tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8397837300393658072024-02-15T10:36:46.104-08:00It's Always SomethingJodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.comBlogger338125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-61407012844349225822023-09-03T12:11:00.001-07:002023-09-03T18:25:00.199-07:00Cascadia Postcard Festival - PoPo 2023<p>It's time again for August Postcard madness! I love the PoPo to close out the summer months and thanks to Paul Nelson for introducing me to this poem-a-day event, so many years ago. I now have a bulging shoebox of postcards from all over the world, postmarked with endless Augusts.</p><p>Poetry is an opportunity for me to not just express myself in free verse or poetic forms, it helps with my prose writing, to keep the juices flowing and spark the imagination. I also have the chance to share postcards collected from estate sales, galleries, museums, bookstores. There are those I have a hard time parting with, but keeping them in my blog, I can always see them and know where to find them! Apparently, according to my count, a couple went missing and I have no record of them, so it you received a card from me that isn't here, please let me know.</p><p>Some of these poems are inspired by the postcard that delivers them; others are the result of spontaneous inspirations. I made a couple of my postcards this year and plan to do more next year. There is a slight amount of editing, but these postcard poems are mostly in their original form.</p><p>Thanks for reading.</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="text-align: center;"> <b> HIS MAMA'S EYELINER</b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpngv1TU_BNJFgOBn2vZTNl9TSCDwB0eeJJJIq2Pvlb_IwlRHkK3X7bLO8qDcF2Ng9yvImSeKzdHX0mreDCjhw6SKZ31XgoKVbohvmRk6m8Umsz_hdjnInOFxmoRfxqRsAfFWRFI-Ao4LrKAmDmKLtY4m8rO7yKFvKtcxTFgr8Q60KoWwebaMroTepOSOV/s2715/IMG_5269.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1910" data-original-width="2715" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpngv1TU_BNJFgOBn2vZTNl9TSCDwB0eeJJJIq2Pvlb_IwlRHkK3X7bLO8qDcF2Ng9yvImSeKzdHX0mreDCjhw6SKZ31XgoKVbohvmRk6m8Umsz_hdjnInOFxmoRfxqRsAfFWRFI-Ao4LrKAmDmKLtY4m8rO7yKFvKtcxTFgr8Q60KoWwebaMroTepOSOV/s320/IMG_5269.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: left;">It was his mama's eyeliner</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: left;">Then he learnt to buy his own</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: left;">Tender twelve-year-old fingers plucking at a cheap tinny guitar</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: left;">A magic sound matched with an angel's voice</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: left;">Singing praise to God, rolling holy</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: left;">'Til the music shook him to his soul</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: left;">And he shared it with the world</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: left;">Guns and other stuff came later</span></div></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="text-align: left;">(About this postcard. This is an Andy Warhol painting that currently hangs at Seattle Art Museum. To learn more about </span><a href="https://www.christies.com/features/Andy-Warhol-Double-Elvis-Ferus-Type-1963-9115-3.aspx" style="text-align: left;">Elvis and Andy</a><span style="text-align: left;">,</span><span style="text-align: left;"> Christie's has a great commentary on the 22 Warhol </span><i style="text-align: left;">Elvis</i><span style="text-align: left;"> pieces.)</span></span></p></div></blockquote><p style="text-align: center;"> <b>~~~</b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>DAUGHTER OF DAUGHTERS</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDhrmEDKcwjuUsYTPgzL5AFebNIxpgv8jIlRQmpTeagSBDrwrH4bG5IYagneuwTMXrOWwEvkSQQex-VRcDNCx8gUeacuJUKcXsR515uR9XOZwzZEjzbonv6Tr2Cw4t9i5VI9SVFaft5V--bQ7EUQYeMqF0u-KabP8MezhV_6kyVDQsPjlqI-apebGu7Nih/s3440/IMG_5271.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3440" data-original-width="2343" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDhrmEDKcwjuUsYTPgzL5AFebNIxpgv8jIlRQmpTeagSBDrwrH4bG5IYagneuwTMXrOWwEvkSQQex-VRcDNCx8gUeacuJUKcXsR515uR9XOZwzZEjzbonv6Tr2Cw4t9i5VI9SVFaft5V--bQ7EUQYeMqF0u-KabP8MezhV_6kyVDQsPjlqI-apebGu7Nih/s320/IMG_5271.HEIC" width="218" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span> You, daughter of daughters:</span><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span>I have stood on your sacred </span><span style="text-align: left;">earth.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span>Held your holy dirt in my hand</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span>while it slid from my palm</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span>like history passing.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I breathed into my body your ocean smell, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">like the heaven you hold in your hair.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>A WORLD FULL OF BEGGERS</b></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFpYKkIwAa2w9HoS1PLDLqLbGh89FU5k3zM8fr8I2TY1dG-EkCMZQmDRTAbmwFnfO1fn7aPEkbNbAbPTFkoMfhnBnSfWiG-T9fhp7nxoT2bMQFySwMOgeG0SdH04KjE2cq50fv3PYymhFksueqyFTENEw57VBS1g5mknQkqkltzg3kmanw50zFiQzu3spg/s3764/IMG_5260.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3764" data-original-width="2420" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFpYKkIwAa2w9HoS1PLDLqLbGh89FU5k3zM8fr8I2TY1dG-EkCMZQmDRTAbmwFnfO1fn7aPEkbNbAbPTFkoMfhnBnSfWiG-T9fhp7nxoT2bMQFySwMOgeG0SdH04KjE2cq50fv3PYymhFksueqyFTENEw57VBS1g5mknQkqkltzg3kmanw50zFiQzu3spg/s320/IMG_5260.HEIC" width="206" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We lost everything</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thanks to your clever </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Genius Financing</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and a </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">poison that invaded your Blood, Spine, Brain, Lungs,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Every</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And left us emptyhanded</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">in a world</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">full of beggars.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>THE WAY YOU ATE YOUR EGGS</b></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqcpriU3idO97ZFXxeeH_MryqNyWrmvW4TRvtRF_TdKbLZfa3Dw-QA3f-HIKigjmR0LfOWyUH19ly-fRvYZFRgHRv4l6KsQ7yUDhTsZnHYhUoc4KpZadukOWY6KC8kVLvJLgm_-Ky9Et7OKzxiEu2PbqlD9fywSv2j_IHyq423GgmNPTxYmldL4aL3Div8/s2492/IMG_5258.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1664" data-original-width="2492" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqcpriU3idO97ZFXxeeH_MryqNyWrmvW4TRvtRF_TdKbLZfa3Dw-QA3f-HIKigjmR0LfOWyUH19ly-fRvYZFRgHRv4l6KsQ7yUDhTsZnHYhUoc4KpZadukOWY6KC8kVLvJLgm_-Ky9Et7OKzxiEu2PbqlD9fywSv2j_IHyq423GgmNPTxYmldL4aL3Div8/s320/IMG_5258.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I never made fun of the way you ate your eggs.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You drunk-cried more than anyone I ever knew.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I told them to not mock you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I wondered why </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">all the sorrow?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We shared mornings, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">phone call check-ins, stupid jokes, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and the train card game.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You left me gaping. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>X MARKS THE SPOT</b></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAv0Nc-VPMNkNMjorDRGYqf45n684Ve71aAlV_3U_QlMSp7226qIYKhW-R8mck7BhMhsRR1plsN0Vg_fcMrrIm-wYbSV2cnc1lkOaSFIZlf-xzQ74oYWszkckXAe0JmLmgrph6Xy4DMzsQIue5OCUw1m6GnCoMQPshg3mnhLdpXxAbf78qdJrIlAhnA0ZZ/s3553/IMG_5275.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3553" data-original-width="2323" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAv0Nc-VPMNkNMjorDRGYqf45n684Ve71aAlV_3U_QlMSp7226qIYKhW-R8mck7BhMhsRR1plsN0Vg_fcMrrIm-wYbSV2cnc1lkOaSFIZlf-xzQ74oYWszkckXAe0JmLmgrph6Xy4DMzsQIue5OCUw1m6GnCoMQPshg3mnhLdpXxAbf78qdJrIlAhnA0ZZ/s320/IMG_5275.HEIC" width="209" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">X marks the spot</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You are here</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Close your eyes and</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">acknowledge</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Invasion</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">unholy insidious enduring indefinite</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Be Brave</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Allow your tears to fall</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>FLOWERS WAITING TO BLOOM</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA_CybMCeeI7CxcthX4y0u67aIrDh73doxmD__IuFrOzmZK806SUD08CS1dj7AJsoaisdDZkmlucW0N5uaEuuMmrb4bG6VZV5T0n_L1KorVljkjr76JkZUGQPZtxWj5_x5FVLrPvCIOl690weTqVGwLgH3uzh1UcK-eJBm4po6MubYPFUFex7SYxwKczKH/s2611/IMG_5171.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1885" data-original-width="2611" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA_CybMCeeI7CxcthX4y0u67aIrDh73doxmD__IuFrOzmZK806SUD08CS1dj7AJsoaisdDZkmlucW0N5uaEuuMmrb4bG6VZV5T0n_L1KorVljkjr76JkZUGQPZtxWj5_x5FVLrPvCIOl690weTqVGwLgH3uzh1UcK-eJBm4po6MubYPFUFex7SYxwKczKH/s320/IMG_5171.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Do you know the songs unsung?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Are they circling round your skull like </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">a wreath of flower buds, waiting to </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">bloom, waiting to</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">blow away gloom, heralding a day</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">we can embrace with fragrant glowing strains? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>WHEN WE COULD REALLY DRINK</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsuf13LoAIpHVOCYMMF1JPS9L59_3qGQ0jCARXkHBvEKDriUBR8Nhi_Ioc1HQiFOq9jzBODP2ufxov3QEKoZboyhXaiiLETsMOp6e-FPqNTQn_m7FQGZq9k3Ro8ff6HmdLxa97cISUJQs0P7eJXBW3NKJdxbCZ1RQoZ6XWW29Zk96U7USUOg_l8eb9Gx3T/s2798/IMG_5169.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2179" data-original-width="2798" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsuf13LoAIpHVOCYMMF1JPS9L59_3qGQ0jCARXkHBvEKDriUBR8Nhi_Ioc1HQiFOq9jzBODP2ufxov3QEKoZboyhXaiiLETsMOp6e-FPqNTQn_m7FQGZq9k3Ro8ff6HmdLxa97cISUJQs0P7eJXBW3NKJdxbCZ1RQoZ6XWW29Zk96U7USUOg_l8eb9Gx3T/s320/IMG_5169.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We had the Pink Door, in a smokey alley, with the scent of salty air misting on the autumn night. So many nights, drinking when we could <u>really drink</u>. Music that never crowded the language, and asking when will late friends ever arrive. Before closing, taking the Tarot card reader seriously, wanting every word to be the gospel.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>21</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGmNwF4li14AvUyL7X6AGrQKQRR9f7QZrLFPXNpBkaoQima6osiFnK2RHwUUgsWZeIQHIz4UBonmPZqyj5OKCOlP-TWKI_k6q9KXHrl7AC8k1ok879L3gmkUqSvucQyI9j-XrxxREdJQ7Tj8MpTtXgw-orka-lHsHLG9T1tIs2NRLvF-3GreDsC3Osc0dB/s3676/IMG_5166.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3676" data-original-width="2423" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGmNwF4li14AvUyL7X6AGrQKQRR9f7QZrLFPXNpBkaoQima6osiFnK2RHwUUgsWZeIQHIz4UBonmPZqyj5OKCOlP-TWKI_k6q9KXHrl7AC8k1ok879L3gmkUqSvucQyI9j-XrxxREdJQ7Tj8MpTtXgw-orka-lHsHLG9T1tIs2NRLvF-3GreDsC3Osc0dB/s320/IMG_5166.HEIC" width="211" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He was half his life old in the photo. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">21.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Who knew that 19 years later, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">his life would be over?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I miss him </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">though he never knew me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And now I am almost twice </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the age he was </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and he was gone. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(On seeing a photo of John Lennon in Paris at the age of 21. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Stardom was just a dream around the corner.)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b style="font-size: medium;">~~~</b></span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>AGING</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAeEIzxbdFDAJ32RT_1toXCXcUetGqzQFldWYjKDWBPS_pXsOQF-A7ufeXS75dXjfh9WsxDq_vYY8-0Qh5kz78RrYPVfrlkFzIt7JPRAewr2Rvz6vVN5K-mKVewvy93ylsdriUjR3fd2H3PKL_JGhGpGbcENOA4L53T1qrCPTSjVlnRC9QyDht8_B46orE/s2607/IMG_5094.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1732" data-original-width="2607" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAeEIzxbdFDAJ32RT_1toXCXcUetGqzQFldWYjKDWBPS_pXsOQF-A7ufeXS75dXjfh9WsxDq_vYY8-0Qh5kz78RrYPVfrlkFzIt7JPRAewr2Rvz6vVN5K-mKVewvy93ylsdriUjR3fd2H3PKL_JGhGpGbcENOA4L53T1qrCPTSjVlnRC9QyDht8_B46orE/s320/IMG_5094.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Such a disarray of clothes, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">on chairs, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the foot of the big bed, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">draped over the hamper, like old men, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">vying to escape. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Framed photos on any horizontal space;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">then there are those</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> in my own original customized </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">stacks and piles. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Poems left open on pages </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">of forgotten books. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dishes in the sink. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Who will remind me </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to feed myself?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>GIRL ON HER WAY TO NEW YORK</b></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz_-GXvncWMXQbhZNEcXrCoCMxVbTeeJmwUKkb57Ctn_l-59ytYzk-PVeEhnrMoP6mx3wBYTWvXWd2UH0HB__l4F7btagmU2jcHb60lQOIX7N0RCw5e-3VQhBlMw9J3EGveF_WKjiW_6EK5c89RUBEAvJFBmnmVO7JSmOTadAxu2iYN_NFxG_-bS5ka-J0/s4032/IMG_5092.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz_-GXvncWMXQbhZNEcXrCoCMxVbTeeJmwUKkb57Ctn_l-59ytYzk-PVeEhnrMoP6mx3wBYTWvXWd2UH0HB__l4F7btagmU2jcHb60lQOIX7N0RCw5e-3VQhBlMw9J3EGveF_WKjiW_6EK5c89RUBEAvJFBmnmVO7JSmOTadAxu2iYN_NFxG_-bS5ka-J0/s320/IMG_5092.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">There is no map to guide you in your journey of innocence, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">destination known, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">unknown. There is no treasure, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">no ring, no fortune within sight.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Be your own advisor, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">navigator, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">captain of your ship.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'll be waiting on this shore, holding </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">my pride flag, the fabric of faith. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>LET'S GO FOR A RIDE</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivzZxAxjsCFoIvqMPhpo1jUTvkXt8lCZ1Ppe6fx6luGSG7DVDaCMmV76xZXEQbSfC_V3uVhCRHHMPapSGicmKDTjiAQAwVRPMKe6UufqOD4UfjhRhZ8el0XcqQugnuTyQWeZsJVhhbNGVEnlwqxsE89NVrff4PUxRYDtKZGI3MLcCcUedxtxyO75B-oRwk/s2979/IMG_5090.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2979" data-original-width="2216" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivzZxAxjsCFoIvqMPhpo1jUTvkXt8lCZ1Ppe6fx6luGSG7DVDaCMmV76xZXEQbSfC_V3uVhCRHHMPapSGicmKDTjiAQAwVRPMKe6UufqOD4UfjhRhZ8el0XcqQugnuTyQWeZsJVhhbNGVEnlwqxsE89NVrff4PUxRYDtKZGI3MLcCcUedxtxyO75B-oRwk/s320/IMG_5090.HEIC" width="238" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">let's go for a ride</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">you be the groom</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">i'll be the bride</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">we'll stop in a bar</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">shoot some pool </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">drink beer from a jar</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">we'll pause in a field</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and stare at the stars</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">knowing our fate is sealed</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">if we have a kid</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">we'll teach them about </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">l o v e</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">tell them the truth</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">about everything we did</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>FURY</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvUTd-udECTFbznnMr91soMhBJ6_TibGewQ1R1b7EhMayG1s0ea_1tSBrCsjns-WA7p4w3vc5OrLrM-WIiq2L2Ioewf1K3PoGjkkJppRJIWE9SFrBvmWF416G3ThPJ4CwQrc9S_rF4xFk3-y7r8m8fVUqbHq2pMkVUpjv5Wybi-jHKegXJbFr1ZA8M2WUL/s3359/IMG_5262.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3359" data-original-width="2170" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvUTd-udECTFbznnMr91soMhBJ6_TibGewQ1R1b7EhMayG1s0ea_1tSBrCsjns-WA7p4w3vc5OrLrM-WIiq2L2Ioewf1K3PoGjkkJppRJIWE9SFrBvmWF416G3ThPJ4CwQrc9S_rF4xFk3-y7r8m8fVUqbHq2pMkVUpjv5Wybi-jHKegXJbFr1ZA8M2WUL/s320/IMG_5262.HEIC" width="207" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Just before midnight, my adult daughter came to my room and took me by the hand </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to the big windows out front where the rain hammered and the wind tore </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">causing rivulets of angry foam that bubbled down the street, as the sky BOOMED with thunder, metallic lightning streaks and our gaping wide faces peering into the raging night, which was over as quickly as it had begun and I said to her "fury, honey, that's fury."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>THE MOON</b></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi9NtJpiZ2id2EFn-le7zl5FF7ONzDAq_dNS-hghoQqpHCP_DqRnrzoL8_PU23sXr9lQy0tmXLu-cRjUGZAdkl44m7H-C9BKAYWFxaIqClkLb5A8pKobjrUbmr5rEcCAXOoOqsVbOojWR5uQuXU7UrlKgT174VCs8vIkWCy79B5uOJTVIuPse1163rJVBZ/s3397/IMG_5288.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3397" data-original-width="2220" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi9NtJpiZ2id2EFn-le7zl5FF7ONzDAq_dNS-hghoQqpHCP_DqRnrzoL8_PU23sXr9lQy0tmXLu-cRjUGZAdkl44m7H-C9BKAYWFxaIqClkLb5A8pKobjrUbmr5rEcCAXOoOqsVbOojWR5uQuXU7UrlKgT174VCs8vIkWCy79B5uOJTVIuPse1163rJVBZ/s320/IMG_5288.HEIC" width="209" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Tonight, the moon followed me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She's waning, as am I.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I left her hanging there,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In the plum-colored sky.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>ALOHA</b></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQOLpUTGvXqdL3xF559Pfpf6PozT0rk9DbFucXVii6601faHnFUZaGa8mbRN0rXqjDjX_9HRYoyQ4p2oSfsYnpgvLFr_wJpiF3SbSy7zjxy-7fZav4QPM92gpxvyrXnfgYr8V9an3L3sCVx-330Je4a9jKBqY74CpvyspEUAPurw1sftSSzRlrVHOzKKrz/s3509/IMG_5290.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3509" data-original-width="2385" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQOLpUTGvXqdL3xF559Pfpf6PozT0rk9DbFucXVii6601faHnFUZaGa8mbRN0rXqjDjX_9HRYoyQ4p2oSfsYnpgvLFr_wJpiF3SbSy7zjxy-7fZav4QPM92gpxvyrXnfgYr8V9an3L3sCVx-330Je4a9jKBqY74CpvyspEUAPurw1sftSSzRlrVHOzKKrz/s320/IMG_5290.HEIC" width="217" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Oceans of tears</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Skies full of firefall</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Lonely souls sift through tides</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Settle on millions of grains of sand</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Moaning in the night</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Weeping in the morning light</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The loss of </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">foresight</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">history</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">wonder</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(<i>Aloha</i> is a Hawaiian word with many meanings, ranging from love, peace, and compassion to pity and grief. It's commonly used, especially by visitors to Hawaii, to mean <i>hello</i> and <i>goodbye</i>.)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b style="font-size: medium;">~~~</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>CRYING LADY ROCK</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9-LCV4QE0qtMYNRHBvA-c1hQJYF51lA8qMobdCvn5q0tsVZuJamWZyl14B2DrJ_syoz28jKsuwNCORJRg_iXHZE3PAyItxYXuAkwoPrFNw3NUKQX2uiz9InRvGRHqyp4iY8m20dxcmPWA26HLzSdkEIH1Gc2v5V0gpY6XspRiGpPODvPdPuzJSOmoo1e/s3216/IMG_5333.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3216" data-original-width="2143" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9-LCV4QE0qtMYNRHBvA-c1hQJYF51lA8qMobdCvn5q0tsVZuJamWZyl14B2DrJ_syoz28jKsuwNCORJRg_iXHZE3PAyItxYXuAkwoPrFNw3NUKQX2uiz9InRvGRHqyp4iY8m20dxcmPWA26HLzSdkEIH1Gc2v5V0gpY6XspRiGpPODvPdPuzJSOmoo1e/s320/IMG_5333.HEIC" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Oceans of tears</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Skies full of firefall</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Lonely souls sift through tides</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Settle on millions of grains of sand</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Moaning in the night</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Weeping in the morning light</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The loss of </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">foresight</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">history</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">wonder</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Your ashes find their way to my garden</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Your smoke covers my eyes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(This poem just wasn't finished but had already been sent on its way. This is version #2.)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b style="font-size: medium;">~~~</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b>9/11</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><br /></b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqTcJHcsU3xL5hJtC2UociFhXLsUQd0wHzsUcYxw8PFJZ9veYi47Xr7rXJQE1g92-_x3mR3Td6IkMaSLau3fbFzPhTo_6RmVyCB2AYFwCK4RX6UX3cXFybuRfXMBQ851heVb3-QoVFN6oU_MRqp--1V2DnzxRrafDDtc50OnUFhbR8m43lIiURAhbq-HHD/s3643/IMG_5344.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3643" data-original-width="2523" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqTcJHcsU3xL5hJtC2UociFhXLsUQd0wHzsUcYxw8PFJZ9veYi47Xr7rXJQE1g92-_x3mR3Td6IkMaSLau3fbFzPhTo_6RmVyCB2AYFwCK4RX6UX3cXFybuRfXMBQ851heVb3-QoVFN6oU_MRqp--1V2DnzxRrafDDtc50OnUFhbR8m43lIiURAhbq-HHD/s320/IMG_5344.HEIC" width="222" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A deep hole</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Goes so far down</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We don't know where it ends</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Buried there are</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">laughter, songs, photos </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">in worn wallets,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">wedding rings, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">favorite socks and ties,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Manolos and Hush Puppies</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Lost goodbyes</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b>MARIA</b></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><br /></b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2GSkO6z8M0__nX1gqLnFUSmcMogTZtWuKjil-1uMECtWWtMrrmB3OuSGwjT0W5E2I5sIkIKyAPRSte7IbeWQYMndShN8ZkTltnZ3_YtAi8BGhD7dXgOlYAyxb6510sQMAOKJ1ZFpi_rm6wXgWC1i7VEn2oTFMfKd2zLxA2EvfW712t9F80SduwvH84Klx/s3532/IMG_5342.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2517" data-original-width="3532" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2GSkO6z8M0__nX1gqLnFUSmcMogTZtWuKjil-1uMECtWWtMrrmB3OuSGwjT0W5E2I5sIkIKyAPRSte7IbeWQYMndShN8ZkTltnZ3_YtAi8BGhD7dXgOlYAyxb6510sQMAOKJ1ZFpi_rm6wXgWC1i7VEn2oTFMfKd2zLxA2EvfW712t9F80SduwvH84Klx/s320/IMG_5342.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Now three years and more gone</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I still see you there in my mind</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Old messages and pics pop up on social media</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">and meet me with a stab</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">How can I go back to Garbo</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">and sit next to someone</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">who isn't you?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b>MAYBE NEXT YEAR</b></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNNc6WVIJNQMA-MIdzZOMJo0TyNGljN2bcVgwwkP95rFPShPYS01p4ZKM9Kh0RVtws9adDASHxO8PcmkKMRqBBI9EB5MEzaL3yP1wAmfjsQPtzYoU5SGuYvw6CdZOhuW8PUSijqtaQlY8Rl7T1aSFzzrLwn9ZmaqoTGycjjlHP44lb3rgkSBwUh6v4bPyt/s3410/IMG_5427.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3410" data-original-width="2313" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNNc6WVIJNQMA-MIdzZOMJo0TyNGljN2bcVgwwkP95rFPShPYS01p4ZKM9Kh0RVtws9adDASHxO8PcmkKMRqBBI9EB5MEzaL3yP1wAmfjsQPtzYoU5SGuYvw6CdZOhuW8PUSijqtaQlY8Rl7T1aSFzzrLwn9ZmaqoTGycjjlHP44lb3rgkSBwUh6v4bPyt/s320/IMG_5427.HEIC" width="217" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Time ate away the summer</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And I didn't get a chance</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to pick the blackberries</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and make you a </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Birthday Pie</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and aim for reparations.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">sent photos of sunsets</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(what does that even mean?)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">but no shared burden of a weary load.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Time waits for no one</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">but</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Maybe next year.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>AFTER THE CASINO CLOSED</b></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0EYRVXa-D4T7JHEvtBvAAU4pL89aqANeqDygNGXlyIsC4dIFKk2AeUwhwzAESD9-bikJmsYZlm6hReuj0HTm72XTUK2yiQevRQ6IDH91xT0HmQJoBnMIYJQLipzAud3HQ3_6gh5k5yHthIuJNXTCMeWXBS0TzeU5xyXzHbCmHgaMj2vIKYgirBQy6ftbO/s2832/IMG_5429.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1865" data-original-width="2832" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0EYRVXa-D4T7JHEvtBvAAU4pL89aqANeqDygNGXlyIsC4dIFKk2AeUwhwzAESD9-bikJmsYZlm6hReuj0HTm72XTUK2yiQevRQ6IDH91xT0HmQJoBnMIYJQLipzAud3HQ3_6gh5k5yHthIuJNXTCMeWXBS0TzeU5xyXzHbCmHgaMj2vIKYgirBQy6ftbO/s320/IMG_5429.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">After the casino closed</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Lights spelled out a partial name, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">some blinking yet...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">on</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">off</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">on</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">off</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hanging onto pipe dreams</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Testing a faulty resilience,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hollow hope and sticky coins</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Beg gamblers for a homecoming.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>HISTORY IN THE MAKING</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheh4WoujL8dIIsG0-jRaNd4mPiuan7JegQAnWgbdOqGJPVuVCF2ygWca6S4pWJP3F0jQAf66akCP94hvRnU8qSbm64YoMkNMeuug1y7ypaJbADvL4Z06vY6G70W1G47H0GpMZhcnVg4l08Vsf4Gh3_LgC5akLDMDioZ1cnsnBeCHROH9F2pXeCOLpyZXu2/s3510/IMG_5431.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2374" data-original-width="3510" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheh4WoujL8dIIsG0-jRaNd4mPiuan7JegQAnWgbdOqGJPVuVCF2ygWca6S4pWJP3F0jQAf66akCP94hvRnU8qSbm64YoMkNMeuug1y7ypaJbADvL4Z06vY6G70W1G47H0GpMZhcnVg4l08Vsf4Gh3_LgC5akLDMDioZ1cnsnBeCHROH9F2pXeCOLpyZXu2/s320/IMG_5431.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"A criminal enterprise </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">of breathtaking scope."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">For those of us who managed </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to survive a pandemic </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">somewhat intact,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the firehose </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">of daily revelations</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">causes reservation </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to even contemplate, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">let alone </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">ask </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"what's new?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b>SEQUOIAS</b></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQbMWS6wWBCGLkS93HdEvD2IlEm5wRthQjX5RUI5fBPi1pIf_yi__3BiwI2Hdymy9FynnRHxlD4qCETsoZgJAiynr3RPHjYbfmSV4dP63dxaHM3hvxpiuXjwnBCKAPCCEyvASGjrd_epp0nQCidNEBS00ThhDjrOQxqTMQk6VYqy21Nc06ZEa_BV_KnzoO/s3197/IMG_5433.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2135" data-original-width="3197" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQbMWS6wWBCGLkS93HdEvD2IlEm5wRthQjX5RUI5fBPi1pIf_yi__3BiwI2Hdymy9FynnRHxlD4qCETsoZgJAiynr3RPHjYbfmSV4dP63dxaHM3hvxpiuXjwnBCKAPCCEyvASGjrd_epp0nQCidNEBS00ThhDjrOQxqTMQk6VYqy21Nc06ZEa_BV_KnzoO/s320/IMG_5433.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sequoias, like strong women</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">grouped together,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">weeping willows </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">firs and pines,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">shoulder to shoulder.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ancient-speak</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">holding hands</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">with firm ground,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">embattled daughters </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">conquer galaxies.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>MY TATTOO</b></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqxGW5DY3zEjeieZygTElgDaikG5QI7fe24mQegaVcNoLkaHzoYNaYpphFvmZjU_9a9EcTUDJUezo4WurWAVZnCWtdBLyvOvm7rU-T9DH1r_flAxTE_BdwbcClS0lHnQfdFQ-sUrYR_4vFz1N9wPaeHifvBezW7MwvnsFr6QrD-RUsRximlFf2JhZ4hDev/s2600/IMG_5435.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2600" data-original-width="1633" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqxGW5DY3zEjeieZygTElgDaikG5QI7fe24mQegaVcNoLkaHzoYNaYpphFvmZjU_9a9EcTUDJUezo4WurWAVZnCWtdBLyvOvm7rU-T9DH1r_flAxTE_BdwbcClS0lHnQfdFQ-sUrYR_4vFz1N9wPaeHifvBezW7MwvnsFr6QrD-RUsRximlFf2JhZ4hDev/s320/IMG_5435.HEIC" width="201" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"And so it goes," </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">she has permanently marked </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">upon her arm. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Perfect details. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Bees </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">we share,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">as if there wasn't anywhere else</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to declare</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">devotion and trust</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">than a forearm.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>SHE WASN'T A FRIEND OF MINE</b></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGlAQ25_WkYPE3oWJ-G20-QB2Wu0px39UD-sQHHjrlHN6nKYE7NYuHSDOZpNXsksZYAlKherC-1WmoM8EyjueUip6u_6-kXwm_VOTSgxVNiJRcf9JQC4rIdlNvAOz93HdggkVUJ57yiQ4HaqtxQSNVBM73_rIP2ymv804NR48fGwdDBQf5q992r4kQxKMw/s2549/IMG_5437.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1633" data-original-width="2549" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGlAQ25_WkYPE3oWJ-G20-QB2Wu0px39UD-sQHHjrlHN6nKYE7NYuHSDOZpNXsksZYAlKherC-1WmoM8EyjueUip6u_6-kXwm_VOTSgxVNiJRcf9JQC4rIdlNvAOz93HdggkVUJ57yiQ4HaqtxQSNVBM73_rIP2ymv804NR48fGwdDBQf5q992r4kQxKMw/s320/IMG_5437.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She wasn't a friend of mine,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She was someone I'd run into</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When out at the bars,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We always had a rapport.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Her laughter</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">had a following. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I wish I'd known her better.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><b>NEW YEAR'S 2016 P-TOWN</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><br /></b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-F2G5ealwy6XypsRjsME_oSNyrkSuNQRZ95yxfWv2WIrPSsycsdK1tNMLe_WIlYjqKHkWYkQ_npNF1jlGQCjlM5BENOIJqEIZGLNpowiugJhK_6OHf1qwMuYsoEEpdIfBzYAUS3ii5Ue3ScO7MXndbf5ruzT_rezaLy5j0nxNBWeN_YJdonTbCTNdGGB/s2104/IMG_5439.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1428" data-original-width="2104" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-F2G5ealwy6XypsRjsME_oSNyrkSuNQRZ95yxfWv2WIrPSsycsdK1tNMLe_WIlYjqKHkWYkQ_npNF1jlGQCjlM5BENOIJqEIZGLNpowiugJhK_6OHf1qwMuYsoEEpdIfBzYAUS3ii5Ue3ScO7MXndbf5ruzT_rezaLy5j0nxNBWeN_YJdonTbCTNdGGB/s320/IMG_5439.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It was icy cold.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We overdrank and underslept.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The best part was watching </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the Uber prices rise by the minute,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">as time</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">got closer to midnight.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We bundled up and walked the mile, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">arguing about <i>Ole Miss</i>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Surely you remember.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You handily beat me at very game </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">with a smirk and another lesson in satire.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b><br /><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>I'VE HAD HOUSES</b></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkJPi0xq0HY5KrogRO5bGkkhlZDFMG6fIDdkPXzPuTbMaLPGwORAYAV7NcUIgYr35GKbnYipLKBLuZCDkhRmXCWdScUWRnLfG6e09qSLe9SnubwykxMLsw8GhTrj86xNOc-87SqOsZZNLOIvOCFzhsfSqRL1HlCdB_UtP_iN7DWODqUi538q5px3uJbtne/s2560/IMG_5441.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1605" data-original-width="2560" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkJPi0xq0HY5KrogRO5bGkkhlZDFMG6fIDdkPXzPuTbMaLPGwORAYAV7NcUIgYr35GKbnYipLKBLuZCDkhRmXCWdScUWRnLfG6e09qSLe9SnubwykxMLsw8GhTrj86xNOc-87SqOsZZNLOIvOCFzhsfSqRL1HlCdB_UtP_iN7DWODqUi538q5px3uJbtne/s320/IMG_5441.