Below is a poem from high school that has been dusted off. Some of you may not know this, but I was the manager of the boy’s gymnastic team one year (my only “W” patch). To this day this sport is one I enjoy watching. 

His stomach rises and falls,
Mind working separately from body-
Thinking of the routine
While muscles tighten.
Mounting slow-like.
Speed building as
Heart pounds wildly.
Pushing failure back
Into nerve-racked brain
Trying to gain rhythm.
Harder it becomes
Yet graceful and swift
Timing perfect –

Or seems to be.

Then adrenalin slackens;
Body weakens suddenly.
Leaping away
Failure is replaced by
Satisfaction of accomplishment –
The struggle of the pommel horse.

Look for the old and new faces:
Try to find any traces
Of their memories of days gone by.
Just think back
To the railroad track –
Can you picture yourself there?

Agonizing to try to find
Your forgotten childhood mind
Lost in dark, damp old attics.

Do you remember your little friends?
How about your early life on a farm?
Think old man! Who sits so blindly, THINK!
Do you hear the whistles blow?
Do you hear the trains come and go?
Tell me please, I need to know!

Why?

My times are lost.
What can I do?
I dread the future, and
Have forgotten my awful past.

A couple weeks ago I was going through my books (an enormous task) to weed out the out that should go out on a garage sale table. On the shelf I found two slim volumes of poems written by my high school creative writing teacher, Jean Mac Cready.

Each book was inscribed by her with hopes of reading my future works and how she enjoyed meeting a kindred writing spirit. The me now is far more touched by these words than the girl I was forty one years ago.

I also pulled out the school’s literary book from 1977 – “Parchment”.

I had five poems included in that edition. When I read them again, I was still quite pleased with my efforts so long ago. I will post them in the coming weeks.

The “find” came on the heels of some good news.

I will have a few poems being published in some local publications this summer. I also made an appearance on a local public access show called “Poetry Today”. I was joined by another local poet and the show’s host, Jennifer Dotson. It was a wonderful time.

I am always in awe of other writers. Bill, the other poet, had almost lyrical poems and he read them with such passion. I haven’t read many aloud, but I did inflict the experience on a few members in one of my writers groups.

There will be an open mic night coming up as they kick off one of the books. I plan to be there to gain new lessons on reciting in public and to bask in talent far better than mine.

I wish Miss Mac Cready, wherever she is, could pull me back under her tutelage. After graduation, she had invited me to join her group of writers. I was young and felt unworthy to be with other, older and wiser writers. I know she would challenge me and at this stage in my life, I am ready.

So I spur myself on, to explore the world of poetry, broaden my fictional writing and continue writing biographies.

Thank you, Miss Mac Cready, I’m writing again and your words of encouragement are as welcome and poignant as ever!

When was the last time you had a real, carefree laugh? When was the last time you wiped tears from your eyes from laughing so hard?

For me it was probably an hour ago. Whenever I can, I share a funny thought, joke or ironic observation of life. Laughter and humor are such an intricate part of my life. For me, it’s essential as breathing. I think even on my darkest day, humor would find a chink in my armor of despair. Together, humor and laughter are those imaginary children – the “I don’t know who broke that vase plating ball in the house” child – you know the one there are there, but not really visible.

There have been many great humorists through the year – Shakespeare, Will Rodgers, Erma Bombeck, Jack Benny, George Burns. And the list continues because they are needed, explored, developed and share every day.

My family is a constant source of humor – and not in the embarrassing way – oh, wait I take that back – they are usually laughing at something very humiliating. Even in recalling those numerous moments of hilarity, I’m the first you to laugh.

Like the time one of my twenty-five cousins got married and several of the out-of-state cousins were there. On the dance floor (yes I was sober) my son and I were dancing when the group formed two lines and the two people (one from each line) would dance their way to the end of the line showing off their moves. I thought the way we lined up I would get my son as my partner; however, I was paired up with my cousin Sarah’s husband Bryce. He was dancing with his beer in one hand. Bryce decided the best way to get to the end of the line and still hold his beer was to twirl me back and forth. All was good until I was so dizzy, I fell on the floor in the most ungraceful ‘splat’. My glasses flew off in all the excitement. Performing the awarding winning imitation of “Velma from Scooby-Doo”, I had patted floor in search of my glasses. I found them at the feet of my sister and Audrey and my cousin Rita. They helped me up, and gave me the words of support and comfort I shall never forget. Rita said, “Well, back home it just ain’t a party till someone hits the floor!” Note: for those concerned, not a drop of beer was harmed in the creation of the event.

