I'M GLAD I'M NOT A METEOROLOGIST

When I gaze up towards the heavens…when I pay attention to the sky

I’m glad I’m not a meteorologist…and here’s the reason why:

On our walk this morning we were treated to this wonderful surprise

as the infant rays of the morning sun…created streaks across the sky…

There was the slightest arching in these streaks…and not to simplify

but dappled with a hint of color they looked like rainbows in the sky. 

And I thought what a beautiful sight for anyone up early 

and lucky enough to see…

but if I were a meteorologist…

I might view it differently.

For I would know this time of day is aptly called twilight

(when the dawn acquires the morning from ebbing of the night)

And I would know the way her light scatters…is the scientific reason why

even though the sun is still set…I can see her rays across the sky.

And I would know as I see these rays adding hints of color to a canvas painted blue

it is diffusion of the light that gives them their pinkish hue…

But…since I am not a meteorologist…

since I don’t have a meteorologist’s eye…

I am perfectly happy seeing morning rainbows 

stretching across the sky.

HOW DO YOU PAINT A MEMORY?

It was a ‘learn to water color’ class Deborah signed up for without restraint

and she already had in mind the picture she would to paint.

It was our cabin in the mountains…the one nestled in the trees 

where we sit on the porch together…where we catch the summer breeze.

The cabin where we’ve spent those summers with our children for over 30 years

where we’ve shared so many moments…shared our laughter, shared our tears…

I knew she could paint the cabin, add bright colors to the trees,

but how, I asked her, is it possible to paint in our memories?

“That would be impossible,” she said, “I won’t ever try.

I’ll be content with painting the cabin, the ground, the trees…the sky.”

But she was wrong…for when her painting was completed…

the more and more I peered…

there on the canvas before me…a host of memories appeared.

Each time I look at her painting of our cabin…of the stairs, the trees…the door

I quickly realize I’m not just seeing the cabin…I'm seeing so much more.

I see Deborah’s parents on those stairs…

I see our children, our grandchildren…I see a painting that is rife

with friends and family and a myriad of memories that bring her painting to life.

Perhaps that’s what a painting is supposed to do…

urge us to see not only with our eyes but with our heart…

Perhaps that is not only the beauty of this painting

perhaps that’s the beauty of art.

DON'T WORRY, DEAR...I'M HERE

It began with her misplacing things…and progressed to not knowing who I was…

She would wander away from home…for that is what Alzheimers does.

Yet other times she knew me well, she knew where she was…and when…

She was intelligent and lucid…she was my Mom again.

I never knew when Alzheimers had control…or when Mom would be released…

for that’s the personality of this disease…that is the nature of this beast.

There were times when Mom could sense my worry…and tried to ease my fear

She’d smile…a reassuring smile…and say, “Don’t worry, dear…I’m here.

But Alzheimers is unrelenting…at first making small demands

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

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

when all of a sudden she was holding my face…”Don’t worry.” she said…”I’m here.”

We had no choice but to acquiesce to her malady…

to take her high days with her lows

It was only after my visits were over…that I let my anger flow.

And when she was lost to me forever…when in her confusion I’d see her tears

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

Don’t worry, Mom…I’d say…there’s nothing for you to fear…

Wherever you’ve gone to…Don’t worry, 

Don’t worry Mom…

I’m here.

350,000 REASONS

Each day around the world over 350,000 babies are born 

or so the statisticians say

350,000 babies…welcomed into our world each day.

350,000 first time parents..who are excited (but don’t have clue!)

as are their grandparents, aunts and uncles…brothers and sisters too.

350,000 reasons to smile…reason for families across the world to beam.

350,000 reasons for those families to cherish…to hope…to wonder…to dream.

350,000 reasons to ponder how so many of our lives interweave.

350,000 reasons to trust in the universe…to  marvel…to admire… to believe.

350,000 reasons to delight in a day with so much happiness in store

and to be enchanted by the fact that…tomorrow…they’ll be 350,000 reasons more.

A REASON COMES ALONG

When asked the secret to his happiness

the old man smiled, “It originates in me.

for I am usually as happy

as I decide to be.”

“It’s amazing”, the old man continued

as he stood up proud and strong…

“each day I decide to be happy first.”

and then a reason comes along.

THE FIRST STEP

I wonder if our president and everyone who hates have any idea why they hate  or where their hate originates.

Did something happen to make them hate? Is it something they can elucidate?

When did this hateful point of view come to permeate all they say and do?

Is hate like a cold…something they once caught or was it from their parents…taught?

If we were born to love why did they depart…when did hate engulf their hearts?

Do they understand when animosity and malevolence they create it empowers other people to loathe and hate?

And when they think about it wouldn’t they find it odd that they’ve linked their hatred with their God?

For if God is love as all religions teach then wouldn’t all God’s everywhere our love beseech?

And those who stand behind a president who hates…who do nothing as he vituperates?

who cheer and encourage him…all those who applaud…I have to wonder…where is their God?

It sickens and saddens many of us to see this hate and we can no longer sit on our hands and wait.

It’s time to put our country back on track…to defeat this evil…we must fight back.

And the first part of the antidote is to go to the polls in November…and vote!

There may be no way to eliminate hate…of this I have no doubt 

No… we may not be able to eliminate it…

but we can can sure as hell vote it out.

BY CHRISTMAS TIME

The daughter picked up the tiny artificial Christmas tree her mom kept on the dresser by her bed

and, remembering its story…she gently bowed her head.

There was a time when her mom was young, when she was feeling a little blue

when she was sad, confused and worried…when she didn’t know what to do.”

A dear friend told her when things look bad to think about her Christmas tree.

That by Christmas time her worry would be gone and she’d see things differently.”

By Christmas time her friend said, gone will be your uncertainty, your misgivings and your doubt,

By Christmas time you’ll be wondering what you were ever so worried about.

The next day when she got home…she was surprised and excited to see

on this dresser…her friend had left her…this tiny Christmas tree.

From that day on whenever she was apprehensive…when her troubles flooded out

whenever she was overwhelmed with worry, or with doubt.

she would look at this little Christmas tree…”By Christmas time.” she’d say

and soon, as if by magic, her troubles would fade away.

The daughter had just come from her mom’s funeral, when tree in hand, a thought came to her head…

So she took it home and found a spot on the dresser by her bed.

She knows when she misses her mother…as she will most every day…

By Christmas time she’ll whisper…by Christmas time she’ll say