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I had a villa on a cliff in Mexico that overlooked the ocean, backlit by a jungle where cicadas pierced the dusky light, reminding me of the choir of amphibious creatures who lullabied my childhood in a house so secure and safe, that sleep was rarely interrupted, while I dreamt of my Queen Anne home of the future with white fences and unlocked doors.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>GOODBYE</b></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcuGpUAz2f5Z-3K1jniMexMt0XQU5Lzjz3W9_6-gysRHN-k4licvkebZBARQX7IdaF-zwlzWT6R93Z15DWojrzifl6aSUw3ZJl8Sx3DspDyUaIJv2qV3N7e7MDj0TyPRTkQC2HM3Xahlgmo9yj99WhSy7DAFjphJ98typodxNfrLHl2NINrEQvZNLNccoL/s2049/IMG_5443.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1481" data-original-width="2049" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcuGpUAz2f5Z-3K1jniMexMt0XQU5Lzjz3W9_6-gysRHN-k4licvkebZBARQX7IdaF-zwlzWT6R93Z15DWojrzifl6aSUw3ZJl8Sx3DspDyUaIJv2qV3N7e7MDj0TyPRTkQC2HM3Xahlgmo9yj99WhSy7DAFjphJ98typodxNfrLHl2NINrEQvZNLNccoL/s320/IMG_5443.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It doesn't mean </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">what I want it to say</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Have a good bye</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">By the by</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">By the time you get there</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You will only be concerned with Hellos.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>NOT MY JOB</b></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOCtHCnb3juvYWiwEzrfAaHaEoEGmOMROpeUHQegokIZRJsTmgM_BwIsenKvvcr81rBlGPZ8SGnJxY4LPr94jI5EgwA802Nn4hQXDt-hzrDg3y5AOxnGczLmlgmZb4__PXR_1UN0aoYanTgvjaeVaADpNX4jajIu8MJDSl3v6R4eq_vbOBY0iaq0fYLSWc/s3140/IMG_5445.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2129" data-original-width="3140" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOCtHCnb3juvYWiwEzrfAaHaEoEGmOMROpeUHQegokIZRJsTmgM_BwIsenKvvcr81rBlGPZ8SGnJxY4LPr94jI5EgwA802Nn4hQXDt-hzrDg3y5AOxnGczLmlgmZb4__PXR_1UN0aoYanTgvjaeVaADpNX4jajIu8MJDSl3v6R4eq_vbOBY0iaq0fYLSWc/s320/IMG_5445.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">To lend a hand </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to be of assistance, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">cause those entitled </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to exhibit silent resistance, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">heavy loads are borne </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">by the remaining few </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">who toil </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">for mere existence. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>WHEN MY THIGHS WERE BEAUTIFUL</b></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg12Z2lOfXrBw0Ihy_39B5M7psWX35ZajjtG--UhCNs2IjFmqJq7HHYQumfdUKlZEvG3RYr4w5GKXyjMqH4okfR5BSSYzvhoR5VusNAQ5W-ejZHATujabPhi53YTFulfA8Kdcp9_oVYnxghf8nbeBn0P1Rtsrxzo7QI-azfAEqLj_NVAS0iQjvc6-EAh7KL/s3505/IMG_5447.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2335" data-original-width="3505" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg12Z2lOfXrBw0Ihy_39B5M7psWX35ZajjtG--UhCNs2IjFmqJq7HHYQumfdUKlZEvG3RYr4w5GKXyjMqH4okfR5BSSYzvhoR5VusNAQ5W-ejZHATujabPhi53YTFulfA8Kdcp9_oVYnxghf8nbeBn0P1Rtsrxzo7QI-azfAEqLj_NVAS0iQjvc6-EAh7KL/s320/IMG_5447.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I walked on beaches </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">with a towel around my waist, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Never projecting into the future </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">what old legs might looks like, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">how healthy I was then, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">how strong. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It took decades to love my thighs </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and myself.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>PRICE TAGS</b></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil3uwg2npIj4ZrDw9lSt14rmFABD7zzJjbVPpd6bN78Wq7mS0TTUdQbPBwkcr-3Ujrm1Sm4UhE4eqj4-nFXfoYcXtldHPwEYxSswKPuTg0RgZjEM6B_G1_8T3slFiRXqvd1VRBo5inUX49plfISbEj-jvpTteOPJj6PdIJqkOok_GcXzfxfwVwWQUh-lIA/s3129/IMG_5449.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2133" data-original-width="3129" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil3uwg2npIj4ZrDw9lSt14rmFABD7zzJjbVPpd6bN78Wq7mS0TTUdQbPBwkcr-3Ujrm1Sm4UhE4eqj4-nFXfoYcXtldHPwEYxSswKPuTg0RgZjEM6B_G1_8T3slFiRXqvd1VRBo5inUX49plfISbEj-jvpTteOPJj6PdIJqkOok_GcXzfxfwVwWQUh-lIA/s320/IMG_5449.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The thing that costs the most </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">is not always the best </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The biggest is not always the brightest.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Why leave a price tag on</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to prove a hollow point?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>I SPOKE TO YOU</b></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGNSO-SZL5Gah5fjwVWgXhlOqPr4yd-0XIZxusmpFF5nJX1kvWbkDG7J2PvYFnKBh0VYm8CHjsfDkIZ_2iZZuesuw__F0Q9tyw5-XoGQg_bhEODsM0fAPCb3R-V_xuI3PQE2echUabNJ6VDd3Bo_qCwDmoTc3sn0aw7BcMZKPo8_daBXCkhK4triHu6XBl/s2692/IMG_5451.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1886" data-original-width="2692" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGNSO-SZL5Gah5fjwVWgXhlOqPr4yd-0XIZxusmpFF5nJX1kvWbkDG7J2PvYFnKBh0VYm8CHjsfDkIZ_2iZZuesuw__F0Q9tyw5-XoGQg_bhEODsM0fAPCb3R-V_xuI3PQE2echUabNJ6VDd3Bo_qCwDmoTc3sn0aw7BcMZKPo8_daBXCkhK4triHu6XBl/s320/IMG_5451.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I spoke to you</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I whispered in your ear</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(I said I love you...")</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You forgot who I am</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I called you </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">on the phone, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">texted, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">emailed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I never gave up. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">love </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>THE ACTORS' HOUSE</b></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi878LuBuuy1iRbeBJs04ciwGy21rPSXrxiDWrGbyD4fEGMvKsyAIAhsVrSSJWzb_s784icqpB6265t8RLxC5QIwymAtvAkVeH2DP6Ewf6A2I_Hg_gyFc78oKiqXPy9GmvEBhAYJr-pVFhQOuVXsVnw6pNQJB8iw-go6XITLv-jXNVqMgl0J3pZF-SN7Dx8/s3461/IMG_5453.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3461" data-original-width="2283" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi878LuBuuy1iRbeBJs04ciwGy21rPSXrxiDWrGbyD4fEGMvKsyAIAhsVrSSJWzb_s784icqpB6265t8RLxC5QIwymAtvAkVeH2DP6Ewf6A2I_Hg_gyFc78oKiqXPy9GmvEBhAYJr-pVFhQOuVXsVnw6pNQJB8iw-go6XITLv-jXNVqMgl0J3pZF-SN7Dx8/s320/IMG_5453.HEIC" width="211" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This house was surely haunted</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">when I lived there in the late 60's </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Now it is my thoughts </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">that are haunted </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">when I find it driving by, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">searching for the past.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I sit across the street and stare,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hearing my own haunted howls </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">of anguish. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Nothing spared. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Never shared. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>END OF THE DAY</b></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCzJWpTc2TVB1GNlCdY7nLRUrrE18Yzu9wXToQmRq_wUwAgkVHzvU0LaaWM2vX1ivocy-ip_Lu_R0biDlOO-ywafu97hS-RWl86Ed956RGpwccau84PZfK2fMCXdUQc8GtS_kUpWpeUy4nqw7438_63hWMLPTbfE1F0FYzqQ8zabDps4tnB7WeMI58QUMZ/s3629/IMG_5478.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3629" data-original-width="2453" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCzJWpTc2TVB1GNlCdY7nLRUrrE18Yzu9wXToQmRq_wUwAgkVHzvU0LaaWM2vX1ivocy-ip_Lu_R0biDlOO-ywafu97hS-RWl86Ed956RGpwccau84PZfK2fMCXdUQc8GtS_kUpWpeUy4nqw7438_63hWMLPTbfE1F0FYzqQ8zabDps4tnB7WeMI58QUMZ/s320/IMG_5478.HEIC" width="216" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sometimes I make my bed </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">At the end of the day</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Then I undo it all </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and climb under the covers, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">sorting limbs, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">like a dog, walking in circles, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">looking for the perfect spot. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Smoothing pillows </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and ending the day </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">on a perfect note. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Resting, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">dreaming, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">hoping.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>~~~</b><b>~~~</b><b>~~~</b><b>~~~</b><b>~~~</b></div><br /><br /></div></div></div><br /><div><br /></div>Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-52609058163756737202023-08-28T12:14:00.003-07:002023-08-28T12:20:27.048-07:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDa4jec8_YHJjCYW5RVzZtqwqeOpTKOtCDNw-qim05v_jwmMe_jhGi4SB-N_tgehYYppil0cKiIdjS4ggXTitelBrxOqT_JCN3PDy-ga1SXSf1q5famdBZstXsd7snY157kMz0beokQq63_yQ2OkHSD6Ce2Xa0I2iayD1mmJho_T9mLYsMVnaFQCVnjqBm/s3024/nail%20front.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="2016" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDa4jec8_YHJjCYW5RVzZtqwqeOpTKOtCDNw-qim05v_jwmMe_jhGi4SB-N_tgehYYppil0cKiIdjS4ggXTitelBrxOqT_JCN3PDy-ga1SXSf1q5famdBZstXsd7snY157kMz0beokQq63_yQ2OkHSD6Ce2Xa0I2iayD1mmJho_T9mLYsMVnaFQCVnjqBm/s320/nail%20front.png" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'm very excited to share the release of my new chapbook with Bottlecap Press! These poems have been years in the making and the real deal is finally here for you to hold in your hands.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>The Nail Set</i> is a collection of heartfelt poems about previous chapters in my life, when rooms were bigger, life was longer, written over a period of time pertaining to events that are connected, speaking of joy, sorrow and sometimes terror.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I am so proud of this work and pleased to share it with you. Please buy it now at <a href="https://bottlecap.press/products/set">https://bottlecap.press/products/set</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">THANKS FOR READING!!!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div>Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-66600798267012961332023-04-10T22:02:00.007-07:002023-04-11T21:42:08.628-07:00Myrtine Petersen Grove July 16, 1891 - April 10, 1966<p> <br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPq3JHKfUlJdUOzhTOW8iC7aRRKIbUj3aNDzbm7f9SYMWSHhlO52tJ1PdIJSJqoXc8KNcBLnqKCtNK8AbDQ-gMzwj042P-5TlPyBNaI9d7zOPW4f2zblt4YaMve5BfiCavWddQbhEzA5bPBCMc1xyAVgVlY2GTsQD4Bp7dNl4mGXjj22YarFEUQ5MtrA/s1079/IMG_3277.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1079" data-original-width="789" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPq3JHKfUlJdUOzhTOW8iC7aRRKIbUj3aNDzbm7f9SYMWSHhlO52tJ1PdIJSJqoXc8KNcBLnqKCtNK8AbDQ-gMzwj042P-5TlPyBNaI9d7zOPW4f2zblt4YaMve5BfiCavWddQbhEzA5bPBCMc1xyAVgVlY2GTsQD4Bp7dNl4mGXjj22YarFEUQ5MtrA/s320/IMG_3277.HEIC" width="234" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Myrtine </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I was not my grandmother’s favorite grandchild, but I adored
both my grandparents. I was devastated when we lost my dear Grandma on April
10, Easter Sunday, 1966. </p><p class="MsoNormal">I was a Junior in high school and heavily into the music of
the day. I’d grown my hair long, cut bangs, grown them out again, and mimicked Joan Baez,
Janis Ian and Judy Collins with my guitar. John Lennon, Bob Dylan and Hoyt
Axton were my heroes, and I wasn’t the ingenue that my cousin Marci was. My
grandmother often told me I should try to be more like her. I loved my
grandmother too much to resent those comments and had no intention of ever being anyone but who I was.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Myrtine Petersen Grove, born July 16, 1891 in Colman, Moody,
South Dakota, died on April 10, 1966 in Enumclaw, Washington, at home, sitting in
a chair, eating her daughter’s canned peaches, put up in August of 1965, when
it never occurred to anyone that Grandma wouldn’t be with us the next summer, pressing the lids on fruits and vegetables to test the seal, making sure there was fresh coffee
perking, and cheese sandwiches drowning her dark Danish bread, while we all labored
away in the hot kitchen, juggling jars, rings, lids and boiling water.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQxEbqW5ew4gGnsbP_vqh79yCc3dX87Z7LQmmcqK1JybO-A4oxfYLoO7tMBnXFYbDoXoksJN7cBeiOWbe4_V9Ky4480Estu3krOi0YJh8aP5lGD__bA1mY2AZilIB3Vnfxu--kwG6U9fcsCKdsWx6kHA3PmIJGRPe7sNxK1TsbwRopZG2fvwLRJHeHg/s3637/IMG_3278.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3637" data-original-width="2560" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQxEbqW5ew4gGnsbP_vqh79yCc3dX87Z7LQmmcqK1JybO-A4oxfYLoO7tMBnXFYbDoXoksJN7cBeiOWbe4_V9Ky4480Estu3krOi0YJh8aP5lGD__bA1mY2AZilIB3Vnfxu--kwG6U9fcsCKdsWx6kHA3PmIJGRPe7sNxK1TsbwRopZG2fvwLRJHeHg/s320/IMG_3278.HEIC" width="225" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Married</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt0MEj-g4TsY-bQ_spdJ43gUD4IGw3pvEzNeswU5qhyTYaWfeuTj7Ux4FGR2lOzAOMfB_ZSyE2t99CWux39hdgly_yObhZ4ab2Kwy7szz13sS1K7gFDb-bCM_zVNN9Alp2xPt5cc8YAQy0rImSl_iyr6I65huteeuJXfw3mZDRTSLVT-f4AfAxKhzgsA/s3333/IMG_3279.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3333" data-original-width="2973" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt0MEj-g4TsY-bQ_spdJ43gUD4IGw3pvEzNeswU5qhyTYaWfeuTj7Ux4FGR2lOzAOMfB_ZSyE2t99CWux39hdgly_yObhZ4ab2Kwy7szz13sS1K7gFDb-bCM_zVNN9Alp2xPt5cc8YAQy0rImSl_iyr6I65huteeuJXfw3mZDRTSLVT-f4AfAxKhzgsA/s320/IMG_3279.HEIC" width="285" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">My Beautiful Grandparents</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<p class="MsoNormal">My grandma’s bread was the best in the world, brown, with a
hint of sweetness, rich, like her constant coffee, little slices that were
often overwhelmed by layers of cheese, thinly sliced ham or beef, beet pickles
and tart mustard. Her<i> klejner</i> and <i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">æ</span>bleskiver</i> were not just holiday
delicacies; they were warm in her kitchen on a regular basis, rolled in powdered or granulated
sugar, greeting you at the back door, assuring your special place in her
kitchen, which always smelled like a cross between a bakery and laundry, where the scent of her steam iron mixed with all the smells of a loving, well-tended home.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizUZqnmOYFv4eLBObPyIxH0Rm3SbWEH6OKrgJuUEdnsb47_9h4V_Y4I0k5DvN_o8Std87o2fiiWuhPb87HaMuoeyxvBFyJ4WnzVWiP0BEafrj3UQjxWN0l4GCH9H-GHnH7CBm74jIw2iMwtjVbirhFlSqv-4xJoewMk5RDep6Wnuc__751yrYVdyQzMw/s1248/IMG_3283.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1217" data-original-width="1248" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizUZqnmOYFv4eLBObPyIxH0Rm3SbWEH6OKrgJuUEdnsb47_9h4V_Y4I0k5DvN_o8Std87o2fiiWuhPb87HaMuoeyxvBFyJ4WnzVWiP0BEafrj3UQjxWN0l4GCH9H-GHnH7CBm74jIw2iMwtjVbirhFlSqv-4xJoewMk5RDep6Wnuc__751yrYVdyQzMw/s320/IMG_3283.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><span style="text-align: center;"> My precious grandmother and me</span><p class="MsoNormal">My Danish grandmother eschewed pants and wore delicate patterned and floral dresses of cotton, silk crepe and chiffon, even for daily wear. The scent
of lilacs and lavender will always remind me of resting my cheek against her soft bosom,
even as I grew into adolescence. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAIIkw4enk5KRtVAMwoDc4JCKqN7Z5rWRGJeQOAkfOxztVf5x5rmCxnHZNZ6iBwVVrOsrvoOyVMav0UqRa1BmtF0Jbl-jdk8sCltqN6Jg7pfky_2NPEJWB3jnQFD7VCo9yKx2JKz4CYxVUxaigpKba-0dZIItDTw6vRsR1jXJjKPZVxu3j3FC-M4kCGQ/s3549/IMG_3284.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3549" data-original-width="2178" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAIIkw4enk5KRtVAMwoDc4JCKqN7Z5rWRGJeQOAkfOxztVf5x5rmCxnHZNZ6iBwVVrOsrvoOyVMav0UqRa1BmtF0Jbl-jdk8sCltqN6Jg7pfky_2NPEJWB3jnQFD7VCo9yKx2JKz4CYxVUxaigpKba-0dZIItDTw6vRsR1jXJjKPZVxu3j3FC-M4kCGQ/s320/IMG_3284.HEIC" width="196" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Grandpa Carl and Me and Grandma Myrt</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVAfea0ECrMqCSu4u2bfkLhmq96bfcrIGZlrJ6IGYxZA929eEPzhePJpNYVgqxzQI_xy6yePzjDfqy-kL9gvkYYp6IUGHyNSA7RKqaTar57WzonNVeNv3pM6uBkqt__7H5HDXsfzMRrURkg_8-PGHo_Rh4m70yglOVfx2VVoRlcppyBzeWZkWdnZJe8g/s2797/IMG_3285.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2667" data-original-width="2797" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVAfea0ECrMqCSu4u2bfkLhmq96bfcrIGZlrJ6IGYxZA929eEPzhePJpNYVgqxzQI_xy6yePzjDfqy-kL9gvkYYp6IUGHyNSA7RKqaTar57WzonNVeNv3pM6uBkqt__7H5HDXsfzMRrURkg_8-PGHo_Rh4m70yglOVfx2VVoRlcppyBzeWZkWdnZJe8g/s320/IMG_3285.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Grandma, my mom, a Danish exchange student, Grandpa, Me</div><div><div style="text-align: center;">1964</div><p class="MsoNormal">Even though I was the little hippie girl, and my grandmother
would often tell me to get my hair out of my eyes, she was one of my biggest
fans when it came to my singing and reading out loud. I don’t know who loved it
more, she or I, when I’d sit cross-legged on the floor and entertain her, while she crocheted her lacy
patterns, the needle weaving in and out, her fingers moving with practiced
precise movements that she’d perfected over several decades.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJKsIpcazjrZRbhSkFkDoTQrwDdmdrP-Rpcob5_R3NxS4kMUVpn1jrQ_lcs-DJerjjoHXIWktHOLkXtHw_5l1xufcfA1ofC27K4xmKzASIqwAkVUpzYG_ZwqsMlHnuAQsrV9uD1Xin05Me8-rWldNAFVVMwja2rU_2SNnyhHht7viCKcSb6c5fAUOoZg/s3686/IMG_3286.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3686" data-original-width="2605" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJKsIpcazjrZRbhSkFkDoTQrwDdmdrP-Rpcob5_R3NxS4kMUVpn1jrQ_lcs-DJerjjoHXIWktHOLkXtHw_5l1xufcfA1ofC27K4xmKzASIqwAkVUpzYG_ZwqsMlHnuAQsrV9uD1Xin05Me8-rWldNAFVVMwja2rU_2SNnyhHht7viCKcSb6c5fAUOoZg/s320/IMG_3286.HEIC" width="226" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOWusg-CuyZDPeV5WZodcPjMNSxgIDqFyekmk30msq6H8Mbl68eoZhQvjEJsl-PpXEH7-5tVOu0pBa27FsG9zu7GbKafeuUK0i1OnIeh8DRAQZCsUs69Dtbw4EubW2QpylQOtcamfBUt5VUux8WmhfowEyZNLtq-6b8WRq4c5Y4RJU4qNpNCihleG-tg/s2863/IMG_3287.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: right;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2863" data-original-width="2300" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOWusg-CuyZDPeV5WZodcPjMNSxgIDqFyekmk30msq6H8Mbl68eoZhQvjEJsl-PpXEH7-5tVOu0pBa27FsG9zu7GbKafeuUK0i1OnIeh8DRAQZCsUs69Dtbw4EubW2QpylQOtcamfBUt5VUux8WmhfowEyZNLtq-6b8WRq4c5Y4RJU4qNpNCihleG-tg/w161-h200/IMG_3287.HEIC" width="161" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">The night before Grandma passed, our family was at my grandparents, my mother making dinner, urging her mother to relax and get well,
after a mini-stroke had hospitalized her the week before. I was in my usual
spot in the living room in front of my grandmother, reading to her from Walt
Whitman’s <i>Leaves of Grass</i>. My mother popped her head into the room to tell us
dinner was soon ready, and Grandma told her to get the bust of Hans Christian
Andersen down from the mantel. She wanted my mother to write my name on the
bottom, to make sure I got it when she died. There was medical tape on the side
table from when the doctor had been there earlier, taking a sample of my
grandmother’s blood. My mother wrote <i>Margo from Grandma Grove 4/9/66</i>, and then
went back to finish getting dinner on the table for my dad, grandparents,
little brother and me. I suppose we protested a little, as people commonly do
when someone wants to bequeath a treasure, but she’d promised it to me long
before that night, so we didn’t go on about it, to my recollection.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The next morning, when my mother was in church playing the organ for
the early Easter service, her mother went to be with her angels who’d gone on ahead of her. I'm sure they greeted her blowing trumpets, strumming harps and singing Broadway tunes like <i>You Gotta Have Heart</i>, from <i>Them Damn Yankees</i>, a musical my grandpa had taken Myrtine to see on one of their trips to New York. I suppose if that's where they are, I'll get to see her again one day. If that's where I'll go. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Thanks for reading...</p><p class="MsoNormal">.</p><p class="MsoNormal">.</p></div>Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-82992003242472426772023-03-01T09:58:00.002-08:002023-03-01T21:15:18.647-08:00POETS PEACE POSTCARDS FEST 2023<p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Peace Poets is a project produced by C.J. Prince and Carla Shafer. These postcards, poems and art send out at least 2,252 expressions of peace around the world. Some are beautiful and witty poems, others are thoughts, visions and simple inspirations.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">In my case, each card has some reference to peace, not necessarily World Peace. Some are related to personal experiences; others random thoughts, perhaps inspired by the postcard itself. As well as simple whimsical poetry. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Some of these postcards are hard to part with, having been collected over the years. Others are discovered at garage/estate sales. I actually love to send them on their way and grateful for the opportunity to save this collection on my blog. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">All of these poems have been written spontaneously, and if there is any editing from the original to this page, it is not remarkable. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The Post Office manages to stamp and seal out as many words as possible, so the original can be found here, with all the words intact.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC217RTWfB2cTPKMSfEPIlnrllBt3xArWZ_NI04gVIuUzE9ixNgXwXjAKDy1mmfZIdbkBASpSHOz3bJF4uoCFKYUhQ5sn1-2msQdzUMs_sgTJYiM2fTaui8K4yknQ4i0w36XK_5xNJPkqiETvR38NDJ5NP1Y0sh9MyrorAVyKvp4O2wVlhea8nYRfB9g/s1359/PPC%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="868" data-original-width="1359" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC217RTWfB2cTPKMSfEPIlnrllBt3xArWZ_NI04gVIuUzE9ixNgXwXjAKDy1mmfZIdbkBASpSHOz3bJF4uoCFKYUhQ5sn1-2msQdzUMs_sgTJYiM2fTaui8K4yknQ4i0w36XK_5xNJPkqiETvR38NDJ5NP1Y0sh9MyrorAVyKvp4O2wVlhea8nYRfB9g/s320/PPC%201.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Our little boat, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">tucked in among big, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">imposing yachts... <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">water sloshes between
the dock <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">and the gunwales, ocean
sounds <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">murmur once the sun
falls behind <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">the next westerly
island, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">small animals shelter
and <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">squeak. Glasses clink <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">on a nearby deck. Peace
gathers <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">those who make plans</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">to set sail at dawn.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">~~~</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSyTN8u86uyBsXSUsjX_8a5GkUG6HSWl0LRlOAOCBym1MhGw_2D7OzDxTElJGuGGJ2-4YMSNGD1GME2Eetaq70_TEzpjdMgoj89sFFT1RFnVmQcPciRWVvt4e8z3WcE8YC54Yept2001PHEVxWDpay5Aian_lWv23N4PeMgL96_rLGg2acRnbVigJO5g/s2507/IMG_2770.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1854" data-original-width="2507" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSyTN8u86uyBsXSUsjX_8a5GkUG6HSWl0LRlOAOCBym1MhGw_2D7OzDxTElJGuGGJ2-4YMSNGD1GME2Eetaq70_TEzpjdMgoj89sFFT1RFnVmQcPciRWVvt4e8z3WcE8YC54Yept2001PHEVxWDpay5Aian_lWv23N4PeMgL96_rLGg2acRnbVigJO5g/s320/IMG_2770.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Together
we can find a way </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">to shelter one another, to use </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">kindness</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> and listen with
the heart. No shouting - simply soft words of love. We somehow must escape the
shooters and the mad ones, find out how they too can be embraced.</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">~~~</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLegyIpuWcvePkvmZKQcQjy50psPdAuLMhA6UvRplDC_WGvhZaL403pbGr8GXwfOVbH_8QQDWJhpPF10_I-aR-EBIrwils842EXwHRiqpndRbMWiXSduolpKIOSvlTpIBRH-FUT1VkfmnCR6Ky5htYeQf5kogSxJikKdL7bV_6cBHunGdBY60GJfALwA/s2543/IMG_2772.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1695" data-original-width="2543" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLegyIpuWcvePkvmZKQcQjy50psPdAuLMhA6UvRplDC_WGvhZaL403pbGr8GXwfOVbH_8QQDWJhpPF10_I-aR-EBIrwils842EXwHRiqpndRbMWiXSduolpKIOSvlTpIBRH-FUT1VkfmnCR6Ky5htYeQf5kogSxJikKdL7bV_6cBHunGdBY60GJfALwA/s320/IMG_2772.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: left;">Soldiers are made for marching. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: left;">And wearing uniforms </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">that</span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: left;"> make some
ladies swoon, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">like those admired in this photo, </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">like the magic of Brigadoon. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Let's keep our boys as soldiers, </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">who have no fight, </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">only peaceful sleeping until noon, </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">marching boots shined and polished, </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">socks on.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglnWQqUtVABUtVkoHSGVYBelmxVX8VpB4eYkz6wji3ZeFM1JQDwoh0cLtlATMewZIanecTofbGL3M4D6ClvuQ2E_5gNhfEpMqJ6n7g8jSGtQ5cFkjhJxZabyU2zoSJpRwE70DzFnr9xdMeYHCKtO_vQrQZ5VVZdhAI8GJUupaKpXpv0VHYqDWp-skbxw/s2746/IMG_2774.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1962" data-original-width="2746" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglnWQqUtVABUtVkoHSGVYBelmxVX8VpB4eYkz6wji3ZeFM1JQDwoh0cLtlATMewZIanecTofbGL3M4D6ClvuQ2E_5gNhfEpMqJ6n7g8jSGtQ5cFkjhJxZabyU2zoSJpRwE70DzFnr9xdMeYHCKtO_vQrQZ5VVZdhAI8GJUupaKpXpv0VHYqDWp-skbxw/s320/IMG_2774.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div></span></div><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Anchored out at Sucia Island;<o:p></o:p></span></p><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">morning is wet, all surfaces<o:p></o:p></span></p><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">covered in a fine film of<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">sea dampness. Seagulls scream<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">out their love for oysters<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">long before we have<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">water for coffee boiling.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It’s a delicious life – waking on the water.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Encompassed in peace and the scent of the ocean.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">~~~</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecv69c8Pi5_6wNtvgkCH9bIOQ7FWX5VJHVZnMD3emoz7vNg5jchYUZodUqi3VGWbrVXlMxxo5DgKYUgya6PML5mfdjIj2SZsq06WcwmX1EI2WYUoQkdu7N_Ts05DqRSJZFVJiHc_fexgffidxdw_ywDx6rUk4lP5heoTAg7L5UYReaucxLBLWKlXCgA/s2664/IMG_2776.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1810" data-original-width="2664" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecv69c8Pi5_6wNtvgkCH9bIOQ7FWX5VJHVZnMD3emoz7vNg5jchYUZodUqi3VGWbrVXlMxxo5DgKYUgya6PML5mfdjIj2SZsq06WcwmX1EI2WYUoQkdu7N_Ts05DqRSJZFVJiHc_fexgffidxdw_ywDx6rUk4lP5heoTAg7L5UYReaucxLBLWKlXCgA/s320/IMG_2776.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">My father taught us that crows were
old Indians. It was very important to him that we respected crows and Indians,
old, young, man, woman; crows and Indians. He told us his grandmother was
Indian. They called her Pocahontas. But they called all Indian women Pocahontas
who couldn’t write their own name in English. My father wanted us to understand
that crows and Indians were the peaceful ones, we should follow their examples.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">~~~</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN_nfdfhk4GrmPlX4P0jXfG_EHXk-HT8UHOGOdbxnm-0pShdkxmLV9RconHeMksQQeZEdsNxrEngXyB5L3z9aEhDSghwM33yd0Hxs0hIGOW9eCYsilRX5EgelpL_uFlDQF98aJGA8hKz_aDC4Jlh1VVqfUd7VhWI808fWFjcRErJfdNa1q0Hrn2E-hyA/s2822/IMG_2778.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1906" data-original-width="2822" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN_nfdfhk4GrmPlX4P0jXfG_EHXk-HT8UHOGOdbxnm-0pShdkxmLV9RconHeMksQQeZEdsNxrEngXyB5L3z9aEhDSghwM33yd0Hxs0hIGOW9eCYsilRX5EgelpL_uFlDQF98aJGA8hKz_aDC4Jlh1VVqfUd7VhWI808fWFjcRErJfdNa1q0Hrn2E-hyA/s320/IMG_2778.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Wandering, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">footsore, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">after a long day <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">of gazing at <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">spectacular scenes <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">of others imaginations, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">wars, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">carnivals, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">dance, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">birth, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">death; <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">inside the minds, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">outside of grasps, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">insanity, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">treachery, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">love, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">romance, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">lust, and <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">a little bit of dust. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">We seek peace in <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">museums, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">churches, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">sanctuaries. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">It escapes us still, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">no matter how diligent. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">~~~</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmp14LOZ2BkW5aL0peqDfNuBSUI69839Z3Df_hcEeU2RXHjvmF9fTz8_f-MbO-U-47i1Cv-kLeU7afPXu21Lh_nyQOPkvYYUrL0I0SHE2l81tPqUhN1nyPWrPzdFPpp-6RjBOuKjmHXlC11BQK-sRyDEfbupMUOShCocP5nPt9HhnScZRJMttCBkY4vQ/s2431/IMG_2792.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1693" data-original-width="2431" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmp14LOZ2BkW5aL0peqDfNuBSUI69839Z3Df_hcEeU2RXHjvmF9fTz8_f-MbO-U-47i1Cv-kLeU7afPXu21Lh_nyQOPkvYYUrL0I0SHE2l81tPqUhN1nyPWrPzdFPpp-6RjBOuKjmHXlC11BQK-sRyDEfbupMUOShCocP5nPt9HhnScZRJMttCBkY4vQ/s320/IMG_2792.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">The light at the end of the day,
after rain leaves everything in pink light, with sun dipping behind hills. My
little dog and I wrap up and venture out for one last glimpse, her sniffing
every little thing, me breathing deep the fresh air, inhaling the peace of
evening. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">~~~</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdQSrmzuK-FKXt4iRSoCmlsExiL_avN1yXslkH8Yh9Vkb0yaTTdo_jM8AY1Q4x09bUsKtYli9Ji-1-gWAMUsiq75ejJXycrjSjLTdFSP3LUNZANCTIvlpNDwXmW199JXWGRczzs0jJ5-xKy89eVP50zpC4nfXazomijuhW1zcIU2r6d9ElJ0dhwhKb1Q/s2586/IMG_2794.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1703" data-original-width="2586" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdQSrmzuK-FKXt4iRSoCmlsExiL_avN1yXslkH8Yh9Vkb0yaTTdo_jM8AY1Q4x09bUsKtYli9Ji-1-gWAMUsiq75ejJXycrjSjLTdFSP3LUNZANCTIvlpNDwXmW199JXWGRczzs0jJ5-xKy89eVP50zpC4nfXazomijuhW1zcIU2r6d9ElJ0dhwhKb1Q/s320/IMG_2794.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">There was
a simple magic<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">when I’d
wake up at<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Mom’s
house and realize<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">she’d
opened the bedroom<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">door, let
the cat in,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">and was in
the kitchen putting<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">away dishes
from the night<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">before,
clean and dry, emptying<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">the dishwasher
with military<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">precision,
clang of<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">ceramic,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">glass,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">flatware,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">the smell
of<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">fresh
beans brewing.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Morning peace,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">waking
day,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">slowly </span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">living
brought to life.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">~~~</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTLosvj5h6W33BxZh1c_A_I3ynbvzxclxwu0s3GoPJM9zw3bbjkKKYBbYerPG8nR1mZ9RIHIxwiD4QpcW273oFX9iUub0cGEOKSUSz7Hpk54Km3PFBie8-qjTgkBYVS9uRFBSN1f5IkX28vs0FHrXa6UWVJzcM7A5yId-oCbEjHr8qNujtAUnIJikKDQ/s3426/IMG_2814.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3426" data-original-width="2378" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTLosvj5h6W33BxZh1c_A_I3ynbvzxclxwu0s3GoPJM9zw3bbjkKKYBbYerPG8nR1mZ9RIHIxwiD4QpcW273oFX9iUub0cGEOKSUSz7Hpk54Km3PFBie8-qjTgkBYVS9uRFBSN1f5IkX28vs0FHrXa6UWVJzcM7A5yId-oCbEjHr8qNujtAUnIJikKDQ/s320/IMG_2814.HEIC" width="222" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">She
walked upon the river’s path, the leaves of spring, small babies yet, just
beginning to show their soft little heads, pushing out to reach the light. It
gave her hope of newness to come. Birds of brown and blue, singing their
own rock and roll version of sunshine and happiness. She bent down to pick up a
shiny coin dropped by a passerby and it said <o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Peace <o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Love <o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Faith<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">~~~</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIH15DBbUM-xYW2cl3FPtiXLzNuF_8w70c7PlFUKiClBQmUh8UvTtxmSVPSy1Ts2s2L7VDWz3dbWw-iot9JTUWJdyuXQMr-4ITNYMChaP8jZeY9Vka7UebLAcl4154z5SjMX42EI9HBm5KfN4kOMmro8zxyX9eqbJwBdqrs-dyu2rtrvFNEGpZj99DHQ/s2675/IMG_2816.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2076" data-original-width="2675" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIH15DBbUM-xYW2cl3FPtiXLzNuF_8w70c7PlFUKiClBQmUh8UvTtxmSVPSy1Ts2s2L7VDWz3dbWw-iot9JTUWJdyuXQMr-4ITNYMChaP8jZeY9Vka7UebLAcl4154z5SjMX42EI9HBm5KfN4kOMmro8zxyX9eqbJwBdqrs-dyu2rtrvFNEGpZj99DHQ/s320/IMG_2816.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">I sometimes think of Joe, whose mother called him José. </span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">He was a peaceful man. </span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">His smile
could settle a small child’s tantrum; his arms would soothe a baby and rock her
to sleep, long before her mother’s tears could dry. </span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">He radiated softness,
