ONGOING ELEGY

 

ONGOING ELEGY

The words you’re about to read are part of an ongoing elegy that began in 1999

after 12 students and one teacher were killed in the halls of Columbine.

We immediately looked to our leaders for a beacon of hope…a sign…

that they would try to keep us safe…after Columbine

We hoped they would do something….perhaps put a law upon the books…

We knew they wouldn’t let this continue…

then came Sandy Hook.

And again we looked to our leaders…

they wouldn’t sit back and watch more people die…

Surely this time they would do something…

then came Parkland and Marjorie Stoneman Douglass High…

They should have offered us more than their prayers and hopes and thoughts…

but after Columbine, 

after Sandy Hook…

after Parkland…

they did not

And so we add more names to this elegy…after another senseless shooting spree…

more children and adults gunned down…in a school in Tennessee

We like to think we are not a heartless people …although we often act as if we are

but at what point do we as a nation say…this has gone too far?

Yes, we thought they’d come up with a policy, a strategy…some kind of design…

but here we are still waiting…24 years after Columbine.

24 years still waiting for our leaders to address a problem 

whose solutions are plain to see….

for until they do, 

with sorrow in my heart, 

I’ll keep adding to this elegy.

FAMILY TREE

 

The roots of a family tree run deep for they were planted long ago.

generation upon generation have nurtured and watched that family grow

into a tree whose strength and beauty is impossible deny.

into a tree whose myriad of branches now reach high up to the sky,

There is also no denying how the formation of that tree

has been shaped by many blessings…and much adversity.

There is joy within the tree…happiness in every branch and leaf…

no matter if they’ve grown for years…or if their time upon the tree was brief.

There is sorrow within the tree…for representing every grief…

there is a branch that has been broken…there is a fallen leaf.

When a branch has broken off..or a leaf has fallen from the tree…

It may be difficult to remain hopeful…it may be difficult to see

how that family tree will ever be the same without the portion they brought to it…

and even though it’s heart is broken…the tree somehow muddles through it…

For a family soon discovers…

how new growth on the tree is conceived…

cultivated from the remnants of its broken branches…

nurtured from what remains of its fallen leaves.

MORE WORRIES

When I was growing up…getting ready for school…looking back…I feel blessed

for my morning routine, unlike the youth of today, didn’t have as much worry or stress.

“Good Morning kids,” our mom would say. “Hope you had a nice rest.”

“I’ll go start on breakfast while you get yourselves dressed.”

After breakfast Mom, it seemed, was always in a rush.

“The bus will be here any minute.” she’d say…“Go wash up…and don’t forget brush”.

She’d be waiting at the door with our lunch bags and a kiss to send us on our way

“Be good boys.” She’d smile, “I love you…now go have a great day.”

We’d wave to her as we ran to our bus…and every morning we’d hear her say,

“When you get back this afternoon I want to hear all about your day”.

When it came to our safety at school my mom never worried about my brothers and me.

She knew any school we attended…was a safe and happy place to be.

She never worried if that breakfast was the last breakfast she would ever cook us…

If that last kiss was the last kiss she’d ever give.

She never worried when we left for school…

if we would die that day…or live…

Her biggest worries were if we were having fun and learning…if all our courses we’d pass…

She never worried when we left for school…if we’d be gunned down in our class.

And my biggest worry was at recess…when my brothers or friends were chasing me

that I might fall and the nurse (then my mom when I got home)

would put mercurochrome on my knee.

But the times don’t always change for good…sometimes they change for bad

Because today’s parents and their children have more to worry about than my mom and me ever had.

Oh how I wish we could go back in time….

where a child’s biggest worry was a skinned knee…and mercurochrome…

not worried, at the end of the day…if they would make it home.

And when a parent’s biggest worries were that their children would learn, be happy and thrive…

And no parent ever again had to worry 

when they send their child to school…

that they will make it our alive.

 

ONCE THEIR INNOCENCE IS SHOT

 

ONCE THIER INNOCENCE HAS BEEN SHOT

One of my favorite qualities in children…of which they are innately blessed

is the enthusiastic, unbridles innocence…which they all possess.

Children will sing because they’re happy…they’ll make up words to their own song.  

