Pea in a Pod

By Phyllis

Give me rain.
So I may drink.
Give me sunshine
And stars at night.
I try to remember
To always think.
One of these days,
Life will be right.
Most of my days
I have had no hope.
It was easy to drink
And to use the dope.
Everything seemed
So sad and so wrong.
The future was bleak;
The days were long.
I saw a Beast
And suffered in hell.
I screamed,
But no one could hear.
I want to go back
Into my shell.
There,
I will have nothing to fear.
I will grow,
With others like me.
The rain will fall;
The sunshine will shine.
The Beast
I will no longer see.
And when I fall,
From the living vine,
There will be comfort
And songs to sing.
Like the birds,
I will be able to fly,
For others like me,
love they bring.
In that way,
We don’t have to die.
The Beast is still there -
Don’t get me wrong,
But he is weak,
And we are strong.

April, 2011

2011 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 2,900 times in 2011. If it were a cable car, it would take about 48 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

Meeting a Book Club

by Betty

A quiet room suddenly packed with people. Every chair filled; no standing room available. Everyone talking, nobody listening, when suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, entered the speaker, the author, one of us from Tucson – Chris O’Dell.

O’Dell wrote a collection of memories of living and working backstage in the Time of Rock and Roll. My Long Days and Hard Nights told it as it was. The work was truly hard and enlightening. The long nights of partying took a toll. At the time, no one knew of the possible and likely consequences.

The people of the 1960’s were truly creative. We owe them much for opening the conversation about drugs and abuse, things never talked about in the open before.

O’Dell left home in Tucson to find adventure. And indeed adventure she found. It was a good idea to follow a dream. It proved hard and yet rewarding.

There was a sadness in the drug culture. Drugs were not seen as a bad thing then. Not one of the rock and roll groups ever thought of the consequences. Each learned too late the true cost and pain of alcohol and drugs. Some paid the ultimate price. Some entered AA and stayed with the program.

It is a difficult program and very few truly understand. It takes a long time to recover. It takes every day forever.

The 60s taught those who would truly listen that you do not control your children. You can encourage them to dream and to do their best always. Then you must let go and let them live and learn. It’s hard and sometimes hurts. But let go one must.

The book discussion went on over an hour of the scheduled hour O’Dell talked. So many questions, so many opinions, so many ideas. As the meeting came to an end there were smiles, thanks, book signings, photos, addressed exchanged. No one seemed to want to leave.

If one has an open mind, if one can truly wonder how to dream and how to do the best, if one can dare to try to accept and understand, then this book is for you. You’ll never be the same.

And the music had a message. Read it and listen.

June 15, 2011

Handbasket

by Jim

My dad used to say, “What has happened to this world?” or “The world has gone to hell in a handbasket.” I never knew what he meant, but I do now.

Last week I went to the bank to cash a check so I’d have cash for the month. I have been going to this bank for about 30 years and to this branch for at least 10 years.

The first thing the teller did was ask for ID. I gave them a card issued by that bank. She said, “We can’t use that because it doesn’t have a picture.”

“Well, I have a driver’s license, but it has expired.”

“Nope, can’t use it!”

I told the teller about the picture and the address. She was looking at the computer and said, “I know it’s you, but I can’t take this as ID.”

I asked to see the manager. He came out. I told him the problem and that I had a driver waiting. He said, “Ha, ha,” put his hands in the air, and walked into his office.

So I asked the teller, “I can’t get money from a bank?”

She said, “No,” and voided my check.

Next she said, “You could go to a grocery store and get cash back when you use your debit card. Or you could use an ATM machine.”

I jumped in at this point and said, “I can get money from a grocery store or out of a machine, but not out of a bank?”

“That’s right,” she said.

And Dad was right – the world HAS gone to hell in a handbasket

August, 2011

To Lucy, My sister

by Phyllis

First of all, I want you to know
Thank you for nurturing me, so I could grow.

We’ve cried tears, had years of strife.
You tenderly remind me that, “That’s Life.”

The good Lord carries us, as does He His sheep
Where ‘er the mountains get too steep.

You and I laugh through our sorrows,
And rainbows brighten our tomorrows.

And every cloud has a silver lining
With your blue eyes brightly shining.

I can still hear you softly say,
“Phyllis, Honey, this is how to pray!”

September, 2011

Yoga

by Betty

Yoga

Not for me.
Stop and listen.
You may be missing something really god.

Mediation

Find a quiet place in your mind. Just enjoy the quiet, no problems to solve, no duties to finish. Just you and the quiet. No stress, no bills to pay, just you and the quiet. It does work.

Deep Breathing

Everyone breathes. Try taking a really deep breath and holding it. Let it go slowly. Take a deep breath and think of it traveling place to place in your body. It works. Amazing how it works.

Exercises

Follow a leader – watch the person in front of you. Try what you can – quit if it hurts. Everyone has a way, and you’ll be surprised to find you like it. An exercise for everyone, and a person for every exercise.

Philosophies

Much has been written. Many philosophies there are. Many beliefs and much history. Choose your own, or even better still, make your own.

Yoga

If you don’t try it, you’ll never know what you are missing. And that will be a shame.

Look it over, listen to the teacher, give it and yourself a chance. There’s something in yoga for everyone. You just may be surprised.

July, 2011

Tucson to New Mexico

by Sally

Going from Tucson to New Mexico should be a reasonable trip of approximately 6-8 hours. Starting out to Roswell to visit my dad, I packed my 1968 Buick with plenty of water, food and my dog.

It was a hot day as it almost always is in these parts, but everything was going very well. Then the car started to jerk a little bit. I thought there must have been some dirt in the gas tank and kept on going. Soon the car started to slow down and I pulled over to let it cool off. “It must be vapor lock,” I thought.

While sitting there a car pulled up in front of me and two men got out, and walked to my car. I quickly rolled up my window leaving about ½ inch open. One of the men came to my window and said, “You having trouble?” “Oh, no,” I said. “I’m just sitting here resting.” The man replied, “No, I think you have trouble.” At that he walked to the front of the car, opened the hood, and stared at the engine. The men said something to each other (I didn’t understand their language), and they started pulling wires and putting them back, talking and pointing. They closed the hood and walked to my window and said, “You’ll be all right now.” They walked away, got into their car and drove off.

Sitting there in wonderment, I thought, “What did they do to my car?! Is it safe to start? Will it run OK?” So I waited a few more minutes and decided to start the engine. The car started immediately, and once again I was on my way.

Coming upon a store (it looked more like a trading post) with Indians standing all around, I decided to go in and call my dad (they actually had a telephone!). My dad said, “It sounds like vapor lock,” and told me to buy some clothespins and clip them along the fuel line in the engine. I started to laugh and thought my dad was joking. “No, it really works.” One of his friends had told him. So I bought a bag of clothespins, and opened the hood of my car (which was a job in itself as a ’68 Buick is all steel). I looked at the engine, and sighing I said, “Oh well, let’s try it.” I placed the clothespins along the gas line like I was told. I started the car and went on my way.

The car started to jerk again and I once again pulled over. I took a rag, wet it down with water, and wrapped it around the fuel pump, closed the hood and waited a few moments, and started again, only to be stopped again along the road. A car pulled up behind me and a man walked up and asked if he could help. I told him the car was having vapor lock trouble and I was waiting for it to cool. He said, “I have a chain. I could pull you to the next town which is only a few miles from here. They might have a mechanic there that could help.” I agreed and he pulled me into a small town – a motel, a gas station and a small restaurant.

Checking in at the motel, I called my dad and told him where I was and that I would be there the next day. Then he told me of another thing I could do for vapor lock. “Get a grapefruit and squash it over the fuel pump,” he said. “Come on Dad,” I said. “What is that going to do?” “I don’t know for sure, but I heard it works.” “OK Dad.”

After ending my call I asked the motel clerk if she had something for some water for my dog. She was very kind, and brought a pan of water.

The next morning I went over to the restaurant for – yes – a grapefruit. I asked the waitress for some grapefruit and she said they were all out. “Do you have an old one?” I asked. She looked at me kind of strangely and said, “There might be one in the trash.” “That would be fine,” I said. So she walked into the kitchen and brought me a half of grapefruit wrapped in foil.

Returning to the motel across the street, I opened the hood of my car. Looking at the clothespins clipped along my fuel line, and the rag wrapped around the fuel pump, I hesitated to add the grapefruit to my collection. “But,” I said to myself, “Oh well, what can it hurt?” And I squashed the grapefruit over the fuel pump, closed the hood and went inside. A knock came at the door. It was the lady from the motel. She had brought a can of dog food for my dog and a piece of toast for me. That was so thoughtful of her!

Ready to leave town, I decided to get some gas and pulled into the station. (When the gas attendant filled your car, he washed your windows and checked your oil for free, and with a smile!) The gas attendant asked if I wanted the oil checked and I said yes (forgetting for a moment about my engine additions). He opened the hood, stood in amazement as he looked at the clothespins, rag and grapefruit, stood back with his hands on his hips, shook his head, and closed the hood.

Upon arriving at my dads, I told him of my adventures. Thanks to the modernization of cars, I believe vapor lock has been eliminated and there will no longer be cars running on clothespins, wet rags and squashed grapefruit!

September, 2011

Happy Third Anniversary

by Betty

Where did three years go?

Only yesterday a little black dog with a wagging tail met us at the door and said, “Come in.” He showed us the way and went on to business helping maintain the church.

Do you remember a time when we shared everything we wrote at home?

Do you remember taking tours about Tucson? – To the art museum, the downtown library, the photo gallery?

Do you remember:

• Aunt Sadie’s farm?
• Two beautiful people?
• Traveling in Europe?
• A Story novel?
• Thoughtful Poetry?
• Sharing Life’s Journey?

Do you remember the third year – meeting every Wednesday at Laura’s home, greeted by friendly Kelly, tasty snacks on the table, books to borrow, read and return? Squirrels and rabbits to watch in the back yard?

What will the new year – our fourth year – bring? New members, new friends, new ideas, a new agenda?

Just you wait and see. You all wait and see!

September, 2011

Wild Ride

by Jim

Wow what a wild ride! The Lend a Hand writing group started three years ago.

We started at the church, then we went to Sherri’s house, and then to Laura’s house. A few stops in between. Guess What? We are back at the church.

Lesley was our first teacher, but she left to teach in Japan. She was gone about two years. Sherri took over for a while. Then Jim tried to keep the group together for a year. Guess who came back? Lesley.