I hold my sides and wipe my eyes in the retelling of this auspicious moment every time we tell the story.

I love quotes that inspire and I thought I would look into who said, ‘Laughter is the best medicine.’ I didn’t find that source (Readers Digest always had a section with that title).  What I did find were many other quotes that included that line. One I found sums it up beautifully.

“I think laughter is the best medicine. If you can’t laugh at yourself, then you can’t laugh at life and the silliness of it all. – David Hasselhoff

Yes, that’s right, the great swim trunk wearing singer and actor – that David Hasselhoff. I recalled a couple of interviews on those “Hollywood news shows” where the Hoff was carefree and animated – and laughed at life.

He has it right.

Too much energy is spent trying to stay angry or restrict your emotions. Worse, it’s negative energy – who needs it? No me, not you.

I enjoy writing clever, funny dialogues. They give a glimpse into the characters and whether they prescribe to the same mantra as the Hoff.

If you know you’re in a dour state, try giving up the negative because positive energy is far better for you mentally and physically.

Which reminds me, did you hear the one about…

Photo by Sara Wether from Pexels

Two pieces of news found there way into my email this week. Both items left me concerned – and disturbed.

The article alerts readers of our area that an invasive plant, when in contact with humans, is known to cause third degree burns or blindness.

The giant hogwood plant, which looks very similar to cow parsnip is being tracked by the University of Georgia’s Center for Invasive Species & Ecosystem Health. The center runs an online mapping system which records where and when it is found. If that isn’t “sci-fi movie” scary enough for you, the article cited several places in our county where it’s found. This invasive plant, has been discovered a mile from my home and just blocks from my childhood home.

This the stuff of childhood nightmares – caustic plants climbing through the bedroom window…

The next article was that Illinois is among the states with the most number of psychopaths.

Like Illinois needs another problem.

A recent study conducted by Southern Methodist University stated this could be explained by high population density or by the type of person who may be drawn to a literal seat of power. Which would explain why Washington D.C. was ranked number one. Illinois landed at number ten.

Knowing this, will the state legislators take this information into account when doing their job? I mean, if we’ve been consistently losing 34,000 people every year for the past few years, does that mean the sane are leaving? Perhaps this explain why our psychopathic population density is greater than Idaho.

The top ten psychopathic states in the U.S. are:
10) Illinois
9)Nevada
8) Wisconsin
7) Maine
5) New York and Wyoming (tied)
4) New Jersey
3) California
2) Connecticut
1) District of Columbia

Personally, I find Connecticut the second highest curious. Isn’t that part of quintessential New England?  The most disturbing thought is how many of those people with psychopathic tendencies in D.C. currently hold office?

Let’s review what psychopathic tendencies are – we aren’t talking “Mind Hunters” types – more like everyday people psychos.

Scientific American magazine states psychopaths are superficially charming, tend to make a good first impression and comes across at as quite normal. They are self-centered, dishonest and undependable. Irresponsible behavior for no apparent reason is another trait. These people also never feel any sense of responsibility, remorse or guilt. They are void of empathy and love. The more you peel away from the outer layer, you discover their reckless and callous relationships – even romantic ones. They offer excuses and often blame others for their own actions.

So this got me thinking: how many people do we know like that? Chances are if you live in Illinois, it’s pretty high that you do!

            (It seems appropriate to post this poem in honor of Father’s Day.)   