Children will spontaneously start dancing whenever music comes along.

Children will draw upon a canvas before they realize…it’s a wall.

Children will climb as high as they can before they realize…they can fall.

Children will run naked before they realize…there’s such a thing as shame.

And until we teach them differently…children treat everyone the same.

Our children need to be nurtured and protected…so their innocence can soar

but that’s not a job for children…that’s what adults are for.

So we ban books…ban learning the truth about our history…ban talking about our differences because our children’s innocence…we wouldn’t want to bruise it!

While at the same time allowing anyone to carry a gun…and praying they won’t use it!

Some people might think this is protecting our children’s innocence…But I, for one, do not…for how can their innocence survive…once their innocent has been shot?

So there is really no reason to ban books…

or history…

or acceptance 

as long as guns we think we all need them…

because soon…

there will be no children left to accept our differences

no children left to learn our history…

and when it comes to books…

they’ll be no children left to read them.

THE SINGING TREE

She was walking ahead of her parents…feeling innocent…carefree

when suddenly she stopped in front of a tall, old…maple tree.

She stood motionless for a moment…her feet no longer moving…

her arms no longer swinging…

“Mom! Dad! Can you hear that?” She asked. “I think this tree is singing.”

Birds, shielded by the leaves were singing in the tree…hidden from her view

“Yes!” Her parents smiled. “We hear it singing too.”

“When you hear a singing tree,” they said, “listen to its song…

It means the tree is healthy and happy…it means the tree is strong.”

“They remind us how there’s magic all around us…you can hear it in their song 

“And we have found they like it…when we choose to sing along.”

Then as a breeze began to blow her parents pointed to the tree…

“Now look close,” they said, “ and tell us…tell us what you see.”

Her eyes were centered on the tree…then back to her parents glancing…

“Not only do I hear singing,” she smiled, “but I think the tree is dancing.”

This is the memory that visited her today…as she remembers what she had planned

then she reaches down…smiles….and takes her granddaughter by the hand.

“Where are we going Nana?’ She asked.  

“Oh, there’s something very special I want you to see….

and as they walked together she whispered to herself….

“It’s called the singing tree.”

 

THE DANCER AND THE DREAM

 Have you ever wondered where dreams come from?

When is the exact moment our hearts and minds come together to see…

what it is we want to do in life…and who we’re meant to be:

She was dancing across the stage…

a mixture of beauty and power and grace…

and as she glided to and fro…her smile never left her face.

She flew as only dancers can…and with every leap and kick and curl…

on the grass in front of the stage…there was this little girl…

who, when the dancer started dancing got caught up in the groove…

and tried with all her might to imitate every move.

She leaped…she kicked…she curled with a childlike beauty and grace

and through every move she made…her smile never left her face.

I couldn’t help but smile as well…feeling blessed…excited…elated…

to be there at the moment when a dream was being created.

For of all the ways dreams can be formed…nothing has ever compared…

to a dream that out of nowhere…becomes a dream that has been shared.

I knew that dreams could soar and sail and float…as they enhance…

but today I got to witness first-hand…how dreams can also dance.

SILENT WISDOM

 

When I walk among the trees with their branches stretching high into the air

I think of all the wonders they have seen…all the wisdom stored in there.

In all the years they’ve spent listening as loyal sentries…silent monks

I think of all the knowledge…all the wisdom stored within their trunks.

And I wonder since trees cannot speak…how is their wisdom meant to reach us?

How are we to learn all the things the silent trees are meant to teach us?

Then I think…perhaps with silent wisdom is how our creators have designed them…

and if there are lessons in the trees…it is up to us to find them.

Lessons like strength and patience…and reaching for the stars

How to stand noble…tall and confident…proud of who we are.

How trees are kind and accepting to all the trees…how they help one another thrive…

how trees are all connected and need each other to survive.

How to weather any storm…how’s there is nothing they can’t face…

How they accept the wrinkles on their bark…and age with dignity and grace.

As they provide us with the air and beauty and shade perhaps the best lesson we should learn…is how to give to others…while asking nothing in return.