comfort. </span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Joe was an old man in a boy’s lean brown body.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">~~~</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFVVAE42LGGmX_WY4G58ktZ216Cusafg9v0try4RsqkU2OXZq0v7132d8zPyCDoSXlno6QBG1IYjczOPpbfqbNCHfNGv9kJI2VAnHNVqWmQ_pAYyl13lId_aBaIk4cbFGvChnuKNV6jPLSkRXb0Op_Jz9GBJ8LpD5XrBxH5X99Ie3W1l_wmt2uEiCWfw/s2817/IMG_2848.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2134" data-original-width="2817" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFVVAE42LGGmX_WY4G58ktZ216Cusafg9v0try4RsqkU2OXZq0v7132d8zPyCDoSXlno6QBG1IYjczOPpbfqbNCHfNGv9kJI2VAnHNVqWmQ_pAYyl13lId_aBaIk4cbFGvChnuKNV6jPLSkRXb0Op_Jz9GBJ8LpD5XrBxH5X99Ie3W1l_wmt2uEiCWfw/s320/IMG_2848.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">His
shoelaces got caught in the escalator and he almost went down but was saved at
the last minute by a loose shoe and a man with steady hands. They’d gone to
Sante Fe for peace and rest but had forgot about the proximity to Los Alamos. <o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHUz4ASDz_nJar0P5yAZrRV7-kZ_I1MJrFsViKVv-3d3UtnODZFvXK1jdq9FoAoWoCmPDeEPE3YqmjQsJ9bm3txbmk-HtppuMqwY4TZoH27Qy-bgKTVVtBcDDG_9Qn5JCmGjCOuZeUVxm1JFbwB6zcQ9evozliJhoUIaAY2tWL8nmRi48Z-G7kEubP8w/s2416/IMG_2855.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1701" data-original-width="2416" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHUz4ASDz_nJar0P5yAZrRV7-kZ_I1MJrFsViKVv-3d3UtnODZFvXK1jdq9FoAoWoCmPDeEPE3YqmjQsJ9bm3txbmk-HtppuMqwY4TZoH27Qy-bgKTVVtBcDDG_9Qn5JCmGjCOuZeUVxm1JFbwB6zcQ9evozliJhoUIaAY2tWL8nmRi48Z-G7kEubP8w/s320/IMG_2855.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I heard church bells clanging, somewhere </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">through the trees, dark </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">with mid-winter cloudiness; they </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">sang a mournful song of </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">hopeful peace, clinging </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to the ideal that we </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">can all get along, embrace </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the difference. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The bells. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">They make small thunder of their dreams. </div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqbCiMP54tyjF6QHnb5_13-TJknR-TwIRTdyCcAcV3lH5QBQg6eSyQz4awr3_395eKV48raWqWaI7c8mQLFlJQuta6i6yUDbHflPN5IN-Aznw3g4IaxwJIGsy_Ue9Y1B3_4beGJ-uUziJJoJ6Px7MTpdEcKPHWmfNVqukS1BhT7Z2JrDK3DJ3DIAiohA/s2605/IMG_2857.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1768" data-original-width="2605" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqbCiMP54tyjF6QHnb5_13-TJknR-TwIRTdyCcAcV3lH5QBQg6eSyQz4awr3_395eKV48raWqWaI7c8mQLFlJQuta6i6yUDbHflPN5IN-Aznw3g4IaxwJIGsy_Ue9Y1B3_4beGJ-uUziJJoJ6Px7MTpdEcKPHWmfNVqukS1BhT7Z2JrDK3DJ3DIAiohA/s320/IMG_2857.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">When he got to heaven, </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">my brother said </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">he was going to first look for Dad and Mom, </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">and then his best friend, </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">who passed so many years before him. I wonder </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">if he found them when he got there. Or did he even get there? </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">He was pretty convinced </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">that's where he was going. Did he find </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">the peace </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">people expect when they pass over </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">to wherever they go? Will I find out one day?</p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">I've got a few things I want to discuss with them.</p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJo9Z8WbS5RfqgsBC2mN23LF8eXQHy-5t2_RlKrT0Dmpuwym9sOuIWYsGNKT1V1q-HHM0VrSNwvjw9LWUJ67gtqajvxoh8M-W4ic0IpNR-4FU9gMdceR19pzKEM3MG1UzSA-SW0UtRg14tQZxa44l2lL4Bn6Igj4B97JxcPQ5PlZQNFUWY9HGXezCCIQ/s2859/IMG_2907.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2859" data-original-width="2304" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJo9Z8WbS5RfqgsBC2mN23LF8eXQHy-5t2_RlKrT0Dmpuwym9sOuIWYsGNKT1V1q-HHM0VrSNwvjw9LWUJ67gtqajvxoh8M-W4ic0IpNR-4FU9gMdceR19pzKEM3MG1UzSA-SW0UtRg14tQZxa44l2lL4Bn6Igj4B97JxcPQ5PlZQNFUWY9HGXezCCIQ/s320/IMG_2907.HEIC" width="258" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>My mother let me drive. I was 16 but had been driving for a while. Should have known better, but Mom made me nervous and so did the long hill coming up 410. When I was pulled over, flashing lights and siren, I could have died. The pain of the anxiety. "Your brights," he said. "You need to dim them." He held my driver's license under his flashlight in the naked dark with cars rocking us as they flew by, his pants whipping in the rush. "I know your dad," he said. "Tell him 'hi' from Elmer Little." He was an officer of the peace. Perhaps we should still call them that.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBrN1utL-Vc2J_GtYk7KY_NSws0pprz2w8ChLMd6f4Vn0g3PsFprwmL3bAMwzaCmKkPBYWSI7sFb1bpN1p78ffUQtSZYI4CN7E3jlxBohC9t1UQyE4-4emycpZJo1KaPz1M-ubzFtiEQ0GoyEAtt1WVHTyqgJjZZF3Y6oX6pRRmy2guua7tvLir6tyw/s2331/IMG_2909.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1811" data-original-width="2331" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBrN1utL-Vc2J_GtYk7KY_NSws0pprz2w8ChLMd6f4Vn0g3PsFprwmL3bAMwzaCmKkPBYWSI7sFb1bpN1p78ffUQtSZYI4CN7E3jlxBohC9t1UQyE4-4emycpZJo1KaPz1M-ubzFtiEQ0GoyEAtt1WVHTyqgJjZZF3Y6oX6pRRmy2guua7tvLir6tyw/s320/IMG_2909.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I wore my hair in braids. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">No make up. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Didn't own any. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Picked berries with a baby on my back. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Canned tomatoes, peaches, apricots, pears, applesauce, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">ran a food co-op and raised chickens and children. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Wrote poems, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">cried in the night, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">washed dishes by hand. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ran out of dinner ideas, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">pressed cider in autumn, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">planted gardens in spring. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Fell in love with a cowboy and ran away. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Found peace in the city. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Metro hippies. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Never holding grudges. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dancing in the park.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY4drjwkh7j12genh2cac0eBO8nD16UId9M-o6V6ZpNEEwpBlOGe-EyyMRTE5od42zVGRBJqfmQbhqn1nklKcAMYe9miSJxzNrl1eTdr78NOh-TkGnDDuR00HjgyZmUvmsm3RdJQg8NFqq0I5W9ZsbhdN0sqPdP-9nGBBsVx8nShicKtOW_ilxPWIeKg/s3804/IMG_2912.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3804" data-original-width="2627" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY4drjwkh7j12genh2cac0eBO8nD16UId9M-o6V6ZpNEEwpBlOGe-EyyMRTE5od42zVGRBJqfmQbhqn1nklKcAMYe9miSJxzNrl1eTdr78NOh-TkGnDDuR00HjgyZmUvmsm3RdJQg8NFqq0I5W9ZsbhdN0sqPdP-9nGBBsVx8nShicKtOW_ilxPWIeKg/s320/IMG_2912.HEIC" width="221" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He shifted in his saddle, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">tall and silhouetted with </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the blazing sun on his back, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">daring me to question him. The sand </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">was hot, pushing at the </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">soles of my feet, urging me </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to rise up, to keep my chin </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">off my chest. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"What did she say to you?" </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">he demanded, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">raising his voice </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">over the breaking waves. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Nothing," </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I said, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"but you just did." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And I've managed to </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">find peace between us, after </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">so many years have </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">gone lost, filling the ocean </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">with no regrets,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">only ghosts.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY13CPFcBB9VqNZJgVQ4Qp_pc8ctyFITZQBcFUQtmBpA6ud54LEFlihd3S_NJI-6ut6OMiU6oTMd15TnoRvxH3Ly2CjGWVd3BXVN0AmXIOSUPnu2FPipPYqiD6c1cn4eUXjyI6jd3vvEzNwqN8zA8IlVhVVxZkzgjBXfXiaW4wHmGFGyFCGeRS7mW_ZQ/s3747/IMG_2914.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3747" data-original-width="2513" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY13CPFcBB9VqNZJgVQ4Qp_pc8ctyFITZQBcFUQtmBpA6ud54LEFlihd3S_NJI-6ut6OMiU6oTMd15TnoRvxH3Ly2CjGWVd3BXVN0AmXIOSUPnu2FPipPYqiD6c1cn4eUXjyI6jd3vvEzNwqN8zA8IlVhVVxZkzgjBXfXiaW4wHmGFGyFCGeRS7mW_ZQ/s320/IMG_2914.HEIC" width="215" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">"We lived on the best hill, </div><div style="text-align: center;">in the best city, </div><div style="text-align: center;">in the best state, </div><div style="text-align: center;">in the best country, </div><div style="text-align: center;">on the best planet." </div><div style="text-align: center;">It was a chant we did when we were feeling that sense of well-being, everything was good, we had a peaceful existence, loved our neighbors as we should and were happier than we ever thought we could be. Until we weren't. It was all gone in one driveby moment.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwF40cAQz_cfOFXku5ynLTCAGbWFWgNgFMLZMJEAY33dR22cUewj3IH2u2yhxCYNmno3qZbxgm-sAeC0D8AvQdbuCJXXar_mhQrwccNZ0kx-QSztCvHqwqzfLg0qhnrdQ0zn0wVDYqiVJGgp6LfbCuO7sgRobLA5saX2ldS-hmKIKadK8Pc5Tnv-G2cQ/s2706/IMG_2922.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2415" data-original-width="2706" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwF40cAQz_cfOFXku5ynLTCAGbWFWgNgFMLZMJEAY33dR22cUewj3IH2u2yhxCYNmno3qZbxgm-sAeC0D8AvQdbuCJXXar_mhQrwccNZ0kx-QSztCvHqwqzfLg0qhnrdQ0zn0wVDYqiVJGgp6LfbCuO7sgRobLA5saX2ldS-hmKIKadK8Pc5Tnv-G2cQ/s320/IMG_2922.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Graduation Party 2022</b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">It rained. </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">No, it poured. </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">It meddled with our plans in a way that made us grin, and take on the challenge, because the Class of '22 had been through a couple of years that were not a mere nuisance filled with typical teenage angst. </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">No... this was masks and hand gel and sing-fucking-happy-birthday-twice-while-you-wash-your-hands and tests and vaxxing and learning to ignore insanity, which was sometimes blowing up all around you. </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">They danced under tents and then under the bursting sky, making peace with a world that wanted to send roadblocks. </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">But they came with fists and umbrellas!</p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7HDdlJfItEaaJg7SmqUxcRUvg7Rc9UzHXyMKY3JUWarouPFQY_-C03zTI44SzfXCI2et1w4RR4kmi2zcS2f3X3sq9A8P7c7QcvJX4ujSjf6zCf-JKPxtJ2OQfH1LUBumio1oZr91KIlvweFcZY81c-TM9RUCgdywnMXDJMDFEkoBm5fWZycEeJ5eLyg/s2778/IMG_2925.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1825" data-original-width="2778" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7HDdlJfItEaaJg7SmqUxcRUvg7Rc9UzHXyMKY3JUWarouPFQY_-C03zTI44SzfXCI2et1w4RR4kmi2zcS2f3X3sq9A8P7c7QcvJX4ujSjf6zCf-JKPxtJ2OQfH1LUBumio1oZr91KIlvweFcZY81c-TM9RUCgdywnMXDJMDFEkoBm5fWZycEeJ5eLyg/s320/IMG_2925.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">There are some boys who will dream of going in the Navy. </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Some think in times of peace, they'll be safe from danger. </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Others join because they are called by some magic siren to bear arms. </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">There are those who will never see anything more killer than a whale. </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Xizs3exgbIrRgxSQcYZZXFLPsDoxImSaoiklKtrb7c0UeuQQ0KUD9T_UKcbStmJnl5NbcBPQq6GRhrWVBajcTkFurmWPS2LNr_rLjQbIKCL6FA_bEFv8oLWoV2w83E8JdpViLeIidlAH6ltGp7s28aUIk29DYauotRAyl66tJgVy-4BE_KGZv1kWkA/s3657/IMG_2928.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3657" data-original-width="2447" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Xizs3exgbIrRgxSQcYZZXFLPsDoxImSaoiklKtrb7c0UeuQQ0KUD9T_UKcbStmJnl5NbcBPQq6GRhrWVBajcTkFurmWPS2LNr_rLjQbIKCL6FA_bEFv8oLWoV2w83E8JdpViLeIidlAH6ltGp7s28aUIk29DYauotRAyl66tJgVy-4BE_KGZv1kWkA/s320/IMG_2928.HEIC" width="214" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>In case you tried to reach me</div><div style="text-align: center;">I might be hard to find</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm trying to walk off all the clutter in my mind </div><div style="text-align: center;">Looking for a slice of peace </div><div style="text-align: center;">I wander on the rocky beach</div><div style="text-align: center;">seeking enlightenment on the shore</div><div style="text-align: center;">if harmony's within my reach. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHdHMjD3JaJrDKdbTpqOb4TEgipd1NYcFpWnnf84SeK5OAuqTh9Kd-yimTzVWXj2VFw6WVtEuLTqHcS8asyzXYRwMWUSl3u6Ds1hi8u10i_t10tCILds6beVPtPWXLdA5BbGF5eyKeL2dMIazTQK5kzNOxocezXfx4ZfuIeXWd7LcvZTyhMA2WqUtZvg/s2455/IMG_2930.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="2455" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHdHMjD3JaJrDKdbTpqOb4TEgipd1NYcFpWnnf84SeK5OAuqTh9Kd-yimTzVWXj2VFw6WVtEuLTqHcS8asyzXYRwMWUSl3u6Ds1hi8u10i_t10tCILds6beVPtPWXLdA5BbGF5eyKeL2dMIazTQK5kzNOxocezXfx4ZfuIeXWd7LcvZTyhMA2WqUtZvg/s320/IMG_2930.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Whoever knew shells could have such amazing names? </div><div style="text-align: center;">"Black Jingle?" </div><div style="text-align: center;">Is that a tooth gone bad in a bell? </div><div style="text-align: center;">Is a "False Angel Wing" one that flies a body into the melting sun? </div><div style="text-align: center;">A "Knobby Top" is what your grandpa wears to auctions on Sundays to buy an "Old Maid Curl" to make his "Left Handed Walk" when he's eating his "Turkey Wings."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: xx-small;">Apologies to the person who received this shell postcard, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: xx-small;">having nothing to do with peace, as it were. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: xx-small;">A little bit of silliness.</span><br /><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgdQcN2N2812bS8mDXx5fEXCBrmZ0nYRMXIlaCpWS1x-DZuCwMDyXwOFa-oIZsVZ3Apsj9zXHNAy0c35Wh6aYn07bwJ_JpexvCEu6gaxq0JAKXnp3pg0_fKaK16izE7XYjL5j_29MT8_ksPKG828coNKoOCaSh5SHXoN93EKgFFRTik3VJmEpvD6uvTw/s2841/IMG_2959.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1896" data-original-width="2841" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgdQcN2N2812bS8mDXx5fEXCBrmZ0nYRMXIlaCpWS1x-DZuCwMDyXwOFa-oIZsVZ3Apsj9zXHNAy0c35Wh6aYn07bwJ_JpexvCEu6gaxq0JAKXnp3pg0_fKaK16izE7XYjL5j_29MT8_ksPKG828coNKoOCaSh5SHXoN93EKgFFRTik3VJmEpvD6uvTw/s320/IMG_2959.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">"Peace" she asked for. And equality and the ability to make her own choices about this beautiful new body, as surely her mate had been granted. She begged, while he dozed and dreamt of sons, those who would go on to create parental peril.</p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXb2iJR2gC66IasySW173RbsxikFD2-1XOMZ_AUUYleF_fY5i-qtFCoHyWq9y1Wn8T3CQ7zKzRmolh7wyQ61ZGFiNGkfMRpsFamnG0m9DE8IKSZ6ilUj6ubXPJkNdaZQqV9_QiAZI02rCY_Xtn4q-ZG7h5NbCczUFusnRvQlVeU6_QvJ0Wt1u0T0o7QQ/s3497/IMG_2961.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3497" data-original-width="2227" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXb2iJR2gC66IasySW173RbsxikFD2-1XOMZ_AUUYleF_fY5i-qtFCoHyWq9y1Wn8T3CQ7zKzRmolh7wyQ61ZGFiNGkfMRpsFamnG0m9DE8IKSZ6ilUj6ubXPJkNdaZQqV9_QiAZI02rCY_Xtn4q-ZG7h5NbCczUFusnRvQlVeU6_QvJ0Wt1u0T0o7QQ/s320/IMG_2961.HEIC" width="204" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">There are times I congratulate myself </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">on having energy, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">working full time at nearly 74, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">going on solo trips or </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">meeting friends in far off destinations, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">getting in 10,000 daily steps, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">walking the dog 3 times a day, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">praying for peace, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">which seems forever ever elusive, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">keeping a stiff upper lip and </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">nose to the grindstone. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Other times I wonder if I'll wake up in the morning.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCjhysiGRg6lwELhK1fCo4PTyt5r0OuxkZ_TxCUYVd3GR6aaw_u6-Zd_z98fxo4g_8evlo7SX71sGQqLWG9H13qLIQztzYBySng24BvKC-7ZRugK8KAk_Fzqz2UrJa9H1sql4SxbUr-I7_r2fda1RKFAXGtjTAbl0YJV4aPn83UYISgwprBN9cj-V4Rg/s2590/IMG_2976.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1720" data-original-width="2590" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCjhysiGRg6lwELhK1fCo4PTyt5r0OuxkZ_TxCUYVd3GR6aaw_u6-Zd_z98fxo4g_8evlo7SX71sGQqLWG9H13qLIQztzYBySng24BvKC-7ZRugK8KAk_Fzqz2UrJa9H1sql4SxbUr-I7_r2fda1RKFAXGtjTAbl0YJV4aPn83UYISgwprBN9cj-V4Rg/s320/IMG_2976.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm looking forward to summer and being alone at the lake. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">How many poems I have written at the lake. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Alone. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">With my little dog, of course, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">who,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">in the peaceful quiet of a dusky afternoon, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm not above talking to, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">carrying on </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">an entire one-sided conversation. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My chair, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">my blanket, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">my notebook, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">my dog, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">watching the laughing, crying children, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">dipping in and out of the water. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm looking forward to summer and being alone at the lake.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUkcOu27CfVAMLmxMUurewFVVEs9TIs_K5Q_dfDUrrkR3HttntrfQsQvLVXuR9eW7Cg3KND6XxsHXhgBkfyEFmBY8uT0oUfxjEI1--2HI4fTPerwjSma3Ktf1WORvgkdSx1Rj2Oy6wfcE34ZvGE1FurnGLC3cRC2h4XybHKW0QG6lY55X7ijFs25upMA/s3521/IMG_2978.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3521" data-original-width="2432" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUkcOu27CfVAMLmxMUurewFVVEs9TIs_K5Q_dfDUrrkR3HttntrfQsQvLVXuR9eW7Cg3KND6XxsHXhgBkfyEFmBY8uT0oUfxjEI1--2HI4fTPerwjSma3Ktf1WORvgkdSx1Rj2Oy6wfcE34ZvGE1FurnGLC3cRC2h4XybHKW0QG6lY55X7ijFs25upMA/s320/IMG_2978.HEIC" width="221" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormal">Inés de Castro, the real hero of a tragic love story, rivaling Romeo and Juliet, she, the only
one to pay the price with her life, for following her true heart. Has she encountered peace any of these 700 years, or does the brutal turbulence of her death haunt the
beautiful faithful Inés, deep in her marble crypt?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkT5bhR362_7lk43Xjy3tN7lv3bjIz1UUId3iJcWjRpnSRYLOGaUlBHbhdzIp0zBZ-rZ5l30qVIeWBFD1z28mP36PpLflaDMGaSzrchrSJ6fmcPLWgc-0LUdlUBsgLG6QGpSte4InAcA8upz9hr35E5pIIEF7rnA6BygIfGJHfnTuBQXvX3I1193fSg/s2713/IMG_2987.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1738" data-original-width="2713" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWkT5bhR362_7lk43Xjy3tN7lv3bjIz1UUId3iJcWjRpnSRYLOGaUlBHbhdzIp0zBZ-rZ5l30qVIeWBFD1z28mP36PpLflaDMGaSzrchrSJ6fmcPLWgc-0LUdlUBsgLG6QGpSte4InAcA8upz9hr35E5pIIEF7rnA6BygIfGJHfnTuBQXvX3I1193fSg/s320/IMG_2987.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br />To some it meant <i>victory</i> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal">but to us, </p><p class="MsoNormal">it meant something else. And </p><p class="MsoNormal">to a lot or parent-types, </p><p class="MsoNormal">it was an insult. We just wanted </p><p class="MsoNormal">the war to <u>stop</u> and </p><p class="MsoNormal">our boys to come home, </p><p class="MsoNormal">not in a box. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Two fingers,</p><p class="MsoNormal"> held aloft, </p><p class="MsoNormal">palm out, </p><p class="MsoNormal">though many saw the middle finger only. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Over time,</p><p class="MsoNormal">everyone, </p><p class="MsoNormal">from first-graders to </p><p class="MsoNormal">US presidents </p><p class="MsoNormal">were flashing it. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Let's give it a chance. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf55GmWHN55n12EIxuQWQ_fhp4m28RDdi2I4o3Uq-wQukrDUgxbnJaQ7bCTsT7bUx77LYWQX4x_5t8SzNlOLjojGpusSGUGPefSa6rq8eAWwaokWkYaIDP9iHgM3bz65BrJnNHlVmQT0qYjkdPFpeQmmxmbvN5EmvrTdGpJKqfuuJnff8uds-cmcWE2A/s2871/IMG_2990.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1881" data-original-width="2871" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf55GmWHN55n12EIxuQWQ_fhp4m28RDdi2I4o3Uq-wQukrDUgxbnJaQ7bCTsT7bUx77LYWQX4x_5t8SzNlOLjojGpusSGUGPefSa6rq8eAWwaokWkYaIDP9iHgM3bz65BrJnNHlVmQT0qYjkdPFpeQmmxmbvN5EmvrTdGpJKqfuuJnff8uds-cmcWE2A/s320/IMG_2990.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I'm pretty sure elephants are way smarter than humans. They live in a coexistence with other creatures of the earth and have peaceful loving communities. Attentive to their young and seniors, they have a kingdom of mutual respect. Whales, too. Primates, of course. We think we're superior because of our language but animals have a tiny vocabulary in comparison, and they communicate just fine. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Humans are just a bunch of words.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9In-j_4gy4u2f_pZO284ZL5ijQpL04zgi9MNUw68_vwmprfwClFTy2w97HO9uSvyMFUT1laMHPtS7IiItC8DzAFTKCeR9-rL8HUEkGZekC1inxbL29XbcjDoCCO4USQB8X-nlVlLYM5Lzrw_wIEm96iUeSM8yzk1GuZl0g6BQN14e6Zqf9ClX3UnfpQ/s2926/IMG_2992.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2137" data-original-width="2926" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9In-j_4gy4u2f_pZO284ZL5ijQpL04zgi9MNUw68_vwmprfwClFTy2w97HO9uSvyMFUT1laMHPtS7IiItC8DzAFTKCeR9-rL8HUEkGZekC1inxbL29XbcjDoCCO4USQB8X-nlVlLYM5Lzrw_wIEm96iUeSM8yzk1GuZl0g6BQN14e6Zqf9ClX3UnfpQ/s320/IMG_2992.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">(This postcard is the art of my friend Michael Hale, who lives in Pt. T. I've known Michael for nearly 60 years!)</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Would that we could give to one another in the same manner we rescue and shelter dogs and cats. Let us lavish this kind of love on one another. We are none the same, yet too eager to readily be offended by the differences in others. </div><div style="text-align: center;">In a peaceful world there would be celebrations of differences.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Let it be.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidm1FNN3Tbal23THrDnljy7WUC3z1rokZWZp74d_LH2B7hUad1c-cW6TEiFrrBXLYiAhEx2G4RS8p_kJ2ieFJHbbnZVFOEnOaAxTfeD2UiUOuiv7LkItBFwGWOnEICX0ecisSQm2v556FuTpumKXhNLz49oxkeiE_Dja4hiowOqLT7hj_hWnnU8yXIXQ/s2824/IMG_2994.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1809" data-original-width="2824" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidm1FNN3Tbal23THrDnljy7WUC3z1rokZWZp74d_LH2B7hUad1c-cW6TEiFrrBXLYiAhEx2G4RS8p_kJ2ieFJHbbnZVFOEnOaAxTfeD2UiUOuiv7LkItBFwGWOnEICX0ecisSQm2v556FuTpumKXhNLz49oxkeiE_Dja4hiowOqLT7hj_hWnnU8yXIXQ/s320/IMG_2994.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">"Let us have peace in a hundred years," she said, </div><div style="text-align: center;">her eyes like stone, </div><div style="text-align: center;">daring onlookers to not believe </div><div style="text-align: center;">it could be so, her world </div><div style="text-align: center;">being bloodied and shattered, </div><div style="text-align: center;">saying too many goodbyes, </div><div style="text-align: center;">not enough hellos. </div><div style="text-align: center;">She allowed us </div><div style="text-align: center;">ONE HUNDRED YEARS </div><div style="text-align: center;">to get it right. </div><div style="text-align: center;">There are those of us </div><div style="text-align: center;">who still believe in the power of peace.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">.................................................</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So, there we are for another year </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">of wishing for peace on all levels, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">but not at all costs. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Peace Poets 2023</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Thanks for reading.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p></div><br /><p></p>Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-3950670160670838172022-09-12T14:21:00.000-07:002022-09-12T14:24:06.918-07:00Poetry Postcard Festival 2022<p>I was pleased to get all of my postcards sent this year by the end of the month (August). For 2022, I tried to write each poem that somehow related to the postcard I was sending. Sometimes it worked. Not always. Try to think of how little that space is on the lefthand side of a postcard; one can't be verbose. I wrote spontaneously and used my good friend White Out correction tape when things went really south. There are a few minor edits but mostly, they remain as my thoughts flowed from my pen onto the cards. Here they are:</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjbqm9MSEGuk7mHFZMr6f0HHGxKwKYCSWz61cIfVUikzL9nuJichhXBH5EBvsz6-S2XvuanKJXdxHQt5C382ybd5TmcXuzEceCTOPORnl-oa5MFHZn3-FdZ7lEalByrAQJogWlCB0Y-LF_mmd9TjhH_u9DXbkUMcZs8XMLB5vlBYoeNsX5Uxu2rFM8j2w" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="749" data-original-width="1126" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjbqm9MSEGuk7mHFZMr6f0HHGxKwKYCSWz61cIfVUikzL9nuJichhXBH5EBvsz6-S2XvuanKJXdxHQt5C382ybd5TmcXuzEceCTOPORnl-oa5MFHZn3-FdZ7lEalByrAQJogWlCB0Y-LF_mmd9TjhH_u9DXbkUMcZs8XMLB5vlBYoeNsX5Uxu2rFM8j2w" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">Today I sit in the shade at the lake, Greenlake, with my
postcards, dog and a good book. </p><p class="MsoNormal">It’s cooler here, on this steamy day, lots to see: </p><p class="MsoNormal">a fellow wearing
a t-shirt that says FUNCLE – I’ll bet he’s fun! </p><p class="MsoNormal">A panorama of paddlers, defying
the sun, </p><p class="MsoNormal">standing up to the heat. Scantily clad sun bathers </p><p class="MsoNormal">and fully clothed
head-to-toe sun-fearers. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Wet dogs, </p><p class="MsoNormal">pink children, </p><p class="MsoNormal">brave cannon-ballers. </p><p class="MsoNormal">(<span style="font-size: x-small;">This
post card was found in an antique shop in Port Gamble, Wa.)</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBPgDMvE2Lm0p7AozEjoJArw5Nv6Gn3ktSU6udUE_bfi5c30I2zyOwo22IITxENHgui8GVOL6CU-gkoIPA-jHJ_s2BVT3fe_XkNr4e92OaeSW3JevmYxBzLXgfiTewcc23zyET8eXy8IRMwH7fR7WXP7p15t7p5bhuD4mWhhzaxD9WYjz8MMbj4U3_WQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="754" data-original-width="1126" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBPgDMvE2Lm0p7AozEjoJArw5Nv6Gn3ktSU6udUE_bfi5c30I2zyOwo22IITxENHgui8GVOL6CU-gkoIPA-jHJ_s2BVT3fe_XkNr4e92OaeSW3JevmYxBzLXgfiTewcc23zyET8eXy8IRMwH7fR7WXP7p15t7p5bhuD4mWhhzaxD9WYjz8MMbj4U3_WQ" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">In the 80’s, I often visited a
friend in Montlake, off Portage Bay, </p><p class="MsoNormal">who was caring for a woman who was 102
years old, </p><p class="MsoNormal">and we sat around a small table </p><p class="MsoNormal">and sorted out greeting cards </p><p class="MsoNormal">and stamps,
postcards and gift tags, while she told us </p><p class="MsoNormal">a story of each one and pasted them </p><p class="MsoNormal">into a collage, with a little help from our friend, and me. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(This is a vivid
memory and I pass by the house often, which this stone house in Versailles
reminded me of.)</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-VHkQPb8ipk8EvRLZ2T5vgCXypPxlrK69pGhfobBAV5JMl_exlvFGrIh_pSYEgYomkjzP6MA6ZKWuMo0xh8EVeUDlWEjLhXNx4Q85j7tmFsxFJv9ixFeSwcasMypJ3dveliLr3Qz52VQ2SfDLEmvwBaYi317KJSz7I0s20bLhfWitZuyhWxOTUh_NiQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="1030" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-VHkQPb8ipk8EvRLZ2T5vgCXypPxlrK69pGhfobBAV5JMl_exlvFGrIh_pSYEgYomkjzP6MA6ZKWuMo0xh8EVeUDlWEjLhXNx4Q85j7tmFsxFJv9ixFeSwcasMypJ3dveliLr3Qz52VQ2SfDLEmvwBaYi317KJSz7I0s20bLhfWitZuyhWxOTUh_NiQ" width="300" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"> Homeless in Seattle <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">We drove, </p><p class="MsoNormal">a rainy night, </p><p class="MsoNormal">though we really just crawled </p><p class="MsoNormal">through traffic on the Interstate </p><p class="MsoNormal">and there,
under an off ramp, like campers, </p><p class="MsoNormal">seeking shelter, people around a bonfire, </p><p class="MsoNormal">holding cold hands, palm out to the flame, </p><p class="MsoNormal">and children </p><p class="MsoNormal">hooded, </p><p class="MsoNormal">bundled, </p><p class="MsoNormal">a man
cradling an infant. </p><p class="MsoNormal">From our heated car, we peered into their home. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p>
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg4kr2F-8QUDpiaDaUUeJOPDR6WFUVFxjWhk1a5I5BlbsHCxagmznkhqR5cLm46Lk86TPs8wLejqRfIZU0yNhcxfaXagGIBC2nnCZnzz4JYkb2zuVCObxFxthNAGW_eje4bWXHzxBrMKLn8wfx0lyEBP7GE6EDfRZCbrLMzaCyoLtpVh9d8maM43-d-yA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="569" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg4kr2F-8QUDpiaDaUUeJOPDR6WFUVFxjWhk1a5I5BlbsHCxagmznkhqR5cLm46Lk86TPs8wLejqRfIZU0yNhcxfaXagGIBC2nnCZnzz4JYkb2zuVCObxFxthNAGW_eje4bWXHzxBrMKLn8wfx0lyEBP7GE6EDfRZCbrLMzaCyoLtpVh9d8maM43-d-yA" width="166" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I said a prayer, </p><p class="MsoNormal">tho I don’t pray, and </p><p class="MsoNormal">found my way down </p><p class="MsoNormal">the
painted pathways, counting on my aged knees </p><p class="MsoNormal">to cooperate, seeking out the
childhood home </p><p class="MsoNormal">of a great artist, an icon on his times, </p><p class="MsoNormal">a partner to the woman
with </p><p class="MsoNormal">the most discussed eyebrow(s) of her century. </p><p class="MsoNormal">It was a perfect peaceful
day – </p><p class="MsoNormal">to pray. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Postcard purchased at <i>Museo Casa</i> in Guanajuato, Mexico,
November 2021)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikhsl_mWmonwkdWXqiBOziwFrVg9mLn6MzHOBzsJrdiAMjFGsgKhGuTMUH3OyLMwo39O-hVWQsYb33Tt2H-6cDRKEiWzCGR-AY4QIA5uYzztZSSehI1oAhymB-eYHk0E4Qq68XhvrsObB0fjBEfDNJEwIUdVOkEKgZ74m37NpIaE87LhpCH0qYoB00JA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="1021" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikhsl_mWmonwkdWXqiBOziwFrVg9mLn6MzHOBzsJrdiAMjFGsgKhGuTMUH3OyLMwo39O-hVWQsYb33Tt2H-6cDRKEiWzCGR-AY4QIA5uYzztZSSehI1oAhymB-eYHk0E4Qq68XhvrsObB0fjBEfDNJEwIUdVOkEKgZ74m37NpIaE87LhpCH0qYoB00JA" width="297" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Sometimes I feel lucky. Today, Olivia Newton John passed. She fought breast cancer off and on
for a long agonizing time. Oz won’t be as sparkly and precious a place without
her. I’m 73 soon, same age. Today I count my lucky stars.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWRm5n8Gg1C0gJLPzJvoiL2xY8LAkRv077JjJT4pkK14qybZBnj88_uPC9g6VhiMCDe3YJe2STgRgPcXFqqh901QUgVhF48wtoL_1uIDICz2b6DO-xWPsSyRmOsPI6f9YhOrbRQmiwoUdmzAXIAegTR7GhmmeYPcAchARIf6Hb_eVdDG6dAkR6MMHO5g" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="752" data-original-width="1126" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWRm5n8Gg1C0gJLPzJvoiL2xY8LAkRv077JjJT4pkK14qybZBnj88_uPC9g6VhiMCDe3YJe2STgRgPcXFqqh901QUgVhF48wtoL_1uIDICz2b6DO-xWPsSyRmOsPI6f9YhOrbRQmiwoUdmzAXIAegTR7GhmmeYPcAchARIf6Hb_eVdDG6dAkR6MMHO5g" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Somehow the moon </p><p class="MsoNormal">willingly
remains the same, </p><p class="MsoNormal">while I, unwillingly changing, </p><p class="MsoNormal">decade upon decade, watch with
wonder </p><p class="MsoNormal">in the dark night, as Mother Moon </p><p class="MsoNormal">gives us her light. She has
traveled </p><p class="MsoNormal">an incredible distance with me, observing </p><p class="MsoNormal">and unjudging </p><p class="MsoNormal">my motions and
desires. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(This postcard found in an
antique shop in Port Gamble, Wa. July 2022.)</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiThRWKrSttPrdPdwO6RmeJawZY8iPCxKOMWTcXUEVw-_iM81lzhkxmfRlowHJul07MItxa-aD_Z3paHPeVImIsc20SuvhXjglpIIOg7KRPW64MfD9el3XLOSu8esRA5UMWqkEsFaPFKEe5yAR0z65elSVIrNlHQQ8-cRo0VOJFgtAYcKKSkj0Oj_6o0g" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="517" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiThRWKrSttPrdPdwO6RmeJawZY8iPCxKOMWTcXUEVw-_iM81lzhkxmfRlowHJul07MItxa-aD_Z3paHPeVImIsc20SuvhXjglpIIOg7KRPW64MfD9el3XLOSu8esRA5UMWqkEsFaPFKEe5yAR0z65elSVIrNlHQQ8-cRo0VOJFgtAYcKKSkj0Oj_6o0g" width="151" /></a></div><br />I grew up in a small town, arranged <p></p><p class="MsoNormal">at the foot of Mt Rainier and </p><p class="MsoNormal">watched intently a night sky </p><p class="MsoNormal">where stars appeared
in sharp contrast </p><p class="MsoNormal">to their deep background. A moon </p><p class="MsoNormal">arrived in all her stages, back </p><p class="MsoNormal">when we could still see </p><p class="MsoNormal">the Milky Way, before I moved </p><p class="MsoNormal">to the city and could nearly
count </p><p class="MsoNormal">the stars in the sky.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgD92MY6BcH_26zT8iA0Abtu0Iuhv5mLX_ipprnhim7p5P31nxuRM8DcOGZacPzM7CPqE9gcDF4esRB0EhwlumTLt4k4iag1Dif_UDSlvp01ThMY4WjwRbCC3qJwAiYZ7HxcyHf7DgORXrFW3ZXbwWBn-1TTIsfyvvnTtz_ZHNWBeMBib19cJqpoLlWow" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="1187" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgD92MY6BcH_26zT8iA0Abtu0Iuhv5mLX_ipprnhim7p5P31nxuRM8DcOGZacPzM7CPqE9gcDF4esRB0EhwlumTLt4k4iag1Dif_UDSlvp01ThMY4WjwRbCC3qJwAiYZ7HxcyHf7DgORXrFW3ZXbwWBn-1TTIsfyvvnTtz_ZHNWBeMBib19cJqpoLlWow" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I lived in the hills; </p><p class="MsoNormal">took me
forever </p><p class="MsoNormal">to pronounce <i>fraccionamiento</i> </p><p class="MsoNormal">without mangling it. Alone </p><p class="MsoNormal">at night </p><p class="MsoNormal">in the huge villa, from the top bedroom, </p><p class="MsoNormal">windows with screens (<i>mosquiteros</i>), </p><p class="MsoNormal">no
glass (<i>sin cristal</i>), the waves </p><p class="MsoNormal">on the beach below thundered, never </p><p class="MsoNormal">in an
expected syncopation, therefore </p><p class="MsoNormal">waking suddenly me at times, </p><p class="MsoNormal">from a dreaming sleep.