Now for the Good Part
Our Great Writers

Who by the way have over 200 stories on the internet.

The original group was Betty, Ruth and Jim. As time went by, Ginni (aka Elvira), Mike, Liz, Mary and Vivian joined the group. Little by little they dropped out, all of them very good writers. Vivian and Mary just went away. Mike and Liz left for health reasons. So we got the original three, plus Ginni.

We have some new people to help us out, so we might as well go for another three years.

September, 2011

Welcome to Lend-a-Hand Senior Writers’ website!

Publications and Musings from Lend-a-Hand Senior Writers in Tucson, Arizona

Join us, or just enjoy our work . . .

We are a small and friendly group that enjoys coming together to write what is in our hearts and on our minds. Not only that, we do this with a great deal of skill and determination. By age, we range from our late 40s to our early 90s — half a century of thoughts and knowledge to share.

As we continue our meetings, some of our work will be published here for all to read and enjoy. Please feel free to leave us with your comments. If you would like to join this group, please see details and contact information listed under the ‘About’ tab, at the top of this page.

There is little which is more valuable than our written reflections and records; they are what teach us.

Meet our Writers… Enjoy our Blog!

Meet our Writers…

If you would like to be informed each time one of our writers posts a new piece of writing, you will soon be able to subscribe to our blog. Please check back for new beginnings on this (the ‘old beginnings’ didn’t quite work the way we thought they would). For now, you will still find a list of what has been published under each Author’s page and the links there upon. Whichever way you find our work, we look forward to reading your comments!

Vivian and Betty

Jim and Ruth

New work by LAH Senior Writers, Betty, Vivian, Jim, and Ruth!

Click on each name to go to their latest work.

Betty

Jim

Ruth

Vivian

Alternatively, go to the sidebar under Authors, and click directly on the title you wish to read or the Author’s Homepage.

My Recipe

From Jim

The main ingredients are: Ruth, Betty, Vivian, and Jim

Four completely different people, 3 female, 1 male. These are the only main ingredients. You can’t add or subtract, they must stay together.

Toss in a cup of humor, 1/2 cup of chatter, a bunch of laughter, lots of smiles, and an occasional intelligent statement.

Mix thoroughly.

This can only be made once a week. You don’t have to keep checking the results because it comes out terrific, every time.

This makes one serving of Senior Writers.

Lunch at Green Things Nursery

NOTES

March 30, 2009

Fresh air, luscious fruit, great conversation, and wonderful writing, shared; can you beat that combination? I think not.

Lend-A-Hand Senior Writers’ fieldtrip to Green Things Nursery was simply a brilliant afternoon experience – a gentle breeze graced our company under the ramada where a table had been set for us. Thank you, Jim, for your suggestion to have lunch in such a lovely atmosphere.

The writing we shared was equally captivating: Betty’s piece on the environment (Earth Night) stirred much talk about sustainability and using our common sense to reduce waste contributions. Laura brought up several authors currently writing about similar topics. Jim’s latest vignette, Games People Play, is posted on his page – wartime, childhood memories, and well worth the read (as usual).

So good to get together and to have Sherri back with us after her absence last week. Next meeting is scheduled for Monday, April 6th. In the meantime, it’s the usual trip to the library on Friday. Thanks, Laura! You are truly beautiful! (and your fresh pear pie: seductive!)

Celebrating National Library Week

American Library Association’s celebration of National Library Week, Sunday, April 12 through Saturday, April 18.

Today’s meeting was an outing to the Tucson-Pima Main Library, Downtown. We took the SunTran city bus (well, most of us did), and the drive was just a pleasure. It was a lovely breezy day – not too hot and just perfect for our short walk to the Café 54 on Pennington Street, for lunch. It was there that we discussed Wilke Collins, our future writing excursions, pick-up trucks older than Laura, the neighboring City High Charter School, and the delicious tomato-basil soup on the bill-of-fare.

While at the library, Jim picked up a copy of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby and a flyer containing a short history of Tucson’s downtown area. It was full of surprising and interesting facts about local buildings and the businesses they replaced. Jacome’s Department store stood where the new downtown library now does – Steinfeld’s not far away. The old Main Library was located in the same building as the Children’s Museum does now. Betty recalled window shopping at Cele Peterson’s and parallel parking on downtown streets, long ago.

Our next meeting will be Monday, April 20th, at the Church.

Writers’ Update

April 20, 2009

NOTES

Back at our usual meeting place, Lend-A-Hand Senior Writers conducted business as usual… well, almost! We discussed changing the time and or date of our upcoming Tea, but decided to leave things as they were. We talked a bit about what we could do and say to encourage other Seniors to join us. We’ve decided to offer a writing game and talk about our experiences in the group during the Tea. How better could we encourage others!

Jim and Betty both read their latest work, which had obviously been prompted by our recent trip on the City bus to Downtown Tucson and the Main Library. You can read and enjoy these under New Work on their individual pages.

Speaking of field trips, Jim brought a list of ideas for future excursions we might take and Betty set a weekly itinerary that included something for us to do each morning. I know of no better writing prompts than our experiences with the world! So, we shall go and we shall do, and at the same time we’ll read and read – all about the world and, in that way, ourselves. Then we shall write!

Next week Ruth will be back with us and we will meet in the usual place to do some long awaited catching up.

May 4th, 2009

Notes

Ruth is Back!

What a lovely surprise to see Ruth at our meetings, once again! As some may know, Ruth had broken her elbow in a fall and has been slowly but surely recuperating. The fall apparently hit hard so it has taken a while for Ruth to get back in the swing of writing her book. Be sure to read her latest chapter, “Wading In the Ocean”!

Jim reports that he has been having fun with writing stories from ‘given’ words. He and Laura’s son have been exchanging lists of ten words each, only to compose short vignettes with those very words. “It’s tricky stuff,” Jim tells us, and he enjoys it immensely. He read two.

Betty’s daughter Wendy has returned to NYC, so Betty writes “Alone Again”, a heartwarming piece about all that’s changed. She also talked about the harrowing journey home for Wendy… a nightmare of weather too bad for flying and airplane delays.

Next Monday we will be on a fieldtrip to Sabino Canyon; our tram ride is in order, along with a picnic lunch; more on this upon our return.

Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s up the Canyon we go

May 11, 2009

Sabino Canyon Day Trip

… And so we did. Two of us could not, for one reason or another, make it on our fieldtrip, but three of us did and we had a spectacular experience. (Yes, we missed our friends and spoke of them during the entire excursion… we even brought them souvenirs.)

Spottings of the Northern Cardinal and several other birds were noted at our lunch spot at Tram Stop No. 6. We met a few people there, as well.

Two of us took off our shoes and waded in Sabino Creek. The water was warm.

We had a jolly ride up and back on the Tram and wandered about the Visitors’ Center in the cooler air. Perhaps the evening spin up the Canyon on Laura’s birthday is in order!

Check out the latest work by our Senior Writers!

Betty

• Nightmare Number 2
• Winterhaven Fourth
• A Nightmare in Reality (Or… Help!)
• The Master Gardener
• De Grazia Museum in the Sun
• Elderly
• Alone Again

Jim

• Life On A Windowsill
• “The Seed”
• Gardening for Stupid People
• Dreams?

Ruth

• My Trip to De Grazia

My Trip to the Country (book-in-progress)

• Chapter 7- I Broke the Sewing Machine!
• Chapter 8 – Wading in the Ocean

Liz

• My First Commercial Air Flight
• Art

Michele

• Bicas at 4p.m.

The Master Gardener and The Seed

Funnily enough, the following pieces were shared by LAH Writers on the same day! Did these two writers have a plan, or was this one of life’s fond coincidences? You be the judge:

The Master Gardener

By Betty

The Master Gardener grows his plants from seed. Four or five tiny seeds gently placed in a small peat moss pot, sitting on a plastic plate with plastic covers. No doubt, a recycled plate from the bakery.

The pot sits inside on a sunny window ledge, waiting for a solar rain to fall. Gently, it does fall.

Watched over as one does the family, one day a tiny green sprout appears. Growing taller, stronger, day-by-day, one day the plant is too tall, too strong for the cover to remain on. One day the plant will move outside to a place of its own.

The plant stays inside, cool, if it’s too hot outside – warm, if it’s too cold outside.

The Master Gardener feeds the plants fertilizer when it is time. He uses the best kind and he knows the difference.

The Master Gardener talks to his plants and the plants grow taller and stronger. One day there is a surprise: tomatoes, watermelons, and more to eat. Nothing tastes as good as home-grown.

The Master Gardener is proud of his plants. He should be. He enjoys watching over them, day by day.

Lucky are all the folks to whom he gives a sample.

Only one thing the Master Gardener does not know. Only one question  he cannot answer: “What do seeds think when they are growing?”

The Master Gardener takes care of our Earth. He is a master of gardening – a true Master Gardener.

You need him – well, need I add,

Thanks, Jim.

“The Seed”

By Jim

“Hey! What’s all that shaking?” Somebody’s opening the bag.

“Oh, wow, daylight!”

“It’s so crowded in here”

“Whoops. We’re being poured out. I guess I’m going in the dirt. I hope it’s warm in there. Last year it was cold. I just laid there for a long time. When it’s warm, I start to grow right away. All I need is sunshine and water, and T.L.C.”

“I hope I’m a beautiful plant this year. There are a lot of us, and so many colors: coral, red, purple, lilac, white, yellow, pink… even green. In about six weeks I’ll be a colorful flower – me and a couple-hundred of my buddies.”

I’m so happy to be a zinnia seed.”

July 6th, 2009

Notes

A wonderful meeting packed with writing and sharing, a little yoga, and, of course, food! Michele presented us all with a writing exercise that caused us to think about economizing our words, to become succinct and then very specific about our thoughts. Excellent!

We shared our writing, which was naturally the highlight of the afternoon. Liz, our newest member, shared her thoughts about the groups’ recent experience at the De Grazia studio.  Betty, Ruth, and Jim also wrote about the trip. Betty read a crisp reflection on the Winterhaven Fourth of July celebration, and her piece called ‘A Nightmare in Reality’ … which it was! If you could only imagine being stranded in 103 degrees F… .

Planting seeds for all of us, Jim wrote and read his quick piece personifying seeds (a great pleasure, as always), and simply by coincidence, Betty had written a piece about Jim called ‘The Master Gardener’! Could it have been planned any better? Read and enjoy them both here. Then, let us know if you think they planned their work together, or if the two just happened to be thinking along the same lines.

