduated college)

So we believe it is time to share some grand-parental knowledge…

When a cartoonist draws a grandma her hair is invariably in a bun

If she’s not wearing a sweater…chances are she’s knitting one.

When she walks it’s with a cane and we will forever take offense

how she’s always wearing glasses and has no fashion sense

When a cartoonist draws a grandpa he is never very tall

His hair is a vibrant shade of gray or white…if he has any hair at all.

His plaid pants never match his shirt…his glasses are as thick as a window pane

He could be in a wheel chair or like Grandma…walking with a cane.

If you look around at grandparents today, you’ll find us agile and nimble and spry

In fact you’ll discover to your amazement those old stereotypes don’t apply. 

Deborah doesn’t wear a muumuu…her hair is never in a bun,

If you ask our grandchildren what they think, they’ll say their Nana’s fun. 

She’s creative, she’s compassionate, she’s patient and I can verify

She’s great with babies, loves to bake and sings a soothing lullaby.

As for me, though I am a little bald, I don’t wear plaid pants, never would.

snd if I do say so myself, I make the clothes I wear look good.

I do not fish, don’t watch much TV, I don’t read the Farmer’s Almanac

When my grandchildren ask to play football…guess who’s the quarterback?

Deborah and I will try jumping rope, playing soccer and climbing trees too

because in this day and age, in our generation, that’s what grandparents do!

We are a mix of old and new, we are much cooler and hipper than before

(Even though I’m pretty sure people don’t say cooler or hipper anymore!) 

We embrace some of the traits of our grandparents, yes the good ones have survived

but speaking for Deborah and the grandparents I know, a new generation has arrived!

So cartoonists when you draw Deborah draw her with style, grace and fun

And if you’re drawing her baking cupcakes, make sure they’re funky ones.

And when you take your pencils out don’t draw me in a rocking chair

Instead…draw me climbing up a tree or in a top hat 

and if you want…

you can add more hair.

THE TRAGEDY OF SUICIDE

We lost a friend…he made his own life end…we had no time to prepare

News…hard to receive…harder to believe…that left us in despair.

Death disturbs me, it perturbs me, how it slashes like a knife

always lurking, coiling, smirking, ready to take a life.

Young or old, meek or bold, like a morbid game of chess

Poor or wealthy, sick or healthy, death takes us nonetheless.

No matter the season…sometimes without reason…from deaths clutches we can’t hide

It’s especially sad, it makes us mad…when death comes as a suicide.

Every day in the USA…suicides number 123

leaving friends and family to wonder…how did we blunder…what was it we didn’t see?

Who’s to blame, we sadly exclaim…we are dazed…confused…we’re stunned

We search our minds…how could we have been so blind….

was there more we could have done?

When he was blue, we wish he knew…on our strength he could have drawn

but it’s too late and now we bear the weight that someone we love is gone.

For the tragedy of his death, of his last breath, and why our tears are spilled

is not just that he’s passed…that he’s gone too fast…

but for the dreams he’s left unfilled.

https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/talk-to-someone-now/

LOVE IS EVERYWHERE

I have been fortunate to witness many forms of love in my life

sometimes I feel as if I’m living in a storybook

because, like the pages in a fairy tale,

love is everywhere I look.

Take the other day in a restaurant

Love was there for me to see

In a father and his daughter…

who were sitting across from me.

I’m certainly no expert…

but when it comes to love…I have seen much…

enough to recognize it in a daughter’s hug…

and the gentleness of a father’s touch. 

Enough to know its grandeur…

its shape, 

its charm…

the beauty of its style

as I saw it carved upon their faces 

and etched upon their smiles.

Enough to see when a father and daughter sat together…

how delightfully they synthesized

Enough to watch their love rise up

and rest within their eyes

And though I did not listen in

(It was not for me to hear)

I saw love pass between them

When she whispered in his ear.

Once again I was in the presence of love.

It never fails to astound me…

It seems wherever I am…if I open my eyes

love…is all around me.

For when she whispered in her father’s ear

when I watched a beautiful moment shared

As I sat there…in that restaurant

I knew

Love…

is everywhere.