And I wonder since the trees and I are still growing…

every time to the forest I return….

how much more they have to teach me…

and how much more I have to learn

MIXED EMOTIONS

 

As we visited our youngest grandson in his first year of college…a college close to the ocean…I must admit…the two of us…were filled with mixed emotions.

Our minds were happy seeing he’s grown into a fine young man…more confident and stronger…while our hearts were a little more melancholy…wishing he had remained a child just a little longer.

It’s a mix of emotions I imagine all parents and grandparents feel as each moment slips into the past…proud at who our children and grandchildren are becoming…while wishing time wouldn’t move so fast.

As he showed us around his campus…his dorm…our minds flipped from today back to when he was a child…years ago…and both of us felt blessed to have been around to watch him grow.

When our visit was over…after we hugged…as he walked away…he turned and waved goodbye…and I held onto Deborah’s hand as she began to cry.

Those mixed emotions bubbling up again…sad at how fast the time is going….

but as we watched him walk away….proud at how much he’s growing.

FAVORITE SONG

 

You know how when you’r growing up…listening to music

how the more music you listen to…before long…

you discover the kind of music that sings to your heart

you find you’re favorite song?

I think love is a lot like this…you meet all kinds of people growing up

and the more people you meet…before long

you discover the kind of people who sing to your heart

you find your favorite song.

And for the rest of your life you smile

every time you hear your favorite song…

content sometimes to listen

other times to sing along.

And every day you feel blessed

to be surrounded by your favorite melody

and you give thanks for your good fortune

and your serendipity.

Thankful that for the two of you

your fate…your destiny was strong

that…out of this vast and varied universe

you found your favorite song.

GRANDMA'S HOUSE

 

We kept her house after Grandma died…once we said our final farewell…

because her house has always been special to us…

it’s where many of our memories of her dwell

For even though Grandma is gone…our memories of her survive…

and as we walk around her house those memories come alive.

Oftentimes when we’re together in Grandma’s house we’ll share a memory…

a memory that to everyone is well-known.

other times we’ll sit in silence cherishing a memory all our own.

Grandma’s house may be empty now…but it’s where her spirit is the strongest…

It’s where, when we close our eyes and take a deep breath…

her memories linger longest. 

That is the beauty of Grandma’s house…it has this seemingly magical effect…

It’s a place where, when we gather, our memories intersect.

We love to visit Grandma’s house…together…or separately..

so it comes as no surprise…we each have our own key.

Time and distance keep us from visiting as often as we’d like now…

but…

when we do

we are happy knowing once we unlock her front door…

we’re unlocking our memories of her too.

IT WAS A HOME

 

We feel an affinity for this old house we walk by almost every day.

I imagine because, like us, it’s old and tattered and gray.

The house is abandoned now…if you look closely you might detect a frown…

rumor has it…the new owners…are going to tear this old house down.

They decided it wasn’t worth saving…but they like the neighborhood, the lot, the space…so they’re going to tear it down and build a new house in its place.

I suppose that’s what makes us pause every now and then as on our morning walk we roam…knowing we’re not standing in front of an abandoned house…

We’re standing in front of an abandoned home.

A home still filled with memories and stories we should not disregard…

A home where a family with pets and children once played in its front yard.

When we stop to listen we can hear the echoes of the memories that make a family…we hear celebrations of love, we hear laughter and joy…we hear sadness and tragedy.

And we make a silent wish that when they tear this old house down…

those memories will find a way to roam…

in search of the family who made them…

and find their way back home.

WEDDING VOWS

 

He had worked hard on his wedding vows but when it came to their wedding day as he gazed into her eyes…he put the words he prepared away.

“Since the moment you said yes you’d marry me,” he said, “I have been looking forward to this day…and I have searched within my mind to find the right words to say.”

“But it just occurred to me…my mind is the wrong place to find the words I have been  seeking…so I decided just this moment, to let my heart do all my speaking.”

“I have always been enamored by the magic…the thrill…the reverie…the unexplainable vastness and mystery that is my memory.”

“From my parents I’ve inherited the color of my hair, my eyes, my skin…but it’s also the place, from their love and understanding…where my memories begin.”

“If I follow this river of my memories back through it’s ever-winding course…continue paddling upstream until I reach its source…

on my parent’s shore I would land…and I’d feel joy…I’d feel blessed…

to come face to face with the one memory that gave birth to all the rest.”