Ruth has added Chapter 9 to her book. She taught us what was meant by the expression “born under the veil”… Do you know what this means? She read the chapter’s first draft to us, and says would like to work on it a bit more — so that it more to her liking. You will all have to wait patiently to find out about ‘the veil’ and the new adventure before it will be posted here. Unfortunately, Ruth’s elbow still pains her from her fall. The pain affects the speed and duration of her writing, which she does all by hand.

To check out new work by individual authors, click here.

Afternoon at the Center for Creative Photography; coffee at Bentley’s

Monday, July 13, 2009

While the United States Congress and Sonia Sotomayor began their display for the American public, and the Tour de France cyclists discussed the possibility of a strike at the start of stage 10 in Limoges due to their objections to a proposed radio ban at stages 10 and 13, Lend-A-Hand Senior Writers paraded themselves among the famous  — Andy Warhol, Truman Capote, Marianne Faithfull, Iggy Pop, David Hockney, Yoko Ono  — through a stunning exhibit of portraits by the late Robert Mapplethorpe, photographer.

‘Portraits’, an exhibit currently showing at the University of Arizona, Center for Creative Photography, allowed each of us a moment to peek through Mapplethorpe’s lens. His self-portraits offered a glimpse, too, of a life cut short by an untimely death.

Although it may not appear (by our serious portraits) that we had a good time, we did! The show was informative and interesting– a dramatic exposition. Later, we hopped the elevator to see the Ansel Adams and other photos, upstairs. Then it was off to Bentley’s for refreshments and chatter. Wonderful afternoon! We plan to meet again this Thursday morning, this time at the Mid Valley Athletic Club, just south of Broadway, on Tucson Blvd. We’re signing up for Silver Sneakers! More to come. . .

Our Latest!

Check out new writing from members old and new…

Betty

• The Fourth of July, Remembered
• The Empty Chair

RUTH

• Earthquakes
• Chapter 10 -The Windsock
• Chapter 11-Our Adventure in the Woods
• Chapter 12-Going Home, Coming Back

LIZ

• Pompeii AD 79
• Stolen Van

ELVIRA

• 4th of July, 2010

JIM

• Bear
• Bear II
• Bear III
• Bear IV
• Bear V
• Bear VI
• Bear VII
• P.O. Box

MIKE

• Apollo visits Poseidon in the 21st Century
• Past Midnight in Meyers Chuck
• The Legend of Easter Island

The 4th of July from two points of view

The Fourth of July Remembered

by Betty

Long ago the Fourth of July was a day at the lake: canoeing about, diving from a dock, falling out of the canoe, swimming a race. Night came and there was the camp fire ready to roast hot dogs, roast marshmallows with graham crackers and a piece of Hershey’s chocolate, potato salad, corn-on-the-cob, and watermelon. The stars came out and fireworks sparkled over the lake’s water. Home the next day was with a flaming-red sunburn.

Long ago the Fourth of July was the half-way through summer. Time to think of pencils, tablets, books, and if one were lucky, perhaps new clothes for the first day of school. Time to check out your friends.

Long ago the Fourth of July was a signal summer was fleeting – soon to be gone. Time then for us to get out our traveling lists and update them. Working as a seasonal park ranger meant packing and living out of suitcases for three months. Time to cross off items we hadn’t used and never needed. Time to plan the list for next year – those things we wished we had and needed. After 15 years of summers in the National Parks, we had mastered “travel light”.

Long ago the Fourth of July was the morning we stood at attention and in awe as a lone bagpiper marched down the street, followed by the American flag held high, waving in the breeze, high school band playing patriotic marches. We neighbors stood, hats off, hand on the heart, as the parade passed by. At the end of the parade someone led the Pledge of Allegiance and we all joined in. Then the cookies and lemonade – and maybe, when we were really lucky, homemade ice cream.

The Fourth of July in 2010 is here. As we celebrate our independence, let us take time to pause and remember the cost that was paid; take time to be truly grateful – take time to remember the responsibility that is ours to pass freedom on to the next generations.

The Fourth of July is a day, a time and a gift. Appreciate it and enjoy it.

4th of July, 2010

by Elvira

Ah, Lady Liberty

greeting all on

Eastern Shore                        promising:        life

liberty

happiness

once only for                            male, white landowners.

She                        lifts                        a lamp,

forgetting                         the             Aborigines,

some                        decimated,            as vermin;

Her eyes,                      blinded,                 by             rockets

red glare:

greed

prejudices

held,                        one kind or

another            by all:

hate

intolerance,

as some             strive                         to do                         “the right thing”

knowing             when                         differences

may lead to:                                    assault

soul murder, or

death

Yes,                        shine                                                 your lamp,

from sea to sea

for we

are                        the World –

(once a year!),

yet

the Witching Hour                        brings                      decent

unhappiness

fear

hate,

as we                                                pledge                                    our hearts

to a piece of cloth                                    crossed / double crossed

since

inception

We                                                know                                                 that

only Christians will see                                                Paradise;

So, with Bible in                                                                                 hand

and sword                                                                                            at ready

we                                                train                                               our little

deceivers well.

As, Little Islands of                                                                       America

fester                   across   the   globe

we            righteously                                    enter                        Washington’s

Cathedral

Wearing                                    Tago’s face

buying                                    pseudo peace,

With a paid weekend                                                                             and

birthing,             the next day,

Universal Soldiers                                                                                of Hypocrisy.

Decision – By LD Kennedy (1941)

Transcribed by Jim

I must have it clipped. They say

It just isn’t the right way

For a little lad to wear his hair

With hordes of curls everywhere.

The ringlets falling about his face

Dear God, can it be such a disgrace

For a little boy to be so fair

To have shining golden hair?

The dimples can never be erased

Nor the lighted laugher on his face

But the curls must be cut away

In order to be a little man someday

An Education Dilemma

By Betty - June, 2010

The old teacher taught for years.  She came early and stayed late.  She made daily lesson plans and changed them to better meet the needs of her students.  She attended faculty meetings, seminars, and workshops.  She was involved in the school community.  She involved and encouraged parents to participate in the classroom.  She observed the child who came to school hungry, too tired, physically or verbally abused.  She searched for help and learned it’s hard to find.

The New teacher sparkles with energy, enthusiasm, optimism, and ideas.  She truly enjoys children.  She understands the technology coming this way.  She has a college degree.  She learns quickly about classroom discipline.  She learns all parents want the best for their children, but all parents do not want the same things.  She’s willing to try new teaching techniques, new approaches to education.

Working together the two teachers will accomplish many things quickly and better than trying alone.  They show students, by model, how cooperation and working together is a very helpful art.

Soon the old teacher will be gone.  Retired or given a pink slip because her salary is too high.  The new teacher will notice the notice and leave for more promising careers.  Schools, as we know them, will be gone.  For better or worse; only time will tell.

LAH Senior Writers Celebrate their 2nd Anniversary!

Do you Remember Our First Year?

by Betty

Do you remember

the first time we met at the church,

greeted by a little black dog?

Do you remember

when we always shared

what we had written at home?

Do you remember

our first bus ride across town

to the Tucson Public Library?

Do you remember

Two Beautiful People?

Aunt Sadie’s home?

Armistice Day?

Do you remember

Story Corps and its many questions?

Do you remember

our first and only group poem?

Do you remember

the 21 ways to start writing?

Do you remember

your favorite quote?

Life’s a challenge

Go for it

Life’s a dream

Follow it

Do you remember

our introduction to you?

Thoughts on the New Year

By Ruth

We start with a clean slate and will strive to make it as near perfect as we can.  However, that is impossible with life’s situations.

Maybe we will do some of the things we have been putting off, or maybe not.  Perhaps we might strive to improve ourselves. We might just reflect on life as we see it  from our viewpoints. We might even make new friends if the opportunity presents itself.  We could be better parents, better family-oriented, etc.

Whatever we do, we will wonder again at the start of a year from now. Let’s do  our best and be kind to each other. In the end, that is the best of all – and be happy!!

‘Balance of Power’

January, 2011

by Betty

“Balance of Power” by James North Patterson, written in 2003 on 1004 pages, was a stunning read at the time of January 8 in Tucson.

It is a novel – the author takes great care to assure the reader it is a novel. The author is definitely a man who knows his way around, inside and outside Washington, D.C. The research that went into the story is overwhelming.

It is a story of a young, inexperienced man who wins the presidency after his older brother, the candidate about to win, is shot. It is a story of a young woman who is a reporter who covered the war in Kosovo and has seen too much slaughter by gun shots. Her sister is struggling within an abusive marriage. Returning to their home in California after the D.C. wedding, the reporter’s family – mother, sister and 9 year old niece – are shot as they leave the plane under heavy federal security.

The president decides “enough!” and looks for ways to go to court for the family and other victims, and to pass some gun control.

The battle over gun control is an explosive issue. It still is. This novel becomes a story of choosing between ethics and integrity over friends and friendships. It uncovers the corruption of politics and politicians. It demonstrates how the law and money collide. It is a legal battle over gun control and the second amendment to the U.S. Constitution. It tells of the media exploitation of events and people in the pursuit of higher ratings. It is the story of the majority and minority struggling to compromise, the struggle for the one vote to pass a controversial law. The very real pain and struggle of the families involved, including the president’s family, the victims and the survivors, is real.

The legal battle between victims of gun violence, gun manufacturers, the National Rifle Association becomes explosive and personal.

It is a book to truly ponder. One wonders why January 8 could happen here in our hometown. Some of the answers may lie in this novel. We haven’t seen or heard the end of the needless, unexplained violence of guns in the hands of perhaps the emotionally or mentally unbalanced person. Money still demands and commands much. The choices are painful and costly and often difficult.

If you have strong opinions on gun control laws or politics or money, you may not appreciate this book for what it is. But still, you might ponder, and wonder again, how could this happen in our home town?

Open your eyes. Look around you. You may just be surprised at what you see and learn.

Clouds

by Ruth

I took time to look at the sky and it was filled with beautiful white clouds. They were very distinct and clearly defined. They were outlined against the clear blue sky. It was just a wonderful sight. They were moving very slowly. They seemed like “whipped cream” in the sky. I was fascinated and just stood there absorbing Mother Nature’s display. If I could only paint a picture of them and keep them on canvas forever.

I was on a plane once coming home from Florida to New York when we came upon a lovely big patch of white clouds. We were riding right through them for several minutes. It was great, really breathtaking.

