Monthly Archives: February 2010

A Hand

  • A Hand
    • A hand outstretched,
      • From light into the darkness.
    • A hand groping into the unknown,
      • From light into the darkness.
    • A hand reaching toward a lost one,
      • From light into the darkness.
    • A hand holding firm upon the despaired,
      • From light into the darkness.
    • A hand bringing peace and healing,
      • From light into the darkness.
    • A healing hand for the desolate,
      • From light into the darkness.
    • A healing hand filled with confidence,
      • From light into the darkness.
    • A healing hand conveying strength and reassurance,
      • The darkness turning into light.

Originally written:   January 24, 1996

My Footsteps

  • My Footsteps
    • My life is like a footprint.
      • Ah, the mark I have made,
        • There for all to see,
        • Recognition of progress made,
        • Symbol of continuity future  with past.
      • There it is. A life shared,
        • Lived to the fullest,
        • In dissonance and harmony,
        • On the edge to be judged,
        • Accepted or rejected.
      • Still, there it is for all to see,
        • My contribution everlasting,
        • Footstep upon footstep marking
        • The pathways taken.
      • Splish, Splash, Splish, Splash,
        • Another footstep taken.
        • Splish, Splash, Splish, Splash,
        • Another footprint recorded for posterity.
      • My life is like the footprint in the water puddle,
        • Splish, Splash, Splish, Splash.  

Originally written:    January 24, 1996

  • This poem was written just before my 53rd birthday reflecting back on my life.   It was affected by the poem of Its Raining in San Francisco.    When a person is laid off from work his or her place is filled quickly.  Within a few weeks or months the memory is dimmed.   The same is true when someone passes over.  Thus, you get the foot print in a puddle which quickly disappears when the foot is pulled out of the puddle.  What is  left is the ripples that go on and on.. 

It Is Raining In San Francisco

  • Raining in San Francisco
    • It is raining in San Francisco,
      • One drop, many drops,
      • Heard, and unheard,
      • Cherished and cursed,
      • Sometimes from the same lips.
    • It is raining in San Francisco,
      • Drip, Drip, Drop, Drip,
      • Umbrella here, umbrella there, umbrellas everywhere,
      • rushing here, rushing there,
      • someone pushing, someone shoving.
    • It is raining in San Francisco,
      • Splish, splash, splish, splash,
      • Some absorb the energy, some brush it away.
      • Invigorating to some, debilitating to others.
    • It is raining in San Francisco,
      • God’s tears of joy, God’s tears of sadness,
      • Each drop a remembrance, each drop a wish,
      • A prayer whispered, a prayer roared,
    • Someone is listening, I am listening.

 

Originally written January 24, 1996

  • January can be rainy in San Francisco.  This prose was a reflection on the rain and different perspectives  of the people in the rain and how they handle the rain.  I have been on both sides at different times in my life.    I enjoy walking in the rain sometimes with an umbrella and sometimes without.   It can be a peaceful time or even a frightening time with thunder and lightning hitting nearby.  When the rain has passed the air smells different and refreshing.   

Please and Thank You

  • Please and Thank You.
    • Momma taught me to say “Please” and “Thank you.”
      • I have used “Please” and a lot more
      • Than I have used “Thank you.”
    • When I have said “Please”
      • It has come from the bottom of my heart.
      • The intensity of my pleases
      • Have been much deeper than my “Thank you.”
      • There is much to give thanks for.
    • Starting with my ability to think,
      • And a never-ending list,
      • For all things in life are gifts.
      • I received much more,
      • Than I have ever dreamed of asking for.
    • Let this be a simple “Thank You!”
      • For all things new and old.
      • For past, present, and future.
      • THANK YOU!!!

 

Originally written October 15, 1995

  • This was written at the realization of how lucky I was.  I had survived much. I had a career with a future.  I had four grown children and 3 Grandchildren.  It was like a light bulb had turned on.    Maybe it was after returning home from Indiana and the frustration of the crisis was over..  I don’t recall what precipitated the feeling of overwhelming feeling of how lucky I was.   
  • There are so many places I could be in much worse situation.  I began thinking of those places when I would feel sorry for myself..  I could be in Bangladesh was the first situation I thought of.  Then came Iraq, Afghanistan, and many others.
  •  This does two things for me.  I feel empathy and generosity for those individuals that are in that situation.

Anger, Quack – Quack

Anger

  • Rarely felt, intensively felt.
    • Unproductive, and wasteful.
    • Unpredictable, and hurtful.
  • Chest binding, throat grabbing.
    • Bad words flowing Uncontrolled,
    • Creating ill feelings.
  • Positive actions
    • Negates bad feelings.
    • Select what is going to bother you.
    • And then be a duck, “Quack – Quack”
  • Let the things that could bother you,
    • Wash over you.  “Quack – Quack”
    • Can you see the water run off the ducks back?
    • Can you see the duck shake its wings and water flying?
  • Recognize the things that would bother you. 
    • Imitate the ducks.  “Quack – Quack” as the water is shaken off.
    • As those irritations flow on past without touching you.
    • Just say, “Quack – Quack” to yourself, out loud, or even shout it.
  • Life is too short to be governed by anger.
    • Anger, rarely felt, Thank you Lord!
      “Quack – Quack, Quack – Quack!”