Cicadas screamed, </p><p class="MsoNormal">frogs hollered in an almighty chorus </p><p class="MsoNormal">and jungle animals made
their own kind of music. </p><p class="MsoNormal">I miss this orchestra. </p><p class="MsoNormal">💗💗💗💗<i>Con corazón </i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(My house was where the arrow points in the photo.)</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijefqdFk6oi_IkSN66LEXXqo8pIgNjNEN8j8fMSVxqwJ21JKNFoSXC-9d5ZKmevBctIctkLsXXbl6pRZ9RwpOfZXyBBZ5U66QEfaGoWpEHLClAltkGGAByDbetUpeOxKOLdWHvJLb9pscI29eT_v74N-c4Kvk_C8X6dANkizvvpxafV2f882mJY9jrmg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="632" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijefqdFk6oi_IkSN66LEXXqo8pIgNjNEN8j8fMSVxqwJ21JKNFoSXC-9d5ZKmevBctIctkLsXXbl6pRZ9RwpOfZXyBBZ5U66QEfaGoWpEHLClAltkGGAByDbetUpeOxKOLdWHvJLb9pscI29eT_v74N-c4Kvk_C8X6dANkizvvpxafV2f882mJY9jrmg" width="184" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">Sometimes </p><p class="MsoNormal">I’m touched</p><p class="MsoNormal">with guilt, </p><p class="MsoNormal">considering the life I’ve lived, </p><p class="MsoNormal">the idyllic childhood, </p><p class="MsoNormal">relatively free of worry, </p><p class="MsoNormal">barefoot summers, </p><p class="MsoNormal">plentiful gardens, </p><p class="MsoNormal">an auto for each
parent. </p><p class="MsoNormal">My grandchildren </p><p class="MsoNormal">inherit a different world </p><p class="MsoNormal">and </p><p class="MsoNormal">have
every right to be angry.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p></div><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjhIP_bTlDZKRUiFDr2DO0WK1gpsPZKdC2Pvy0YuUlPXqQeW4f1dBUTK0rWqHCiuFvx-juSOLOPU-mf_Yw20we71AVX6b4cLj4SZoxEPkVxU0ZC_8yEDKy9J0KrJM99xY0X2tS5yYq5YQnlZuyTejgMWTqkbwGNi6Hw0lRCG6XU5RnldPu_rBy4Vq-Umw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="572" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjhIP_bTlDZKRUiFDr2DO0WK1gpsPZKdC2Pvy0YuUlPXqQeW4f1dBUTK0rWqHCiuFvx-juSOLOPU-mf_Yw20we71AVX6b4cLj4SZoxEPkVxU0ZC_8yEDKy9J0KrJM99xY0X2tS5yYq5YQnlZuyTejgMWTqkbwGNi6Hw0lRCG6XU5RnldPu_rBy4Vq-Umw" width="167" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">In dreams are memories of
places visited, </p><p class="MsoNormal">people known and unknown, </p><p class="MsoNormal">alive and passed. The element </p><p class="MsoNormal">of a
fantasy world, </p><p class="MsoNormal">a universe that lives </p><p class="MsoNormal">in one’s deepest imagination, is also present. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Unread memos, </p><p class="MsoNormal">unlocked doors, </p><p class="MsoNormal">unmet lovers and </p><p class="MsoNormal">flights of unparalleled desires.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyzAzLE-UoHvDDLmUZVfY4Edk8s8fRRfZFkdjSRFlEvzYNGyc5Dm1SDltIiOJEgBjLJCG9eoEra1O0ekwaRoZUqNu--HA-XPjgiuZa93E7RYIH9TLgg4CZlcZ6JHRzBW_15SrNtIKpRmiFBECi6n0S-nLY0sPaH86wdNhgan3GriuN9bcysUIN0gA7hg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="1282" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyzAzLE-UoHvDDLmUZVfY4Edk8s8fRRfZFkdjSRFlEvzYNGyc5Dm1SDltIiOJEgBjLJCG9eoEra1O0ekwaRoZUqNu--HA-XPjgiuZa93E7RYIH9TLgg4CZlcZ6JHRzBW_15SrNtIKpRmiFBECi6n0S-nLY0sPaH86wdNhgan3GriuN9bcysUIN0gA7hg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">If you happened upon a key in
a door, </p><p class="MsoNormal">would you turn it? If the door then opened, </p><p class="MsoNormal">would you enter? If there
were stairs, </p><p class="MsoNormal">would you climb them? Would you call out and say </p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>Hello – an intruder
is here!? </i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjt3ECRM7JqUuZtmED9hymhSWxqbk6wUvI9QZ3XcZqcQh8zTB-QMMkLiQqVmerkEyphVIhi9jRNFeWVb7W3A5u8HYWuf7LAPwd20iYMw9BOiM1GeqicAmT_kSb3AuRkHl5AJkcPUR8mtErAwYJFj71smWv-yNW_oMuPN1orfA-0eRi4yh_7jCt6MZkCzA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="1263" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjt3ECRM7JqUuZtmED9hymhSWxqbk6wUvI9QZ3XcZqcQh8zTB-QMMkLiQqVmerkEyphVIhi9jRNFeWVb7W3A5u8HYWuf7LAPwd20iYMw9BOiM1GeqicAmT_kSb3AuRkHl5AJkcPUR8mtErAwYJFj71smWv-yNW_oMuPN1orfA-0eRi4yh_7jCt6MZkCzA" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"> College Bound</p><p class="MsoNormal">The winter excitement </p><p class="MsoNormal">of
driving the corridor </p><p class="MsoNormal">with three laughing girls, </p><p class="MsoNormal">junk snacking, </p><p class="MsoNormal">phones
exchanging playlists, </p><p class="MsoNormal">energy crackling </p><p class="MsoNormal">in the downpour </p><p class="MsoNormal">surrounding us. Spring
comes </p><p class="MsoNormal">and destinations are </p><p class="MsoNormal">locked in. Summer ends, </p><p class="MsoNormal">goodbyes stretch boundaries, </p><p class="MsoNormal">boundaries stretch hearts.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHSC9li1mvmjuP0ysYGnMLa4jpsRxuvQ1mbls46kwHDM-d4ay5_ASGSHkEtA8uQXJlXHCa757n6v-npfVH1_pyGeLGlvOIAwrV5dttNVjPF1XvnDxFM9GL9Hw5ZLOFgYF8xc1AlL205EO80CVl8ia3NiRHjEQs7y6l1EGWD08gt1ZsyIZbY_yjXD6Dmw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="1302" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHSC9li1mvmjuP0ysYGnMLa4jpsRxuvQ1mbls46kwHDM-d4ay5_ASGSHkEtA8uQXJlXHCa757n6v-npfVH1_pyGeLGlvOIAwrV5dttNVjPF1XvnDxFM9GL9Hw5ZLOFgYF8xc1AlL205EO80CVl8ia3NiRHjEQs7y6l1EGWD08gt1ZsyIZbY_yjXD6Dmw" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">We went home, </p><p class="MsoNormal">exhausted, and
slept, </p><p class="MsoNormal">my loyal dog and me, </p><p class="MsoNormal">like two cats in the jungle. Hush, my darling... </p><p class="MsoNormal">a
long day, </p><p class="MsoNormal">and now we exchange dreams. </p><p class="MsoNormal">We roar. </p><p class="MsoNormal">I run. </p><p class="MsoNormal">You read.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhaB9piHej_b3MVwKKiF6b5gzI8flpNAMP-0FKg8YbU56hq8kHMUeZddAZuNbLYRw3p1JmGZNV5_Q8c16kmxYcg_grxbzbM92hD3drGSTrD-x4ykgHoZYhYPvtxtb4wikS4D_8tPpMRk-YF_OOadiIpwXUuAStdpEgTVKEkEIHBdvDr_qorGECagyd4_g" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="1208" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhaB9piHej_b3MVwKKiF6b5gzI8flpNAMP-0FKg8YbU56hq8kHMUeZddAZuNbLYRw3p1JmGZNV5_Q8c16kmxYcg_grxbzbM92hD3drGSTrD-x4ykgHoZYhYPvtxtb4wikS4D_8tPpMRk-YF_OOadiIpwXUuAStdpEgTVKEkEIHBdvDr_qorGECagyd4_g" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Free <o:p></o:p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">to be <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">to see <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">two women <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">walk arm in arm <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">expecting no harm<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">be free <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">see <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">the future<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQsxHEnf2rkN2q9ek61begufdai11klP9PMyutoCTu2UfVGMJQSXZ0bTG7FKzHCA75jmqPmEyQpTKIaymJap0rI3FE56Z4ayB7XX0yo250y0VhLNu0hCjoNokh8bTlApEc-Q17kUwwkMHQNN2NXQDE8PiKwagsnk2fMP375DuYCVe5vrLxAX9T7q-OqQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="823" data-original-width="555" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQsxHEnf2rkN2q9ek61begufdai11klP9PMyutoCTu2UfVGMJQSXZ0bTG7FKzHCA75jmqPmEyQpTKIaymJap0rI3FE56Z4ayB7XX0yo250y0VhLNu0hCjoNokh8bTlApEc-Q17kUwwkMHQNN2NXQDE8PiKwagsnk2fMP375DuYCVe5vrLxAX9T7q-OqQ" width="162" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">I dealt with a bit of my past today. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Old friends losing
their minds, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">young friends breaking chains. I came </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">out of sleep with a dream on
my mind </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">but could not grasp the meaning </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">as the images dissolved </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">with every blink
of my waking eyes.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIvYTL_prBOGfO9iooYLhdUjlN9Wx9y6hSzjh1QLPITkggngm7PGxetne48hNtTn18jtHPtv26jX4LWsMobFWQPcLRU3ZgdNSf4SR-Xy7YTVAWnd_iN28WG92U8sWx9WnGn5VeQNsIsXdBkwbpC8pAKG0E-IQuYzrSNOPII_x8dZO_lWzlwA-FE8RmwA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="1216" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIvYTL_prBOGfO9iooYLhdUjlN9Wx9y6hSzjh1QLPITkggngm7PGxetne48hNtTn18jtHPtv26jX4LWsMobFWQPcLRU3ZgdNSf4SR-Xy7YTVAWnd_iN28WG92U8sWx9WnGn5VeQNsIsXdBkwbpC8pAKG0E-IQuYzrSNOPII_x8dZO_lWzlwA-FE8RmwA" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Where else will you find </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">London, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Colorado, and </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Arizona </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">tossed together. I am enchanted </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">by the imaginings </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">of the original stone masons,
laying </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">piece upon piece, mortar </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">mixing, and the young, strong hod carriers </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">grunting and sweating. Young boys, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">perhaps dreaming of joining </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">an expedition to
the North Pole, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">slopping cement instead, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">never a thought that a ship would sail way </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">with that very bridge,
disassembled, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">over the ocean to the west, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">while they died trying to escape. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>(London
bridge was built the same time as the Amundsen expedition to the North Pole.)<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><br /></i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFHbnIHPZ7UvzsCWeORjGSzoxFD2RWVxL_j1du57Z64o2mDRMXKMWBlKNE9XzbjYKNWtMPW9r22zmZa3MBesl3FJkDSSy3N4OZlISljMxUXLQoksnWKTy7dcOlSu32F2P2bntepqhP_cMqugByw6Trj7xuUc0I1ue3RxZC19QZpjkU56tF-TSopcceiQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="1194" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFHbnIHPZ7UvzsCWeORjGSzoxFD2RWVxL_j1du57Z64o2mDRMXKMWBlKNE9XzbjYKNWtMPW9r22zmZa3MBesl3FJkDSSy3N4OZlISljMxUXLQoksnWKTy7dcOlSu32F2P2bntepqhP_cMqugByw6Trj7xuUc0I1ue3RxZC19QZpjkU56tF-TSopcceiQ" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">I was about 14 years old. A teacher </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">said to my mother </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>She
can do anything she decides to do; </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>she just needs to set her mind to it. </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">So,
I did. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Which is why </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">I nearly failed school for a couple years, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">but I learned a
lot about </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Greek mythology and </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Shakespeare. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">(<i>This card was found at an estate sale.)</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYfuS2y_I68RfLPAeM-b9YgzdzoY-LKcOPKuGUj-8XwrhxLOJ12-13RmrmPOHjwRuafQYf2l2gO2mzv_Kx4erzOkqfcp7vDxk5cOAi-TaK3dDzNgB3E52ry2HTG1liD2vWEgnqn_bT3hx7QYkTy10cIMMcSXVOZpLZ9ZA7Wd_umgPJfn2HKzBPUD6_Vg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYfuS2y_I68RfLPAeM-b9YgzdzoY-LKcOPKuGUj-8XwrhxLOJ12-13RmrmPOHjwRuafQYf2l2gO2mzv_Kx4erzOkqfcp7vDxk5cOAi-TaK3dDzNgB3E52ry2HTG1liD2vWEgnqn_bT3hx7QYkTy10cIMMcSXVOZpLZ9ZA7Wd_umgPJfn2HKzBPUD6_Vg=w242-h400" width="242" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i> </i></p><div><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjEd4C6tp_GZM9LrA-ALrKIvDcmN-nSYNrizHfpt4UO7w1ItVt8DOAdcTWuUlqrB1GtG5ijuPTwunCpJs-8NEY5vGEUgGHp8EuWlau9urrmKBzG0Mq_4-qriwxuxHGwwGvGCsSkOlqCqtnW0YmKMt_XcL2n4VoU073emzOXPsuof5SswJOG_UvMLuT3yg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="760" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjEd4C6tp_GZM9LrA-ALrKIvDcmN-nSYNrizHfpt4UO7w1ItVt8DOAdcTWuUlqrB1GtG5ijuPTwunCpJs-8NEY5vGEUgGHp8EuWlau9urrmKBzG0Mq_4-qriwxuxHGwwGvGCsSkOlqCqtnW0YmKMt_XcL2n4VoU073emzOXPsuof5SswJOG_UvMLuT3yg" width="221" /></a></div><br /><br /></div></i>If you peeled the stamp off this postcard, you would read </div><div><i>Place stamp here </i></div><div><i>ONE CENT for United States </i></div><div><i>and Island Possessions </i></div><div><i>Cuba Canada and Mexico. </i></div><div><i>Two Cents for Foreign.</i> </div><div>Imagine the price of peace for </div><div>ONE PENNY!</div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGfAqoHFD3koBx9ocBrUbM6NBEjhfrk6CUIRthj9Zb8-qTLUs20ds_gLjpAIgLXlOINOOsRvaFAGAkobumSe8_uNl9pM4B0pZFU2ZcXtlxbn8nEsCs9b3qqtj_RZPxa8pskfh23liw3QqoRCHiqNXGJc9zcQuNSd-sz7Z25KuKu-yqULBWUcr1U3eWlg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="1015" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGfAqoHFD3koBx9ocBrUbM6NBEjhfrk6CUIRthj9Zb8-qTLUs20ds_gLjpAIgLXlOINOOsRvaFAGAkobumSe8_uNl9pM4B0pZFU2ZcXtlxbn8nEsCs9b3qqtj_RZPxa8pskfh23liw3QqoRCHiqNXGJc9zcQuNSd-sz7Z25KuKu-yqULBWUcr1U3eWlg" width="295" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">I continue to see old lovers. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Yesterday it was David, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">sat in a lawn chair by the lake, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">a book propped in his lap, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">so like him – his hairline </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">receded more than I remembered. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">As I drew closer, my bad eyesight
registered </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">to reveal a woman, hair pulled back </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">in a tight ponytail, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">wearing an orthopedic boot. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">I’m glad it was not David.<i><o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7YOrwM6zIp7viYu_oUvBqDrmxL5nPQCg5j_r3Btgt5bs787E_jNeV503KaGbG9gzD3PU5V7McySms5BpyCQxsLbChGNax3-ErISXL4ygPf9S7DYixU0g6fENlWtvvE6MMEyZzcJElMWANxjO4O3Hje8wUYAuuVRDfjLml35uCQlnIZyLs7urB7fIzVA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="1017" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7YOrwM6zIp7viYu_oUvBqDrmxL5nPQCg5j_r3Btgt5bs787E_jNeV503KaGbG9gzD3PU5V7McySms5BpyCQxsLbChGNax3-ErISXL4ygPf9S7DYixU0g6fENlWtvvE6MMEyZzcJElMWANxjO4O3Hje8wUYAuuVRDfjLml35uCQlnIZyLs7urB7fIzVA" width="296" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Was a time </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">women dressed as if </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">tending hives of bees,
to cover </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">nearly every bit of exposed flesh, as if </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">to repel a sting or </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">the barb
of a thorny plant, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">fearful of the sun, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">wind </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">and the lustful, gawking </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">of
commonly lubricious men </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">of all ages. <i><o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZ_qpkhqUC764UBOt_qzqBuitVK4WM8uWe4QwarapDHqAdBjlV_ElINjbqpMPgENVBeHpr2SkE2_En16VGUIeZYOtggkJsk6XQhlFBryWcwNyqU8y0h5B4Nex8MjTNGv_22xcutMLjjTROq4Wc4UkydocnYFN0hhRuR4K5JndS8gY5t-kLrebh6qzGpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="1277" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZ_qpkhqUC764UBOt_qzqBuitVK4WM8uWe4QwarapDHqAdBjlV_ElINjbqpMPgENVBeHpr2SkE2_En16VGUIeZYOtggkJsk6XQhlFBryWcwNyqU8y0h5B4Nex8MjTNGv_22xcutMLjjTROq4Wc4UkydocnYFN0hhRuR4K5JndS8gY5t-kLrebh6qzGpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">I ask to have all my post cards hand cancelled at the
post office. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">I don’t know that it will make a difference to the receiver, if
all the words will be clear and unmarred by stickers and ink. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">What I do know is
this: the postal worker always smiles cheerfully, stamps as requested, and I like
to think they admire this old-fashioned approach to mailing. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(This gorgeous
postcard, hard to part with, was found at an estate sale. On the back it
mentions Ghirardelli Square, The Cannery, Fisherman’s Wharf, the Maritime
Museum and its old ships.) (And you know all those curtains would never be so synchronized.)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjD2q28mYOmmTU84-pibXjWToZ1rTbBvrQN1TtdRrbTJJQlnTXa5hmIN4yJiki5HLVmpiEgMcHfHfRrccUDWWu-gV0WHe62ZIGx7fVDqaGVIoeo0BQWjmKJJmpyrtBh3gsXzggyimjmPFeBClDL1sP1vhMdDFEH0urO3cqoz9LbshWU7LXOFNrRKSV9OA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="1261" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjD2q28mYOmmTU84-pibXjWToZ1rTbBvrQN1TtdRrbTJJQlnTXa5hmIN4yJiki5HLVmpiEgMcHfHfRrccUDWWu-gV0WHe62ZIGx7fVDqaGVIoeo0BQWjmKJJmpyrtBh3gsXzggyimjmPFeBClDL1sP1vhMdDFEH0urO3cqoz9LbshWU7LXOFNrRKSV9OA" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">He likely had the final word </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">and as she half-slept, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">feet callused and weary, the train </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">perhaps a thousand </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">thoughts away, he
strained his eyes, tired </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">from the relentless vigilance </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">of getting there,
soothing her with words </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">not his own, but no matter, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">just words to let her know </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">he would be her constant lover. <i><o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJhkli76L0-8kcLdnt947dFMAaePd7j5VNa6qLu2T7JjDOFAn_4MJyf0u9pC7MnQqybxbpbEhYMIGT-8S7I8KA0TZazm9Lkw4T_qT1ApLgoVKD8X5P2L_L-t_DynEFmfq2H1D0fhnpFwlZFZXDIJ-urUo6QaRs6pay_i2KFzxAWRqQpojKl075WBLwnw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="1057" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJhkli76L0-8kcLdnt947dFMAaePd7j5VNa6qLu2T7JjDOFAn_4MJyf0u9pC7MnQqybxbpbEhYMIGT-8S7I8KA0TZazm9Lkw4T_qT1ApLgoVKD8X5P2L_L-t_DynEFmfq2H1D0fhnpFwlZFZXDIJ-urUo6QaRs6pay_i2KFzxAWRqQpojKl075WBLwnw" width="307" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">A simple room, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">of comfort and perhaps </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">a little warmth, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">where in the sunny corners, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">sanity might visit, so a man </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">with demons </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">could
preserve for us </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">on canvas, wood, paper, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">whatever available </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">and live in some
kind of peace,</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">alone </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">in Arles.<i><o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhKs9h2mqwyDMeZBTdqFBF8S_zLp1m5AIpiHhC4Uo-M_tCUyPIVnp09HHv877f4aXO99YbPQ3AmFVmIDWkvfd9XnejwUYrCX4D7gsj73DQHP8seIl0C_QKlxv8kAouCVVMZIN8X_b0l9lKhHbHCE5biD4MOsasYiVZiZ-BdjAeppbbPtRVgyjSQIJzgkw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="263" data-original-width="335" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhKs9h2mqwyDMeZBTdqFBF8S_zLp1m5AIpiHhC4Uo-M_tCUyPIVnp09HHv877f4aXO99YbPQ3AmFVmIDWkvfd9XnejwUYrCX4D7gsj73DQHP8seIl0C_QKlxv8kAouCVVMZIN8X_b0l9lKhHbHCE5biD4MOsasYiVZiZ-BdjAeppbbPtRVgyjSQIJzgkw" width="306" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">The Siesta</span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Who might see us here </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">or bother with our wagon, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">while
we, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">weary from thoughtless labor, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">the unceasing swing of the sickle, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">backs bent, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">the onslaught of insects </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">disturbed in their pattern, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">baying cows </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">begging for a
small shade. We sag </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">into each other, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">and dream.<i><o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMW47u0admYMuHuOcS-16ZHujpE9fO8nkqL3aygVkN3XVfDQoP0VTpGXJ017v-yrWPm-1VAK-E5gaR8tEXfJdimU_X6ApKBpDuVIxKarcq1fxa-wqlmvbqgC1prgkX3GEHwfrVkFoePTfn6hI4HnvmxEvyTDJ2Jjh8zoc1AezC6GwDJgZWBKU34O2zEQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="1230" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMW47u0admYMuHuOcS-16ZHujpE9fO8nkqL3aygVkN3XVfDQoP0VTpGXJ017v-yrWPm-1VAK-E5gaR8tEXfJdimU_X6ApKBpDuVIxKarcq1fxa-wqlmvbqgC1prgkX3GEHwfrVkFoePTfn6hI4HnvmxEvyTDJ2Jjh8zoc1AezC6GwDJgZWBKU34O2zEQ" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">It’s late.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">I look out my window over the city lights into the
dark of night.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">I see Venus.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">It’s August.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg2IiU-78lWBm2wemNsnqudQ4jvnVRasiz7KQGI7it2FrWqUF4KaxliwsXzpCMn_Dn7x0D0wqSeKD-JDaew2OXVOWOhDF1_BgVVMu6OELajajeElFyqHttLIJrWEwIyZ90o_nrg29WrjIoA9Ir_foMeHL8l3uv82hqPzSR-6lSWuQ35jvOSyXR0SkG12A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="1220" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg2IiU-78lWBm2wemNsnqudQ4jvnVRasiz7KQGI7it2FrWqUF4KaxliwsXzpCMn_Dn7x0D0wqSeKD-JDaew2OXVOWOhDF1_BgVVMu6OELajajeElFyqHttLIJrWEwIyZ90o_nrg29WrjIoA9Ir_foMeHL8l3uv82hqPzSR-6lSWuQ35jvOSyXR0SkG12A" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">The song of fate… </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">a destiny for each unknown, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">as sure
as they were </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">of their very own futures, as certain </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">as steel cast to the air. Drifting </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">with the vaper of a tapered candle, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">dismissing thoughts </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">of the war </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">outside the
door, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">until too many sons had died, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">too many fathers gone missing </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">and she sang </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>no
more, </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>no more.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjiFrYPMx33qhErfM0WE-Uh6yT8YYYiRbHNHcyMnV4w8PfR9yRJORZyuSIckQQNkFNueKxlq5ZH4vUZk9DnzwHzd2dP0IuAa-HLJhD5b-59hY2x7OfyzU5gIIr4mJDs1TP5GsotxlVWZ0YSokwqd6C8oYVJ_gcD73Q5RNJdCChwGIvXRVWYwVo0EboI9Q" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="627" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjiFrYPMx33qhErfM0WE-Uh6yT8YYYiRbHNHcyMnV4w8PfR9yRJORZyuSIckQQNkFNueKxlq5ZH4vUZk9DnzwHzd2dP0IuAa-HLJhD5b-59hY2x7OfyzU5gIIr4mJDs1TP5GsotxlVWZ0YSokwqd6C8oYVJ_gcD73Q5RNJdCChwGIvXRVWYwVo0EboI9Q" width="183" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">I am pressed to think </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">of Our Lady of Guadalupe </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">whom I
consider </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>The Mother</i>. When </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">I see her </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">in symbolism. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">In Canada, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Mexico, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">anywhere. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Graffiti, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">other mothers, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">lone ladies. I don’t think</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">of Catholicism, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">religiosity,
politics. I think </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">of the UTERUS.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEitw__rFRzCLToXUqiqt6zoijLyEQmkLzpFAKuaIYW5-P68xFune6dJhPbzqPJqyqjzp_Z2Q9hM8N8_XoxJ9q7x1yh-IWZZQeVQALAApt36UcS1BCNrem-4W4Kf0sZzMfaVczfMHVj5NCuArwdN62Gc0A6W182iiiYUZk_tzqIj0V4v8Ixu_ZRpCRAwsg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="1227" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEitw__rFRzCLToXUqiqt6zoijLyEQmkLzpFAKuaIYW5-P68xFune6dJhPbzqPJqyqjzp_Z2Q9hM8N8_XoxJ9q7x1yh-IWZZQeVQALAApt36UcS1BCNrem-4W4Kf0sZzMfaVczfMHVj5NCuArwdN62Gc0A6W182iiiYUZk_tzqIj0V4v8Ixu_ZRpCRAwsg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">She looked him </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">right in the eye. She wasn’t </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">ever the
type to flinch. She knew </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">he was married, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">several children. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">She’d two herself,
after all. But </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">we must follow our dreams </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">or go mad. And she’d never </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">been
allowed to </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">simply dream. Life </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">was too demanding. Even the weather </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">dictated the
choices </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">she was forced to make. She looked </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">him right in the eye.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p>
</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The legend on this postcard actually reads "<i>Stepping Out at the San Carlos Hotel in the 1920’s. One of the finest hotels in Florida
and a center of Pensacola society."</i> Enticed to look it up, I found The San Carlos was demolished in 1993,
after being abandoned for more than a decade. No one associated with the
design, architecture, building, ownership, management, etc, had any Spanish
connection. It was named the San Carlos because the collaboration of white Anglo men thought it sounded romantic.</span>
<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjdND5BDZAX8UHiQbwr_KssdV8W7rsD5Dwr8DQq8yYh2LRJyTx_kFAaax7Z_EbnpNoIGgb23QVXIfUtF1fnVQgowgp1IMRJTWScjcpKBRMKHB_0axy5MPrRQJZraTpcUMVdn3-Ij2Au2kLQ5dvLEd4FjBvZtQpzVpHiaM1g9o8G0n3jRBgP3JAQiYWSQA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="1116" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjdND5BDZAX8UHiQbwr_KssdV8W7rsD5Dwr8DQq8yYh2LRJyTx_kFAaax7Z_EbnpNoIGgb23QVXIfUtF1fnVQgowgp1IMRJTWScjcpKBRMKHB_0axy5MPrRQJZraTpcUMVdn3-Ij2Au2kLQ5dvLEd4FjBvZtQpzVpHiaM1g9o8G0n3jRBgP3JAQiYWSQA" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Thinking of running, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">getting out of here. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">All the fancy colors </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">and we wear plain muslin; you can </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">see us, </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">any distance, day </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">or night. Thinking </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">about running. No place </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">to go.
Nowhere to </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">even start to run. What’s even </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>in the woods</i>? Nowhere </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">to land, feet on
the ground. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Thinking of running </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">but sticking around.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Inspiration for this postcard poem came from this
Jacob Lawrence painting and a book I'm currently reading <i>The Water Dancer</i>
by Ta-Nehisi Coates.)</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcOlONqLbwc4HymHeMaGPOeEgfXqXv4UWQggUANcjf9v58DsmQ5E-jgujmBpcvOwGQTkHdWKTMqAmurenFJ21BfFc-KmzOVlWFsGcxzzJOxwO1HYa05gbsGZhv3Y9dyI8fVeBj0Zwn5W8489gcyBl8FXen_cw83km2a9L1lgZf50t1YqyUoIxuYO3Dhw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="575" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcOlONqLbwc4HymHeMaGPOeEgfXqXv4UWQggUANcjf9v58DsmQ5E-jgujmBpcvOwGQTkHdWKTMqAmurenFJ21BfFc-KmzOVlWFsGcxzzJOxwO1HYa05gbsGZhv3Y9dyI8fVeBj0Zwn5W8489gcyBl8FXen_cw83km2a9L1lgZf50t1YqyUoIxuYO3Dhw" width="167" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Everything’s </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">a pyramid scheme. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Think about it. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">No matter what, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">it’s trickle up, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">trickle down. Unless </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">you drive your own taxi </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">and own the gas
pump, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">less of a pyramid </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">for you. Every </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">other level, it’s definitely </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">someone’s
scheme. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Top to bottom. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Bottom to top.</span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Thanks for reading!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">-</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">-</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-10103386718010887982022-05-24T22:51:00.001-07:002022-05-24T22:53:50.815-07:00<p><b><br /></b></p><p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiD-LXCOQ5nWgrZNopjtAobIDJcTZFxHefOl4HJRwZo9G18WvML92N0IGuqWfmsy8pSpOI8ACzt63j00E1X4YknVCW3NDv7rIXUT-R5xG8A1TCSVOLhzdWReOWxXUnOtPu8mjsjfJv8GlZSxCPXluATvtyoghezfqMLqnnvIXAwSmFVGOBYa0y8bJJEmw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="538" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiD-LXCOQ5nWgrZNopjtAobIDJcTZFxHefOl4HJRwZo9G18WvML92N0IGuqWfmsy8pSpOI8ACzt63j00E1X4YknVCW3NDv7rIXUT-R5xG8A1TCSVOLhzdWReOWxXUnOtPu8mjsjfJv8GlZSxCPXluATvtyoghezfqMLqnnvIXAwSmFVGOBYa0y8bJJEmw" width="239" /></a></b></div><b><br /><br /></b><p></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Bang </span></b></p><p>He’d just gotten a haircut. Bang. </p><p>She was an exchange student from Pakistan. Bang. </p><p>He was the world’s best son. Bang. </p><p>She was his sister. Bang. </p><p>He was fifteen. Bang. </p><p>They came to the United States to escape violence in their home countries of Eritrea,
Iran and Vietnam. Bang. Bang. Bang. </p><p>She loved the Dallas Cowboys. Bang. </p><p>It was her first time in a gay nightclub. She was with her uncle who she called Guncle. Bang. Bang. </p><p>He was 25, one week away from finishing his internship. Bang. </p><p>They were Mexican. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. </p><p>They had twelve great-grandchildren. Bang. Bang. </p><p>He was a standout athlete. Bang. </p><p>They were at a prayer service and invited him to join them. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. </p><p>She was 86. Bang. </p><p>They were Black. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Bang. Bang. </p><p>The baby was alive under his mother’s body, covered with her blood. Bang. Bang. </p><p>He was visiting from Germany. Bang. </p><p>He was shot by police. Twenty-eight bangs. </p><p>They were gay. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Bang. Bang. </p><p>He was protecting his wife and grandchild. Bang. Bang. Bang. </p><p>He was an off-duty police officer. Bang. </p><p>They were twenty children, ages six and seven years old. Too many bangs. </p><p>He was a bus driver. Bang. </p><p>She was his mother. Bang. </p><p>He was a Petty Officer, Third Class. Bang. </p><p>She was his girlfriend. Bang. </p><p>He dreamed of becoming an art teacher. Bang. </p><p>She was the last victim to be shot. Bang. </p><p>She thought about bringing her pistol to work the night before. Bang. </p><p>He was three. Bang. </p><p>He saw the shooter brushing his teeth in the bathroom moments before. Bang. </p><p>She begged for her life. Bang. </p><p>They were watching <i>Trainwreck</i>. Bang. Bang. </p><p>She was pregnant. Bang. Bang. </p><p>They had sixty-three combined years working for UPS. Bang. Bang. Bang. </p><p>They were at home, eating dinner. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. </p><p>Our president sang Amazing Grace.</p><p><br /></p><p>by Margo Jodyne Dills</p><p>January 2019</p>Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-72978250938051629992021-10-16T16:20:00.005-07:002021-10-20T08:13:28.074-07:00<p><b> WORDS</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbbKHQ-x0UkfFC_x7vIyKuqCIYrXz6HKF3w5TUAetxowSHYguDTUiQa1k6TTjanReaJ6Q7jFnbwvWy9GIHUDDkwHPdbxSiZGLlJ5r4iBLhrTlP4umRtI-oLakiwrM8pX8wcPvLMerzZj4A/s2977/IMG_6207.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2977" data-original-width="2911" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbbKHQ-x0UkfFC_x7vIyKuqCIYrXz6HKF3w5TUAetxowSHYguDTUiQa1k6TTjanReaJ6Q7jFnbwvWy9GIHUDDkwHPdbxSiZGLlJ5r4iBLhrTlP4umRtI-oLakiwrM8pX8wcPvLMerzZj4A/w314-h320/IMG_6207.HEIC" width="314" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Too many words, not enough time...<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This morning, as I lay in bed, reading David Remnick’s lengthy
New Yorker article about <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/10/18/paul-mccartney-doesnt-really-want-to-stop-the-show">Paul McCartney, and The Beatles</a>, I mused at
how much time I was wasting, not getting up, walking the dog, getting water on
for tea. They I mentally smacked myself on the head and settled further into
the down, to savor every word, my little Penny snuggled up to my side, happy to
not brave the cold outside.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Mornings, I skim over saved articles, online and off, from the day before, or
week, month, year…and try to read as much as I can. I have books piled in every
horizontal space of my house, am currently reading three: <i>Facing the Mountain</i>,
by Daniel James Brown, <i>The Notorious RBG</i> by Irin Carmon and Shana Knizhnik, and
<i>Saved by a Song</i> by Mary Gauthier. Plus I’m writing my own novel, <i>Sparrow</i>, the
story of a songwriter, who overcomes obstacles personal and political, to fulfill
her dream. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Some articles are saved on my computer, others ripped out
of magazines, and still more held in publications that continue to gather dust on shelves and
tabletops. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As a child of four, I taught myself to read under the
kitchen table, using my brothers primers, which he tossed aside to run outdoors
and join his friends with bikes, bats, balls. He turned into a voracious reader
as he aged but, in the beginning, there were more important things to do, especially when bats turned into guitars and balls into turntables. I was
also a fan of outdoor adventures, and starting at the age of nine, carting my
younger brother around, as well. But whether inside or out, the world of words captivated me and it wasn’t long
before I began to craft my own.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The library was my second home when I was a kid. The tiny
Enumclaw library seemed like a vast compilation to me. Then, the first time I walked
into Suzzallo at UW, tears involuntarily sprouted. What a world! The smell; they all have that old papery odor. It starts in bookstores and then melds into something else. In 1974, when I returned to
Enumclaw, after six years in Los Angeles, the librarians greeted me with familiar warmth, and handed me the most recent bestseller, <i>Jaws</i>. I read it that night and returned
it a couple days later, remarking, “Well, there’s a book they won’t be able to
make into a movie.” I never did see it, preferring to dwell in my own visions
of terror. Books have always meant more to me than film, though I do love a good movie with feelings and messages, rather than fear and violence. I'm more into <i>Olive Kitteridge, Local Hero</i> or Ivory/Merchant creations. </p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheRm3oRcSnlj2GHfReyx9oonE6V7EbSsK71ceLFdxotxwzJsMdqcWhUzPxqsemlBIwlyhACkLLlsDkza07KYw3F8bE5wjJ4Oyyu5Lwctw8NvSS1V0Sjfegl2OxFtxgyMxWG1mQTey8Y1IU/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="375" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheRm3oRcSnlj2GHfReyx9oonE6V7EbSsK71ceLFdxotxwzJsMdqcWhUzPxqsemlBIwlyhACkLLlsDkza07KYw3F8bE5wjJ4Oyyu5Lwctw8NvSS1V0Sjfegl2OxFtxgyMxWG1mQTey8Y1IU/" width="187" /></a></div> <span style="font-size: x-small;"> Suzzallo Library - University of Washington</span><br /><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The Remnick article made me melancholy, reminding me that Paul McCartney is 80. I’m 72 (I talked about that in my last blog.) John and George are long gone. <i>Many years from now</i> came a
lot faster than we wished for. I’ve so many words to read and write, so little
time. Better get busy.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Thanks for reading. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Photo of Betty Wiebe reading to a bunch of spit-shined local kids on the patio of the Enumclaw library. Betty was a friend of my mom's, and I still have a couple books she gave to me, knowing what a reader I was. That's me on the little stool looking up at her.)</span></p>Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-12289890755433161232021-10-04T11:22:00.003-07:002021-10-05T15:16:42.600-07:00<p><b><span style="font-size: medium;"> 72</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When I think of 72, I imagine an old person. That’s not me.