Now on the other side the clouds at dusk are dark and forbidding against the semi-light sky. They move slowly and mysteriously through the sky. They herald the night to come with its inherent problems and surprises. Still they fascinate as they form and reform, causing concern in anyone watching. Gradually fading into the darkness of the night to repeat again another day.

Personally, I prefer the nice and happy white clouds depicting “whipped cream” and the wonders of the day to come.

Black Swan

by Elvira

Daughter of                                                    Darkness

Blackhearted,

Mistress of                                                      Evil

Doppelganger:                                                Discontent

Bleeding          the Love

of the Queen                                      from    the Heart

of the                                                  Chevalier

Fouettes:                    Forty “plus”

no Cares, no Kindness

Green-eyed monster

hidden behind

a veiled face:                                                  False.

member of a               closed             society

whispering      Love,

Trust,

Loyalty

giving              only

DEATH

a story as                                                        old as

mankind                     /                      womankind

“promettre     à qu de”

Portrait of

Dorian Grey

youth, beauty, light

hiding              the sexual

rottenness of

EVIL!

your Face                                changes           but, not

your goal:

to Crush                      man’s goodness

with the Visage          of                     Le Cygne Blanc

you never

change

your face                                                         and goal –

As Hellion itself                                              you

ARE

DEATH

at Landsend;

While

La Reine                      se sucider                   to reach

PERFECTION

January 25, 2011

Pompeii AD 79

By Liz

I flew from London to Rome with my daughter, to meet my husband. He rented a car and we drove to Pompeii. It is about 200 miles from Rome.

The streets in Pompeii are paved with stones and are made of hard grey lava.

Mount Vesuvius had erupted – lava pebbles from the cone, light white pumice, heavier gray pumice, hardened volcanic sand, sandy ash, ash, ashy top soil. The excavation took years to be done – excavation was still being done in 1938-39. Amphitheater was 1938-39

The people died of suffocation.  Some parts of Pompeii were under 40 feet of ash and ruins from Mt Vesuvius. Herculanium was right under the volcano. The total casualties were never estimated. The first few hours of escaping was their only chance for survival. Some escaped by sea. The people who tried to collect valuables, died of sulphurous fumes. Most of the villas below Mt. Vesuvius had disappeared after the volcanic mud washed down the mountainside.

The people in the area had been very rich. At the time, Greeks had household slaves. They carried Greek names and most were Greek-speaking slaves. Slave families sold their children into slavery.

The excavation was very difficult to do because of debris which had to be moved. Pompeii was closed for years while we were in Europe. Pompeii had been wiped off the map.

It was a very unusual place to visit. Although the ruins will always be there, looters and thieves took bronze and valuables. This was an example through time where greed cast its spell.

Short Shorts

By Jim

August 8, 2009

1. Getting off the bus, a young man standing looking at me was thinking, “Oh, no! This old codger is getting off here?” Even with my cane, I still had trouble with the steps. His brain was saying, “Why me?”
2. I walked in the coffee shop this morning. A man very well dressed with a suit and tie looked up at me as I said, “Good Morning.” He replied, “Uumpf.” I could tell it would be a good day.
3. I have so many thoughts I can’t write them all down, but some days no thoughts at all.
4. Have you bought anything lately that didn’t say, “Made in China?” My shoes, pants, shirts, this pen, the paper, the radio, the TV, the rug, the lamp, the table, the bed. Oh, wait, here’s something. . .  it’s an onion!
5. I was house sitting, what a beautiful place! Wood floors, open beam ceilings, huge rooms, back yard like a jungle. Inside the walls have lots of pictures and switches. So many switches. It was fun to turn them on and see what lit up or what fan turned on.
6. Oh, did I tell you about THE BOOKS? Books in the living room, books in the kitchen, books in the bedrooms, even the bathrooms. Books in bookcases; books on tables, books on the floor. Books, books and more books.
 What did the owner say when she came home? “Let’s go to the library!”
7. I had a phone call from a bill collector. The lady told me to send $17.64. I looked in my checkbook. I had already sent $22.64. I told the lady she owed me $5.00. She said, “huh?” I explained it again and she said, “Huh?” I told her to send me a bill for both amounts. She said, “What?” Click.
8. Today, a second lady called. I told her about the first call. She said, “What?” “No,” I said, “What comes last – the two ‘huhs’ come first.” Click.
9. Michele introduced us to Sappho, a rock and roll group from the 50s.
10. If the reader and the writer understand each other, that’s all that counts!

Sand Castles

by Jim

“Wow, a tin cup! Between this and that half tennis ball Bobby found last week, we can go back to building sand castles.” Ed brought a piece of wood that we used as a draw bridge. After all we had to have a moat.

We would pack the wet sand into these strange things that we found, and make a mold for our sand castles. Adults would walk by and smile, and sometimes point at parts of the castle.

We would work hour after hour on our project. Then we would go home. The next day, we would go back to the beach. The tide had come in and gone out and wiped our slate clean. Time to build a new castle!

February, 2011

Lilith

by Mike

Lilith is said to be an earth goddess before the writing of Genesis

Lilith lived in Canaan green

With her open love and care

Life a round of seasons seen

Symbolic Mother all could share.

Cosmic time as sung by spheres

Stars saw movement down below

The wheel rolled on, read by seers

Life a round of Lilith’s flow.

Clans were all together then,

Open land, they saw no walls

Between the crops, between the clans

Till came the change, Till came the fall.

Moved by changes, moved by need

Reality in Adams seed.

Born of Lilith, once Her child,

Legend married child to Mother

To bring some order to the wild,

Adam killed and took another.

Denying all which came before,

Eve was born of Adam’s bone

Changing history at the core,

Lilith left, unloved, alone.

Moved by changes, moved by need

Reality in Adams seed.

The search was then for heroes strong,

Mars and Marduk, Zeus and Thor

A Vulcan god righted wrong

And men marched blindly on to war.

Towns and streets and waterways

Songs of men, of engineers

Gone the mystery of the maze,

Lost the music of the spheres.

Moved by changes, moved by need

Reality in Adam’s seed.

Floral Technology

by Jim

When people think of technology they think of I-phones, I-pads, computers, televisions, remote controls, jet planes, rockets, missiles, space stations, DVDs CDs, I-pods, Blackberries… The list goes on and on.

But I think of flowers. Scientists and botanists have changed the colors and shapes of flowers. For example, many years ago you could not get a green zinnia. Now you can get them in all colors and shapes. Sunflowers used to be yellow outside and dark brown inside. The new one, called “Coconut Ice,” is white outside and black inside. Speaking of black, the seed companies said they had a black petunia, but it was dark purple. But this year the “Black Cat” is black with a dot of yellow in the middle.

Remember the daisy? White outside and yellow inside. Well, the new one is lavender outside and blue inside. It’s called a “Blue Eyed Daisy.”

Some seed companies sell seeds for seedless tomatoes. Where will it end??

Some day you will go out and pick a lemon that’s bright blue with silver stars.

Do you think I’m kidding??

March 2, 2011

A Book

By Betty

Once upon a time there was a wise dog. He knew his purpose in life and he wisely made a plan so it would be done. He wrote this book – “The Art of Car Racing in the Rain.”

At the same time there was a gentleman who lived the good life. He was a race car driver; he shared his knowledge of keeping the eye on the moment. He had a happy wife, a curious, beautiful young daughter, a home of their own, and a job.

He became so successful he was invited to race in competitions around the country, often away from his family three or four days at a time. His wife agreed it was a good life for all of them.

As sometimes happens, all went wrong. The wife becomes very ill; he can’t care for their daughter and keep his job that pays the new expensive bills.

Her parents offer to keep the young girl during the day, taking her to school and after school activities. They want the best for her. The wife comes home, unable to care for herself and the parents offer to care for her if she will live at their home.

Trouble was brewing. They didn’t like dogs, wouldn’t have him in. They didn’t ask the young man to live there – only to visit. One day he comes home to his lonely house and finds a warrant being served. It claims he’s not a good father – he’s never home, and the in-laws want custody. The wife is no longer living, so he has little support.

Trouble – you haven’t heard it yet, but you know it’s coming. He loses the custody battle; he is only allowed visitation under the in-laws supervision.

The court decides he cannot leave the city so there goes the job. The in-laws want financial support for the young girl. He sells the house they had long ago called home. He has nothing except his faithful, wise dog.

Fast forward – many years later the dog with a purpose is gone, but his plan survives. You won’t believe the ending. Good can come from the worst of times. Even sad stories can have a happy end.

In racing, as in life, you cannot win unless you finish. You cannot finish if you give in to fear.

The man and his four-footed friend had found companionship, communication, a sense of humor, a moment of wonder, hope in the face of despair, the thrill of racing, life’s highs and lows – love, death, betrayal.

It makes one wonder what our four-footed friends are thinking and planning. Where and how do they find the purpose or the wisdom to make it happen?

Review of “The Art of Racing in the Rain” by Garth Stein; hardcover 2008, paperback 2009

February, 2011

 

What Is the What?

by Betty

Another week, another book read. It is written as a novel, but is the true biography of a very young, fearful little boy growing up in a very chaotic poor land to become a fearless understanding man.

At seven or so he is told by his mother to RUN into the woods, to keep running in the dark of night, and hide all day under logs or dense bushes. Mother tells him to never look back and to never come back. He eats what he finds, too often nothing. He meets other boys on the RUN, none older than 16. Once the small group of three becomes ten, then fifty, then three hundred.

Years later, still on the run, they find themselves in a school. They spend mornings marching and following commands, and afternoons learning to kill with knives, swords, guns, clubs, in exchange for an indoor place to sleep and a meal or two a day.

Fast forward. The boys found themselves put into groups, sent to a strange land. They do not know where it was. They do not know the language. They have no money. Their few clothes were torn, filthy and too small. Few had shoes. But they were met by a refugee sponsor. Suddenly there was food to eat, clean clothes that fit, shoes for all, a place to live. A mentor encouraged the language of this new land and school. Working full time and going to school full time these boys graduated with high school educations and college degrees.

The refugee mentors still exist and provide help and guidance for the refugees. One group raised donations to aid the homeland they left long ago. A school has been built. The walls and roof keep out the rain, there are windows to let in the light, wood floors. A chalkboard, chalk, pencils, paper, books, teachers – the first school ever in this land.

The novel is heartbreaking, brutal, vicious, over and over. It ends with a light at the end of the way – a light of hope and compassion, promising a better time. It’s truly a living miracle. The writing style is fascinating.

One brave enough, open minded enough, to read all 500 pages. One always wonders – how could this be?