“Since that moment…floating down this river, I’ve felt a combination of amazement and respect…seeing the people who’ve entered my life…and where our memories intersect.”

“As I’ve watched people fall in love…get married…I wondered if it would ever happen to me…or if it was just a myth…I wondered if I would ever find a person to share my memories with.”

After floating alone for so long I am overjoyed knowing that, today, my solo journey is through…knowing I’ll be sharing the rest of my life…the rest of my memories with you.”

And today I am blessed to stand here with my parents watching as I marry my best friend…standing between the people where my memories began…

and the person with whom my memories will end.

OUT OF REACH

 

One of the cruelest aspects of Alzheimer’s is the way this disease unfolds…

how it’s able to disguise itself, at first, as just a part of growing old:

It began with her misplacing and forgetting things for that’s what old age does.

then progressed to her looking at me…bewildered…forgetting who I was.

Such is the demeanor of this disease…the nature of this beast

I never knew on any given day if it’s grip was strong…

or if Mom would be released.

There were times when I saw the fear in her eyes..

when I heard the quivering of her speech,

“What is happening to me!” She’d plead. 

“Why are my memories out of reach?” 

For this is the heartless game Alzheimer’s plays…

there were times she knew me……she knew where she was…and when…

times she was luminous and lucid…when she was my mom again.

Times when Alzheimer’s set her free… when she’d sense my sadness and my fear…

and she would hold my face within her hands and say, 

“Don’t worry, dear, I’m here.”

But Alzheimer’s is unrelenting…at first content with making small demands…

willing to allow Mom her moments…while waiting patiently to take command.

I remember the first time she didn’t remember me…I bowed my head to hide my tears.

When suddenly she was back…holding my face within her hands saying, 

Don’t worry dear, I’m here.”

We had no choice but to bend to Alzheimer’s whim…

to celebrate every high while enduring every low…

and I would wait until after my visit ended before letting my anger flow.

When I knew she was lost to me forever…

when I sensed her constant confusion..when I could see her disoriented tears…

I would take her face within my hands and whisper in her ear…

“Don’t worry, Mom.”“There’s nothing you ever need to fear.

wherever you are…don’t worry…

don’t worry Mom…I’m here.”

THE SEARCH

One man searched for happiness.

He traveled far and wide.

He wanted to experience happiness

at least once...before he died.

 

He visited many cities,

he hiked the mountains,

he walked along many a beach.

Yet the happiness he so desperately sought

seemed to hover out of reach.

He never found his happiness…

many who seek it...never can,

and after years of searching for it...

he died…an unhappy man.

Another man never searched for happiness

yet he found it every day

in the myriad of things and people

he met along his way.

“How is it you’ve never searched for happiness” he was asked,

“but with happiness you have been blessed?”

“Why would I search for something....” he smiled.

“That all this time…I have possessed?”

 

HOW WE'LL BE REMEMBERED

 

We never really know how long our life will last…

That exact moment we will slip from the present to the past.

So here’s something we should ask ourselves every day…

before we reach our dying ember:

How, when we are gone, do we want to be remembered?

It is a simple question…but it’s ripples extend out in every direction…wide and far…

and how we choose to answer every day…determines who we are.

And who we are in each and every moment from every January to December…

determines, when we’re gone…just how we’ll be remembered.

CEMETERY OF THE HEART REVISITED

 

Recently, after a long battle which cancer…a battle that lasted years…

our friend’s daughter’s lost her battle…which brought us both to tears.

Cancer! How I hate that word because from the moment the battle begins

no matter how hard a person fights…sometimes cancer wins.

There is no right way to cope with death, despite what the experts say

we muddle through our sadness our anger…sometimes we wonder why we pray.

I don’t know how her parents will ever accept their cherished daughter is gone

I wonder how from this moment…they ever will move on. 

There isn’t a person among us who has ever taken a breath

that hasn’t had to deal with loss,…and try to cope with death.

I’ve lost my mom and dad and other family and friends

It’s a basic fact of living that someday life will end.

At first the memory is fresh and the sadness can paralyze

then slowly one day out of the sadness we come to realize

that the one we lost would not want us to remain sad forevermore

and we try to go on living as we once lived before.