                                               When had life moved me

                                                Beyond my modest youth

                                                Black and white photos

                                                Chronicled the years

                                                Family vacations of vast expanse                

                                                Yellowed polaroids measure time

                                                The years just move faster, I’m older

                                                Like early days of space exploration

                                                Stickball and bicycles

                                                Marbles and hoops

                                                Open fields laid waiting for

                                                Our imaginations to play

                                                When bikes gave way

                                                To cars and tinker

                                                Malt shops and friends

                                                Life slipped into second gear

                                                Adulthood beckoned me

                                                Leading a lengthy chase

                                                Such a natural progression

                                                In that era of kodachrome

                                                Third gear moved into fourth

                                                Windows down wind whipping

                                                Graying hair back with speed

                                                A freedom never old to me

                                                Slower gait brings simple joys,

                                                A stogie at sunset, happy brood

                                                Memories and laughter

                                                My pictures of the past

                                                                                              June 2011

There are many types of men I know and when I recently took stock of all them. We can start with family – but I’ll save them for last.

I’m privileged to know men who are friends, bosses, classmates and contemporaries. They all have different talents, but the common thread is a passion for others. Their compulsion to help cements my beliefs in humankind.

Almost of all these men are fathers. With their words, actions and talents they spread beauty, kindness and restore bruised lives. They support and encourage with sage advice.

As Father’s Day approaches (just hours away!) I have many amazing men in my family.

My brothers-in-law are true partners for my sisters. They have their hobbies and passions so similar to each other’s, it’s uncanny. One is a father and musician, the other a teacher – a positive role model for hundreds of kids. Both encourage and touch lives every day. My stepfather shared his intellect and provided many interesting conversations, challenging my little gray cells at times.

My brothers are all different yet equal as well. I have three brothers and two stepbrothers. Although I rarely see my step brothers, they are fathers who raised intelligent and caring children.

The oldest of my brothers serves our country and madly loves his wife and her children. The youngest is a father of a loving and talented son. And middle sibling is one hell of an uncle, handyman and caregiver. He has stepped in to help my stepmother and dad with many things and at times so my stepmother can have a break. I know his presence is a blessing to them both. It eases my mind to know he is there. He is there at the ready for any of us in our time of need.

My husband and his brother fathered differently. My brother-in-law is a big sports fan and athletic. He and my sister-in-law raised dynamic daughters. My husband the science nerd raised a major sports fan. He happily dragged hockey equipment around in early morning hours when our son was too small to do it himself.

My son also benefited from the many coaches he had over the year. They and the other team fathers were supportive and stepped in when my husband had to work. It is because of all these men in his life that my son will make a terrific father.

My father was active in Boy Scouts with my brothers. Although I remember a few father-daughter dances and family vacations, we didn’t do much until I was adult and then we could always talk. Once in a while my father makes a special series of calls to tell each and every one of us how proud he is of us and the lives we have carved out for ourselves.

Lately he has had his challenges. Health issues have piled up on each other and make it harder to walk and eat. But he’s working at it despite the temptation to do nothing.

It is from him and his father that I learned of family. My grandfather cherished every moment his grandchildren were together. He would tell us corny jokes and makes us kiddie cocktails; there was always Glen Rock pop (Waukegan staple when I was a child). Each spring, dressed in our Easter finery, we would be placed on branches of the family tree – the apple tree in their backyard. He would capture the moment in Kodachrome. Summers were filled with picnics and sparklers at their house and we’d meet family from Germany, Australia or Chile. Family was here and abroad, was his lesson.

When we gather now – cousins in adulthood, we recall those times and admire how are children have done the same when they are together. In winter we celebrate family by watching grandpa’s slides of holidays and their travels around the world. Our hearts overflow with fond memories and love.

But I would be remiss if I didn’t remember others who won’t be celebrating Father’s Day like we will.

My classmate Jonathan’s family will have their first Father’s Day without their father and grandfather. I know his sons and his wife will keep a brave face for the little ones as they are offered homemade gifts from the kids. His family is in my prayers.
And my sister-in-words will be without her father this year. His Alzheimer’s made her say good-bye to the man who was her father some time ago. The shell of who he was her final memory. But family will be near her and that is a comfort to me. She is always in my heart.

The one thing about these men that fulfills their parenting job and parental support staff (uncles, brothers, cousins) is love. They opened their hearts to love their own and in the process discovered a love for others outside their family. They give of themselves never expecting anything in return – but hope for respect.

To all the men in my life – friends, fellow Rotarians, and family near and far – I thank you for your nurturing and pray you continue sowing seeds of hope and respect.