They proved anything is possible if you try hard enough, if you persist long enough.

What Is the What? The answer may be in the book.

“What Is the What?” by Dave Eggers, 2006

March  2011

A Solution: fire all the bad teachers

by Betty

Fire all the bad teachers and all the problems with education will be solved.
All children will excel. All budgets will be balanced.

Right?

or

Maybe fire all the bad administrators.

Maybe fire all the bad school board members.

Maybe fire all the bad politicians.

Maybe fire all the bad parents.

Maybe take a more careful look at the problems.

Maybe look for a better solution to the problems.

Maybe take a look at the outdated and overloaded curriculum.

Maybe take a look at the diverse needs of the children in the classroom.
Each child is different.

or

Maybe it’s time to teach each child that anyone can succeed,
anyone can reach their goal.

If one truly believes one can, works hard, and persists in trying,
one will succeed.

Some things take longer.

Some things are harder,

but

All things are possible.

Never give up.

A Call from the Past

by Ruth

I was in touch with my first cousin and have kept up the communication with her daughter, my second cousin. I had asked for the address of another cousin which I finally obtained. I wrote her in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. I was surprised when she called me. I hadn’t seen her or communicated with her since 1939 or 1940, approximately 70 years or so. It’s very difficult to believe. Her name is Mable and I played with her and my other two cousins, Vina and Bernice. We all were approximately the same age, give or take a year. We all would visit my Aunt Sadie on the farm in around 1925. It was great fun.

However, I wasn’t home at the time and I do not have a phone number for her. She did say she was very happy to hear from me, and would call back. It seems she is in a nursing home and also cannot write, but she sounded alert and on the ball.

To be continued…

It’s exciting to hear from the Past.

March 9, 2011

Y Not all cried: man’s finest hour

Elvira Chávez

Sept. 15, 2010

Y

Not all cried: man’s finest hour

Wind                                                            stops.                                     not a

bird.

all                                                             was quiet

as                         if by magic,                                                             people

ran                         here,

there

praying                         to gods             they

had abandoned

running

screaming

sweating

cursing

pick                         up                         strangers

old men

old women

the young

ALL

they

had                                     one goal:

TO LIVE.

Smoke, smoke                                                                                                 everywhere

toxic gases                                                             eating                                     the air

one                                                                         fell, foaming                         at the mouth

another                                                             stumbled

grabbing                         a corpse.

NOISE!

everywhere                                                                                                 No where

fingernails                                                             scraping                         wood, steel

THIS                                                                         is                                     what humanity

has                                     wrought!

THIS                                                                         IS                                     their judgement

day!

their                                                             opportunity to see                   the other side

of the mountain

This                                                                         is                                     the SIMULATION to

“End all”

this                                                                         is/was                                     Hiroshima

Berlin

Baghdad

Babylon

New York!

But, not all cried…

THIS WAS MAN’S FINEST HOUR!!

Versailles, France

By Liz

I departed London for Paris, France. It is such an extreme difference in personality in France than in Britain. The Brits are sweet and kind, while the French think they are elegant.

Versailles was the home of Louis XV. This is one of the most famous chateaus in the world. Versailles was the capital of France for more than one hundred years. Much of French history took place at Versailles during the reigns of Louis XIV, Louis XV and Louis XVI.

This château started out as a hunting lodge. The château has many wings for different purposes. The lower part of the north wing was for the princes, but was destroyed when Louis-Philippe turned it into a museum. The hall of mirrors is a favorite attraction. It has seventeen windows matched with seventeen mirrored archways.

The château had several courtyards. The north and south had twenty rooms on the first floor. The ground floor had 35 rooms.

The chambers had two large candelabrum and two sugar bowls with the same metal as was on the fireplace, and this is the room the king really slept in.

The gardens covered 14,820 acres, surrounded by 27 miles of walls. Today it has about 2013 acres. The garden had 36 fountains on display. Each one was more beautiful than the other.

Inside the garden was a canal about 5118 feet long and 384 feet wide. During festivals a boat ride on the canal with illuminated banks would follow a walk through the beautifully lit gardens. The gondoliers were brought from Venice by the king and to this day, the spot is called Little Venice.

The garden also has a Swiss Lake called the Lake of Swiss Guards. The lake is 2237 feet by 768 feet and was dug by the Swiss Guards of Louis XIV.

There is one last wing to the château. It is called the Grand Trianon. It has 19 rooms. These were mainly drawing rooms and empress chambers. It also had its own gardens. Marie Antoinette had her own theatre.

This was beauty beyond beauty.

March 13, 2011

The Legend of Easter Island

By Mike

Only when the last tree has died and the last river poisoned and the last fish is caught, will learn we can’t eat money.  Cree, Native American Proverb.

In the middle of the great Pacific Ocean is a tiny lonely island thousands of miles from any other land. We have named it Easter Island.

Once this island was rich with giant palm trees and fertile soil.

A long time ago, 1300 years in the past and long before Columbus crossed the sea and started the written history of America, some people saw the island and landed on its shore after sailing an empty ocean. They called themselves the Rapa Nui.

No one knows where they came from but it is believed they were Polynesians. They must have been overjoyed at finding such a scene – filled with palms, plant life and a sea alive with fish.

The Rapu Nui brought sweet potato, yams, sugar cane and bananas with them on their boats as well as chickens and an edible Polynesian rodent. Some people say they also ate native sandalwood nuts and sap from the palm trees for energy.

Landing on a beach, they brought their long boats ashore and turned them upside down to provide homes and protection from the weather. They named their new country Hofu Matua and created a small nation far from any other humans.

The Rapu Nui cut down some of the giant palms for firewood and material to build homes that were in the shape of the overturned boats.  Food was plentiful and life was good on this island that had no enemies.

In the center of Hofu Matua was a quiet old volcano that long ago had erupted and created the land in the middle of the sea. One day a member of the Rapa Nui visiting the volcano had an idea. He or she was very artistic as well as spiritual and thought to carve a small head from the soft stone of the mountain. The statue was to recognize the God who had led them to this beautiful but lonely island.

Because the palm trees, the rich soil and the sea provided them with food that was easy to find, the Rap Nui had a good deal of time to spend on other activities and they taught one another to carve more heads.

As more stone artists learned the skill, the heads became larger and the Rapa Nui had to find a way to move them from the mountain to the cliffs of the island.  Someone suggested cutting down the Palms and using the logs to roll the carvings across the land. The heads were then put standing around the island looking out on the empty sea.

The people of Rapa Nui were pleased with their great works of art. If any other sailors came by they would see the giants  guarding the island and think twice about landing and taking over.

On their small island they grew into a large population and divided into clans working together to farm, fish and carve ever-larger heads.

But no one stopped to think about what was happening to the island.  The last heads were rolled into place by the last of the palms.

With the forest gone, the wind and rain from the sea blew away the soil that provided food. With the giant palms gone there was no wood for fire, houses, or boats for fishing.

At first they had used their boats to sail out into deep water to fish but with the wood gone they were forced to look for their sea food close to shore where the fish were smaller and less available.

As the Rapa Nui became hungrier, the different clans began to go to war against those that were once their friends.

And as they began to starve, they became cannibals feeding on the bodies of other Rapa Nui. A cave below one of the sea cliffs was used as the place where men were eaten.

There was no way to escape the problem they created. The food was gone, the houses were wearing away and there were no boats to take them to land once again.

The surviving Rapa Nui brought down the giant statues even separating the heads from the bodies supporting them and smashed the eyes away.

They became carvers of birds, worshipping them because they had the ability to fly away.

When the first explorers came across Hofu Matua, now called Easter Island, there were very few people there, only giant heads laying broken along the cliffs of the island, carvings of birds on the rocks of the sea, and only one writing left to tell us what it said.

Easter Island is small bit of land in a vast sea. The lesson of the Rapa Nui is a lesson for the citizens of Earth. We are living on a small island planet drifting through the vast sea of space. If we destroy that which supports us, we will be trapped on a barren globe with no one to hear our cry for help.

Two Beautiful People

by Jim K.

Two normal people met in the middle 30′s – they dated, went out, had dinner together, enjoyed the company of each other’s parents. On Sunday, June 7th, 1936, Lucille Deckert and James Kennedy got married.

They bought a house on Sherrill Road in East Hampton, Long Island, New York.

In January 1938, that had a son, James E. aka Jim. He should have been a twin, but the other child died. Jim was in and out of hospitals for years. In 1951, docs said he had to move to a drier climate.

By 1952, Lucille and Jimmy and their son left their house, job, friends, relatives, and moved to Tucson, Arizona. The first 5 or 6 years were pretty rough on the family.

Lucille and Jimmy have passed away, but the son lives, all due to
Two Beautiful People.

Past Midnight in Meyers Chuck

By Mike

An open ocean storm was on its way toward my fish trap on the South side of Prince of Wales Island in Southeastern Alaska.  I was on the floating snare awaiting the August signal to close the nets. Because there was a possibility the coming winds and waves would present a danger, the cannery ordered a boat to carry me to a safe location on the back side of the island. I was 16 and this was my first journey away from home.

My trap was on the Southwest tip of Prince of Wales Island with the Pacific open to the West. This massive region is the largest of what seems to be countless islands in the inland waterway of Southeast Alaska.  It was early August and the long daylight of Alaska shrinks a bit each day following the summer solstice. The feeling of twilight lasted until past midnight and dark gradually settled earlier with each passing day. The cannery boat picked me up in early afternoon and began the long trip toward the east side of the island. There, the land mass provided protection from both storm winds and rain.

Alaskan tides are not the piddly tides of the lower latitudes. They cannon ball in during the limited time allotted by the moon.  When they confront an island they rush from both ends, their pincers of water meeting on the leeward side.  There is a magnitude to the pressure in nature’s turbine as these opposing forces come together in the waiting cauldron.

We entered Meyers Chuck where this drama was occurring under the cover of darkness. As we hit the current the boat was literally lifted some inches above the water behind us. Once into what seemed to be a bowl, a natural pot, the sea seemed to be in a cold boil.  The stygian surface seemed to have an opaque shine like the polished surface of obsidian but with pockmarks of whirlpools, large enough to twist the direction of our small packer.

I stood on the deck with a sense of awe in the beginning. The night sky was filled with the star lanterns of the galaxy and beyond.  Where no stars shined, the surrounding mountains were identified only by the lack of any dots of light. This was only the beginning.  Below me, where the water met, the boar phosphorus flashed in the wake and swirled in downward spinning cyclones of liquid matter. I was, for that short time, floating in the ether, it seemed the universe was both above and below.