It’s as if when death infects us, in an instant, overnight

our world that once was filled with color, turns to black and white.

Then slowly with the help of family and friends the healing begins

and one day, if we are blessed, the color seeps back in.

And we’re able to store our memories with all the memories of those who depart

in a place I like to think of as the cemetery of the heart.

It’s a quiet, solemn place that in our heart has no parallel.

The final resting place where our fondest memories go to dwell.

Where we can walk among them any hour of any day

so the one we lost forever is never far away.

I know this may sound corny, this belief I am revealing

and I know it’s no consolation for the grief our friends are feeling

But when the burden of their grief begins to lighten…when their healing process starts

I hope their fondest memories of their daughter find a quiet place in the cemetery of their heart.

AN OCEAN OF MEMORIES

 

I like to think all my memories are floating…some separate…some combined…

in an every-deepening ocean…somewhere in the recesses of my mind.

Sometimes as I walk along the shore when sparked by a feel, a taste, a smell…or something I might see…a memory will ride a wave and splash all over me.

Sometimes I scoop up a handful of memories…just to quench my thirst….

Sometimes I’ll wade in slowly…other times…head first.

Yesterday while driving our two eldest grandson’s to the airport…

(they’re off to visit their Texas family)

once we set out on the road…a wave splashed over me.

It was the four of us one summer in North Carolina when they visited for a couple weeks…to spend some time with Deborah and I…

and enjoy those Blue Ridge Mountain peaks.

MC Hammer’s song ‘U Can’t Touch This’ was big that summer…this was the first wave to him by chance…I remember the four of us turning up the volume as around the house we danced.

And here is one of the benefits of having an ocean of memories that over the years are allowed to float free….because in my memory I’m a much better dancer than I am in reality. 

Another benefit of having an ocean of memories is how other memories follow that first wave and always make me smile…

as I found myself, while driving, also swimming in them for a while.

We said goodbye to our grandsons at the airport…

hoping they’ll have memories to add to their oceans…

memories they’ll never forget…

for me the drive back home was a pleasant one…

you see…I hadn’t finished swimming yet.

A GOOD DAY IN BETWEEN

I love celebrating the big moments in our life while we’re alive on planet Earth….

birthdays…weddings…family reunions…holidays and births.

These big moment are special to us…we know exactly what they mean…

but there’s also a place within my heart for all those little moments in between.

A morning walk to watch the sun rise on a shore devoid of crowds…

listening to the rhythm of the waves while the sunlight paints the clouds.

Sitting down to breakfast together…doing crosswords…watching the morning news…

getting all excited about a new ’T’ shirt…or a brand new pair of shoes.

Taking a ride to buy the best key lime cookies which we may or may not share…

sitting together in silent contentment knowing the other person’s there.

Receiving a text from our children or grandchildren…any time…day or night….

which always brings a smile….knowing they took the time to write.

Watching the sun set back into the water…drawing peace signs in the dirt…

listening to the rain…having ice cream for dessert…

Yesterday was a day of little moments…no big moments of which I am aware…

but in the midst of these little moments…I found much comfort there.

I believe these little moments…where life and living coincide…

is where, if we are lucky…our joy and happiness reside.

Yes, I love celebrating the big moments…

what they represent and all they’e come to mean….

but I am convinced what gives life its meaning and its beauty…

are all those little moments…in between. 

WONDERING

 

In the quiet of the morning with the full moon overhead 

I like to set my mind to wandering while I’m walking…

but sometimes it goes wondering instead: 

I wonder about beauty…what a wonderful and harmonious world this could be……

if everyone saw beauty in everyone and everything they see? 

I wonder if pride is important to a peacock? Does a cheetah dream of speed?

Does strength matter to an elephant…or size to a centipede?

I wonder if beauty is valued by a butterfly…or approval by a honeybee?

and if these aren’t important to other creatures…

I wonder…should they matter much to me?

I wonder about differences…

when we meet someone who’s different from us…

then get to know them…then we evolve into friends…

perhaps our differences shouldn't matter in the beginning…

since they don’t matter in the end.