Until, of course, I glance at a mirror, and then it’s kind of a sudden
surprise. Every time. Yup, it's me, alright. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLsn49GbhnY6O7bRLeDyLGv3bcBDY8yuRO9P-hcbXn1Y5gq_qQ0SbK-mkAr_U7BrKwqA5vrERZdSPz-X4dPd0JJhqzo25wNIor2Q8YUBI5It5QvhvWCbqMXuS9TE-ZrDYiGY9sygQQVgdN/s4032/IMG_2411.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLsn49GbhnY6O7bRLeDyLGv3bcBDY8yuRO9P-hcbXn1Y5gq_qQ0SbK-mkAr_U7BrKwqA5vrERZdSPz-X4dPd0JJhqzo25wNIor2Q8YUBI5It5QvhvWCbqMXuS9TE-ZrDYiGY9sygQQVgdN/w174-h232/IMG_2411.HEIC" width="174" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">I’ll be getting a consultation later this month about cataracts. My
eyes are one of the things that are slowly failing me, and it’s irritating,
knowing how well they have stood in my stead for all these seven+ decades. I
thank them for all the things they have helped me see well in my lifetime. An eagle
flying over our boat in a nasty storm, guiding us to port. The birth of my
first grandchild, who entered the world blue and with raging eyes of her own, turned pink, and has been watching us all with great contemplation ever since. A
panoramic view from my house in Mexico, Villa Margeaux, and the beach below,
where I met some influential people in my life. Mount Rainier from a plane
window, pink with the rising sun. Mount Rainier from every window on the south
side of my childhood home. Thousands of women marching down Pine Street, Seattle, led
by indigenous women in traditional dress, carrying signs and singing songs. From
balconies, seated in large auditoriums, close up and far away, some in intimate
settings: Joyce Carol Oates, Paul Auster, John O’Leary, Desmond Tutu, Timothy
Leary, Mara Liaison, Bill Gates, Tammy Duckworth, Ann Patchett, Gary Trudeau,
Wally Lamb... and so many others. Hale Bopp Comet. A mare foaling, a cow calving. Whales breaching, dolphins following us in huge pods, manta ray flying over the water's surface, octopi swimming under the surface. The Charles Bridge, Prague. Hamlet's Castle, Denmark. Glacier Bay, Alaska. Pyramids in Mexico. Volcanos in Hawaii. Mt Rushmore, Grand Canyon, Paul Revere's house. The statue of Barbara Jordan at AUS, Texas. Cenotes in Tulum. Brooklyn Bridge. Sequoias, redwoods. </p><p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">With some good people at the Villa Room that got well lived in at the Villa</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4M_cvKGUEn34Smh2T5kGd5LScPwfM3PWhPa7TIOaboJy9yUmeBSfDw6aySpskEKtfUwIZhqRiUPJSW2UtxU8E3iNUxDYdapaCUvEF6Y4eETtWVp_2z-shbPz64RkL11nnbj8zBSml6Zb3/s960/Villa.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4M_cvKGUEn34Smh2T5kGd5LScPwfM3PWhPa7TIOaboJy9yUmeBSfDw6aySpskEKtfUwIZhqRiUPJSW2UtxU8E3iNUxDYdapaCUvEF6Y4eETtWVp_2z-shbPz64RkL11nnbj8zBSml6Zb3/w157-h118/Villa.jpg" width="157" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1g3fP8DM1DbZQ-M_olIcHrzjjq_qqbp73InD6PJCYpLxgk965bKKg1C79JuLm94BzO9HpZ__pd8MTTyrr_f6JizJ1IKTkNuZ-WM1JMIxkm0H7mSJOEMyb_PPrpZZxC-qkbOcOT8y1xDa/s960/Villa+living+room.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1g3fP8DM1DbZQ-M_olIcHrzjjq_qqbp73InD6PJCYpLxgk965bKKg1C79JuLm94BzO9HpZ__pd8MTTyrr_f6JizJ1IKTkNuZ-WM1JMIxkm0H7mSJOEMyb_PPrpZZxC-qkbOcOT8y1xDa/w158-h118/Villa+living+room.jpg" width="158" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">Sights, yes, and sounds, as well. I’ve had difficulty hearing since about 1985, so over half a lifetime. I’m
looking forward to the infrastructure bill getting passed and my ability to
afford hearing aids that work for me. Aside from the list of notable <i>sees</i>,
my list of <i>hears</i> may be impressive to some: Beatles (twice). Don McLean, album
debut of <i>American Pie</i> at Doug Weston’s Troubadour in Santa Monica. Ravi Shankar.
Dexter Gordon. Mel Tillis. Pearl Jam (several times, for an old lady). Carly
Simon, album debut of <i>Anticipation</i>, also Troubadour. Toots Thielmanns, Mose Allison,
Maceo Parker, Kurt Elling, John Hammond and many more at Jazz Alley, Seattle. Bob
Dylan, Joan Baez, Mamas and Papas, Beach Boys, Keb Mo, Taj Mahal, Turtles,
Animals, BJ Thomas, Judy Collins, Neil Diamond…the list goes on and on. The
latest Herbie Hancock at The Paramount, Seattle. The precious voices of Mila
and Coco, Luca’s cello, their various instruments, sounds and productions. On
stage I’ve had the immense pleasure of viewing Maggie Smith, Anthony Hopkins, Patti
LuPone, Samuel L. Jackson, Lily Tomlin, Kate
Hepburn (twice), Richard Chamberlain, Lawrence Fishburne, Tom Skerritt, Judd
Hirsch, Harold Gould, Cleavon Little, Tom Hulce, to mention a few illustrious
talents. My god, I miss live theater so much. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Other body parts. Knees are 72. That’s for sure. Hips catching up, too. Too
many accidents, skiing, biking, boating. I guess it's my brain that I've had issues with for most of the 72. I've gone in and out of deep depression all my life, from about 10 or 11 years old. Sometimes it's bad, suicidal a couple times but too smart to put my family and friends through something so awful. I don't talk about it but heck, 72...it's a good time to let some things out of the closet. I'm sure many have been vaguely (or not so vaguely) aware of this. I've tried therapy but it has never gone anywhere for me. I'm much better now, healing with age, I assume. Of course, there are life events that've had an impact but sometimes the boogeyman shows up for no reason whatsoever. When I'm feeling good, and I call that my <i>sense of well being</i>, it's like a pink sunset that I wish would last forever and I always acknowledge it, knowing how lucky I am. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Boating is one thing I miss. There’s something about being
on the water, fresh, river, lake, ocean. I’ve seen a fair share of the Pacific
coastline and a bit of the Atlantic, Baltic, Bering, Caribbean, Hawaiian Islands, but if I had
one wish and a shitload of money, I’d buy a boat and sail around the Salish Sea. I could man (or should I say <i>woman</i>)
the helm as long as the weather didn’t get too rough. I only need a good crew
and a somewhat steady set of legs, from the ankles on up.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaY0ywrYVCbdTaoTzg27jyzWLKm-nToIuI3J3o9fAcxHOKp_KZAo7WMFCIEEWJKOf01OAUxpxbY0xv_8Xlk7uaSwsUfoNnMiOzhg6UCvuEvoxDrosfVjQE115tMGO82Ntx8PUBQEuzed2Z/s4032/IMG_6015.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaY0ywrYVCbdTaoTzg27jyzWLKm-nToIuI3J3o9fAcxHOKp_KZAo7WMFCIEEWJKOf01OAUxpxbY0xv_8Xlk7uaSwsUfoNnMiOzhg6UCvuEvoxDrosfVjQE115tMGO82Ntx8PUBQEuzed2Z/s320/IMG_6015.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Some lucky bastard on Lake Union</span> <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The one big change in my life was at the beginning of the
pandemic, when I adopted Penny Lane, the sweetest dog in the world. I got her
in June of 2020, but it probably took a few months for us to completely adjust to one
another. Penny gets me moving, which I think is probably the primary thing a
person of 72 needs. Some of those hip-and-knee-involved accidents over 72 years
have caused joints to seize up and refuse to obey brain-to-body orders, so first
thing out of bed in the morning, we are on the trail, rain or shine (and sometimes
snow, which is awful, but tolerable). She is a rescue from Puerto Vallarta and
after spending months alone during Covid, she made semi-isolation a lot nicer. She is full of character and keeps me smiling.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAG20qtOoiPNkpwwlr4XInb0EXsE0qsTnxReGJjU2l8jdlkSMie2DazgzrfXixKvM3l69e0R_7-Gf37dPpDZ5iD-z-6717TsuXoQFdJQpxum-5_0u93cGta1KfDAa8l1BwqdaPniWhaQap/s3024/969CB202-57FC-453E-A5E9-BE55184A4954.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAG20qtOoiPNkpwwlr4XInb0EXsE0qsTnxReGJjU2l8jdlkSMie2DazgzrfXixKvM3l69e0R_7-Gf37dPpDZ5iD-z-6717TsuXoQFdJQpxum-5_0u93cGta1KfDAa8l1BwqdaPniWhaQap/w200-h193/969CB202-57FC-453E-A5E9-BE55184A4954.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQXPLsVMD7UTZkJ7aAAx3_aGN9BMMu0xaKXtSRFzKrGdNKayOe0xy2B3i94sT7DaKRZ0Oq_Ou4CcBcztyj-cpHc2JDttIQhi1j0cqdat04Y2evuzsWh1RC1wmH8GP5cfYacH99hq0f1-M0/s690/F38BB40F-023F-44F9-B92E-4101F309722F.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="690" data-original-width="471" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQXPLsVMD7UTZkJ7aAAx3_aGN9BMMu0xaKXtSRFzKrGdNKayOe0xy2B3i94sT7DaKRZ0Oq_Ou4CcBcztyj-cpHc2JDttIQhi1j0cqdat04Y2evuzsWh1RC1wmH8GP5cfYacH99hq0f1-M0/s320/F38BB40F-023F-44F9-B92E-4101F309722F.jpg" width="218" /></a></p> <span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Penny Lane</span> <br /><p class="MsoNormal">I’m glad I had kids. My daughters have been a real comfort
to me. They got me through a nasty bout of Covid in January 2020, and I never
want to be that sick. Ever. Again. I thought I’d die. So did they. I fell ill
on January 24, exactly 26 years to the day that my husband was admitted to
Swedish Hospital and our lives were changed forever. The past 24 years I’ve
been a solo act. In the beginning it was not easy making decisions on my own. I
got brave one day and went to a movie (Shakespeare in Love) alone, something that seemed so odd to me. It broke the spell of alone-fear and after
that, I didn’t mind living, eating out, traveling, going to movies and plays,
jazz clubs, meetings, and so many other places, on my own. I learned to enjoy my
freedom and now I wouldn’t have it any other way.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I look forward to many more years… I have plans. I have a
legacy to leave. I have places to go, things to do, people to meet. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Thanks for reading. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-35942234025702958832021-09-11T16:41:00.003-07:002021-09-11T16:41:51.852-07:00<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdRKEmwLYNf185D-AfSAb9Hs60T0CyLBo8Pm2GUnZX1ieSZP-Zv78PeYQ6lXg1x5QmbB4BJnyn1IZYthr2HDQVoIcMGUWFaz2gM7q5srmO9V5kmfgdY8-asW9_uZJuOH3V9xH9mdfgHULF/s507/Indian+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="507" data-original-width="363" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdRKEmwLYNf185D-AfSAb9Hs60T0CyLBo8Pm2GUnZX1ieSZP-Zv78PeYQ6lXg1x5QmbB4BJnyn1IZYthr2HDQVoIcMGUWFaz2gM7q5srmO9V5kmfgdY8-asW9_uZJuOH3V9xH9mdfgHULF/s320/Indian+%25282%2529.jpg" width="229" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Penny Lane, my wee dog and I walked up our Interurban Trail to Walgreens, to pick up a prescription. It was a cool day, early September, autumn in the air. A young man was by
the doors as we approached. He was carefully pawing through the top of the
garbage bin. Long dark hair and a handsome face, dressed in jeans, hiking boots
and a light jacket, he opened a discarded meal container, made a face at the
contents, and tossed it back. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">“You hungry?” I asked.
He smiled, a mouth full of beautiful white teeth, punctuated by dimples. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">“Yes,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">“What would you like?”
I asked, hoping it was something that might be available in the drugstore.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">“Anything,” he said. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Where do homeless
people come from? Where are they going? What are they doing here? These are
questions we all wonder. Are they dangerous? Are they on drugs? What happened to
them to make them homeless?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">I told him to wait for
me. The pharmacy was busy with covid testing out their drive-up window, people inside
getting vaccinated, and two people in front of me who appeared to have extremely
complicated issues. While I stood in line, properly distanced, I decided I
would get a twenty and let the young man go shop for himself. But when I asked
for cash over the purchase, the clerk rang it up and forgot to click that button.
She said I’d need to make another purchase to add cash to my purchase, and I’d
already made my purchase. Half an hour had passed. Frustrated, I wondered if he
would still be there. He was. I was struck once again by how young this
not-much-more-than-a-boy was. He was clean, he looked like he took care of
himself, good-looking. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">“Walk with me,” I said.
“Let’s go over to Trader Joe’s and you can pick out what you want.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Penny liked him. That’s
always a good sign. On the way, a couple short blocks, I asked his name. Matthew.
From Palmdale, California, and not in contact with his mother, who has problems
of her own, and kicked him out long ago, while he was still in school, and no,
he didn’t graduate. Matthew does have regular contact with his grandmother, who
he’s close to, and always lets her know where he is, and that he’s okay, and she
worries about him, all the time. Twenty-three years old. Homeless for all
practical means and purposes. Matthew and his dog are on their way to Whitefish,
Montana, where there is migrant work. He travels with a friend, and they take
turns guarding their tent and staying with the dog. They were in Seattle, waiting
for their connection to Whitefish. Often, they ride in empty boxcars. They
never try to get in while the train is rolling but sneak in while it’s in the yard.
Usually there are security people who do see them but let them be. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">I carried Penny into
the store. No one paid any attention to this older woman and young native man.
Matthew took his time carefully choosing something to eat. It was a tuna wrap.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">“Get something for your
friend,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">“You’re sure?” he asked.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">“Of course.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">He grabbed an Italian
style wrap sandwich and when I told him to get something else, he took a
chicken Caesar salad. I asked if he’d like some fruit and we had a look at apples
and oranges. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">“I think the cut-up
fruit would be better,” he said, and I reached for the largest container. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">At the check stand, I
made sure I was going to get cash back and handed Matthew $20.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">He was so grateful,
tears in his eyes, as we stood outside the store, and it was clear he wanted to
hug me. We grasped each other’s elbow
instead and he gave Penny a pat. The bill was $17.66 and I later kicked myself
for not getting him dog food.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2BlHu6SvcoGMTfenfLibVZ_xDVVj2Oo_vtukYZ6wLKAHGA1D_UX032MKNrKMtsDhO9nwKjl7GE4WiHOGuYOEdqOTTHAg8V2m_c1N3wKZCUfuVtjDTeefteQa-nbdAv2Leqo9G-1dYdYwG/s3828/IMG_5726.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3828" data-original-width="1870" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2BlHu6SvcoGMTfenfLibVZ_xDVVj2Oo_vtukYZ6wLKAHGA1D_UX032MKNrKMtsDhO9nwKjl7GE4WiHOGuYOEdqOTTHAg8V2m_c1N3wKZCUfuVtjDTeefteQa-nbdAv2Leqo9G-1dYdYwG/s320/IMG_5726.HEIC" width="156" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Low-income
migrant workers are amongst the most vulnerable to exploitation and abuse.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">1 in 10 young
adults ages 10 – 25 endure some form of homelessness in a year.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">People of
color have an 83% higher risk of homelessness. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">A big
challenge for homeless people looking for jobs is not having the right skill
set. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">We have attitudes about homeless that are rarely based on facts. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">I’m not a religious person.
My friends are aware of that. I do weary of Christians in our society who
rely on certain types of media to get justification for their actions and judgments. However, what a difference it would make if they simply applied lessons from the scriptures,
which they ignore in favor of those they choose to interpret to validate their
own causes. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Matthew
25:35-36 – For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat I was thirsty, and
you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger…<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Matthew
25:40 … Truly I will tell you, whatever you did for the one of the least of
these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Thanks for reading….</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>(This is not a photo of Matthew; it is a stock photo.)</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-66093702411158035272021-08-25T10:57:00.006-07:002021-09-06T11:26:31.870-07:00POPO 2021<p>Can you believe it's been a year since I blogged here? I told someone the other day "<i>2020 is just a big bird dropping splotch on our calendars. Nothing happened, or so it seems.</i>" Now we've rolled around to another Postcard Poetry and I shamelessly will promise to get better again about blogging and hope to have some good news before this year in over.</p><p><br /></p><p>In the meantime, here is PoPo 2021:</p><p><b> The Great Wall of China in Six Parts</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbKYcgwbEdPMosxsWPXgz-IW_OODUpEYW2H28hfKrUI6d2l2O-A_XUteisPP83Vc4kbRdfx0yrr-tt62IGHlvY8x4eA9rjQP4Z1-5h4MsLHtiJVgegnkHbnR1uAoNWtUbfcbDRmpE7lCE7/s2104/IMG_5326.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1570" data-original-width="2104" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbKYcgwbEdPMosxsWPXgz-IW_OODUpEYW2H28hfKrUI6d2l2O-A_XUteisPP83Vc4kbRdfx0yrr-tt62IGHlvY8x4eA9rjQP4Z1-5h4MsLHtiJVgegnkHbnR1uAoNWtUbfcbDRmpE7lCE7/w281-h186/IMG_5326.HEIC" width="281" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Can you see me up there at the top of the hill? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">All you need to do is enter, step...step by step. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Up, up, follow what path has been given you, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">a map, unnecessary when it's all laid out for you. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOYyJY4uAjeESuQI0Ur-K1VHDbl0JKoh2bgF_rKdHzMDwUfkLHeyG2oJBHdNAgz2vVTZkLLRcenQtY7Uaf7MwDMVLTUPQnIhpvZvWv4MNr5tmDDBaB3qo-_yKLsO6wcfgb5atk5oP6vkML/s2106/IMG_5327.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2106" data-original-width="1568" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOYyJY4uAjeESuQI0Ur-K1VHDbl0JKoh2bgF_rKdHzMDwUfkLHeyG2oJBHdNAgz2vVTZkLLRcenQtY7Uaf7MwDMVLTUPQnIhpvZvWv4MNr5tmDDBaB3qo-_yKLsO6wcfgb5atk5oP6vkML/w134-h181/IMG_5327.HEIC" width="134" /></a></div>A window, <div>essential to seeing in, </div><div>and seeing out. </div><div>Vast, </div><div>with so much promise, </div><div>all that is required is to </div><div>open </div><div>eyes </div><div>wide </div><div>shut.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw7tthyPVeiknk01bJz5nwAgWSSr10Ee-v0X4YHQO5k5JhL4cGunjK4Poo7iw_HJtRew6lqwS5YsjEoSDZ5e10axkL6Ps6tyoO5ctd7rkn7CbCkSzGDWVzEhWQicU7Kkjg4WwHxyTZh82-/s2148/IMG_5329.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1538" data-original-width="2148" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw7tthyPVeiknk01bJz5nwAgWSSr10Ee-v0X4YHQO5k5JhL4cGunjK4Poo7iw_HJtRew6lqwS5YsjEoSDZ5e10axkL6Ps6tyoO5ctd7rkn7CbCkSzGDWVzEhWQicU7Kkjg4WwHxyTZh82-/w320-h233/IMG_5329.HEIC" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw7tthyPVeiknk01bJz5nwAgWSSr10Ee-v0X4YHQO5k5JhL4cGunjK4Poo7iw_HJtRew6lqwS5YsjEoSDZ5e10axkL6Ps6tyoO5ctd7rkn7CbCkSzGDWVzEhWQicU7Kkjg4WwHxyTZh82-/s2148/IMG_5329.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div>The Chinese wall,</div><div>intended as protection,</div><div>was a path for </div><div>travelers...and so one could move, </div><div>stand still, </div><div>balk, </div><div>reach, </div><div>reject, </div><div>run to or from, </div><div>fear, </div><div>admire, </div><div>care for, </div><div>or seek to destroy.</div><div><br /></div><br /><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSz01ZSTSKb5-Ra6lxFab-RI93KZLt5Ldb1-GotVamInfrezL7c-QRlExdQJJBpNXHClXKT-iYgUcJ-T4Wk16M-kEHjkjVp5hqLFTqshZanmdxNa4HKntV7s2_em6oG2X_qLYvUWCVwGDM/s2144/IMG_5374.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1532" data-original-width="2144" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSz01ZSTSKb5-Ra6lxFab-RI93KZLt5Ldb1-GotVamInfrezL7c-QRlExdQJJBpNXHClXKT-iYgUcJ-T4Wk16M-kEHjkjVp5hqLFTqshZanmdxNa4HKntV7s2_em6oG2X_qLYvUWCVwGDM/w251-h180/IMG_5374.HEIC" width="251" /></a></div><div>And I stand and wait, </div><div>watching moons and suns ascend, descend, </div><div>stars come out and diminish, </div><div>comets vanish, </div><div>planets born, die, change names, </div><div>and a plan for your return </div><div>in the distance, </div><div>where I can make out </div><div>the thin form of your resistance. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1_PFMwlp9f79R08l3PTGgbOOArfp86_hRkV-4sLN3msshDsgMBJrxZPDNwWRIDwIHm4rAP-Go7c647Ymx2jj2c4OdCiGuF2n-N_4no3q7PzmcyIWv-Ov5ik0thTmbftAO_DJjDaGOJ4h/s2138/IMG_5376.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1547" data-original-width="2138" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1_PFMwlp9f79R08l3PTGgbOOArfp86_hRkV-4sLN3msshDsgMBJrxZPDNwWRIDwIHm4rAP-Go7c647Ymx2jj2c4OdCiGuF2n-N_4no3q7PzmcyIWv-Ov5ik0thTmbftAO_DJjDaGOJ4h/w331-h240/IMG_5376.HEIC" width="331" /></a></div><div>Where it begins, ends, </div></div><div>falls in disrepair, </div><div>seems invisible </div><div>from the blind eye, </div><div>rolls, </div><div>like the blood in your veins, </div><div>connected, </div><div>never completed severed, </div><div>always pulsing, </div><div>always present, </div><div>always struggling. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQYucLgY88B-yB6x-1bKHIoLwfanltUdezpnBUoPqZ_3-Ir-Qb6-BfkFCRWEwbfMRLOjbQU2O_Vs35d4lMuSndlxO24T0zgXXVWp5HtEZFbnfLFeDlL9_u7qZEWwHS7Gm30x5312_HJqG9/s2168/IMG_5375.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1524" data-original-width="2168" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQYucLgY88B-yB6x-1bKHIoLwfanltUdezpnBUoPqZ_3-Ir-Qb6-BfkFCRWEwbfMRLOjbQU2O_Vs35d4lMuSndlxO24T0zgXXVWp5HtEZFbnfLFeDlL9_u7qZEWwHS7Gm30x5312_HJqG9/w335-h171/IMG_5375.HEIC" width="335" /></a></div>Spring arrives each year with hope, </div><div>a new possibility with </div><div>a non-holiday holiday. Cruises</div><div>into summer, on the edge, </div><div>the opportunity to reject once again, </div><div>just like autumn does; and winter disappoints, </div><div>over and </div><div>over again. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><b><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: arial;">Family Legends</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9b8S0QipqbnM3rw980XwdFEZKSClsgJfCVWe0SzWnM1FeZBh70cqDULBE0eUkqf4FXlS3B9uiqwNTinPhPnbusjYVpz1PY3ru8cHX4I7SKQzzQbjyETsx4tQuUgK5IE9Lo3kVxTQgrqYT/s2300/IMG_5330.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1430" data-original-width="2300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9b8S0QipqbnM3rw980XwdFEZKSClsgJfCVWe0SzWnM1FeZBh70cqDULBE0eUkqf4FXlS3B9uiqwNTinPhPnbusjYVpz1PY3ru8cHX4I7SKQzzQbjyETsx4tQuUgK5IE9Lo3kVxTQgrqYT/s320/IMG_5330.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The stuff for family legends isn't always worth repeating even though details may be clear and unforgotten. When my son was lost at sea and there were helicopters searching dark waters, his father trying to figure out how he would explain to me he'd lost our boy, who was sound asleep in a deep bunk midship. Rescue teams cheered while we fumbled with untrusted emotions. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;"><b>However I'm Dressed</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio3nlnhnjcwu3ZVvHuTXgUL6L0XP1aCb5lIehA6tojQrUfXMeSlLS4YnoxqZGUQYPojuRLkRBL4PPzYPgRgQ0bhaA17SFahkESfsshZKyEj3N6_VcWVuTRwy_3H8QXlU2QemC_980eoNMs/s3270/IMG_5406.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3270" data-original-width="2324" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio3nlnhnjcwu3ZVvHuTXgUL6L0XP1aCb5lIehA6tojQrUfXMeSlLS4YnoxqZGUQYPojuRLkRBL4PPzYPgRgQ0bhaA17SFahkESfsshZKyEj3N6_VcWVuTRwy_3H8QXlU2QemC_980eoNMs/w185-h261/IMG_5406.HEIC" width="185" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">I know you think this is an invitation. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">It's not. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">It's me, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">being me. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">On the beach, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">the pool, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">walking down the street, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">over the bridge, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">in school, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">at work, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">in the grocery line, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">at the theater, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">wherever you see me, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">however I'm dressed, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">no matter how much skin </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">I choose to show, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">or hide... </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">this </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">is </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">not </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">an </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">invitation.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> <b>LOSING YOU</b></div></blockquote><p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEHxQ6BSPNbJaPtHfJ5L-m9-1IP-guYQ8_GzU_ZMsqToZLUZ81-L1T9fuz1FeP4JUCffKGj-t9Z2w7tWElbBNHpXa3rxJt37kyyu4FFT73tYoGLdqKSKpOPxsZ4vAhEJzCcObCsGnrrcse/s2816/IMG_5421.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1760" data-original-width="2816" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEHxQ6BSPNbJaPtHfJ5L-m9-1IP-guYQ8_GzU_ZMsqToZLUZ81-L1T9fuz1FeP4JUCffKGj-t9Z2w7tWElbBNHpXa3rxJt37kyyu4FFT73tYoGLdqKSKpOPxsZ4vAhEJzCcObCsGnrrcse/s320/IMG_5421.HEIC" width="320" /></a></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Losing you was losing a part of my history. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">There were things that only you and I </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">could remember and now </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I must remember them on my own. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">With no one to validate the memories. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And the sadness is not so much </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">that you are gone, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> it's that <i>we</i> are gone.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>aLmOSt NoRmaL</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR4ACKI8aPOH4hgb551SkL3ZxEt1CV13DgVmTFxTEvKp84yyDvw2GAsb-dB0Bb-_sNTyl3RZd7aYURYMfjhH7q8QH5sgCk_EG1sqaGtS-O7tuc0i2HfnZITh9mqVHOU_woHw-IvvAN30WQ/s3490/IMG_5428.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3490" data-original-width="2358" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR4ACKI8aPOH4hgb551SkL3ZxEt1CV13DgVmTFxTEvKp84yyDvw2GAsb-dB0Bb-_sNTyl3RZd7aYURYMfjhH7q8QH5sgCk_EG1sqaGtS-O7tuc0i2HfnZITh9mqVHOU_woHw-IvvAN30WQ/w216-h320/IMG_5428.HEIC" width="216" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We almost started</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">being a little normal.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Trader Joe's even took down <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">their plastic shields. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Masks were optional </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">for the vaxxed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Too soon.<span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Wildfires make the skies hazy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is our new normal.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Masks fulfill multiple purposes. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We are all frogs </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">in a warming pot.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The canary has sung.</div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 40px 0px 0px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" dir="rtl" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></blockquote><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Chinooks</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-4CRO5B5Ulj17o28OHWBTWP-j7WH1RU4V_e6GMd6yPadmbOod5BaxUSb5xAO61YfGPvfvblLvPfRJ9mxBZYz-uuGyl6HTY8xD69vD8qcwVovhFsKUDCSwNnKI8M4Afmut9ryTpRUv-m2f/s2845/IMG_5451.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2002" data-original-width="2845" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-4CRO5B5Ulj17o28OHWBTWP-j7WH1RU4V_e6GMd6yPadmbOod5BaxUSb5xAO61YfGPvfvblLvPfRJ9mxBZYz-uuGyl6HTY8xD69vD8qcwVovhFsKUDCSwNnKI8M4Afmut9ryTpRUv-m2f/w265-h186/IMG_5451.HEIC" width="265" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Lavish Saturday morning </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">breakfasts at Chinooks. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Laughing family laughs, eating </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">honeyed butter, and the tingly taste </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">of orange zest. Seagulls </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">piercing the calm of the drizzle </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">hanging under the sky, scolding </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">us for living too well, telling us to </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">go home, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">pack for the future. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Forgiving Myself</b><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjskL42u5US-E1OuyNnb1Bjf_rmayPC3aqPTYAcKEbr8pV-Wa58FFqESfJs4CoSiDw12SxBxDHSYKsRkBx3q31rZf5fbctw2mdWLgtdUQ7_0xT1iIZZnT7uD6uttxq-eIvQrrwt9Zprz0-x/s2960/IMG_5457.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2125" data-original-width="2960" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjskL42u5US-E1OuyNnb1Bjf_rmayPC3aqPTYAcKEbr8pV-Wa58FFqESfJs4CoSiDw12SxBxDHSYKsRkBx3q31rZf5fbctw2mdWLgtdUQ7_0xT1iIZZnT7uD6uttxq-eIvQrrwt9Zprz0-x/w234-h168/IMG_5457.HEIC" width="234" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Flipping through old notebooks, photos, clippings, poems,
quotes, flattened matchbooks. Hours pass as the sun floats across the southern sky
on a warm summer afternoon and I, caught indoors, forget the garden, the dust
and dishes and all other duties, forgiving myself for places I meant to see,
words left unspoken, dried up tears, ships that have sailed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiScwMj2PEygIYTQcezVDbvX9lHm8e0uWYeTCrDJOAmCD4BcQ4XmxqEXhJcL01kjodrjfIsH2-BUqG5YVHukggUWLeLcMvjrzIXGhxWeyE0rB72Lz8Fdqb8PrCYTofxGZmP9ZbhKDgXHJH_/s2881/IMG_5518.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1981" data-original-width="2881" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiScwMj2PEygIYTQcezVDbvX9lHm8e0uWYeTCrDJOAmCD4BcQ4XmxqEXhJcL01kjodrjfIsH2-BUqG5YVHukggUWLeLcMvjrzIXGhxWeyE0rB72Lz8Fdqb8PrCYTofxGZmP9ZbhKDgXHJH_/s320/IMG_5518.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Life Redirected</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">Once I had submitted to the life </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">that had been redirected for me, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">I dove in headlong. Limbs</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">no longer were a matter for</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">prom gowns and </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">summers at the lake, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">ski slopes or wooden stages. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">I became a leg to cling to, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">a vessel of milk, rich and blue,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">arms never empty, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">a backbone </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">stronger than my mother </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">ever predicted. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">New shoes, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">a different hat. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaz7ohQXz6r11Qgp3uRYtTYd79NfBxr9U0cKOafhIXiasXGndDjEP8UmXNpa9b7qnwArO2IYwtVfjLNBujN1HDraQ-bscpyZZCRayiIfWdfaB3yYa68EVDTbdcEGxOfGpmks9fYGTyP2ZM/s3118/IMG_5520.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3118" data-original-width="2373" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaz7ohQXz6r11Qgp3uRYtTYd79NfBxr9U0cKOafhIXiasXGndDjEP8UmXNpa9b7qnwArO2IYwtVfjLNBujN1HDraQ-bscpyZZCRayiIfWdfaB3yYa68EVDTbdcEGxOfGpmks9fYGTyP2ZM/s320/IMG_5520.HEIC" width="244" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>The Summer of '66</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The summer of '66, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I thought I had </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">everything figure out. But </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I missed some things. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">How to protect myself. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">How to fight back. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">How to say "no." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My outlook </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">was always cheery and </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I was confident. There were </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">leading roles in my future, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">straight A's, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the Dean's list. There were </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">other lists, too, which </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I could not have foreseen. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I have no regrets but </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I have some good advice.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXoASi42_7OnxPRMKpRiQBwX0DR-PWomNNdfVj4pPrkO2MV4_jcP_HFDhNNC8EgM7MdOdfBz9eS-Lz3-Y9kX2XG0eeap2d70MdYEiVVzrGsZAnd4rEVAjzGPtwJ1YTlVzrIR5RqQIusTVz/s3815/IMG_5519.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3815" data-original-width="2453" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXoASi42_7OnxPRMKpRiQBwX0DR-PWomNNdfVj4pPrkO2MV4_jcP_HFDhNNC8EgM7MdOdfBz9eS-Lz3-Y9kX2XG0eeap2d70MdYEiVVzrGsZAnd4rEVAjzGPtwJ1YTlVzrIR5RqQIusTVz/s320/IMG_5519.HEIC" width="206" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><b>Makah 1993 Neah Bay </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Our heads were filled with magic </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and a new ancient language. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We walked on whaling beaches </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">where history has been forgotten </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">by those who choose to change it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The songs, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the food, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the stories, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the mystical words, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">clicking and soothing, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the craggy beautiful faces, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the clamshell yearning </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">for a different time and place</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnbf_s5n2IvV3QDSP25fchYiatFu7KBN-z5Kc-bd9wjdoZLPkcXRY9mJsrd3fJKN5mI4n07VJi5ruQxt8Jt2J1Xmu6-xj6lixB21FWyrGGVyryzTo4QB_wAyiRcHQZ5DZ3WTAggfvA_0e3/s2538/IMG_5521.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1757" data-original-width="2538" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnbf_s5n2IvV3QDSP25fchYiatFu7KBN-z5Kc-bd9wjdoZLPkcXRY9mJsrd3fJKN5mI4n07VJi5ruQxt8Jt2J1Xmu6-xj6lixB21FWyrGGVyryzTo4QB_wAyiRcHQZ5DZ3WTAggfvA_0e3/w200-h141/IMG_5521.HEIC" width="200" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Master Thief </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'll teach you how to steal he said. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">First you take the little things</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">They go unnoticed. The big things</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">are harder; you're always being watched.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But it's not impossible. You must be</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">brave and put on a face, as if</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">you don't care at all. Pretend</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">it belongs to you. The </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">difficult part is when </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">they steal from you. Some </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">have nothing of </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">value. He taught me how to steal. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He was a Master Thief.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIJI5HVbgNEhtpE2582tMtyMjKy6BGOvjbI8RCVyXp5YdH34c_JdOAGHzyrj7sI6xa44-q6LODvbAQ-paIoM6DFsaV3LhTr6IaSgjfmaGQqK5kIqHhsAFdVBUJk9rZ8geXf4Ents34JPSn/s3457/IMG_5523.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3457" data-original-width="2325" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIJI5HVbgNEhtpE2582tMtyMjKy6BGOvjbI8RCVyXp5YdH34c_JdOAGHzyrj7sI6xa44-q6LODvbAQ-paIoM6DFsaV3LhTr6IaSgjfmaGQqK5kIqHhsAFdVBUJk9rZ8geXf4Ents34JPSn/s320/IMG_5523.HEIC" width="215" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>New York September 2019 </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">East Village</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">was a perfect time </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">in the city garden </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">with Marta, who had</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">the key to let us in to the</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">fairy lights and </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">marjoram, parsley, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Simon and Garfunkel warbling</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">over speakers meant for</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">dayworkers. It was a </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">sister kind of night,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">young and brash,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">old and wrinkled,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">in between,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">imparting stories, opinions, guidance,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">raucous laughter, tittering giggles,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">bold invitations, glasses never</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">half empty, pushing the morrow</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">out of our minds.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKNhboLJ9ybAQHnDA7wzOPuhyphenhyphengMcqFljFCTkmmS1GkQzxTKWsi_iln4oh-80k4jYFeNjb53NSVWYls-DqoG7p9UEAJiAJfEDagytPZsJqv5ybJ8VIKAuObmOQUrEu58cci8DOEbX2mfh18/s2973/IMG_5531.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2205" data-original-width="2973" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKNhboLJ9ybAQHnDA7wzOPuhyphenhyphengMcqFljFCTkmmS1GkQzxTKWsi_iln4oh-80k4jYFeNjb53NSVWYls-DqoG7p9UEAJiAJfEDagytPZsJqv5ybJ8VIKAuObmOQUrEu58cci8DOEbX2mfh18/w200-h148/IMG_5531.HEIC" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>CATS</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My son wrote a little</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">personal essay once about our cats; past,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">present, and future. He was 9 at the time </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">and it was </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">one of the sweetest things </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I've ever read by anyone. He</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">laboriously typed it out on my "Selectric" </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">and I still believe I will find that yellowed</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">piece of parchment paper in a box</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">someday. I miss all those cats.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv8FNQQU4KcLb4Dky7HmjGIpk5ULOImEkH7pQHdZs2yLtJhvLdPbfwR_QLyTxa28WRiPJ6ZG2xPkegqatDA_m_L7GEaQ35VOiAYHvQGcex807i4coFN3oxu3DhEpiurH5Rus67hNhFGSuC/s3003/IMG_5532.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1943" data-original-width="3003" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv8FNQQU4KcLb4Dky7HmjGIpk5ULOImEkH7pQHdZs2yLtJhvLdPbfwR_QLyTxa28WRiPJ6ZG2xPkegqatDA_m_L7GEaQ35VOiAYHvQGcex807i4coFN3oxu3DhEpiurH5Rus67hNhFGSuC/s320/IMG_5532.