The Great Spirit of Creation was not yet finished with the performance. Above the black curtains of mountains, the Northern Lights appeared in great diaphanous sheets of light, shifting in random patterns to the rhythmic pulse of the engine. Shortly, the tide must have ebbed, the sea was quiet. The phosphorous only showed in our foamy wake and the glowing drapes of the electric Borealis had retreated to their mysterious home.

Retiring

by Betty
March 2010

 

            We never thought of retiring. We never talked about retiring. Sometimes life blind-sides you and you cope as best you can. So it was for us.

It was midnight when the phone rang. His father’s wife was calling from Apache Junction where they spent the winter. She was leaving for a visit in Texas, and he was not going. Would we come get him and have him with us for two weeks?

We took the next afternoon off, drove to get him. It was a nightmare from then on. He was a man we didn’t know. Once so quiet, so gentle, so gracious, here was a man, arrogant, loud, combative, cruel. Finally a neurologist told us there was no help – no respite centers, no care homes, no nursing centers were willing to take in such behavior. The doctor hinted it might be Alzheimer’s. He wandered, he spent the night trying to open doors so he could take his empty suitcase and go home. He abused the dog. That was it! My husband retired five years early and watched over him. No one got any sleep. It was a hard lesson learned well.

Soon after, it was my mother. Living alone in Minnesota at 92, she was frail and fiercely independent. Minnesota in the winter can be harsh, cold, icy, deep snow, dreary days. We went home twice a year. We’d find the refrigerator full of spoiled food. We’d clean it out and arrange for a deli to deliver meals daily. She wouldn’t let them in. We returned once to find the house locked and no answer. But we could see her asleep in her chair. My husband cut a screen, broke the porch window, and found the house full of gas. We put in an electric stove. We arranged a church volunteer we’d known for years to come visit. She refused to answer the door.

We tried to have her come home to Tucson with us. We had the room; we had flower gardens and a vegetable garden. She enjoyed gardening. She always had dogs and now we had two. The answer was always, “NO.”

One day my sister called to say she found Mother sitting in her chair, suitcase on her lap, waiting for the airport to pick her up. I told her to put her on the first first-class, non-stop plane, tell the flight attendant to walk her off the plane, and I’d meet her. All was well until she decided the night she arrived that she’d go home in the morning. We agreed it was a good idea, and may the Lord forgive me, I lost her ticket. We for grateful for the lesson my husband’s father’s stay had taught us. I retired five years early. The nightmare was not so traumatic. We’d learned the path.

Next our third nightmare… Retired from a job I loved, but not retired, my neighbors needed us. She was totally bedbound and he was changing. We bought the groceries, took him to church, took him to the police court to pay his driving accidents, picked him up lost across town to be met with, “What are you doing here?” She’d call in the middle of the night, “He’s not here. The front door is open. I can feel the cold air.” We go walking up and down and find him, suitcase in hand, going to visit his mother in Illinois. One day, having returned him lost from across town, he offered me $100. “No way.” Helping each other is what friends are for.” “What can I do for you?” I stood silent, scared. Did I dare, I asked myself. A long silence – “Your car keys.” A long silence – and he tossed them to me. A year later, the nightmare was over. We were retired.

Now my husband, who cared for his father, my Mother, our neighbors – now it was his turn to be cared for. Physical therapy five times a week, multiple surgeries, daily nurse to check his vital signs and medications, and physical help to help him dress and bathe, a volunteer daily visitor so I could nap for two hours. He could manipulate a wheel chair, and the walls of our home prove it. We listened to classical music. We studied old photographs. We sat and remembered the past. It was good and we were lucky.

Too soon I was truly retired and alone, too weary to volunteer as a sensible person would, too physically fragile to be dependable, I felt and feel useless.

I didn’t plan to retire. And I do not like it. I do not enjoy it. I keep reminding myself daily of St. Francis – “Accept what you cannot change.” I try.

A Short Compendium of memories and musings by Ruth

Earthquake

By Ruth

I was living in California when the Northridge quake struck. Although I lived in Marina del Rey, we felt it as well.

I was approximately 3 or 4 am and dark outside. I was in bed. The bed shook and the furniture, in fact the whole room and house was shaking. It’s a very scary experience. I thought the wall might fall in on the bed and me, but I just stayed there and prayed. If I were to get up, it would be worse as the floor was moving, too.

Finally, it subsided and I did get up. Now usually the time is only 3 or 4 minutes for the shaking – of course it seems longer – much longer.

I was lucky. When my neighbor came over to check if I was all right, we inspected the damage. In the kitchen, cupboard doors had opened and dishes and pans were strewn all over the floor, along with supplies. In the rest of the house, knickknacks were on the floor, as well, but there didn’t seem to be any real damage. Needless to say, I did not return to bed.

With the morning came aftershocks, which continued for several days. Some were really strong – 5.3 or 5.9.

The damage in Santa Monica where my friend lived, was very severe. They even tacked up signs on houses and apartments – ‘uninhabitable’ – and people had to find other places to live. It was devastating to see. My friend was pretty shaken up. When the earthquake hit, it blew out the window in her apartment. Of course Santa Monica was closer to Northridge. The freeways were torn up and there was damage everywhere.

I was fortunate to be away from the epicenter. Thank God!
June 21, 2010

____________________

Nature in Its Glory

by Ruth

Another blank page. What to say. Upon thinking, I’ll write about the beautiful lemon trees in Laura’s back yard. They are nice and green with full leaves and loaded down with yellow lemons – really large lemons.

I’m thinking of the wonderful lemon squares that Laura makes. They just melt in your mouth.

Ah, another year of wonderful abundance. Hopefully it will continue!

March, 2011

________________

The Fireplace

by Ruth

When I light the fireplace I’m happy. The fire is company when I’m alone. I enjoy seeing the flames shooting high up in the chimney, and hearing the crackling and popping of the wood. It’s really fascinating and spellbinding.

It brings back days of old when that was our only way of heating our homes and the principle way of cooking our food. Now it is just considered to enhance our home.

But let’s get back to the fireplace. One can see all sorts of imaginary pictures in the flames – faces and figures of days gone by, pioneers on the prairie sitting around the fire, cowboys singing and talking, and many others.

When I was a child we sat around the campfire telling stories (spooky stories) – more thrilling because of the darkness. Later on, as I grew up, there were huge bonfires to celebrate homecoming at college and football games.

Fire isn’t just for warmth. It feeds the soul and cherishes the spirit.

Feb, 2011

Bus Ride

By Elvira

Riding
Riding
long time                                long time

funny man:                                         talking                         to himself
NO!
“chatting”                                                                   on a phone!
ok!

Fat Lady:                                 “Get                off my feet, jerk!”

sweet boy (Five?)                   “Do                  you have change
for a dollar?”
H . m . m . m (nice chickie)!:              “Sure”

Bus stop                      In comes:
A BUM!
“Why don’t they stay home?”
To                                get                               a bus pass,
you                  have    to        stink
dreads and
all

“Here’s my stop                                             Government Building
(Clandestine)

Check that dollar                               Check that dollar.

No faces
no faces.
they have NO faces
just a crowd                                                    Bodies occupying
space               no time           to say              “bye”
no reason.
no smiles
faces                            hidden                                    with the
“New York Times”
or,       THE Stare!
icy crystal
never                           goes                            away.

We’re
ciphers
WE                              are                   the Walking dead
Zombies without
death.

Brief encounter
brief lives
but for some:                                                 THERE IS NO
brevity:

Minds                          struggling                                against
phantom                                                                     Real; or, Not

NO peace                                                                    voice
telling                          secrets
long buried

September 22, 2010

Vienna, Austria

by Liz

I flew from London to Vienna, Austria, the most beautiful city of art and culture. The city has beautiful fountains at every important site and palace.

The river is called the Danube. It is breathtaking from the lights of the city reflecting on the water. The biggest wheel in the world is in Vienna, close to the Danube. The wheel is called a Ferris wheel in America. The world name is Prater for the Ferris wheel or ring.

They also have a famous riding school. The horses are called Lipizzaner, and are a cross between Berber stallions and Andalusian mares. They exercise in time to music. They are pure white. We were supposed to see the beautiful show, but left for America. I was disappointed because we were in the wrong place. When Hitler was in power over the European countries, the horses were held in exile to save them.

It was a terrible feeling for me and the family to drive the road on one way to stay in the free world or the other way to block countries. It borders on the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary, and part of the Soviet Borders.

The fun part of Vienna is the Viennese waltz. Our friends had a surprise for us, and I’ll never forget the experience. They said we were going on a boat ride down the Danube. We boarded this beautiful vessel. When on the vessel we were seated to eat at a beautiful restaurant. Then the dancers came out on stage to do the Viennese waltz. Then the most beautiful surprise happened. The boat danced to the waltz. The boat was in time to the music. I will never forget my surprise. What an elegant way to have dinner on the Danube, swaying to the boat waltz.

June 16, 2010

Review of “Leaving Mother Lake”

by Betty

“Leaving Mother Lake” by Yang Erche Namu and Christine Mathieu, is a novel well worth reading and pondering long after the last page is read.

It is a novel that stories the life of a real girl growing up in the far away hidden Himalayas.

Her home is deep in the Himalaya Mountains, far removed from television, all phones, water faucets, electricity, grocery stores and cars.

The land provides, the people work, each to his task. Women care for the home and children. Men provide the long trips to barter and bring home the needed materials.

There are many customs everyone there abides by. Best of all, everyone is happy and content. Everyone sings alone and together.

One day the girl, who is a bit curious about the other side of the mountains, is invited to participate in a singing concert over the hills and far away. She wins and goes on to a music school. She now lives in a city – so different, so exciting, so challenging.

When she goes home to visit, she feels her home is too quiet. Now there are the challenges of leaving home and her mother and living with a musical career in a city.

It’s a haunting, daunting story from a land far away. But the growing up and leaving home becomes, to the reader, bittersweet and personally familiar.

To leave or to stay – that is the question.

April, 2011

Spring

By Jim

As I was walking around the yard this morning, I saw a big green weed and two little weeds. They were beautiful. If I can see some ants, ant hills, bugs, and maybe a lizard or two, I’ll be happy. Spring will be here.

As I get older and older, I tell myself, “Don’t dig a garden. Your back and legs will hurt for weeks.” So what do I do? Yell out loud, “Where is the shovel?”