The world needs all it can get.

photo courtesy of Grandpa – Easter circa 1969

How can we attend two different parties at the same time when they are twenty miles apart?

How is that during Gay Pride Week, the Supreme Court hands down a decision that’s dented but not crushed their pride?

Why is it that Christian people who shouldn’t judge, judge?

How is that a small Midwestern town pull out the Gay Pride flags and festivities, and yet other cities that are larger did not?

How is it that when someone really needs help recovering from a stroke only gets the help he or she needs while the clock is ticking – a timer someone else has set? Who says they can or can’t stay longer?

What help is there when the ticking stops and they go home?

How is it the days go by fast, the weeks drag on and the year turns in a blink of an eye?

Why is it that I can never duplicate the look my hairdresser created the day after?

How will our children look at us in their adult lives when they realize we have allowed them to become target practice for the mentally unstable and have done nothing to change that?

How can we keep guns out the hands of the unlawful? Will accomplishing that task allow the young lives in tough neighborhoods to thrive  instead of survive?

How is it that several people my age have found this stage in their life not worth living? When did they stop seeing a light of hope?

How will our children look at us when we poisoned the land and water to the point it’s unlivable and undrinkable? Will they think since it was in the name of money, of unlimited greed that it was okay?

When will Mother Nature say enough is enough? – I’m done with you!

When did we stop listening to the world around us near and far? When did we decide only our view was the only right one?

What will some people do when they face the truth that wasn’t their own?

You always

Wait for the right moment

To steal my heart

I never

You pour the rosé

In hopes I see

The apology unsaid

I drink the chardonnay

Sunset

Colors your view

Everything touched in pink

Like Sunrise

I’d rather sit dark

Dodging mosquitoes

Than listen to your lies

You in brilliant light

Come taste my wine

You say to me

I say to you

I like mine fine

Summer over

Wines were drunk

I leave your shallow self

Starting  Autumn

photo by Pixabay

I’m obsessed with my friendships lately.

I wonder why it is we drift from some never to see again or even think of while there are those I may see once every five years and it’s like we just saw each other yesterday? When do you know this a forever relationship, a kindred spirit or the ships passing in the fog?

I’ve pondered this lately because one of my writer friends (a sister of words) is moving to the Boston area. For the past few months we’ve “met” as a critique via video chat. This past weekend, we got together to write (okay, and drink too). It was the chance to stay close despite the physical distance between us.

It got me to thinking about the other friendships – the ones that have taken a dive.

What about those relationships that seemed tight, everlastingly connected? The people you thought would be there at all the stages of your life? What caused the relationship to fade, to drift away from us like the white puffs of cottonwood in the humid breezes of June?

Perhaps one of us takes the road often traveled, commuting on a treadmill of normalcy. Another hikes the overgrown trail in the forest while someone else journeys the straighter route. You’ve chosen the scenic drive. When you meet again there is little to talk about because if you share something of your journey or new interests, there is no excitement, no desire to learn of or discuss the new world you occupy. They (or me) are trapped in a bubble of our own making.

Did our life’s works drive a wedge in our friendships? These days it’s more likely to be politics. For the sake of the argument, let’s take that divisive topic off the table.

I know I’m guilty of drifting away from friendships where there is a loss of common ground or in some cases their need of my support was too exhausting. Too much time listening to seventh grade dynamics of why Johnny won’t call me back or do I think he has a chance with Patty? How would I know? Ask me if I care? I moved on from junior high a very long time ago.

What of the friendships where I see the fissures in our common ground? Do I call in a professional to help? Do I contemplate this issue a bit longer? Or should I just watch to see how far the fissure expands without trying to stop its growth? Did I miss that chance at our winter get together? Why is it that months after last seeing other, I now have the suspicion that we won’t?

I’ve listed more questions that I thought I would. I don’t have the answers other than I am cognizant of the state of those relationships. I can decide to keep trying, or cut loose the dead weight – the branches that no longer bear fruit, the underbrush that chokes the sunlight before it can reach its full depth.

I may not be the smartest person, but I will take advantage of my common sense and my ability to look within. Because although I may point a finger at someone or something that I think is the root of the problem, I know I have three fingers pointing back at me.