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />Brave</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Looking back, I can see </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the crack forming when Brave </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">died. A strong beautiful hen, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">so named because </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Brave </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">was <i>who</i> she was. One of the</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">original brood, she </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">carried so much weight </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">on her tiny feathered wings;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">so many expectations,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">future dreams,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">silent songs,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">little secrets,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">prospects for a formidable foundation.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hope.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJdHypLMyS5wp9Zz3gIRJ03V_J2Q-q79dpcTIf73RVKvWIF0DMom6whkPl59SHCZkxYsNjYQiedPB9jJxDTEfz9R_3F_-Uzscbep6yoDQO0p7ohNym_ZIFKc2x3fi3gAFxZb8SJj1dAxn6/s3320/IMG_5537.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3320" data-original-width="2335" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJdHypLMyS5wp9Zz3gIRJ03V_J2Q-q79dpcTIf73RVKvWIF0DMom6whkPl59SHCZkxYsNjYQiedPB9jJxDTEfz9R_3F_-Uzscbep6yoDQO0p7ohNym_ZIFKc2x3fi3gAFxZb8SJj1dAxn6/s320/IMG_5537.HEIC" width="225" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Peanut Butter Memories</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My bro and I shared a love </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">of certain edible things. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Popcorn, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">tacos... and peanut butter </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">on warm toast with butter melted </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">and dripping! You bite into it </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">and it oozes between </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">your teeth, gets stuck </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">to your cheek hollows and </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">you wash it down with a cup of </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">good strong coffee. All </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">those things </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">make me remember him; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">olfactory memories.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK9dh1is_apuCYBct0KcHf6gg09EtOCtTpRcjftxj1O5PcDjlX5CgCBr2r5of6qj_dbCd6l2mIRpwfccWrbRFcSEPRPR1iTtMzXBDW-bHN96ftdK47hFFD0fTzgKk8Uf4xNFpK980hndPM/s2740/IMG_5547.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2210" data-original-width="2740" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK9dh1is_apuCYBct0KcHf6gg09EtOCtTpRcjftxj1O5PcDjlX5CgCBr2r5of6qj_dbCd6l2mIRpwfccWrbRFcSEPRPR1iTtMzXBDW-bHN96ftdK47hFFD0fTzgKk8Uf4xNFpK980hndPM/w200-h161/IMG_5547.HEIC" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />Kornfeld</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He was just a guy </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">who lived in my building. I </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">collected his rent </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">every month. He smoked </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">so I saw him outside </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">usually. I </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">talked with him </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and his son about </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">football, croquet, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">dogs, the weather. He </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">died alone in a hospital </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">room while others </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">were attended to. No </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">one was saved. I </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">was the only person </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">he said goodbye to. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgENUmEGxt0JR7HrtdTenuMbd4RiegQkiTCvAp202juq-1cj_y2c7G_1BUtdCM0W87WLnwDnuo_DhEJe9TdtfCv2W5HwuY5Wboqz1kuhJmuOcq0vipEof9LRGOAWq9fv9-S9LhucKhz_P3G/s3226/IMG_5554.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3226" data-original-width="2385" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgENUmEGxt0JR7HrtdTenuMbd4RiegQkiTCvAp202juq-1cj_y2c7G_1BUtdCM0W87WLnwDnuo_DhEJe9TdtfCv2W5HwuY5Wboqz1kuhJmuOcq0vipEof9LRGOAWq9fv9-S9LhucKhz_P3G/s320/IMG_5554.HEIC" width="237" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b> Childish Summer</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> Mornings were soft and fresh... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> smell of dust from </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> the alley, green wet </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> grass. Trees, with gnarly </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> roots, to create spaces under, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> outdoor sanctuaries with </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> rock-lined borders, little imaginary </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> shops where fairies visited </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> after dusk, when children </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> were meant to be </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> indoors. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> Dolls dragged out of </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> bedrooms, then found </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> in the morning dew, forgotten, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> then retrieved and </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> loved again. Kool-aid </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> with so much sugar</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> it hurt your teeth, soda </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> crackers, peanut </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> butter, fresh picked </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> berries, slightly </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> dusty. Barefoot </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> for weeks on end; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> toes splayed in September. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA98-qySWOQ5YG6vQ4UBSBOhnrFbjuPBnwBQnIKcvIOfT3Ge5i7XSHPlOkx2bdv9YvwRtqoL25TvoClnmCwTHYwrw5Pc61kmOvYkiVG1kj8oen18ufEbj9pdSmCxcHYyLsW_UpUCHjhVea/s2731/IMG_5559.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1862" data-original-width="2731" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA98-qySWOQ5YG6vQ4UBSBOhnrFbjuPBnwBQnIKcvIOfT3Ge5i7XSHPlOkx2bdv9YvwRtqoL25TvoClnmCwTHYwrw5Pc61kmOvYkiVG1kj8oen18ufEbj9pdSmCxcHYyLsW_UpUCHjhVea/w200-h136/IMG_5559.HEIC" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Battle Lines</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Battle lines</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">were drawn.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">One of us fought hard, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the other with a short stick, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">keeping monsters </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">at bay. It ended </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">in an emotional rout and </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">open wounds closed </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">eventually but </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the salt remained. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ships sailed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Horizons fell dark </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">but never stayed that way. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">New shores harkened. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Castles were built </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">on sand.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp3hj3clLVmLcObNkIMhc_YWPVSOUBTssicJqEi99W16ZcogvI3z2x9BOvoykH-Ly-KhmiAsdWNkDPcC8gdXRb5HQxNPZpWW4RjBxMlNhsWbIKtro5iXFe032WJOpCW2iMbHUKDFGDlu9R/s3697/IMG_5555.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3697" data-original-width="2573" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp3hj3clLVmLcObNkIMhc_YWPVSOUBTssicJqEi99W16ZcogvI3z2x9BOvoykH-Ly-KhmiAsdWNkDPcC8gdXRb5HQxNPZpWW4RjBxMlNhsWbIKtro5iXFe032WJOpCW2iMbHUKDFGDlu9R/s320/IMG_5555.HEIC" width="223" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>California</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Songs have been written about California, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the beaches, the palm trees, the sunset pigs, the hotels. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It pulled me until I got fed up with partial truths, earthquakes, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and broken promises. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I won't forget the swarm of baby hummingbirds, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Olvera Street, mean geese in Sacramento, canyon bike rides, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">being taken for rock stars, Paul Bunyan, the pier, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">candles in wine bottles, and your hair.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3KwluNOr1zm_w5Bok2O7u9puM8QM9nH09J7weV31MqemUwRs1Zan34G655wQnFV00s-smSi7Q2xc_Fpihyphenhyphen_fFW2m4ttLA4T9BV1e653f4xZTQUsYDFwDsZYUFONQj_vQOE1RRmJzHQidq/s2910/IMG_5557.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1968" data-original-width="2910" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3KwluNOr1zm_w5Bok2O7u9puM8QM9nH09J7weV31MqemUwRs1Zan34G655wQnFV00s-smSi7Q2xc_Fpihyphenhyphen_fFW2m4ttLA4T9BV1e653f4xZTQUsYDFwDsZYUFONQj_vQOE1RRmJzHQidq/s320/IMG_5557.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Fall 1968</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I loved the market, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">even the odors of raw fish, mixed </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">with the pungent smells of mums </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">and marigolds. It wasn't a tourist </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">attraction yet, just a place to buy </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">from vendors, the deli, and a newsstand </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">with hundreds of selections; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I could've hung out there all day. I </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">bought pudding from </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">the sweet Asian lady, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">a peach, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">and a tomato, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">which I ate whole, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">sprinkled with salt. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You told me I was pregnant. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDFolMMDeaCvQDMJMste4kHw73tn7t-QMJzxJtxd5X9yoFd22X_1NiMZoTw32dxGOwF6CgKHZSUEYAApqO24Qm14dWomVhd849uMnfvuBc68AHJsDq-4lh-t4QhfG5t8lbBD0ytsfaX-NA/s2547/IMG_5605.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1775" data-original-width="2547" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDFolMMDeaCvQDMJMste4kHw73tn7t-QMJzxJtxd5X9yoFd22X_1NiMZoTw32dxGOwF6CgKHZSUEYAApqO24Qm14dWomVhd849uMnfvuBc68AHJsDq-4lh-t4QhfG5t8lbBD0ytsfaX-NA/s320/IMG_5605.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>We Saw the World</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><p class="MsoNormal">From the time I was 6 or 7, my bicycle was total freedom. No
one really cared much where I was in our safe, small town. I was GONE, down the
street, around the corner and into the wild. When he was 2 and I was 11, my
baby brother joined me, perched in the
basket on my handlebars. We saw the world. Our world. We had no borders and
wide horizons. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfGXIweAWm2-7Zm_y_GiKERSAJTK-9IvdC8S1-BhBXhyphenhyphenDyxjGmVHSRN-xQIj3SrSi5yEv4xnWCrNLafb5vkSGENxxSqNQGSy3ENNyvXxkCigDBZtr0dYVkyDCzQPP2nXYD0ajLhUUdwJKz/s2986/IMG_5606.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2002" data-original-width="2986" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfGXIweAWm2-7Zm_y_GiKERSAJTK-9IvdC8S1-BhBXhyphenhyphenDyxjGmVHSRN-xQIj3SrSi5yEv4xnWCrNLafb5vkSGENxxSqNQGSy3ENNyvXxkCigDBZtr0dYVkyDCzQPP2nXYD0ajLhUUdwJKz/s320/IMG_5606.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b>Another Country</b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> I loved you in another country</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">There were maps leading us down roads, over seas,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">into mountains and jungle, that we imagined</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">or simply conjured. So we could</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">go our own way, like birds</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">in a murmuration, whirling,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">changing with a whim, impossible </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to follow.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Off the charts.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMzNRX0G2aDEIJEj0odUWpLbyy0d5ohoIEMTxGWgftguDTdet8iIdz6-EZ9EagTCvG2Bj7SmJz8nT83r20fRXFFh4ylNhh_rNuOeSy8PHQhh_LZdlfEmn6VGsJc7EZxU3aAVZHn9PSQpfC/s3447/IMG_5607.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3447" data-original-width="2373" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMzNRX0G2aDEIJEj0odUWpLbyy0d5ohoIEMTxGWgftguDTdet8iIdz6-EZ9EagTCvG2Bj7SmJz8nT83r20fRXFFh4ylNhh_rNuOeSy8PHQhh_LZdlfEmn6VGsJc7EZxU3aAVZHn9PSQpfC/s320/IMG_5607.HEIC" width="220" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>CHURCH</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Anklets, bare legs all the way up to the Sunday panties, Mary Janes</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">that pulled socks down over the heel, like a tiny determined conveyor belt, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">repeatedly. Impossible to find two socks that matched, per order of Mom.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Late. Snow splattered on the landscape like crispy sugar. Holding a heavy green</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">hymnal with crackling pages, wishing to be home</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">having hotcakes with Dad.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvclcmOP8oJJhfGBL2Y7hmZu3ZkPVDtX0rEkqxxgpxkYADR9B2Bk_L-9DXMs1fn1l0EVmF7qIdLvXGX99pSp_lOdUVS4rjnqCDc8z1UzO54zCJFGnyjQwCX42m_756jtoSKvA-gGIw3-yY/s2687/IMG_5617.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1827" data-original-width="2687" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvclcmOP8oJJhfGBL2Y7hmZu3ZkPVDtX0rEkqxxgpxkYADR9B2Bk_L-9DXMs1fn1l0EVmF7qIdLvXGX99pSp_lOdUVS4rjnqCDc8z1UzO54zCJFGnyjQwCX42m_756jtoSKvA-gGIw3-yY/s320/IMG_5617.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>The Eye</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I miss you, Dad. You always had an eye on us, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">even when we were far far away.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You were all seeing and you knew</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">everything.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">At least we thought you did and</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">that was good enough for us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2VYXZwNsXbx6vdYDpepplRhfwrfR-kgE3yUdoWUbwwYxq8AqXaCsQs-0laiv28WeKnIOazuDRQOrrqHK2AldFJYzsjulxPHYKdKh3NSxdk1C9Q95P8nnaqLxvkiXGMGvYHLK0U0ACkyI2/s2653/IMG_5618.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1925" data-original-width="2653" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2VYXZwNsXbx6vdYDpepplRhfwrfR-kgE3yUdoWUbwwYxq8AqXaCsQs-0laiv28WeKnIOazuDRQOrrqHK2AldFJYzsjulxPHYKdKh3NSxdk1C9Q95P8nnaqLxvkiXGMGvYHLK0U0ACkyI2/s320/IMG_5618.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><b>OUR HOUSE</b></div><div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;">Our house was a very very very fine house, </div><div style="text-align: center;">on the best street, </div><div style="text-align: center;">on the best hill,</div><div style="text-align: center;">in the best city,</div><div style="text-align: center;">in the best state,</div><div style="text-align: center;">in the best country, </div><div style="text-align: center;">on the best planet. </div><div style="text-align: center;">We used to sing this song </div><div style="text-align: center;">when we thought nothing could change, </div><div style="text-align: center;">fooled </div><div style="text-align: center;">by our image of reality. </div><div style="text-align: center;">We were so wrong. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_cy2K8OCEJgC9OGpIXVHnn23NkGFtb_-veXA3E1XHJ9oN19xyfnZQR5E6etCB5H05J5RTEhVhZakqTotHpyYFU2Ac_mAWzpDWWsnM8n0639lYXQCPkCvvJjaD-Zce_d41rR7k0aML5c7o/s2805/IMG_5619.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><br /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZyPqjXRXkrVFH1MIFqY20DpdTyhGbg5lAw-N1sQBtI75_uXiElEkaiqZNI9fjtWaujv1Ilqx2HNoVbpMx1AvqpEMUk-Ek0X0LRvOAYSMSMSa7WzqAoFCFc7H4nwrJb4LclQaFUfp0ZJFY/s2805/IMG_5619.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2060" data-original-width="2805" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZyPqjXRXkrVFH1MIFqY20DpdTyhGbg5lAw-N1sQBtI75_uXiElEkaiqZNI9fjtWaujv1Ilqx2HNoVbpMx1AvqpEMUk-Ek0X0LRvOAYSMSMSa7WzqAoFCFc7H4nwrJb4LclQaFUfp0ZJFY/s320/IMG_5619.HEIC" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Distant Smoke</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In the distant smoke of the future, I will not acknowledge</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">pain or sorrow. I will see my beauties as full-grown</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">human sculptures, perfect in every way,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">better even,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">having gained wisdom </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">through ears and eyes. May they </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">always think of me,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">who loved them completely,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">as one who cradles them through </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">distant smoke.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And now another year of PoPo has been completed. I ask the post office to hand-cancel my little poems as they are sent abroad and near, in hopes words will be left clear and legible, but there is always some overzealous postal worker, who needs to run these tiny pictures through mean machines. One hopes they arrive somewhat intact and if not, here are all the words, and the images, too. Cards are collected at estate sales mostly and these poems are rough drafts, written as prompts, using the postcard for inspiration. Many will be reworked and polished. Look for them and others in my poetry chapbook, available at the end of the year.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thanks for reading...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I can be seen/heard reading three of these postcard poems from a session that drew our Poetry Postcard Fest to an end of September 2, 2021. There are many beautiful poems to observe from an abundance of talent, but mine are found from 7:45 - 10:30. <a href="https://ppf.cascadiapoeticslab.org/2021/09/05/post-fest-open-mic-video/">https://ppf.cascadiapoeticslab.org/2021/09/05/post-fest-open-mic-video/</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-3626436531769695332020-09-18T09:38:00.001-07:002020-09-18T11:29:17.916-07:00POPO 2020<p> </p><p>Never have I been so late getting out my PoPo mail. Postcards that should've gone out all throughout August are finally getting sent mid-September. It's been a strange year and I'm simply not going to give a list of justifications, because they would likely fall on deaf ears. So many of us are living in upheaval. </p><p>I did things much differently this year, writing poems as the August days bumbled on, meaning to transfer them to postcards and send, but ended up with a typed out list of short thoughts/poems. I promised everyone in Group 1 would get a card, I just didn't say when. I jokingly promised myself I'd get them out by my birthday, which is today, and I gasp to think it took that long. The time came for me to put the whole project together and I decided so as to make them legible, I would do as some others have done: cut and paste. I loved it, because what it forced me to do was find (out of a pile of postcards collected in my travels, visits to various local and faraway places, and estate sales) the exact right card to go with a verse. Sometimes it really hit the mark; other times you may need to use a bit of imagination.</p><p>These pieces are written with the same abandon all PoPo cards are written; spontaneous, unedited, naked. There has been no editing done in the cut-and-paste procedure.</p><p>There is no particular order, since they didn't get sent out Day 1, etc. I apologize to my PoPo friends and promise to do better next year, in which I'm hoping to figure out a way to send cards I've found at estate sales that were once written on and sent by strangers, with me writing something about their words. It will be exciting to see how that might turn out. </p><p>Some of these cards I've hung onto forever and felt it was time to send them on their way. I've left some notes about a few of them.</p><p><br /></p><p>POPO 2020</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT8-zR_Pi4N7IIN6Ddh7stJAEXfDLiV5EqI6FfoW4ZWhHG6w5H9yT1MkUZaOTECwrFMBHZ3dfRcovsu-ogAoiTkA0JpmM5koQbVJ5YStv9v-X7-Y5Pt9tI2QQjDcv-NGKqBMrQ-Ugrr5YV/s3063/IMG_2858.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3063" data-original-width="2058" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT8-zR_Pi4N7IIN6Ddh7stJAEXfDLiV5EqI6FfoW4ZWhHG6w5H9yT1MkUZaOTECwrFMBHZ3dfRcovsu-ogAoiTkA0JpmM5koQbVJ5YStv9v-X7-Y5Pt9tI2QQjDcv-NGKqBMrQ-Ugrr5YV/w159-h237/IMG_2858.HEIC" width="159" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Looking out into the humid night, the sounds of tiny animals screaming, the weather getting hotter with every minute, relentless night creeping slowly to a hotter dawn, waves crashing on the cliff below, the only rhythm inducing sleep, fighting in the air with cicadas.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="clear: right; float: right; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="clear: right; float: right; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="clear: right; float: right; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></p><p></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>********************************************************************************</p><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">My life has been a revolving door <br /></span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">of opening chapters, <br /></span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">all suitable for short stories <br /></span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">some on the edge of terror, <br /></span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">other narratives of bliss. <br /></span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif">Maybe I should write a book.</span></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjViYW-ENAyAOK6JBTv3uAFB2K3ExuIYbCQD3Ga2UFO0KBvi1I0X2y_HI2Llm6x_uGZaVJSiyZvo8gRtbQIaqINSVfk7hLlxi-Xs5wjgJzC2uyqQMo33Ywb2jnftAG4r-_opoAdZyg-Xxxu/s3423/IMG_2856.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3423" data-original-width="2278" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjViYW-ENAyAOK6JBTv3uAFB2K3ExuIYbCQD3Ga2UFO0KBvi1I0X2y_HI2Llm6x_uGZaVJSiyZvo8gRtbQIaqINSVfk7hLlxi-Xs5wjgJzC2uyqQMo33Ywb2jnftAG4r-_opoAdZyg-Xxxu/s320/IMG_2856.HEIC" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="clear: right; float: right; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"></p><p></p></blockquote><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">(Little Oddfellows - One of my favorite reading/writing/meditating/lunch/meeting places in all of Seattle. Just o</span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">n the edge of the CHOP/CHAZ.)</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: courier; text-align: left;"><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: courier; text-align: left;"><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"> **********************</span></b></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: courier; text-align: left;"> </b></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: courier;">A man being a boy again</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Faded red fenderless Schwinn</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: courier;">His shirt flapping
behind him<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Plaid, black and white,
open and free<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Coming down the hill<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: courier;">In the shadows of
impending dark<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: courier;">A man being a boy again<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: courier;">No mask<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Remembering</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyu0S4TXYp2Kgb0gdDRvr0p4hiHxvlkT4VpkzH8BAWl8hTH_ozwK7FQ3tVH3Hc8kbjayYV48-h6vrRLraiTn8I84kTBE5Sr4DJ-dIEPFj8QYJ0kg2w2ezOqrF0TkILAvmVpUpjFh4Q09Jh/s3397/IMG_2833.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2485" data-original-width="3397" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyu0S4TXYp2Kgb0gdDRvr0p4hiHxvlkT4VpkzH8BAWl8hTH_ozwK7FQ3tVH3Hc8kbjayYV48-h6vrRLraiTn8I84kTBE5Sr4DJ-dIEPFj8QYJ0kg2w2ezOqrF0TkILAvmVpUpjFh4Q09Jh/s320/IMG_2833.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div></b></span><b style="font-family: courier;"> </b></div><p> *******************************************</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgteTgXQUthSRMHSPhMhjE_1ZVGkjqj_DbbxrxcykovBEMuCTNAW5oMpBWSIZms1kLQBY2clBPBgTf548C3pL0JzP6k9zrPMaml_QZyxKWOKZVjxsc79uxvfSh8l8nI1pjI4gm2bf9F55r_/s3317/IMG_2828.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3317" data-original-width="2405" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgteTgXQUthSRMHSPhMhjE_1ZVGkjqj_DbbxrxcykovBEMuCTNAW5oMpBWSIZms1kLQBY2clBPBgTf548C3pL0JzP6k9zrPMaml_QZyxKWOKZVjxsc79uxvfSh8l8nI1pjI4gm2bf9F55r_/s320/IMG_2828.HEIC" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">This morning my daughters call me</div><div style="text-align: center;">Bring scones</div><div style="text-align: center;">I arrive</div><div style="text-align: center;">They’re sitting outside around</div><div style="text-align: center;">The fire</div><div style="text-align: center;">Smiles</div><div style="text-align: center;">Their children not in sight</div><div style="text-align: center;">Teenagers off on perfect errands</div><div style="text-align: center;">It’s just the three of us</div><div style="text-align: center;">This is home</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p> ****************************************************************</p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQCYg-yOo1SsYEeEWVQtgf0QIyak12oEVulIgCgXwETvmekIovT5-EBA1bJfEtUpjs8cKAXcB2HoCVq31vdfp7cijJrGd9kkGuyVrNYyeoricPp02I9AQpKyH3kPUUBuN9sgcTewqKGe7/s3450/IMG_2840.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3450" data-original-width="2371" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQCYg-yOo1SsYEeEWVQtgf0QIyak12oEVulIgCgXwETvmekIovT5-EBA1bJfEtUpjs8cKAXcB2HoCVq31vdfp7cijJrGd9kkGuyVrNYyeoricPp02I9AQpKyH3kPUUBuN9sgcTewqKGe7/s320/IMG_2840.HEIC" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Pre-covid</i>. It’s a thing. Last February we weren’t even sure what to call it. Coronavirus. Covid-19. Covid. The Rona. Now it’s part of our natural speech. A thing we live with every day. Will we say <i>post-covid</i> at some point? What will it mean?</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: xx-small;">(Here was a postcard that I've had for a long time from a collection of my mother's, who passed ten years ago. It was hard to let go of, but I know it's now going to be in someone else's precious collection.)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"> ****************************</p><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2dj0SJLUU_NPDs3Z9nEuoVs3W4UPxO4cQDHU3Haq2ubK6p4hFmajuL4pSUu5pGs5ec7jriJLsp7W4sTHxRVKeIH_Ssz5GqmP3fa_A8eMOkscCkTMimswVZJxaHrubKHOzIq_FwcfY0Mh_/s3343/IMG_2834.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3343" data-original-width="2310" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2dj0SJLUU_NPDs3Z9nEuoVs3W4UPxO4cQDHU3Haq2ubK6p4hFmajuL4pSUu5pGs5ec7jriJLsp7W4sTHxRVKeIH_Ssz5GqmP3fa_A8eMOkscCkTMimswVZJxaHrubKHOzIq_FwcfY0Mh_/w260-h376/IMG_2834.HEIC" width="260" /></a></div><br /><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br /></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">I pieced ears.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Anybody’s.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I didn’t really
like it, but they asked.</div><div style="text-align: center;">A raw potato
half, held behind the lobe</div> <div style="text-align: center;">A thick darning
needle thrust deep</div><div style="text-align: center;">With thread to
pull through</div><div style="text-align: center;">Black thick</div><div style="text-align: center;">With
instructions</div><div style="text-align: center;">Of care</div><div style="text-align: center;">As if I was a
hippie nurse</div><div style="text-align: center;">A girl for all
ages</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">(I hope people see the humor in the choice of this card. When I came upon it, looking for the right car for the sentiment, I nearly collapsed laughing.)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"> ****************************************************************</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRBi5iocy4qXRIUq8uAFmbzw6UiP3gZ6sVFfaMG5EHRVeiSRrgTcH02zLN-q9JHUbKGqLOhcazjJBRE3p45joV9GDBEvJpLCF91RjCrVixY2kfNvS4QRcVpc-gHrPuIuU2paZxlnbM68jr/s3465/IMG_2827.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2361" data-original-width="3465" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRBi5iocy4qXRIUq8uAFmbzw6UiP3gZ6sVFfaMG5EHRVeiSRrgTcH02zLN-q9JHUbKGqLOhcazjJBRE3p45joV9GDBEvJpLCF91RjCrVixY2kfNvS4QRcVpc-gHrPuIuU2paZxlnbM68jr/s320/IMG_2827.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><o:p> <b><br /></b><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;"><b>The bees used
to bother us</b></span></div></o:p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;"><b>Now it’s a
surprise to have their company</b></span></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;"><b>At the beach or
park or dinner table</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;"><b>We’ve invited
them to come</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;"><b>But they’re
busy attending bee funerals</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">(It's been tough letting go of my Carl Larsson cards. I love them so; I wish I had a large house, with a huge room, where I could hang prints of all his pieces. Such a marvelous artist.)</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">****************************** ******************** ******************************* *******************</span></div><o:p><b> </b><br /></o:p><o:p> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSQELu3uNMalAMb-Ct9EwP_gca3JrXTLFnTXbGeHidlsHQ39qAEqIUEU_1guExL_qYD4TINYfAvjjv1iBZFGkO8AiuQYqvc2di3W_a8Lnto9q3q6zHfxiL7ZCzpgH3DNrqmo4rx4nq5CIa/s3398/IMG_2841.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2272" data-original-width="3398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSQELu3uNMalAMb-Ct9EwP_gca3JrXTLFnTXbGeHidlsHQ39qAEqIUEU_1guExL_qYD4TINYfAvjjv1iBZFGkO8AiuQYqvc2di3W_a8Lnto9q3q6zHfxiL7ZCzpgH3DNrqmo4rx4nq5CIa/s320/IMG_2841.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /></o:p>Some years
are just bad.<br />It’s not only
2020<br />I remember 1994<br />My world
crashed<br />It never was
the same again<br />Nor will this
be<br />We need to find
bright angels<br /> In these years<br />And tell them
to follow us home.<br /><o:p> </o:p></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> (Turner is another fantastic artist. Some of his pieces look like washes and nothing more, until you look closely. This is <i>The Sun of Venice Going to Sea</i>. Absolute magic.)</span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-size: x-small;">******************************************* ************************************************</span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig4U4DqWtmjK8Rzre-_RYahk0CohBFqya7yiVi_DSnK0rDvlK_N5G6sLlmkbMqaerZq8ibsKo0sw-2ZgzP0J3Auzl_shyphenhyphen4j3-WY3PQst6OoHiR7BmK_cDqL7Ai-HhWiuANMhM69RAapdar/s3598/IMG_2849.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3598" data-original-width="2329" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig4U4DqWtmjK8Rzre-_RYahk0CohBFqya7yiVi_DSnK0rDvlK_N5G6sLlmkbMqaerZq8ibsKo0sw-2ZgzP0J3Auzl_shyphenhyphen4j3-WY3PQst6OoHiR7BmK_cDqL7Ai-HhWiuANMhM69RAapdar/s320/IMG_2849.HEIC" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Summer’s
finally come</span></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">now
it’s the end of summer</span></div> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">while
it teased us along for weeks on end.</span></div> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Green
tomatoes – will they turn red</span></div> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">given
the eastern morning sun?</span></div> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Or
will it be another year of</span></div> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">no
other satisfaction than smelling</span></div> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">the
rich deep vines and</span></div> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">pouring
water on the tender arms.</span></div></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: xx-small;"> (I hope Rosina enjoys this card. It's a local artist Molly Norris Curtis. <br /></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: xx-small;"> I love it and send it on to a new home.)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">********** ********** ********** ********** ********** *******</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib2IPS2w7VuYVza3SJ7DEZfApyPdtz6qNrm5l1ZoWxtDFHvV9nPilWdwsoV4ThtIy_T8u8E99QIMRk1HoXSz0nzV50XhYRh7NVTZqiNusZBneW8cUv4cCusGScreWK8hevVfp0HJRvYbEE/s3330/IMG_2850.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2321" data-original-width="3330" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib2IPS2w7VuYVza3SJ7DEZfApyPdtz6qNrm5l1ZoWxtDFHvV9nPilWdwsoV4ThtIy_T8u8E99QIMRk1HoXSz0nzV50XhYRh7NVTZqiNusZBneW8cUv4cCusGScreWK8hevVfp0HJRvYbEE/w314-h219/IMG_2850.HEIC" width="314" /></a></div><br /><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: right;">Floating
around the pool, </div><div style="text-align: right;">holding hands to not drift apart, </div><div style="text-align: right;">giggling, gossiping, </div><div style="text-align: right;">people
thinking you were </div><div style="text-align: right;">my boyfriend. Back to my place </div><div style="text-align: right;">for an intense game of
scrabble, </div><div style="text-align: right;">dinner roasted on my open grill, </div><div style="text-align: right;">then you, </div><div style="text-align: right;">off to meet your
boyfriend. </div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">*****************************************</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdgkxg7RSFvrDmJ9UBKdI8eqsfcYO4EvqEGy4Ny_K-Ng3KXyw7FXYwjJdP5UtlMkyHCdxCknitLVn2F3fytkSUDz0gvNB-dsufqHowLJ7pqCFDHUOuRJ_JLZpezrGnvifzRdwBpusyLlj7/s3315/IMG_2857.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2234" data-original-width="3315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdgkxg7RSFvrDmJ9UBKdI8eqsfcYO4EvqEGy4Ny_K-Ng3KXyw7FXYwjJdP5UtlMkyHCdxCknitLVn2F3fytkSUDz0gvNB-dsufqHowLJ7pqCFDHUOuRJ_JLZpezrGnvifzRdwBpusyLlj7/s320/IMG_2857.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">March </p><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">How we
imagined August. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Or did we even dare to think about </div><div style="text-align: center;">August then? Masks kept our faces </div><div style="text-align: center;">warm and let us scowl at strangers. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Come August, we continued to scowl.</div><div style="text-align: center;">August barely existed as we’d imagined it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(I'm glad I have a photo of this card. It's been hanging around for a long time and I've always loved it.)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">************* ************* *********** ************** ************* *************** **************</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiijB8BMaoDCsFKp7D25Q1c0EAzDKh7roSgIuudLELDd98dAx7AxB1eaG-2NRvqK1AzWOxXjJ-r1cKwXkJFWPQiCSdSQCu-RYzLGeNOuBWeS_erxGMBbeoaYyX1HTzAm5y6dESWR1nFTOgE/s2972/IMG_2838.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2432" data-original-width="2972" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiijB8BMaoDCsFKp7D25Q1c0EAzDKh7roSgIuudLELDd98dAx7AxB1eaG-2NRvqK1AzWOxXjJ-r1cKwXkJFWPQiCSdSQCu-RYzLGeNOuBWeS_erxGMBbeoaYyX1HTzAm5y6dESWR1nFTOgE/s320/IMG_2838.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">Flesh was a
color in the crayon box. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Bandaids were all the same hue.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I lived in a
small town in Washington. 1962.</div><div style="text-align: center;">A young black man
wanted to go to school</div><div style="text-align: center;">JFK federalized the Guard.</div><div style="text-align: center;">In my town is was hard</div><div style="text-align: center;">To imagine. </div></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"> <o:p> </o:p></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p><br /></o:p><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> (A dismal image for what still continues to be a dismal situation.)</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">*******************************************************************************</div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg26BgsyBK4eDLOyMSB5MDzD3xzXhyphenhyphenDDyl1CmulzwNZiQVmK5Vakc29qLcr2mqPI_uCOi9MJ1ghRPaI3IZH0XPEGxN5nUMtzEL6EWjsJyEHA3rj0-mmClSaxC1aOtU8ZvR7Nx1KzZQEPM7Y/s3142/IMG_2839.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3142" data-original-width="2306" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg26BgsyBK4eDLOyMSB5MDzD3xzXhyphenhyphenDDyl1CmulzwNZiQVmK5Vakc29qLcr2mqPI_uCOi9MJ1ghRPaI3IZH0XPEGxN5nUMtzEL6EWjsJyEHA3rj0-mmClSaxC1aOtU8ZvR7Nx1KzZQEPM7Y/s320/IMG_2839.HEIC" /></a></div><br /><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br />Now we’re
looking for good deals</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">On masks but we
want</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">The fashion
statement type, not those plain ol’…</span></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">I like your
Seahawks mask. Where’d you get it?</span></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">The smaller
size for kids</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">With Sponge Bob
and Elsa.</span></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">My
granddaughter has one</span></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">for her Teddy
bear.</span></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">I want one that
says <b>VOTE</b>!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;">********************</span></div><o:p><span style="font-family: courier;"> </span></o:p></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0hiGylJTzH63cAt8BKX4NNZiGF-W1xbRQVFfm4LgdujPfo9ucp1XJYXoTEQGK5S7nQyyjRmhyphenhyphenyufhteD7Xot5cnyUUaa9xhmJ9ad2tqaEx6RnSEUHmSffD-agQG4_aLMiu5-QCAF6_vZ3/s3546/IMG_2851.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2159" data-original-width="3546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0hiGylJTzH63cAt8BKX4NNZiGF-W1xbRQVFfm4LgdujPfo9ucp1XJYXoTEQGK5S7nQyyjRmhyphenhyphenyufhteD7Xot5cnyUUaa9xhmJ9ad2tqaEx6RnSEUHmSffD-agQG4_aLMiu5-QCAF6_vZ3/s320/IMG_2851.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></o:p></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I walked by
your door yesterday</span></div></o:p></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The old wooden stairs</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Up to your loft
where you lived</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">4 floors up