I need plant food, fertilizer and my seeds. I’ll get zinnias, blue-eyed daisies, that new sunflower called Coconut Ice, and a marigold mix. I’ll buy some tomato plants, and this year, I want to try some mint. Besides the gardens, I think of Mom’s favorite poem:

Spring has sprung.
The grass has riz.
I wonder where
The flowers iz?

March 30, 2011

Atria Campana Del Rio

By Betty

The wandering, lost lady wandered again into a foreign land. This time the temptation to wander was the invitation to a cheese and wine snack and an art exhibit.

The entrance to the building was elegant, quiet, friendly and very busy.

The art was displayed on walls in many rooms. All the art was made by the residents of the facility. There were beautiful paintings, some creative picture frames, hand-made quilts, knitted scarves, caps and throws.

The snacks were art in the presentation –tasty and of great variety. We ate outside in a lovely patio – quiet and busy. Nearby was a sparkling blue pool. Purple petals from a nearby flowering tree fell on the table. Sample snacks were carried to our table. The snacks became a meal as I tried them all.

The tour was overwhelming. Twas a place of care, assisted living. It was not a nursing home. The studio apartments, the one and two bedroom units, were bright, quiet and each with a courtyard view.

Transportation was provided for residents. Organized tours of museums, historic areas were available. One could play poker, dominoes, board games. One could participate in a computer class, a sing-along, a knitting group, an Alzheimer support group, a Bible study class, and writing for fun. One could attend movies, live theater or dancing. There had been a trip to Santa Fe and Albuquerque. Something for everyone.

Bowling, a swimming pool, pet therapy, a beauty and salon was available. Music in the park, complete with picnic, lectures from the local colleges, libraries on each floor. Attractive cafeteria or dining room with tempting menus. Friendly people to enjoy, and so much more.

I was truly more than overwhelmed. I’ve wondered if the day was coming as my home grows bigger every day. I wondered if I could fit into such an enclosed space in such a social environment.

The first question I always ask is, “Can I have my two dogs with me?” The answer always makes the decision possible. “Yes, you can have dogs.”

Still I ponder if it could be for me. One day I may have no choice.

March 26, 2010

Sunday Morning Surprise

By Ruth

I awoke as usual. I brought in my newspaper thinking another hot hot day. I went into the kitchen where I usually read the paper. As I took my fruit from the refrigerator I noticed something huddled on the iron bars of the window. Upon a closer look I saw two baby birds. One was in fair shape but the other was in poor shape. They were trying to stay cool by my semi-opened window which had cold air blowing outside from my air conditioning.

Now I knew they needed water but being wild birds made it difficult. Besides, I had to wait for my helper at 11:00 am. When she finally arrived I motioned her to be quiet and showed her the birds. I suggested we give them some water which they were sorely in need of. I had it all planned. I told her to use a roasting pan approximately 15 inches long and 12 inches wide. The depth was probably 3-4 inches, this would be easy for the birds. I had her fill my watering can and carry the roasting pan out, put it on the ground and then fill it and place it as near the window as possible. The birds took off as expected but then something very nice happened. The bird that had been in fair shape flew back to a branch by the window and seemed to say thank you and then he took off. He was very much more alert than he had been, evidently he found the water and was refreshed.  The other bird did not appear but I hope he found the water too. The fact that he had come back to thank me made me feel very happy.  A true story.

Café au lait

by Elvira

Here in                                                                                    the café line,
we                               wait                             for our
lattes,                                                                          cappuccino
coffee
little goodies                          tempting                     us
and all we                   see                              are calories
scones
brownies
tortes

Ah,
to be                           on the Left Bank
under
Vichey,
we                                           drank                          the strong brew
of                                 our Nation
under the                                                                   guise of Les
Allemands’
eagle.

In sleep,                                                                      all bodies
are                               alike
no German
no French                                                                   no resistance
only                             in light,
Does
the Eagle                                 kill.

“Tell                            me, Willie,
did                               you really
kill                               the Jewish child
even as you                            murmured
sweet words                                                               to him?”
“And, I will do it
again!”
“Did                             you
weep?”
“Nien!”

And,                            so it
goes                            to never
end ―
as sure, as                                                                   night
follows                                    day.

For everybody                                    knows ―                     and NO
ONE
DOES                           ANYTHING
ABOUT IT!

Feb, 2011

Adam’s Toddler Stage

By Liz

Adam and his family lived with us for three years here in Tucson. When he was born this was his first home. He had his own room and a crib, and a six year-old brother that lived in the family with my husband and me.

Adam was always very observant of everything, starting at day 3. He also had three dogs here, a rabbit, 22 doves, and about 200 homing pigeons.

I had to babysit Adam the last three months. We have monitored his progress. He is a very determined little toddler. He refused to let us try to put him on his knees to crawl. He was about 8 months old, and when no one was watching he got on his knees to crawl. He gained speed very, very fast. When he was crawling the dog would chase him and lick his face. When he stopped crawling and sat, a dog would lick his face on each side. He never cried and just smiled. He was walking at 9 months. He would hold his hands in the air and walk. He now runs and spins around. He can spin with both feet very close together.

He now holds the dogs with both hands and never pinches or is not good to them. He is now 10 months old and says to the dogs, “Good girl.”

He also holds to the rabbit with his big brother’s supervision. He puts his fingers in the soft fur and smiles. The rabbit licked him but he could tell the difference.

His favorite toy is to crawl through a four-foot tunnel to the other side. He is a real delight to us all.

The house has two patio doors. The last trick he does now is he can open the doors and go outside and sit on the step. He watches to see if the door is being locked. Also, outside he sits in the doghouse.

How can anything be more delightful than watching a child progress? I forgot to mention that his crib was used once. He preferred the double bed with pillows stuffed everywhere.

March 27, 2011

Dracula’s Castle

by Mike

The castle of Vlad the Impaler is strategically placed on the Transylvania side of a cleft between two steep mountains that served as a natural course for movement from East to West.  Just outside Brazov a small village lays in a semicircle around Vlad’s palace that has been made more famous through it’s fictional identification with Dracula.   Prince Vlad controlled the pass with duty stations and military garrisons.  When the Ottoman Turks invaded the Balkans their intention was to use the route for access to the west. To protect his interests and with some degree of Transylvania patriotism, Prince Vlad defended it with vengeance.

The castle sits on a tree-covered rise from where the Prince could maintain watch over the stations at the pass.  Hollywood has made it a far gloomier place than that offered by reality.  But the vicious response to the Turks by Prince Vlad provided Romanian history with a great tale improved by the myth surrounding it.  He lined the road leading to his border with the heads of the invaders on pikes in a long procession to the east of the cleft.  This rather alarming strategy prevented a large part of Transylvania from being occupied by the Ottoman Turks.

My wife, Mimi and I visited Romania in 1989.  Glasnost had been declared and Perestroika was on its way.  We did not chose Romania to visit the rumored castle of the original vampire, instead we believed it may have been our last chance to see the Eastern Block countries before the collapse of Russian domination.  But friends and children requested we visit Vlad’s home while in the country.

There was a parking area below the castle with at least four vendor stands.  We stopped at the one with reverse paintings on glass of reproductions of old icons and oil paintings of Dracula’s castle.  Learning we were Americans, the woman in charge immediately turned a tape deck volume on high.  We had been very aware of the peoples fear of Ceausescu.  She wanted to talk and she didn’t want anyone close to hear.  She told us we were only the second pair of Americans to visit in the years she had maintained her concession.

We were then given a lesson in Romanian political life.  Or the lack of it.  She was the wife of an aeronautical engineer who was kept under a constant watch to prevent any plans of escape.  Her young teen age assistant was serving public service time because he had been apprehended swimming out in the Black Sea in hopes of being picked up by a passing freighter.

When the conversation waned, she offered the young man as a guide to the castle.  There were hourly group tours with guides but we had the opportunity to have a private walk through the legendary house of Dracula.

There was little of a threatening feeling to the castle, I couldn’t help but compare it to the palace in Snow White, down to the well in the small courtyard.  We walked through rooms devoid of furniture with the explanation that Ceausescu and his wife had commandeered all of it to equip one of their many homes. We looked from movable openings designed to be closed in case of attack but providing narrow slots for archers.  We visited the servants quarters in the lower reaches and passed by the dungeon on the way to the dining area.  The dungeon was about the size of the inside of a Volkswagen bus and I had a vision of the servant wishing a good morning to the shackled guest when on his way to serve breakfast to Vlad.

When the tour was over, I turned to Mimi and asked her to take a good look at our courteous, smiling young guide.  She noted he did, indeed, have large canine teeth.

Ants

by Jim

I was sitting on the porch, watching two rows of ants. One row was going to the ant hill and the other row was heading for the garden. All of a sudden two ants, one out of each row, step out to talk to each other.

This is my interpretation

“Henry!”

“Oscar! Long time no see.”

“I haven’t seen you in years. How’s the wife and kids?”

“Fine, and yours?”

“Last time I saw you, we were on the first shift.”

“Yeah, taking care of the queen and all those little ones. Must be a million of them.”

“At least.”

“The second shift is pretty bad too. Carrying rocks and digging ant holes.”

“How about those tunnels? Miles and miles of them.”

“You know, with the technology there is today you would think there would be lights or lanterns inside.”

“Yeah, you’re right. The hours are long too; from early morning ‘til late afternoon.”

“I don’t miss that.”

“Oh well. Now we’re on the third shift. I like gathering leaves and other types of food. And we only work from 8 ‘til 2.”

“But there is a lot of walking.”

“Yeah, and it’s hot, too.”

“You have to be careful you don’t get stepped on.”

“No kidding.”

“We take it easy in the winter.”

“You’re right, it’s not too bad.”

“Well, got to get back to work. Nice seeing you.”

“Yeah. See ya.”

June 15, 2011

___________

Last fall I was talking to some friends in the coffee shop. Some strangers were listening in as I talked about how cold the winter would be. I said, “I think it will be the coldest winter we have ever had.” That brought smiles to their faces

The next day someone asked how I knew about this cold wave. I told them I watched the ants. This brought laughter. I told them I had never seen so many ant hills, one right next to the other. I explained that ants were coming up to the top of the ground to gather food for a long cold winter. More laughter, even my son and daughter looked at me like I had lost my mind.

The city had the coldest days on record. The gas company ran out of gas and had to shut down 1,400 homes. No Heaters, no stoves, no water heaters. Some people switched to electric heaters. Then the electric company ran out. They bought electricity from Mexico.