Originally written:    October 6, 1995

  • I worked in a stressful job dealing with business crisis anyway in the world.  I worked with a team of specialized professionals, executives, and clients.   In my personal life having lived a full life there have been times when anger would intrude into my life.  At the time of the writing of this “ditty”  I was dealing with clients and technical professionals and each side was being intractable. 
  • I was visiting my mother-in-laws home in Warsaw, Indiana on Gooselake.  It had been a trying week just before my visit.  I was sitting in the garage looking out at the lake.   There was a flock of ducks that landed in the lake.    It started to rain pretty heavy.   Yet, the ducks just swam around and every once in a while they would flap their wings and the raindrops would scatter.  How nice it was to see them shedding the water.    Somehow, it connected my mind to my frustrations and being able to shake the anger off.     So, I imagined the words and situation that exasperated me.  I visualized the words like raindrops blasting in at me and washing over me like the rain.  I shook myself and said “Quack – Quack.”  It worked better when I shouted it and laughed at how stupid it sounded.  The sounds echoed across the lake to the ducks.  Some flew away.
  • A month or so later my daughter have a problem.  I advised her to say Quack Quack.. No Louder!  Louder still.  Very soon she was laughing..  Anger was reduced..  I chuckle now when I get angry and into my mind comes the words Quack Quack..  Amazingly, It does help.    Quack Quack.

I am a Daydreamer

  • I am a Daydreamer.
    • There are those moments
      • When I realize my mind has drifted off.
      • I am embarrassed beyond measure.
    • To those dear ones with me,
      • I can only deeply apologize.
      • And grovel, knowing inside it will happen again.
    • It happens at the most unexpected times.
      • It happens randomly,
      • There is seemly no pattern.
    • These journeys into my mind
      • are pleasurable, even thrilling,
      • They beckon to me to come again.
    • I am relaxed
      • In a mellow state of mind
      • When I slip out of  my daydream.
    • The images are surreal,
      • Yet warm and true
      • The colors vivid.
    • Sometimes alone in a forest,
      • Sometimes in the town,
      • Sometimes not alone.
    • The discussions within my dream
      • Are exciting and exhilarating.
      • Even angry at times.
    • The topics are varied as the weather,
      • The adjectives describing the moments,
      • Go on and on, like the sands on the beach.
    • These journeys are adventures
      • of  learning, contemplation,
      • Discoveries, and endless pleasure.
    • These journeys can be pure frustration
      • To those who need me fully present,
      • In those who try.
    • Try to interrupt,
      • My journey, my visionary travels.
      • My adventure,  my journey, 
      • Before my destination is reached.

Originally written: October 3 1995

  • I remember  when I first realized my mind had wandered.  It was in 6th grade in the first week of school in September in Ahmeek Location, Michigan.   The teacher was Mrs. Pelligreenie.  For some reason I was watching the trees of the forest that were outside  the second floor windows.  I sat in the row of desks next to the windows.  The colors of the maple leaves were beautiful.  Then Mrs Pelligreenie asked me a question and I did not hear her..  I paid for that dream with a visit to the closet room to teach me a lesson.
  • Now you see that daydreaming is not a newly acquired skill.  This habit has plagued me through many jobs, family events and even visits with friends. 
  • My apologies to all those I have offended,

Who is a Hero?

Who is a hero?

  • A hero is the person who lives  life, day in and day out, faithfully living out their personal beliefs.  It is not those events that are  in public view that are the proper measure of heroism.  It is in facing the small every day decisions, and those  made in the secrecy of your heart where the hero is gradually developed.   A hero is molded in the crucible of every day living.  It is in the faithful daily living that the person practices making those small decisions that create the footpaths upon which they will tread.  They follow these footpaths all the days of their life.  It is the type of decisions that weave the fabric of many colors of the hero’s life.  The decisions, are seemingly taken for granted, but  over time they compile into the accomplishments of life.   
  • They also set the pattern how the person will react in a crisis whether it is in the public eye.  Life should not be measured by the response to crises, but daily living over a life span..   

 

Originally written October, 2, 1995

  • This was written in a time when sport figures that were idolized as heros and their private behavior failed to live up to a standard of a decent person much less a hero.   The introspection was looking back at the many men and women who faced adversity, prejudice, and family crisis outside of the public’s visibility.  The Black men and women that went to war and had to fight for the French because they weren’t accepted by the US Army.   The Japanese men and women who went to war in WW II while their families were incarcerated.  The men who went to Vietnam War and returned to normal daily lives without being thanked.  The children who face bullying everyday at school yet continue on without complaint to be successful in their adult lives.   It is the woman who with breast cancer carrying on bravely with daily duties of family and friends all the while knowing precious life is slipping away that will leave loved ones with memories of a hero.  It is the husband being diagnosed with brain cancer with weeks to settle affairs and leaving a young family behind.  No media event.  Just daily living.  To me, these are the real life heros.