with 2 spoiled cats</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And watched the
night life</span></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and the day
life below in the</span></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">streets of 1<sup>st</sup>
Ave. You live in</span></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Barthelona now
and your</span></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">life has always
had a</span></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">hint of
mystery.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: xx-small;">(This is my last card of artist Marjett Schille. She was a friend of my mom and at one time I had several of her postcards. Mom is long passed and not sure what happened to Marjett but her whimsical art is a treasure.)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">******************** ********************* *************************** *************************</span></div> <div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrsZiaoWSRnhgXUaxPCa6Bb2WZIyW-Deo_VCZmqsHGfzz8bd1fS9j-P9E3OW7s6JnNezMzFST1Ux6WJnlNnqLIaWInQO7m3DZuG2opVCgE3Xz-wAZ5No-caherDKoJSspBLwwtOeFQ4PJG/s3314/IMG_2846.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2274" data-original-width="3314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrsZiaoWSRnhgXUaxPCa6Bb2WZIyW-Deo_VCZmqsHGfzz8bd1fS9j-P9E3OW7s6JnNezMzFST1Ux6WJnlNnqLIaWInQO7m3DZuG2opVCgE3Xz-wAZ5No-caherDKoJSspBLwwtOeFQ4PJG/s320/IMG_2846.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Two roads
diverged in a yellow wood</div></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">And one was
blocked by an impenetrable wall</div><div style="text-align: center;">But the view was
clear</div><div style="text-align: center;">Yet I was
forced to take</div><div style="text-align: center;">The other</div><div style="text-align: center;">Though it
clearly was not my choice</div><div style="text-align: center;">And struggled
on the way to way</div><div style="text-align: center;">It has made all
the difference</div><div style="text-align: center;">Of the
bitterness that surfaces now and again</div><div style="text-align: center;">With
recollection of the road not taken.</div><o:p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div></o:p><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">**** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** *****</div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLFTCZ20HuqUvkV979ECLjXcqq85rovelP0-tTxLYsAemWfYyFl5X2N1F-A4ln_ZxIXD8C-cja5AinRm3WhBDvQggmvIEwvrC9tb8Fh8ffa4YKfCcY3vXG4sBlmeTD6dc1GysrbRhpb8Fs/s3299/IMG_2853.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3299" data-original-width="2024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLFTCZ20HuqUvkV979ECLjXcqq85rovelP0-tTxLYsAemWfYyFl5X2N1F-A4ln_ZxIXD8C-cja5AinRm3WhBDvQggmvIEwvrC9tb8Fh8ffa4YKfCcY3vXG4sBlmeTD6dc1GysrbRhpb8Fs/s320/IMG_2853.HEIC" /></a></div><br /><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">I struggle to
be a poet</div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">It’s like time is against me, </div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">and technology thumbs its nose </div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">at me as
I take two steps forward</div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">and three steps back. Sometimes</div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">the stumbling gets the better of me.</div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">When I fall, I get back up again</div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Slower each time.</div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">It's a good thing I'm not a pianist </div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Or a brain surgeon.</div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">**********************************************************************************</div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYa07gVnUJL8kVzazoKFXygZXHpFWwK-P16rDvjX2lRgs4qUw_gcMMN6M5hO_ZYQcJDDwvOfLN14tvV4LQDZPp-dDOhbsfOiUxWUuQANA0x31m51gtBxkOwGPzSrP-QabejqC5ZoIE5fd/s3455/IMG_2865.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2389" data-original-width="3455" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYa07gVnUJL8kVzazoKFXygZXHpFWwK-P16rDvjX2lRgs4qUw_gcMMN6M5hO_ZYQcJDDwvOfLN14tvV4LQDZPp-dDOhbsfOiUxWUuQANA0x31m51gtBxkOwGPzSrP-QabejqC5ZoIE5fd/s320/IMG_2865.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">To sir with
love… Sidney Poitier. </div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">White girls could love him </div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">like my mom loved Harry
Belafonte </div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">and Nat King Cole. Then Janis Ian </div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">wrote that song. And we nearly got whiplash </div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">Wanting what we'd never wanted before.</div> <o:p> <br /></o:p><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">******************** ********************** ****************** *****************</div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAG6bjBJYG9S11JZZ0-kQnCxkook5G3oJ0dsccQfs2lbRlVU_hEdvc6CCsjI9pTWu7MJn1WNSxNvEBMWgFfGHaMab3y7Bg9yn_ESxJkbYEPxXniCGToyw-2jdMv4LFZ_XlEJOa_H_MXn5n/s2828/IMG_2855.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2156" data-original-width="2828" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAG6bjBJYG9S11JZZ0-kQnCxkook5G3oJ0dsccQfs2lbRlVU_hEdvc6CCsjI9pTWu7MJn1WNSxNvEBMWgFfGHaMab3y7Bg9yn_ESxJkbYEPxXniCGToyw-2jdMv4LFZ_XlEJOa_H_MXn5n/s320/IMG_2855.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Morning with
dew lashing my bare toes </div></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">as I walk the dog, hoping </div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">warm weather will last into
September, </div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">a small fog hangs at the end of the road, crows </div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">and seagulls
competing in the big green </div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">bins for morsels, a moon still pasted </div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">on the
horizon, gossamer, fading fast.</div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p><b><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: xx-small;">(J.M.W. Turner again. Magical shapes on canvas.)</span></b></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">**********************************************************************************</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitoDOmQB55soMJqHAShCMuJdHxCsBejH1KhS1pVpWWaXrElf20jdayKlq5iFegNfjpuReLV5ZHKq5-ruLv9yfO8sBMy1MlX0rYX-FNx7Hndd9iNl_z83WFvpDz9uTvzH2phQAIZlWb9UHU/s3394/IMG_2842.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitoDOmQB55soMJqHAShCMuJdHxCsBejH1KhS1pVpWWaXrElf20jdayKlq5iFegNfjpuReLV5ZHKq5-ruLv9yfO8sBMy1MlX0rYX-FNx7Hndd9iNl_z83WFvpDz9uTvzH2phQAIZlWb9UHU/s320/IMG_2842.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Mom had
something against those who sleep in the morning, pulling us out of bed to do
chores on weekends and summer days. Now I luxuriate, catching up. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">(Carl Larsson again, such clarity, as opposed to Turner)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p>******** ********** *********** ******** ********* ******** *********</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2vhnaoYKL3KtZRhZUlb7AGuv8__ZrONhp5tNFtj4lr_qOJ1DFZVl8D1oVUDajC6wl-AQJAjFamODn33jQyzG0P-zGmlLy51XAcheeN_IH9cPmvpmSA28qWNA1afLXA23HATqO9xDcBAxU/s3513/IMG_2843.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1967" data-original-width="3513" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2vhnaoYKL3KtZRhZUlb7AGuv8__ZrONhp5tNFtj4lr_qOJ1DFZVl8D1oVUDajC6wl-AQJAjFamODn33jQyzG0P-zGmlLy51XAcheeN_IH9cPmvpmSA28qWNA1afLXA23HATqO9xDcBAxU/s320/IMG_2843.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>We once
wandered through the Farmer’s Market, making slow decisions, back and forth
from one vendor to another. Now we hurry, moved by a line behind us, masked and
distanced, willing their way in, while we wind our way out.<p></p><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: xx-small;">(These are almost the last of my Van Gogh's)</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEcx1Vdw6YNJY-US7LxuZwhgPu9baFDkTSKWFGVsTO6Ht7zkaa220Myp3nU1DgHP-qEF9DmTP2QQH0tGQyl2NVSo7U01YYGtEA6ql80KwJCzSMOBB-2FN2TgfLjWRsUQYAOWGhPi-J0Apw/s3370/IMG_2848.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2447" data-original-width="3370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEcx1Vdw6YNJY-US7LxuZwhgPu9baFDkTSKWFGVsTO6Ht7zkaa220Myp3nU1DgHP-qEF9DmTP2QQH0tGQyl2NVSo7U01YYGtEA6ql80KwJCzSMOBB-2FN2TgfLjWRsUQYAOWGhPi-J0Apw/s320/IMG_2848.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><b>I keep
missing the moonrise<br />and now when I see it, <br />high in the sky, <br />I mourn a little,
not being able to <br />garner the energy I could <br />if I’d only pay attention <br />and make
myself available to the sky.</b></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"> *************************************************</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUHilcOOLkDxma9q83IiauiA61bBvi0-RmTi1Ze-0fTPz1LL0qIeDYfMPaLwmID5qglLAuvDZfW7tway4FHxnTqvyE_TZHg6ZfW0cWFcYuoM2JwC-xIOU5toMGdAaGip7MeQQywnvJGpqs/s3466/IMG_2847.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2514" data-original-width="3466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUHilcOOLkDxma9q83IiauiA61bBvi0-RmTi1Ze-0fTPz1LL0qIeDYfMPaLwmID5qglLAuvDZfW7tway4FHxnTqvyE_TZHg6ZfW0cWFcYuoM2JwC-xIOU5toMGdAaGip7MeQQywnvJGpqs/s320/IMG_2847.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sunday
morning on </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">the waterfront. Fog has just lifted </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">with a chill still in the air, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">promise of a true summer day, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">with everything going my way.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">***************************************************************************************</span></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi5JsFQaNHXUD1qlWcKapr8yyjCm2e3DvqB72mCl9fj6ZxxxFocatBLe8WeNQSvpK9Me_o_vv9mMDazQg9hyFJMNbHTPuYETDLpBlMxhyphenhyphenGudPYgza5lmHxdyXsm3Iyr3j0ItEq_dAOLVRz/s3519/IMG_2852.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2564" data-original-width="3519" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi5JsFQaNHXUD1qlWcKapr8yyjCm2e3DvqB72mCl9fj6ZxxxFocatBLe8WeNQSvpK9Me_o_vv9mMDazQg9hyFJMNbHTPuYETDLpBlMxhyphenhyphenGudPYgza5lmHxdyXsm3Iyr3j0ItEq_dAOLVRz/s320/IMG_2852.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">When I lived
in Mexico and people would ask where I was on vacation from, I told them I was
on vacation from life and expected to last until I died. Unfortunately I only
lasted until I had to pull up tent stakes, sell the condo and use different
talents. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> *****************************************</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzzeY0uiG9XWh0Y5b2o9Y_nbtZNuZqxPNc-POEFUTKZFGxmLv8QRF8cttVM0GRCiUJmM-7o29k1PLe-WP6wcNHSz5ZA7liyz9wjmB3syk433KiVFt4LOXi_hBMvQlHOJq9prN0TV4GKHhq/s3423/IMG_2856.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3423" data-original-width="2278" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzzeY0uiG9XWh0Y5b2o9Y_nbtZNuZqxPNc-POEFUTKZFGxmLv8QRF8cttVM0GRCiUJmM-7o29k1PLe-WP6wcNHSz5ZA7liyz9wjmB3syk433KiVFt4LOXi_hBMvQlHOJq9prN0TV4GKHhq/s320/IMG_2856.HEIC" /></a></div><br /><o:p><br /></o:p><p></p><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">Our flag
used to represent our nation, .<br />not it only seems to represent <br />some of us. <br />But who? <br />Which side am I on? <br />Even as I search the boundaries <br />I don't know which piece of cloth <br />To use in case of surrender.</div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> ***************************</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJqaWATLpZCqnKT0igEL84qaDiXx6tuyxi9GLS2uqXSw0HkiQB3c0SU-XiVKh-Yb59I8JmLSw6QH3M4HmZd_h6eXsb7a6nC-kLxMYuxHzVB6vflhegsTLcCdGFzXaRt1hkWXjQXCjv8pz/s3513/IMG_2829.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="3513" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJqaWATLpZCqnKT0igEL84qaDiXx6tuyxi9GLS2uqXSw0HkiQB3c0SU-XiVKh-Yb59I8JmLSw6QH3M4HmZd_h6eXsb7a6nC-kLxMYuxHzVB6vflhegsTLcCdGFzXaRt1hkWXjQXCjv8pz/s320/IMG_2829.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">In the park
I hear a child crying, </div><div style="text-align: center;">everyone looks. </div><div style="text-align: center;">His father bends to commiserate </div><div style="text-align: center;">while
people crank their necks </div><div style="text-align: center;">to hear the pleas </div><div style="text-align: center;">of a woe begotten preschooler </div><div style="text-align: center;">in
need of another popsicle.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">*****************************</div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHm5NhrlZDy953D0yuKqrjqCO9000oLAfCCgKIr1uTmwJXyG2nAWyPHOVJTMhaknn5b-wZ8WoP1WYQ3RzAVy2N2dQrwvVT8O7EiyyhOd3SaEp4DJlgqAMSKz4nD50ps4rfuaF_Gwooen5f/s3231/IMG_2836.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2325" data-original-width="3231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHm5NhrlZDy953D0yuKqrjqCO9000oLAfCCgKIr1uTmwJXyG2nAWyPHOVJTMhaknn5b-wZ8WoP1WYQ3RzAVy2N2dQrwvVT8O7EiyyhOd3SaEp4DJlgqAMSKz4nD50ps4rfuaF_Gwooen5f/s320/IMG_2836.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: right;">Three Days</div><div style="text-align: right;">Feb 28 - the Opera. <i>Yardbird</i>, half empty seats; </div><div style="text-align: right;">after all, the opera is a
bastion of the elderly. </div><div style="text-align: right;">Nervous, we sat close, far from others. </div><div style="text-align: right;">Feb 29 - the
school auction, half empty seats, </div><div style="text-align: right;">knocking elbows with friends. </div><div style="text-align: right;">No hugging,
shaking hands. </div><div style="text-align: right;">No masks. Yet. </div><div style="text-align: right;">The school made almost $1 million , </div><div style="text-align: right;">so somebody
was there besides us. High Hopes. </div><div style="text-align: right;">March 1 - family breakfast, still no masks. </div><div style="text-align: right;">Kisses
hugs. Last ones for three months.</div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: right;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p>**********************************************************************************</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixpkoCuSg-ehyphenhyphenhe9W1vRpDoi6FwK6byAiKJ70xnnXfO1-oHLmwef6_wbzEbG7FhPxXcvaKA3YRiePIX1SurFRjm48-3smXVPgLFGAEevOhJrDhMl10sDojL-R0R8BPZ2lU4rbuZ5lZhIWO/s3265/IMG_2837.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2235" data-original-width="3265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixpkoCuSg-ehyphenhyphenhe9W1vRpDoi6FwK6byAiKJ70xnnXfO1-oHLmwef6_wbzEbG7FhPxXcvaKA3YRiePIX1SurFRjm48-3smXVPgLFGAEevOhJrDhMl10sDojL-R0R8BPZ2lU4rbuZ5lZhIWO/s320/IMG_2837.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">You’re a
different person now. You’re </div><div style="text-align: center;">Philippo with short hair and </div><div style="text-align: center;">a mind boggling diagnosis.
You’re </div><div style="text-align: center;">still as carefree and goofy, but your beaming face but now </div><div style="text-align: center;">shows the serious decisions you must make, </div><div style="text-align: center;">and only you can be in charge. Now </div><div style="text-align: center;">you know who
loved you’ve always been. </div></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">In the clearing stands a boxer – </div><div style="text-align: center;">a fighter by his
trade.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;">(When I went to pull a postcard out of the pile for this sentiment, my hand grabbed this Carl Larsson for our friend Philippo, who will fly this weekend from Puerto Vallarta to Los Angeles to begin treatment for brain cancer, an astonishing revelation that brought his little community in the jungles of Yelapa together in their customary way, Mexicans and gringos alike. It's been a long process already for him and it's just begun. My wish for Philippo is the peace this room conveys.)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">**********************************************</div> <o:p><div style="text-align: right;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxvvZRyShvPh9x8mccLCgJOTw7XcYFogaBYwc0mK86_8BBUjihnozvQ2NMo06yzC7n7yeGLKWvBK3tdnJAaNG82EeS_g-VXUPKQX3Jy_Le8CsR8VFliErlukZkW1dOxeDTMi_IW9fOCNUT/s3239/IMG_2830.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3239" data-original-width="2332" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxvvZRyShvPh9x8mccLCgJOTw7XcYFogaBYwc0mK86_8BBUjihnozvQ2NMo06yzC7n7yeGLKWvBK3tdnJAaNG82EeS_g-VXUPKQX3Jy_Le8CsR8VFliErlukZkW1dOxeDTMi_IW9fOCNUT/s320/IMG_2830.HEIC" /></a></div><br /></div></o:p></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p></o:p></p><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">I don’t
always trust Siri and Alexa. <br />Are they really my friends? <br />Do they like me? <br />Are
they telling me the truth? <br />I don’t think they’re government spies <br />but I do
think they would stand me up <br />for coffee and scones. <br />They’d probably meet with
each other <br />and talk behind my kitchen.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: xx-small;"><b>(I can't describe my delight at finding this particular card for Siri and Alexa, no two ghostly roommates.)</b></span><br /> <o:p style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </o:p></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"> <span style="font-family: times;"> ***************************************************</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidDdbzTDrTqJmA-dS_F0OMU-vLKyxJB6e-nTlIswwX8KiMzTXICFCRBjTqRPyVipXeDX6dhbBxoE8HayeutF6Ze2zRAK8yySmDipFLje1oRNs4ybkIO0Du8g8AXkPCDreMt1G3oQ6VQpnH/s3217/IMG_2831.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2405" data-original-width="3217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidDdbzTDrTqJmA-dS_F0OMU-vLKyxJB6e-nTlIswwX8KiMzTXICFCRBjTqRPyVipXeDX6dhbBxoE8HayeutF6Ze2zRAK8yySmDipFLje1oRNs4ybkIO0Du8g8AXkPCDreMt1G3oQ6VQpnH/s320/IMG_2831.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Writing is
the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s also the thing that makes me happiest. I
live between berating myself and reading something over and over because I know
it’s good. I’ve lost all my writing jobs due to covid and now I write for
myself though I can’t even seem to post a blog. There’s no closure with writing. It
never stops. There’s always something new.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;">*<br />*<br />*</span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">Thank you for reading</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><br /><p></p>Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-31676594467422590382020-03-22T16:11:00.000-07:002020-03-22T16:11:37.409-07:00Covid-19 and Me-70<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYivWm_dwNu1aPa6AAEgxfIMOdSQ-gB4PZ73m1B-jsY6YZqqwtPBECJTk4b4781mNFWTp0rSNnNUK0c2LbP2NUY5JhooUSBeXM1ylhnnUbL2lajxX5zMxwHPt9HUCxBP-LulrHpStdT-Zx/s1600/daffodil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYivWm_dwNu1aPa6AAEgxfIMOdSQ-gB4PZ73m1B-jsY6YZqqwtPBECJTk4b4781mNFWTp0rSNnNUK0c2LbP2NUY5JhooUSBeXM1ylhnnUbL2lajxX5zMxwHPt9HUCxBP-LulrHpStdT-Zx/s320/daffodil.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Remember that poem about a crowd of daffodils? William
Wordsworth; <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45521/i-wandered-lonely-as-a-cloud">I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud.</a> This Daffy-Dills, yours truly, is eschewing
crowds these days and considers this poem in a deeply personal way. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m completely isolated, doing zoom sessions with family and taking
solo walks on the Interurban Trail, which runs behind my abode. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve lost
over half my income but I’m one of the lucky ones. I have a place to live and
enough monthly money to get me through. While I'm in favor of making health care
workers the priority when it comes to triage, it also frightens me
to think of myself expiring, isolated and ignored, <a href="https://www.npr.org/2020/03/21/819645036/u-s-hospitals-prepare-guidelines-for-who-gets-care-amid-coronavirus-surge">because of age</a>. In a worst-case scenario, I would not be at the top of the totem pole.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t have positive proof but it’s
reasonable to say I already had Covid-19. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
January 20<sup>th</sup>, I went to Olympia to participate in
Lobby Day. That evening, my friend Lea and I met at a great club, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/rhythmandrye/">Rhythm & Rye</a> to see <a href="https://www.jovisan.net/">Jovino Santos Neto Quinteto</a>. We felt pretty lucky to find them there
the same night. I was feeling particularly healthy and youthful! The next day was wet and cold and we
gathered in the belly of the Capital building. We met with representatives
and I was able to chat with Senator Jesse Solomon about issues important to
voters in our district. In the afternoon, I bid goodbye to my friends and left the chilly basement of the Dome, headed for the long drive
home to Shoreline, in the pouring rain and ensuing darkness. On the way down
the mall, I slipped on a patch of water-soaked moss. I fell hard on my butt, catching myself
with my gloveless palms. Muddy and soaked, I got to my car, and merged into traffic. When I arrived home, I stripped my mud-caked clothes, tossed them in the washer and went to bed.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was sore the next day but dealt with it.
Thursday wasn’t much better and by Friday, I felt sick. At the end of that day,
I shook so badly, I had a hard time getting my key in the lock. Mind you, it’d been five years since I’d been ill. It felt like a personal affront to me; an attack.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next day, my daughter Olivia took me to Urgent Care; before
we could hardly get a foot in the door, they sent us to the Edmonds ER. I was
tested for flu, had a lung x-ray, and my throat swabbed. The flu-test came back
negative but the doctor prescribed Tamiflu anyway. It was $101 at
Walgreens. Seniors with Medicare not being covered for <a href="https://www.singlecare.com/prescription/tamiflu?utm_medium=paid-search&utm_source=google-sc&utm_campaign=1799157990&utm_adgroup=67338630657&utm_term=%2Bprice%20%2Bof%20%2Btamiflu&utm_content=344449355168&matchtype=b&pos=&device=c&mkwid=s|dc_pcrid_344449355168_pkw_%2Bprice%20%2Bof%20%2Btamiflu_pmt_b&segments=&gclid=Cj0KCQjwmdzzBRC7ARIsANdqRRmF-ODQ-6UAfUfHlWKu5fOGlrM1a33fdxc9Dx1YUWdMSw5xMNm4C9oaAh78EALw_wcB">Tamiflu</a>. I later discovered that Bartells down the
block was charging $175. The Tamiflu was totally ineffectual.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7s5N1F-qHM0aomvDqVGgSN_-ut8YpYjBH-iFNSc50f9nEzmfBNe7A9sFWqbQS0izIUB8-N2KzLASVkt_PoM1s7l7ppUWzYCb5jo2_Hl78ZQGP8kUiExLIch4uxBBcKzzs3FCI-bFqLibd/s1600/pillow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7s5N1F-qHM0aomvDqVGgSN_-ut8YpYjBH-iFNSc50f9nEzmfBNe7A9sFWqbQS0izIUB8-N2KzLASVkt_PoM1s7l7ppUWzYCb5jo2_Hl78ZQGP8kUiExLIch4uxBBcKzzs3FCI-bFqLibd/s200/pillow.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MY PILLOW</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By Monday I
was much worse, had missed Sunday brunch with my writers’ group; my granddaughter Mila’s singing performance on Saturday afternoon; and Saturday night opera Eugene
Onegin with my daughter, Emily.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I saw my primary physician and she did more tests, with no
great reveal. I eventually was diagnosed with <a href="https://www.healthline.com/health/acute-upper-respiratory-infection#causes">extreme upper respiratory tract infection<b>.</b> </a>Wednesday morning, January 29<sup>th</sup>, I wondered if I'd ever get out of bed, but started to make a turnaround on Thursday, and by
Friday, I couldn’t stand myself any longer. Clean sheets and
a shower produced a new but partially broken me. It was January 31st and no one here had heard about coronavirus in China. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a slow recovery. I had a tough time getting my
stamina back and accounted for that to being seventy years old. I’m pretty on top
of my game for an old fart but worried that I’d had some kind of setback. My
throat continued to be terribly sore and I had a nagging cough. My doctor ordered new
tests; the throat was a major concern. Everything came back normal, so I was
out of the woods, but mending was obviously going to take awhile. (A shout-out to my daughters who kept me alive and supplied with popsicles, the only thing I could eat for days.)</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnPSctEluWW0SWeXOVDPA3_NOyZpaNYIGldPKWVvPSWmQzLC6WBfdj8HCuNQ-Na89zEWIvHJqwGx_aptwPkbYvQGLIxtlK3KC-ODl2GSDjiH1k6EIJkKnjl-saKz3PUTIPAmsPq1xcn6OS/s1600/candle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnPSctEluWW0SWeXOVDPA3_NOyZpaNYIGldPKWVvPSWmQzLC6WBfdj8HCuNQ-Na89zEWIvHJqwGx_aptwPkbYvQGLIxtlK3KC-ODl2GSDjiH1k6EIJkKnjl-saKz3PUTIPAmsPq1xcn6OS/s200/candle.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MY CANDLE</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u>One month later</u>, on February 24<sup>th</sup>, I wrote to my
doctor again, complaining about the cough and I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">still</i> a sore throat; should I be concerned. Here's her
response: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: red;">I wish I
could help you feel better faster! If it helps, I saw a patient today who has a
very similar story - was sick, now generally better, but with an awful sore
throat and a little cough. Maybe it's a particular virus that's going around?
I'm really not sure. </span><span style="color: #363636;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That was February 24<sup>th</sup>. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Less than a week later,
things started to get crazy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On March 3rd, my doctor put me in touch with the Department of
Health. I explained I had not been traveling. There was little anyone could do, but being in a database was not a bad
idea. Since that time, I’ve received a total of four calls from the DOH. At the
time, it was nearly impossible to test someone who they believed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">might have</i> the coronavirus, let alone test for antibodies. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
January 8<sup>th</sup> was the first day of winter quarter
at Shoreline College, where there is a <a href="https://www.shoreline.edu/international/">comprehensive program for Chinese students</a>. They learn English and once they've mastered it, move on to universities. It’s part of their
immersion process. Students who, in the past have lived at my property, are now attending
institutions such as Penn State and Cornell. Since the on-campus living fills up fast, I always get a flood of these kids right before a new quarter begins, fresh from China.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The week prior, I did tours of my available units for quite a few new arrivals. One drove a brand new, temp-plates, white
Mercedes and had two friends accompany him. As is my nature, I shake hands,
which I also did with these three young men. One of them seemed to be coming down
with a cold. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It would seem likely, that if I did have the coronavirus in January, the closeness with possible applicants such as these, would have been
the source. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The fourth and last person I talked to at the DOH asked me the same
questions the former interviewers had but wanted to end our conversation with an
admonishment. She let me know that, whether it was indeed Covid-19 that I had contracted,
it was unlikely I'd gotten it from Chinese students. It was my turn to ask questions. She read back to me undetailed notes from my original phone call interview. Making me out to be a racist made me feel almost
as sick at the virus itself and I know the ineptitude of one notetaker is not a reflection on the entire system.<br />
<br />
However, what's happening at the top is terrifying. Hearing the bully in the White House refer to Covid-19
as the China-Virus makes me grind my teeth. We know that’s not the case. And when do we stop the uninformative, press conference of the arrogant and dishonest? One tiny man tries to get the truth to the public but he's clearly outnumbered.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think we may be in for a long haul. As I hope we'll get
back to close-to-normal life, I rely on the fact there are ways to stay in
touch and keep from being idle. Take walks with friends and stay six
feet apart. Zoom and Facetime with family and friends. Clean cupboards and go
through photos. Read books that have been gathering dust. Write if you’re a
writer. Paint if you’re a painter. Sand a piece of furniture and order paint
online to create a masterpiece. Bake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Exercise
(especially if you eat what you bake.) Call old friends and send emails. Catch
up. Wash, wash, wash your hands. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We will get through this.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thanks for reading. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-46368010077543778222020-02-23T13:33:00.003-08:002020-02-23T13:33:53.672-08:00Take Care of Your Chicken<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Not one given to speeches, famous for attending a
media event and saying “I’m only here so I won’t get fined,” Marshawn Lynch,
running back for the Seattle Seahawks, shared valuable words of wisdom,
following the Hawks loss to the Green Bay Packers in Wisconsin on January 12,
2020.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #fff2cc; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>“This is a vulnerable time for a
lot of these young dudes. You feel me? They don’t be taking care of their
chicken right, you feel me? So, if they was me, or if I had the opportunity to
let these little young [players] know somethin’, I say take care of your money,
African, ’cause that shit don’t last forever.”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #fff2cc; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1-hJ5WZhSeFviwRFwvTGfiwptQNpgIHHdZsYqRHXXWniPu-0qPJU1T-JK82wg8mmmZXfYT9rvqE4hOrIwFz6aPH4Pv1CpusthqNMPnHuOJ1KbNeTjr9WYdx9FAdMHClvlHHKA4Dg1qjGt/s1600/marshawn+lynch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1-hJ5WZhSeFviwRFwvTGfiwptQNpgIHHdZsYqRHXXWniPu-0qPJU1T-JK82wg8mmmZXfYT9rvqE4hOrIwFz6aPH4Pv1CpusthqNMPnHuOJ1KbNeTjr9WYdx9FAdMHClvlHHKA4Dg1qjGt/s200/marshawn+lynch.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marshawn Lynch<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #fff2cc; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #fff2cc; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #fff2cc; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Retired at 33, Lynch was called back
by the Seahawks in an attempt to help regroup after several devastating
injuries left the team sadly unprepared for the playoffs. It also raised hopes
and spirit for fans. Though they didn’t make it to the Super Bowl and we don’t
know if 24 will be back again next season, this we do know: Marshawn Lynch is a
man of few words but he definitely knows what he’s talking about when he expresses himself. Lynch is well-loved by his teammates and fans. His sense of humor and
respect give him an edge that we don’t see enough of in the NFL. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #fff2cc; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #fff2cc; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In this clip posted<a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/B7HZXhDn6s-/"> on January 9 to his Instagram account</a>, Lynch is seen joking with another
veteran who also returned to the Seahawks in a time of need, Robert Turbin. The
two old men purposefully seat fellow Seahawk/cornerback Tre Flowers between them and Lynch gives Flowers a
humorous preamble to the chicken speech he would give after the Green Bay loss.
Consider that Flowers was signed by the Seahawks to a 4-year, $2.75 million
contract with a signing bonus of $298,729. It’s good to hear from Uncle Beastmode
about how to take care of your chicken. Seeing that Flowers
graduated from Oklahoma State with a degree in management, he's probably inclined to listen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #fff2cc; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #fff2cc; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I get the chicken story in a way that I have one of my own. About twenty years ago, I had the honor of giving a
ride home to the grandmother of a young man, César, who was at the time, in my
employ. This was in Mexico and his <i>Abuelita</i> lived high in the mountains of
Nayarit. I had a 4-wheel truck and nothing else to do; it was off-season,
summer. César drove, as he knew the way and the terrain. I sat in the tiny jump
seat in the back and hung out the window, as far as possible in the humid September
heat. We crossed the same river four times, as it wound down the mountains, and at
each crossing, minus a bridge, we watched for crocodiles. Never saw one, but
the point would’ve been to not run them over.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4FiJdC5TmC5Dq1sfPT-LBQNH4ZzwIUEdp3FkzhJxmX4WUcqAaFvPdDRTnu4dbB0Ue9PXHqJfbUp7ZUSsWSZYLuyZH3ffjzeWfCiGwpHo9jsZM_5IljGK7QhXPM3IemBlQl_0SoSzV1A29/s1600/Cesar+Mismaloya.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="411" data-original-width="640" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4FiJdC5TmC5Dq1sfPT-LBQNH4ZzwIUEdp3FkzhJxmX4WUcqAaFvPdDRTnu4dbB0Ue9PXHqJfbUp7ZUSsWSZYLuyZH3ffjzeWfCiGwpHo9jsZM_5IljGK7QhXPM3IemBlQl_0SoSzV1A29/s200/Cesar+Mismaloya.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">César</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #fff2cc; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #fff2cc; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A day spent in a tiny village with
no electricity or indoor plumbing, grandmother’s stove a hand-hewn clay oven
that stretched up through the ceiling, and the ubiquitous chickens wandering in
one end of the house and out the other, with the prized pet rooster, pictured
here, was an honorable time for me. Not many are invited in and hosted as I was
that special day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5PcWkNXKhk5UBqLWhb5-iEk3W9H1PxHJHM0dkW1JcnZRsBtDyZXdsIovNcpX5_ULWhYoO2CODL9fvUEcTzPkkxC9tSVnCfQYee1ub1J-wF_hFRrFUABtoNC5Fw8jbZbk5ioS1Gvpviias/s1600/rooster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #fff2cc; clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="469" data-original-width="345" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5PcWkNXKhk5UBqLWhb5-iEk3W9H1PxHJHM0dkW1JcnZRsBtDyZXdsIovNcpX5_ULWhYoO2CODL9fvUEcTzPkkxC9tSVnCfQYee1ub1J-wF_hFRrFUABtoNC5Fw8jbZbk5ioS1Gvpviias/s200/rooster.jpg" width="146" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">Abuelita's Prized Rooster<br /></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">A couple weeks later, César showed
up at my condo in Puerto Vallarta with this lovely resin chicken. He cheerfully
explained his grandmother’s gratitude for the ride. Not only had we delivered
her back to her village, we brought with us months of supplies, packed into the
bed of my truck. We also had coolers full of freshly caught fish, some of which
we feasted on that afternoon, the rest to be dried and smoked. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">The live chicken the
grandmother had gifted to me would not go over well in an urban condominium
complex in downtown Puerto Vallarta but I was blessed with a replica to remind
me of that day. Though it was over twenty years ago, the chicken is still with
me, guarding my entry, with my trusty golfing monkey, who has seen better days.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3t_e3exGgKd3r3bbhuSVoX_xxuXs-ATVEBRLo-bDa0CBM9KSv9flQTbsN2R1wBITW6XmZ9Wf6si1U7v4dACi4HoibgxcJfHwXtKUkE28WuqIcSGXzMgy1gNEqtuMuGcUcc9fWWuAJGAAG/s1600/chicken+and+monkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: #fff2cc; clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="490" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3t_e3exGgKd3r3bbhuSVoX_xxuXs-ATVEBRLo-bDa0CBM9KSv9flQTbsN2R1wBITW6XmZ9Wf6si1U7v4dACi4HoibgxcJfHwXtKUkE28WuqIcSGXzMgy1gNEqtuMuGcUcc9fWWuAJGAAG/s320/chicken+and+monkey.jpg" width="245" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">The Chicken and The Monkey</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #fff2cc; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">How is this all related to a
running back with the Seattle Seahawks? As I grow older, the importance of
planning my future taps on my shoulder every day. I have been very lucky.
I didn’t always take the best care of my chicken, not just once in my life; living
lavishly, not deeply feeling true gratitude for gifts given, both physical and
otherwise, not committing myself to causes that make a difference in a
diminishing world, not acknowledging how important it is to look after others,
though they have no way of giving back. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #fff2cc; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #fff2cc; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The chicken represents all these things
and unless we closely listen to the messenger, we are likely to miss the
message. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-28480703753685211322019-12-31T17:15:00.000-08:002019-12-31T17:17:07.851-08:00Por Fin - August Post Card Challenge<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHrXahoViODs2wQE1TYS2gmUDayawjVNhMWeH8cfQN94Sw8rDNolyf-BaTh1PFnwY7JJa6WHmoMWQO6rhtTM9c8c5_gXXE0BgNiXgMLEi59w5Ol72PZVBsxlRclCOEl09rYrR7cMrS93Ij/s1600/Aug+19+post+card+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: arial, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /><br /><img border="0" data-original-height="616" data-original-width="406" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHrXahoViODs2wQE1TYS2gmUDayawjVNhMWeH8cfQN94Sw8rDNolyf-BaTh1PFnwY7JJa6WHmoMWQO6rhtTM9c8c5_gXXE0BgNiXgMLEi59w5Ol72PZVBsxlRclCOEl09rYrR7cMrS93Ij/s200/Aug+19+post+card+8.jpg" width="131" /></a><br />
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August seems like such a long time ago but in the world of words, it's simply part of another season. I love the postcard challenge every August and try to form an intelligible blog of cards sent and received but this year, I've fallen more behind than ever before. Yet, here they are...por fin...<i>at last</i> in Spanish. Sadly, this isn't all of them, due to my poor record-keeping this past summer. I bring in the new year with wishes for everyone and plans to do a much better job keeping up with my blog. </div>
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I hope you enjoy these poems, the cards that were chosen to carry them on their journey and invite you to peruse other posts on my blog. </div>
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Richard Novak talked me to sleep. He came and sat on the big Naugahyde chair and spoke softly, while I nursed one baby, sandwiched between me and her brother, whose back I rubbed with my spare hand. I tended to drift off to sleep somewhere in the middle of Richard's gentle words that hung in the shadows of my California sunset room. I never knew where Richard lived but at some point, he became quiet, left and went to that home, night after night. I never thanked him. I found his obituary online. Richard had so much room in his heart. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu7u_aBohyphenhyphenPDFJIaafYNyhedn4ry9eNviQpYf9X_6M6M3WFabpGsn50Pm1UvEdmfkW1lLE56oZPeuAcnPLNiakhCDoCE1Bn-ugoGKjVpIkbr62B2mqpQmkLg4-wSTneDT4TMXaYrJKoIMv/s1600/Aug+19+post+card+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="289" data-original-width="459" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu7u_aBohyphenhyphenPDFJIaafYNyhedn4ry9eNviQpYf9X_6M6M3WFabpGsn50Pm1UvEdmfkW1lLE56oZPeuAcnPLNiakhCDoCE1Bn-ugoGKjVpIkbr62B2mqpQmkLg4-wSTneDT4TMXaYrJKoIMv/s320/Aug+19+post+card+2.jpg" width="320" /></a>The morning of the Sylmar earthquake (1971), all I wanted to do was sit still, and hang onto something, anything. I didn't even want to be in a moving car. Aftershocks knocked me around, just when I'd get my bearings again. A big bang started it, with bright flashing in the dark. The sun rose suddenly and we didn't know what happened. Sixty people died.</div>
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Dad would gargle his Listerine and we would laugh and laugh. I wish I could remember these things <i>with</i> you today. I walked by our old house when you were dying... just a street away, and there lay before me a multitude of images; our childhood. </div>
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Frances (our grandniece, age 10, who looks so much like us in so many ways) walked with me one of those days. We sought out the handprints, initials, and dates you and I left behind in the concrete that Dad poured so many years ago. We are history, you and I. </div>
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We used to say, in
full seriousness, our mother would live to be 100. It took us all by surprise.