Water froze, pipes broke, cars would not run. For the first time in 60 years the cactus froze. There are dead cactus all over the city. All plants froze, covered or not.

So remember – 60 zillion ants can’t be wrong!

March 9, 2011

A Cry of the Lonely

by Sally

“Someone please help me.” “Someone please listen to me.” “I need a hug, a big hug.” “I need someone to hear me, to talk to me and to love me.” “I need a hug.”

These are some of the cries of the lonely, the depressed, the people who feel like they are left out and forgotten. They feel like no one is there to listen to how they feel or to ask how they feel. They are people in need of someone to share their cares.

These are not only cries from the elderly, or those in nursing homes, but people of everyday life – people who are working, have families, and even teenagers.

From the time we are conceived we are in need of the warmth of a loving touch. In our mother’s womb we are encompassed with the feel of her love and that is carried through all our lives to death.

Even in adulthood, when you are supposed to be able to take care of yourself, you still have the need for that caring touch, that someone to listen, and that someone to hug.

People are so busy with their own lives, they completely overlook the role they play in another’s life. A simple call to ask, “Are you OK?” To take that couple of extra minutes to stop and listen … and to offer a hug.

“Please, someone love me.” This is a desperate cry so many of us ignore. Possibly a cry reaching out in our own household, our own family. So many times we tend to put off touching base with a family member (“Oh, Aunt Sue is OK, she’s a survivor.” or “She/he has his friends, so she/he is OK, I don’t need to call.”) Hasn’t this entered into your mind when you do think of someone you should contact?

A good example is to go to an animal shelter, pet a dog, talk to him for a couple of moments, the walk away, but watch him as you do. See how he reacts. They drop their ears, drop their head, drop their tail, and watch to see if you are going to turn around and come back to them. And when you don’t, they go to the darkest corner of their cage and lay down with tears in their eyes. This is exactly how humans react when they are in need of a caring person, and that person just walks on by.

People like this end up going to counselors, taking anti-depressant drugs, or just walking away from it all. Just walking away from it all seems to be something not only the depressed do, but those people who don’t want to be bothered, or feel they don’t have anything to offer anyone in need, or are self-centered individuals who just don’t care with the excuse, “I don’t have the time right now.”

People who look the other way don’t realize that maybe someday they will be the ones crying out for a hug. People commit suicide from the thought that no one cares. And do you know what? No one does … until they hear the news of someone they knew taking their life. Then they say, “I should have … I should have .. I could have …”

I had the thought pop into my mind just today, as I watched a man and wife carry their baby in a car seat. This baby was hung on the arm like a bag, put into a shopping cart like a sack of potatoes, and left unattended for periods of time, then carried out and put into the car. WHEN DOES THIS BABY, WHO NEEDS LOVING CARE, HAVE THE PERSONAL TOUGH OF THEIR PARENT?

Modern technology has provided the world with many good items, but through the use of those items comes the loss of the human touch. God created humans to care for humans, not for humans to create a hunk of plastic to take the place of a loving person. It’s convenient! This is the main word in the vocabulary of the modern man/woman – convenient!

When it is convenient you will visit your uncle, mother, sister, etc. When it is convenient you will sit down and talk with your child to find out what he/she is up to, but by that time he/she is up to their elbows in dope, stealing, etc. and won’t talk to you … because they believe you don’t care! By that time they can teach you things of the world that you didn’t know because you have been off in your own world.

Financial problems are one of the highest causes for depression. Being financially low with no hope of it getting any better, and being alone to face the hardship, is so depressing that drastic measures forge ahead in the mind of the depressed. Even though these people don’t have the money to spend, they go out into the malls and shop, or pretend to shop, just for the attention of the sales clerk, because she will listen to them because she wants that sale. But they want that attention. They need someone to talk to, even if it is a stranger.

People cry out from the emptiness of their hearts. No one hears these cries because no one is around, no one cares.

Just like the animal shelter example, look into the eyes of a homeless animal, then look into the eyes of a lonely person. Aren’t they just about the same?

Don’t you feel like you want to take all the animals home? Wouldn’t you like to make another person smile … another human being, just like you and me?

September 1, 2011

Roaming

by Betty

Long, long ago my home was down in the valley. In spring the water roared down the river on its way to the mighty Mississippi. In summer the water floated slowly by and we could wade across to the other side, or row a canoe up and down the river. In winter it was frozen, and sometimes we tried to clear the snow and skate. We rode sleds down the snow. In the spring and summer the bluffs were covered with wild flowers. We climbed up and down. In the fall the leaves turned color – red, yellow, orange. Wild strawberries, wild blueberries, wild raspberries were to be found under the bushes. We hiked up and we hiked down.

My family and my home were there. My dad, a banker, provided for all of us. He took us to the high school football games and to the Candy Kitchen for ice cream sundaes. My mother always had cookies and hot chocolate for our school friends. Every Saturday they took us to the library to check out the best book ever. Every month we drove to the country to visit our grandparents and cousins.

My brother, my sister and I grew up together and different. My brother was a loner who enjoyed the woods, the lakes, the animals, hunting and fishing. My sister was social and had musical talent. She practiced the piano every day. I lived for the library and the pencil and paper. We each went our way but kept in touch over the years.

At 19 I left home to roam. The young man who only said “Hi” in high school and I heard the call to roam. Home from the military, he completed college as I taught school in my home town.

Colorado – The Rocky Mountains called. Those spectacular, looming mountains covered with pine trees. Higher up the mountains were covered with snow, then disappeared into the blue sky. We hiked up the mountains with boots with cleats, ropes on occasion. The view from the top was always breathtaking. We attended the weekly Denver symphony concert in the outdoor auditorium called Red Rocks. The parking lot would be packed, the music awesome, and the flickering lights of Denver far below were spectacular. We picnicked in the city parks. We studied at the museums. We skied in the winter. I taught school while my husband worked on a graduate degree and taught photography at night.

Alaska called somehow. Off we went, no plan, no job offers, a ten-year old car, and little money. But we had our dogs, their food and water and leashes, and our sleeping bags, dried food and water. It was a long trip – no traffic, no city, no gas stations or grocery stores – just undisturbed land, rivers, very few people, muddy roads, high bridges, hot springs – were along the way. “WOW!” when we saw the sign – “Entering Alaska”.

Alaska – Beautiful, quiet, compelling. We met the Alaska Eskimos, gentle, gracious people. We visited the air base parties. We skied downhill. We lived out in the wilderness with pine trees and deer for neighbors. We taught school. The living was easy, simple and good.

Tucson – The desert called and off we were. To a land we could not have imagined, flat, dry, dusty, hot and intriguing. We taught school in the Indian community and in the Spanish communities. It was a happy experience. We learned much. And we stayed over 50 years. Never more did we roam.

Alone – I do not like it. We thought we were prepared for an end. We were wrong. And I wander on alone, asking “Why?”

September, 2011

To My Brother

by Phyllis

Remember yesteryear,
We were diving off an old log,
And Willie was our black and white hunting dog?

Remember Daddy and Lucy,
Showing shadow puppets on the old white sheet?
There was always laughter
And little dancing feet.

Remember the smell of biscuits,
The pot of beans always there,
Roasting corn,
And music filling the air,
Mama cooking outside,
In the summer?
I can still see,
As Daddy told stories,
And we played beneath the tree.

Remember walking to school,
Chanting our happy songs,
Learning our lessons,
With joy
Doing no wrongs?

Big John, we parted on life’s lonely road,
Gathering strength to carry our load.
Tenderly, I carried you, Big John,
And you were not heavy,
Even though you were bigger than me.
I was your horse,
Translator and friend.
My love for you will never end.
When the time came,
You set me free-
Free from the Devil,
And loved by the best
My heart has finally, finally found rest.
Brother so dear,
Sharing the name of St. John,
From my heart,
You will never be gone.

September, 2010

“No Man is an Island…” J. Donne

by Elvira

Plates              moved

Continents once                                  ONE

Cut

Creating a Nouveau Monde

Bridges                       crossed  effortlessly

Now                required          kayaks;            the

Furred masses                                     no longer able

To pass            without help.

They                            stopped           only when safe;

And                 created                        families

They                            genuflected

Thinking         the sun

The trees

The animals

All                               greater             than themselves

The future.

Groups                                    erected                        ziggurats

Their own Babels:

Engendering               Walls

Fortress

Mastery

Minds              KNEW                                    no bounds:

Ego-/ethnocentricism

Wrapped                     in bits of cloth

Or                                                        holy book

Took                            NO prisoners

Tentacling                   their version

Of isolationishm;

Bellicousing

“Mine IS the TRUTH!”

Some               compromised;

The Rest          convinced                   with swords

The Age of the CRUSADES              NEVER ends!

This land, this America,

Separated by oceans

Intimates (intimates) that

It                      knows              best

It                      doesn’t!

In the end,       All returns to dust

And is weighed by Anubis’ scale

Travels                        then to

Darkness;                                            to

Light,              knowing          not the other side

Of the mountain

River

Grave

But                  casting            dice     on the devines

BLACK ICE!

Afterward:      “It is the oceans which cut us off

From the world-it’s the American

Way of looking at things.”-Henry Miller

Long ago How it was

by Ruth

Hobbies.

Holidays.

It was a happy time. When I was growing up, people were kinder and were more concerned for their neighbors. There was more time to enjoy the smaller things in life. The sunsets, the autumn leaves and the changing of the seasons. The first snowfall for instance. We, as children, would run out and enjoy the snowflakes as they came down.

I remember the snow crust unbroken and the large Christmas trees of our backyard, and thinking it was like a winter wonderland. My domain to enjoy.

It was silent and peaceful, as it is quiet when the snow is falling. Just a private world….

9/9/2002

The Five Senses

by Sally

The five senses are an amazing part of our lives. Our bodies can step in and substitute or increase an injured sense when needed.

The sense of smell tells us so much of our surroundings that we don’t even have to look to see the reason for the odor. And don’t you feel like shouting when someone comes along with a can of air spray to take away the smell and interfere with your imagination of distinguishing its source.

Our eyes are so valuable in our life. The way to compensate for them is our sense of smell, or feel, or hearing.

So many aspects of our body tell us when things are wrong.

When we step into an area and feel the air, we can sense either a negative or positive condition.

Some people say, “I can feel the “___?___” in this place. Can you?” As much as you try, often you cannot adjust yourself to what that person is talking about, and with a feeling of dismay, you walk away.

September, 2011