I wonder about courage…for isn’t the truest form of bravery ever made

coming face to face with a fear when we’re the only one who knows we are afraid? 

I wonder about babies…who, like acorns in the snow,

need warmth and love and nurturing if they ever are to grow…

I wonder how many parents understand how tall and strong their tree will grow…

depends on how they care for…their acorn in the snow.

Well, I’m back home…my morning walk is over…

and I must admit my heart feels a little brighter

my mind a little clearer…

and my soul a little lighter 

This is what often happens in the quiet of the morning 

with the full moon overhead 

when I set my mind to wandering…

but it goes wondering instead.

THE LAST THING ON MY MIND

I am sad this morning…Yes, I’m sad at how divided our country has become…

but as tragic as this is…politics is not where my sadness is coming from.

Yes, I’m sad so many politicians and people think freedom gives them the right to hate and be unkind…but, truthfully…this morning politics is the last thing on my mind.

I’m sad for people with cancer, Alzheimer’s, ALS…those with devastating diseases trying with every ounce of courage just to stay alive…

I’m sad all I have to offer them are friendship in their battle to survive.

I’m sad for anyone who’s unemployed…anyone living in poverty…all those hungry and homeless who tonight will not sleep in the comfort of a bed…

Sad for those who are out there struggling just to keep themselves or their families fed.

I’m sad when it comes to Mother Earth why we don’t make more of an attempt…to treat her with the love and caring she deserves instead of our apathy and contempt.

I’m sad all people aren’t treated as equals…sad as a species we haven’t found a way 

to celebrate our differences…instead of letting them get in the way.

So please forgive me if I don’t think about politics today…about politicians or politics of any kind…today they do not matter to me…I have more important things on my mind.

Although it does lead me to wonder…

if we concentrated on what really matters in life…

on each other, on being loving, compassionate and kind…

if we spent our time on these…

then politics would always be the last thing on our minds. 

ALL THE MES

“How old are you?” I asked a young girl wearing a birthday hat…

She held up two fingers and proudly exclaimed, “I am three!”

“And who are you?” I chuckled…She answered quickly, “I am me!”

Here I had to stop and wonder…how would I reply

if someone asked me for an answer to the question, ‘Who am I?’

For who I am is not an easy question to fully comprehend…

‘I am me’ is a wonderful answer…but, in truth, it all depends.

I am a child whenever I eat ice cream…or dance out in the rain.

I am a friend when I share another friends happiness…or help them through their pain.

I am a husband when I kiss Deborah good night…or look into her eyes.

I am a child again when at a carnival trying to win a prize.

I am a father to our three children…even when they’re grown and far away.

I am a brother, an uncle, a cousin…all in the same day.

I am a PopPop who has been a horse and a magician with his own magic show

I’m an old man who feel blessed to have watched his children and grandchildren grow.

It seems that I am a variety…a multitude of mes…

each like a single drop of water that make us the oceans and the seas.

So if you ask me ‘Who am I?’ Although ‘I am me!’ is certainly true…

It all depends on where I am, who I’m with or who I’m talking to.

And when I stop to think about it…I love looking at life this way…

never knowing when the day begins…how many mes I’ll be today.

As for that little girl in the birthday hat…as she left the store waving and sucking her thumb…I had to smile as I began to picture all the mes she will become… 

DOWNHILL ALL THE WAY

 

I live in Florida which is relatively flat…this means most of the time

the paths I walk are smooth and even…there are no hills to climb.

Today as I stepped out of my house the first thing I noticed was the trees…

reacting, just like me, to a gentle morning breeze.

Then…somewhere in the distance…in a tree…devoid of light…

rising from the darkness…an owl hooted her good-night.

Next the first bird to awaken began to sing her morning tune…

as that same breeze that moved the trees…pushed the clouds across the moon.

Up ahead, just around the corner…they always wait for me to pass….

a pair of rabbits with their silent smiles…sitting in the grass.

Soon more birds began to sing…a host of birds I could not see…

adding their distinctive voices to this morning’s symphony.

I did not know the melody…or the words to their morning song…

but, in just above a whisper, I began to hum along.

With my morning starting out like this…I know the rest of my day.  

even though I live in Florida…will be downhill all the way