She died at 89 after a diagnosis of brain cancer two months prior. We were
filled with sorrow (and some with remorse.) She was not! At 89, she's stoically
claimed she's seen enough and was ready to find out what came next.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; text-align: center;">Pick up your skirt! Lift your knees and raise your arms! Yell out with a vengeance and a grin! It's time to win! Ring the alarms and wave the banners! Carry your pride high! Forget your manners! Tell the world we're on our way! Dammit! Women will save the day!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; text-align: center;">I used to walk across the Aurora Bridge, up and down Queen Anne and
downtown, through the market, over Capitol Hill where my bro lived on Roy
Street, up to the U District. It was a mission-like walk, directionless, yet
focused in an odd way. I didn't always know where I was going until I got
there. Doors were always left open in those times. 1968</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;">Living killed my
brother. Years, he lived so close to the edge, Falls were inevitable, but he
always managed to claw his way back up to paths with brambles and beauty. He
was never hostage to the truth and has been called both a "man of few
words" and a "Storyteller." I miss him.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjakzIsCbbf7fNnWSdcJYhBNflTeM8j2HQwX1XCg0i5vsc0IaIY_mXiH1RmwtKzknBsEjqKlWu7_qhMqUjeaOaTw_wAcDkGZ6CVyna2tuKKdFeulBuEQLn3WHPbPKeAUT0ljf_OYcC_N22r/s1600/Aug+19+post+card+13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="313" data-original-width="453" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjakzIsCbbf7fNnWSdcJYhBNflTeM8j2HQwX1XCg0i5vsc0IaIY_mXiH1RmwtKzknBsEjqKlWu7_qhMqUjeaOaTw_wAcDkGZ6CVyna2tuKKdFeulBuEQLn3WHPbPKeAUT0ljf_OYcC_N22r/s200/Aug+19+post+card+13.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">My dad spoke highly of
these guys, as if he knew them, growing up in Idaho, Montana and Eastern
Washington. In the way we talked about favorite athletes, celebrities. Some say
Butch lived his life out in Spokane and only the kid died in Bolivia, but my
dad said it was not likely Bolivia, but Mexico. Interesting... my dad's
fascination with these Crooks. He wasn't fond of movie stars at all. He hated
Frank Sinatra. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #201f1e; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Sitting in bed, Sunshine covering me in its warm morning blanket.
Reading last week's New Yorker, listening to birds gossip. Tweets, chirps,
caws, wishing briefly... That perhaps there might be someone, almost anyone,
who would bring me a hot cup of tea. And yet again, maybe not...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSbi-aNSUa9vLhnjXG3FR1H_3RlGzzN7h7Fmj-S5Ow09pgG4ehCBJON0igrDYA4c-jK4mXMu0R1O7GkGvZLQB6WgUz5g5MJXK0rc7aDnhoNqDVkZ6FtBmCKGMNU0LQeolMcq1DqT43Pr2/s1600/Aug+19+post+card+15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="302" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTSbi-aNSUa9vLhnjXG3FR1H_3RlGzzN7h7Fmj-S5Ow09pgG4ehCBJON0igrDYA4c-jK4mXMu0R1O7GkGvZLQB6WgUz5g5MJXK0rc7aDnhoNqDVkZ6FtBmCKGMNU0LQeolMcq1DqT43Pr2/s320/Aug+19+post+card+15.jpg" width="220" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Do you feel as tall as
you look? Do you feel as tall as you are? You stand over most of us with eyes
that wonder in your own head, seeing things you'll never share, not with us. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">There were always laughs because that's what it was like when he was around. Uncle Russ sat at our dinner table, told silly jokes and riddles, and gently teased us. That was before before he married again. Aunt Myrtle, as we were told to call her, was shy and my mom said not really his type. When he died, Aunt Myrtle was the one I mourned for. I was a kid, 13 maybe, but she never got the chance to be a part of dinner laughs, nonsense at our house. She was all alone again, like she’d been before him. We couldn’t find a way to bring back those jokes again. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpjwJ-tqierTgPDyYsBSfT-Tmk09fIvi03997F2OL6-9gY1hyphenhyphengLgFRmihOyL9RAmOwRY8PYDIWv2HbXqX6G7gLl6-3fuO7hoLwDpFNqhzypH_zduw_Z1cCODYn-Ir8JKRXXM-7dyFhqMwI/s1600/Aug+19+post+card+17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="307" data-original-width="448" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpjwJ-tqierTgPDyYsBSfT-Tmk09fIvi03997F2OL6-9gY1hyphenhyphengLgFRmihOyL9RAmOwRY8PYDIWv2HbXqX6G7gLl6-3fuO7hoLwDpFNqhzypH_zduw_Z1cCODYn-Ir8JKRXXM-7dyFhqMwI/s320/Aug+19+post+card+17.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">At my brothers memorial
service, I spoke to you on the phone from Portugal, where you now live with
your wife. I loaned you my guitar, you said, in 1966. We chatted about music,
my brother, Portugal. I struggled with images rolling in my head of you, New
Year's Eve, 1966, and months later coming home to find you chatting with my
mother in our family kitchen.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoftA6JFAG5FerXhn25TPFerTovojtDItxpaeFWGzSQ30ki-uBFPhpaaj4KQGq2vewJ-Dn5C9Md1RZ1U06ht8dyMX5HG03IKCRbKVHzkt3gajJ7SQ8-H3wdbnF5LDOCsoP9nhFInKpA4r-/s1600/Aug+19+post+card+18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="308" data-original-width="464" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoftA6JFAG5FerXhn25TPFerTovojtDItxpaeFWGzSQ30ki-uBFPhpaaj4KQGq2vewJ-Dn5C9Md1RZ1U06ht8dyMX5HG03IKCRbKVHzkt3gajJ7SQ8-H3wdbnF5LDOCsoP9nhFInKpA4r-/s320/Aug+19+post+card+18.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbMUo3pumJCsUW3MgVMlSHfo7P-h0ateeGrCBqZrlRuugfTJeOKRUhgvKfRupiGLf2eUB8qTZGg712UDUMWVJRSfYEIAm5H5Rkl7cpAv1hi5ed2yo3zNhHwnZKBFC3SV37fMtd-MKarXW_/s1600/Aug+19+post+card+19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="485" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbMUo3pumJCsUW3MgVMlSHfo7P-h0ateeGrCBqZrlRuugfTJeOKRUhgvKfRupiGLf2eUB8qTZGg712UDUMWVJRSfYEIAm5H5Rkl7cpAv1hi5ed2yo3zNhHwnZKBFC3SV37fMtd-MKarXW_/s320/Aug+19+post+card+19.jpg" width="219" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Sitting in bed,
Sunshine covering me in its warm morning blanket. Reading last week's New
Yorker, listening to birds gossip. Tweets, chirps, caws, wishing briefly...
That perhaps there might be someone, almost anyone, who would bring me a hot
cup of tea. And yet again, maybe not. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7OVklrsrw9F4D-H3gq9-FTV789HHMNhBesDYgPtg9us945WBirdYtkOamh1QbgrCsAUhz77WsVfMsv4vM8d3wkkigXNMBzHFPB5lnk-fS_UDoAAhyhnJuAKViJSLqmY1ZnrnOBtiV_Un/s1600/Aug+19+post+card+22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="456" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7OVklrsrw9F4D-H3gq9-FTV789HHMNhBesDYgPtg9us945WBirdYtkOamh1QbgrCsAUhz77WsVfMsv4vM8d3wkkigXNMBzHFPB5lnk-fS_UDoAAhyhnJuAKViJSLqmY1ZnrnOBtiV_Un/s320/Aug+19+post+card+22.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">It was words that made me stay in Seattle, New Year's Eve 1999. Not numbers, not 2,000 millennium scare, not weather, not fear flying, or computer crashes. Words. Words took me away again, sent me away, drove me away, pushed me away. Many words, one word, your word, my word.</span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBDDRgN-oJODXBXorlUyOs6f8iKPaig3u8xEElUKzfZkgu3W5EQOtttUwG7okmjMBLA0LVQ0a_yg1TccwLrycIO1T-P92vgVQK17uaQaQgcwAVQ36HFXp_c18Ue2wjWEaydvaDaZ4Tnq3E/s1600/Aug+19+post+card+23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="376" data-original-width="537" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBDDRgN-oJODXBXorlUyOs6f8iKPaig3u8xEElUKzfZkgu3W5EQOtttUwG7okmjMBLA0LVQ0a_yg1TccwLrycIO1T-P92vgVQK17uaQaQgcwAVQ36HFXp_c18Ue2wjWEaydvaDaZ4Tnq3E/s320/Aug+19+post+card+23.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #212121; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #212121; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">I left notes for John
on the bulletin board of a Portland hang out cuz someone told me he had moved
to PTown, too. One day I found a response. We were notes passing in the night.
I wanted to see John and talk to him remembering our one quick historical
moment of passion. It was 51 years before we would make contact again. Over
someone else's death bed. His eyes of blue. They shot across the universe in
the invisible ether and I felt naked again.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxz4cn9fBDKjk9Z2zmb_S5v7g0L2PKBstScKtNE2lHc-RkCnD_03cvxAgh_KqpHqRDHxBH44Y83Op9-n5G7NBdMvh5TeI38mT5F7WfaE47lVZhlxYbYKLPbMFBmEWaSN3cUhhziEuO1OqH/s1600/Aug+19+post+card+24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="642" data-original-width="452" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxz4cn9fBDKjk9Z2zmb_S5v7g0L2PKBstScKtNE2lHc-RkCnD_03cvxAgh_KqpHqRDHxBH44Y83Op9-n5G7NBdMvh5TeI38mT5F7WfaE47lVZhlxYbYKLPbMFBmEWaSN3cUhhziEuO1OqH/s320/Aug+19+post+card+24.jpg" width="225" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv9ENzPNs0mUkMRtOmvFZQ2C719ZdulDYyNMSQij36sG7NJ7hQTR-Q1LtwbgZ7UCiOFC1jobVnpKDhj8sghQ6EhYygaz5H3g4tY6obg3zptOppuS8pHDxqzm7smA2tx0tAUeIEYM0Tq0at/s1600/Aug+19+post+card+25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="448" data-original-width="301" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv9ENzPNs0mUkMRtOmvFZQ2C719ZdulDYyNMSQij36sG7NJ7hQTR-Q1LtwbgZ7UCiOFC1jobVnpKDhj8sghQ6EhYygaz5H3g4tY6obg3zptOppuS8pHDxqzm7smA2tx0tAUeIEYM0Tq0at/s320/Aug+19+post+card+25.jpg" width="215" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">When we drive down
Interlaken, Ewan's eyes are fixed on the ravine, leaning forward in his booster
seat, straining the straps, hands gripping small armrests, skinny little boy legs
dangling, swinging slightly, using his imagination, seeing things in the trees;
creatures, humans maybe, moon people, samplings from the pockets of his mind.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisvwqqCiAHaFC6ZLtMqt3k_mawSUf4nZQWusPFp4Ezpb_7xkX9CIaXnIZmcNXvRM4ImCWZ28Jj8XxNhoRzu1YHEEDNMmN-OCGK-lQSIP8FWFj8-g4dcELG0rgHC1VnBAU0C3fBXE9nN8jJ/s1600/Aug+19+post+card+26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="430" height="123" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisvwqqCiAHaFC6ZLtMqt3k_mawSUf4nZQWusPFp4Ezpb_7xkX9CIaXnIZmcNXvRM4ImCWZ28Jj8XxNhoRzu1YHEEDNMmN-OCGK-lQSIP8FWFj8-g4dcELG0rgHC1VnBAU0C3fBXE9nN8jJ/s200/Aug+19+post+card+26.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #212121; font-size: 11pt; text-align: center;">I was four years old when I saw a buffalo, a bison, for the first time
and my Dad held me by the waist and cantilevered me over the fence and let me
touch the majestic, tangled, smelly, beautiful head of what was now docile,
broken, long-ago decimated; our national animal, a symbol of what we became.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPx1XLJvn8C2WAe-uiTkYtfVrTBjettE4v-EnseXa6mxCwS22JvnBooioCTgn8dBrG2yZvwBCCcMmYd67cJy65yl0fMHsItW-gF51CsJl3WQbZQFHeCUHB2pEHI7pSyWVoRBUId9DNXG5/s1600/Aug+19+post+card+27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="594" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPx1XLJvn8C2WAe-uiTkYtfVrTBjettE4v-EnseXa6mxCwS22JvnBooioCTgn8dBrG2yZvwBCCcMmYd67cJy65yl0fMHsItW-gF51CsJl3WQbZQFHeCUHB2pEHI7pSyWVoRBUId9DNXG5/s320/Aug+19+post+card+27.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">She held images
inside, tight and nonconforming to her other parts. She wouldn't allow her body
certain sensations, less to awaken the noises she had silenced with expertise.
The scent of burning corn husks could spring to action demons she couldn't personally
be responsible for. It did no good to cover her ears; the hearing happened as
an event she controlled with a feverish chill, a complete lack of love, A
coldness as cruel as the autumn of a desert moon.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #201f1e;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVDk2bS0yAhMVlWDWZa1IHXgOwzT7lZoN4MHESX_sJDBNunHtklPuVsBg6cguB7GMuzU6Tr4WseUu26-AuvtYfbIEUY-hNU4dytjJ25W6z-aAHSraScbD9d1u5vE4cLNkR9hi74rxBBro/s1600/Aug+19+post+card+28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="377" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVDk2bS0yAhMVlWDWZa1IHXgOwzT7lZoN4MHESX_sJDBNunHtklPuVsBg6cguB7GMuzU6Tr4WseUu26-AuvtYfbIEUY-hNU4dytjJ25W6z-aAHSraScbD9d1u5vE4cLNkR9hi74rxBBro/s200/Aug+19+post+card+28.jpg" width="125" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #212121; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;">Tonight I read through all my old postcards and was haunted in my sleep
as I tried to recall a street. Was it a corner? A dust road? A paved street
with busy traffic? I exhausted myself battling images, memories, sorrows, and
joys.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaxZDJrC2jMZEOx6Uki86IUbjALVDy9G_l8W6c5tSIn0xrUQLcGQsoP2khA0YDPt_caiUo9AKFva6YPD6RRi-IeA9DSJt2IlTeoAxdyCkFf240RzlxqfYGV662UVIpyNSu7D6XTza_6IML/s1600/Aug+19+post+card+29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="309" data-original-width="435" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaxZDJrC2jMZEOx6Uki86IUbjALVDy9G_l8W6c5tSIn0xrUQLcGQsoP2khA0YDPt_caiUo9AKFva6YPD6RRi-IeA9DSJt2IlTeoAxdyCkFf240RzlxqfYGV662UVIpyNSu7D6XTza_6IML/s200/Aug+19+post+card+29.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">(After living in Mexico for 12 years) I've always found it interesting
that white women, gringas, </span><span style="color: #212121; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="color: #212121; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">are excited
to meet Mexican men, dance with them, drink with them and often have affairs
with them. But in the US, when a Mexican man makes attempts at conversation
with a gringa, compliments her looks or makes a subtle pass, he is considered
cheeky, even dangerous.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">We had unmitigated hope. We thought all was right with the world. It was
so short lived; it was as if we had nothing but a dream. What we've learned is
that when all white people love all white people, there will no longer be a
black problem.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy407JBRmdBJuUnFdjD8a2rNupP7a8qximjVjTczsg8FLdLog27yjdYXAE0YWk_pN97gRM_fUFJ_ZEyYtPoW7JG0TvYHVLjRVFzH040nVQa67zwUeYiy68Mf2RWCexQv4ntektfG2QN412/s1600/Aug+19+post+card+32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="604" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy407JBRmdBJuUnFdjD8a2rNupP7a8qximjVjTczsg8FLdLog27yjdYXAE0YWk_pN97gRM_fUFJ_ZEyYtPoW7JG0TvYHVLjRVFzH040nVQa67zwUeYiy68Mf2RWCexQv4ntektfG2QN412/s320/Aug+19+post+card+32.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; text-align: center;">My mother favored all of her children at different stages of our lives,
and hers. She was whimsical in her favoritism; preferential treatment doled
out in the same unexpected manner as rule changes and obtuse parental authority.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #201f1e; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-BmYjNSlG-jVBEj4ov91oZPEuyoi2Id7zoIWuQd1FZqtjAbBAXOvMgojGV-QSyalbKpwAb9Waf44zIbkKktfLWZdbdjIHDnTojPexqKWojjc8jyTmKkGQYpu8OGWzeZoG1N0aLa-lfaCr/s1600/Aug+19+post+card+34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="165" data-original-width="220" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-BmYjNSlG-jVBEj4ov91oZPEuyoi2Id7zoIWuQd1FZqtjAbBAXOvMgojGV-QSyalbKpwAb9Waf44zIbkKktfLWZdbdjIHDnTojPexqKWojjc8jyTmKkGQYpu8OGWzeZoG1N0aLa-lfaCr/s320/Aug+19+post+card+34.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #201f1e; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #212121;">We must keep living
life to the fullest. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Never give up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Cross every possible
bridge. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Bridge every possible
Gap. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #212121; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sail all the
oceans. </span><span style="color: #212121; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">There is so much to be
done and many who are up to the task.</span></div>
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Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-28441091023898146922019-07-15T18:11:00.000-07:002019-07-17T17:44:04.543-07:00My Bro -- September 9, 1946 - April 29, 2019<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo4dUwLR_6eUcvxwVttTVtA9cj3sjaEN5OZD4_7ukIIZOck8-g_0eNMAFHHTAzWIlgqZLlJOSjxMPpHDFd3G7P6HnzSQZO-otj-9S5tf7vXBlTBfta4wCSG-Wo99hbc11DX4WPWWJxvJjO/s1600/JC+Baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="392" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo4dUwLR_6eUcvxwVttTVtA9cj3sjaEN5OZD4_7ukIIZOck8-g_0eNMAFHHTAzWIlgqZLlJOSjxMPpHDFd3G7P6HnzSQZO-otj-9S5tf7vXBlTBfta4wCSG-Wo99hbc11DX4WPWWJxvJjO/s320/JC+Baby.jpg" width="235" /></a></div>
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Yesterday we did a great job of remembering my brother. A memorial in Enumclaw at the VFW Hall was packed with old friends and family, some that came from afar to attend. Here is a poem I wrote about my bro, which I read:<br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;"><br />My Bro</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;">A small history about a big person.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;">My brother, the boy, wanted to please our dad when he signed
up for Little League but found the fit of eighty-eight black-and-white ivory
keys suited him more than an oak bat and leather glove. Report cards were low
on the list of anticipated events but teachers loved my brother. My brother’s
favorite-come-in-the-back-door-at-the-end-of-the-day-shout was “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what’s for dessert?</i>”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brother was mom’s best guinea pig. Lemon
meringue pie, lady-fingers, wedding cake icing, petit fours, peanut sauce and
honey mustard dip. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;">My brother, the teenager, learned how to sweep floors with
sawdust at Nelson Lumber & Hardware; turned in his push-broom for a guitar.
The Ivy Three. Practice sessions late at night. The Drone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;">My brother, the friend, was never at a lack of company. His
friends were keepers and band-mates, fans and brothers, cousins, hermits, old,
young, digital and analog. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;">My brother, the musician, played piano from the age of four
and took up brass at ten. The only parts of the orchestra my brother didn’t
master were woodwinds and reeds, but my brother would blow a tune on a
saxophone if challenged. Harmonicas, accordions, trumpets and cornets, set
sheets, songbooks, sheet music, late nights, dark roads, local followers, fans,
messages on bar napkins and coasters, heavy loads, love letters. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;">My brother, the actor, had the lead role as Tully Bascomb in
The Mouse That Roared, the All-School-Play in 1963. It was a quaint lesson in
war that stained his naivety. My brother joined the protest in his own way; Bob
Dylan, Pete Seeger, Joan Baez, Woody Guthrie, Phil Ochs, Buffalo Springfield,
Hoyt Axton. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;">My brother, the digger, was hip to Miles and Mercer, Willie
and Waylon, Elvis and Elvis, Mavis, Aretha, John, Paul, George, Ringo, Stones,
Animals, the Duke, Ray, Dizzy, Louis, Booker T. My brother was the clam-digger
winner. Copalis Beach, annual camping corner, musty tent, open fire bacon and
egg breakfast, mosquitoes, 6-12, and rain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;">My brother, the Parks and Recreation Guy, knew everyone’s
name, never missed a wave or hello, drove a loader, could dig a hole and use
the right shovel, and didn’t take shit from no one. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;">My brother, the dad, was more proud of his progeny than
anything he ever did. My brother wasn’t called to fatherhood but he wore it
like the cloak of a knight. Overseas phone calls, road trips, Mariners,
Seahawks, Avery Grace, Marin Skye. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;">My brother, my bro, hanging tinsel on a real pine tree, one
that dad brought down from the hills; sitting on my chest and farting under my
chin; hanging in the U District at Coffeehaus Eigerwand, Hippie Hill; teaching
me how to use a capo; painting plastic cars with Testor’s enamel paint and
letting me paint the wheels silver; sitting in front of the mirror while I
trimmed his bangs; visits to Snow Camp; boxing in the basement, learning a left
hook; giving me perfume for Christmas when I was sixteen; dime movies at the
Roxy; skateboarding on Skateboard Hill; giggling in church, getting scolded; overnights
with Grandma and Grandpa, hiding liver and onions under the table; madras
shirts and cut off jeans; blue eyes, freckles; Beatle boots, Stetson hats,
Rainier Beer belt buckles; old/new Mom tattoo; walrus moustache; authentic, stubborn,
stoic; vests and bolo ties; books, penguins, CD’s, LP’s, penguins, coffee mugs,
photos, penguins, postcards, ashtrays, penguins. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-small;">The longest journey is the one that takes you home. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLVBORCCDvqdxmKWKn2534ZStAWWK8p17RWzVJYydriU7apJOIKIsDEy-7foCjmuX8Tp54EyLCWfikM9ni25bU57H0g63HU0LfaDcdNkc1g4vmyM5QM3EVlrm5Mp4xKFEMn9InMp95PKW6/s1600/Margo+JC+Vacation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="535" data-original-width="317" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLVBORCCDvqdxmKWKn2534ZStAWWK8p17RWzVJYydriU7apJOIKIsDEy-7foCjmuX8Tp54EyLCWfikM9ni25bU57H0g63HU0LfaDcdNkc1g4vmyM5QM3EVlrm5Mp4xKFEMn9InMp95PKW6/s400/Margo+JC+Vacation.jpg" width="236" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and My Bro <br />
On Vacation<br />
Two Cool Kids<br />
1950's</td></tr>
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<o:p>There were so many old schoolmates who I didn't recognize and some I did. I was so grateful to see them all and get some good warm hugs. I don't know how long it'll be before I realize JC is gone. The night he passed, I felt someone at the top of my stairs; it woke me up and I expected the phone call the following morning. I was lucky to be able to be with him that day, April 29th, along with my younger brother, Dana; his two kids, Charlie, and Rosie. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3h_g8mng4Tr1MH0ZCCs5BjAaw0O6di34JMBlDf1ZJ4X3J_CeW3p6twQih6jfG1q2jPdFrj4kjwFLV-P9V23vFy-e3rfg178jtJ0zgPSs1MqP3T38kr3BNLpw0AJ5FGAikh5vz27XcsbY/s1600/JC+and+Baby+Charlie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="388" data-original-width="358" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3h_g8mng4Tr1MH0ZCCs5BjAaw0O6di34JMBlDf1ZJ4X3J_CeW3p6twQih6jfG1q2jPdFrj4kjwFLV-P9V23vFy-e3rfg178jtJ0zgPSs1MqP3T38kr3BNLpw0AJ5FGAikh5vz27XcsbY/s200/JC+and+Baby+Charlie.jpg" width="184" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">JC, the Dad, with Charlie </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3jiqUG4b1HeBs_mGCgZ2TxKOOfPMwg27un5_K3zZbZ53A_jv7LXRIsCYJ8-h6QqOc2YVLIO_D_nM0Ckn3AeE_DwtuxAKvZVweViGSPqguhJc4WftrCBMqP58FLNAW-kqZfbtQ43I03mJ/s1600/JC+and+Jim.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="717" data-original-width="707" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3jiqUG4b1HeBs_mGCgZ2TxKOOfPMwg27un5_K3zZbZ53A_jv7LXRIsCYJ8-h6QqOc2YVLIO_D_nM0Ckn3AeE_DwtuxAKvZVweViGSPqguhJc4WftrCBMqP58FLNAW-kqZfbtQ43I03mJ/s200/JC+and+Jim.jpeg" width="196" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">JC and Jim</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I idolized my brother when I was young. He taught me a lot about many things. He was there first and I was his avid student, from babyhood, to teenage years and beyond. We shared a love of music and books. He got to make music his life; I became a mom. We had a wonderful childhood and the words and photos yesterday were a testament to that. I loved listening to his best buddy from kindergarten on, Jim Nielsen, talk about those days and though it made me feel old, it confirmed what I knew to be true: we came up in a magical time.<br />
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My brother's son, my nephew, Charlie Lenier, made a great video that I'll post here later, once I get the link. I've got some outtakes from his compilation. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5USbUglUD4">1965</a>; <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f7nROP9jRsQ">South Dakota</a>; <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bleg56iNIsI">School</a>; and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUeHrzJdHb0">Lance Romance</a>.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihG1sUAvujFi2uDWe3mrGMEg6VRK005UTpcG53yScozATNyFre_O1vxJIJgfJpzhspJ3RBF1Gfvxp7i7EAq_4CHfScRbBiVrRM2FWd6NtlPtbSsAeC-hORF7bhUt3RCI-UzV7lA7Y6J5zq/s1600/Margo+JC+Grand+Coolee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="360" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihG1sUAvujFi2uDWe3mrGMEg6VRK005UTpcG53yScozATNyFre_O1vxJIJgfJpzhspJ3RBF1Gfvxp7i7EAq_4CHfScRbBiVrRM2FWd6NtlPtbSsAeC-hORF7bhUt3RCI-UzV7lA7Y6J5zq/s200/Margo+JC+Grand+Coolee.jpg" width="135" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great Kids at a Grand Dam</td></tr>
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<o:p>My brother made an impression on a lot of people. He was referred to as a storyteller, and a man of few words. Obviously he struck different people in diverse ways. One thing we know for sure, he was an incredible musician, of whom Fat Domino expressed his admiration. Yesterday was a testament to how many loved him. It was a surprise when two of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Kingsmen">Kingsmen</a> introduced themselves and gave their condolences, having driven up from Oregon, and the remaining members of his great Country Jazz band <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sWbKh50Kmt8">Lance Romance</a> were in attendance. </o:p></div>
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<o:p>JC was a collector (some might say hoarder) and he didn't accrue just one thing. He had hats, lots of them, ashtrays (someone said the reason you can no longer smoke in bars in the NW is because JC took all the ashtrays), coffee mugs and shot glasses, photographs, CD's, LP's and books. He had far more lawn mowers than a person would ever need. His most treasured collection was his penguins, hearkening back to the the time of his dear Joe, a stuffed penguin he loved from the time if was gifted to him as an infant. </o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKfCFm0zIkoZZUOqD9xIlu0zfy32igtdGxbCzsyLAoJswcVug_pvTyZG2sd_5xas425pQHuaDiPzF9a5oN0iIch3j2amTgpOaqIy0VCanYbTuUvkRQCLr4ju0Qx7BYCR5de4sYn-twze2e/s1600/JC+ME.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="502" data-original-width="506" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKfCFm0zIkoZZUOqD9xIlu0zfy32igtdGxbCzsyLAoJswcVug_pvTyZG2sd_5xas425pQHuaDiPzF9a5oN0iIch3j2amTgpOaqIy0VCanYbTuUvkRQCLr4ju0Qx7BYCR5de4sYn-twze2e/s200/JC+ME.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
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<o:p>Life goes on, but there is a part of my history gone now. Once you lose someone like this and they are gone forever, you get the true meaning of "no man is an island," because you are completely aware that a clod has been washed to sea and you are lesser.</o:p></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Thanks for reading. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTllcLUUxzij5GQYLcUyNqnpEC3-aUiwONj2Rg4Xz8DsH2fLuNLAEutNMb8FMPyYxvAb88p89qTe7lbFpalUoZ6_77KI9r79imNPbCBB8MJn4ZOD2wOWPAUHLqi7i79XMjV0xUN0OiYotv/s1600/JC+Enumclaw+March.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="417" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTllcLUUxzij5GQYLcUyNqnpEC3-aUiwONj2Rg4Xz8DsH2fLuNLAEutNMb8FMPyYxvAb88p89qTe7lbFpalUoZ6_77KI9r79imNPbCBB8MJn4ZOD2wOWPAUHLqi7i79XMjV0xUN0OiYotv/s320/JC+Enumclaw+March.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Carl Rieck<br />
September 9, 1946 - April 29, 2019</td></tr>
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<br />Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-12971756961786016882019-04-06T09:35:00.001-07:002019-04-06T09:35:46.562-07:00Détente<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Honored to be accepted to POETiCA REVIEW with my poem <span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0in;"><b>Détente</b>:</span></span><br />
<span style="background-position-x: 0px; background-position-y: 0px; outline: 0px;"><span style="background-position-x: 0px; background-position-y: 0px; outline: 0px;"></span></span><br />
<div class="font_8" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; color: white; font-family: "Open Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; pointer-events: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: "times new roman", times, serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Détente</span></span></div>
<div class="font_8" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; color: white; font-family: "Open Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; pointer-events: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: "times new roman", times, serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></span></div>
<div class="font_8" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; color: white; font-family: "Open Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; pointer-events: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div class="font_8" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; color: white; font-family: "Open Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; pointer-events: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: "times new roman", times, serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">there was no bloodletting; only sorrow</span></div>
<div class="font_8" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; color: white; font-family: "Open Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; pointer-events: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: "times new roman", times, serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">the will to have a hollow heart …</span></div>
<div class="font_8" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; color: white; font-family: "Open Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; pointer-events: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: "times new roman", times, serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">yet all the tears that once filled an ocean</span></div>
<div class="font_8" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; color: white; font-family: "Open Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; pointer-events: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: "times new roman", times, serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">turned to salt and stood like a pillar in the land of Lot.</span></div>
<div class="font_8" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; color: white; font-family: "Open Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; pointer-events: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: "times new roman", times, serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">we stood akimbo from one another</span></div>
<div class="font_8" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; color: white; font-family: "Open Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; pointer-events: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: "times new roman", times, serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">chins of steel</span></div>
<div class="font_8" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; color: white; font-family: "Open Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; pointer-events: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: "times new roman", times, serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">elbows piercing</span></div>
<div class="font_8" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; color: white; font-family: "Open Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; pointer-events: auto; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: "times new roman", times, serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">all the directions of earth</span></div>
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<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: "times new roman", times, serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I write you stones</span></div>
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<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: 0px 0px; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; font-family: "times new roman", times, serif; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">you send boulders</span></div>
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Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-30088906800357983682019-03-20T10:32:00.000-07:002019-03-20T10:32:05.368-07:00Happy Birthday, Mr. Ferlinghetti<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2bYoAZ0IZCKFlUdR_jTJ1jpbfCWB8IUWjoeQsPKo0Ls9QNlRXCG95Ccu8GgYYF_3las5tptZhU6tg8OM_cB_hoFxhIToKyMq9Q4O_2sLGx-Q98CT_rPW-8i_iVqI3TFVhKj8ybIAYPXmE/s1600/lawrence+ferlinghetti+1959.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1294" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2bYoAZ0IZCKFlUdR_jTJ1jpbfCWB8IUWjoeQsPKo0Ls9QNlRXCG95Ccu8GgYYF_3las5tptZhU6tg8OM_cB_hoFxhIToKyMq9Q4O_2sLGx-Q98CT_rPW-8i_iVqI3TFVhKj8ybIAYPXmE/s320/lawrence+ferlinghetti+1959.jpg" width="258" /></a></div>
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March 20 2019</div>
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Today Lawrence Ferlinghetti turns 100 years old. When he was
much younger and I was younger still, I walked into <b>City Lights Bookstore</b> with
eyes wide open, browsed, and purchased <b>Howl</b>, <b>Coney Island of the Mind</b> and <b>Pomes Penyeach
by James Joyce</b>. </div>
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Ferlinghetti was 47 years old and I was 15. I didn’t
know who I was talking to at the time, but he and I had a delightful conversation about poetry,
writing, and the weather, which was sunny and warm on that San Francisco day. </div>
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Years later, my friend Mary Jo told me it was indeed the poet himself who
engaged me that day in silly, flirtatious banter. </div>
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I’m so glad I didn’t know
it then. </div>
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At the time I was spellbound by <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>"on a freeway fifty lanes wide/ a concrete continent/ spaced with bland billboards/ illustrating imbecile illusions of happiness."</i></span> I
would certainly have made a fool of myself. </div>
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I was a big Whitman fan then, and was just growing a sense of modern poetry, not the kind we were reading in school. The words <i>fuck</i> and <i>beat</i> were kind of synonymous with <i>not allowed</i>.</div>
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I was on a summer trip, driving to California with my art teacher, Sylvia Neth,
who wanted me to meet her niece. It was an eyes-wide-open time for my young naive
self. Mary Jo and I got along much too well and were comrades in trouble. The
things we did then were innocent compared to messes kids get into today. We
smoked cigarettes, snuck out the bedroom window, wore very short skirts, read beat poetry, and flirted
with 47 year old men. </div>
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Thanks for the memories, Lawrence. I owe you. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>"Poetry is the shadow cast by our streetlight imaginations." LF</i></span></div>
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Thanks for reading</div>
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<br />Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-585817938061756512019-01-16T09:03:00.000-08:002019-01-16T09:03:55.754-08:00Scarlet Leaf Review<span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I'm very honored to headline this group of impressive and talented poets today in the <a href="https://www.scarletleafreview.com/anniversary-issue">Anniversary Issue </a>of <a href="https://www.scarletleafreview.com/anniversary-issue">Scarlet Leaf Review</a>. These four poems are among my personal favorites that I've written in the past decade. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fce5cd;"><br style="color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">~Thanks for reading~</span></span>Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-83847197936763457902019-01-10T09:28:00.000-08:002019-01-10T09:28:05.842-08:00Down Home GirlIf Robin had girl friends who sang with her back home, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/RainbowGirlsMusic/videos/2177646969139294/">this</a> would be how she would have started.<br />
You can have a listen to the<a href="https://www.facebook.com/RainbowGirlsMusic/videos/2177646969139294/"> Rainbow Girls</a> here.<br />
<br />
<img alt="Image may contain: 3 people, people standing, child, outdoor and nature" height="213" src="https://scontent-sea1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/37017457_2479519382060001_150412658103812096_n.jpg?_nc_cat=101&_nc_ht=scontent-sea1-1.xx&oh=2656406c194037434368f69a38b5e676&oe=5CD90BD5" width="320" /><br />
<br />
<br />
I am a fan!<br />
<br />
<img alt="Image may contain: 2 people, people on stage and indoor" height="142" src="https://scontent-sea1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/36954186_2479516842060255_7730345983476760576_n.jpg?_nc_cat=100&_nc_ht=scontent-sea1-1.xx&oh=5862b7fe0b665e4dc11af03c90e2e9fe&oe=5C8D739D" width="200" />Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-20681471769510745872019-01-04T10:42:00.000-08:002019-01-04T10:42:33.619-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Adam Garcia 4 12016</span></span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-05f6e91c-7fff-54b6-4b3c-371e93c50e0f" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Clothing Not Optional</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Amazingly, we see tourists in Puerto Vallarta in grocery stores and shopping malls wandering around in bikinis! Aside from being cold, some are simply not easy on the eye. We can say the same thing about fellows walking down streets (that are not located on or even near the beach) wearing those teeny tiny revealing swimsuits. Leaving nothing to the imagination is not a normal Mexican practice.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mexican men may pull up their t-shirt on very hot days, exposing their tummies (certainly not attractive, and slightly offensive) but they will not go around the streets shirtless. The beach boys, surfers and fishermen wear shirts and would never dream of parading around in a speedo.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mexicans take service very seriously and, unless one is in a fine dining establishment, it is unlikely they would ask someone to cover up, but they aren’t amused and will have some trouble communicating with a skimpily dressed customer. </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mexico is primarily a Catholic country. Until recently, women wouldn’t go into a church without a head covering and older ladies still insist on wearing a mantilla on their head. They will openly stare in disdain at young ladies who have no modesty.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Recently we saw a young man asked to leave a beach restaurant. He was treated with respect and no one made a scene but it was also clear that a muscle shirt was not proper attire, no matter how close the ocean.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As visitors, it is our job to be respectful. We can still have a good time. After all, Mexicans are not quiet. They are very colorful and love to enjoy themselves. One glimpse of a holiday calendar leaves no doubt for their penchant to party. But let’s please not offend the locals while we are at it.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are constant changes in Puerto Vallarta; some good and some to which we need to make adjustments. This is a simple change and it can be made in the dressing room. I’ll cover for you and you can cover for me. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This article first appeared in May 2018 <a href="https://www.boardwalkrealtypv.com/clothing-is-not-optional-in-vallarta/">Boardwalk Realty PV</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks for reading.</span></span></div>
Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-22853234976166713892018-11-12T14:39:00.000-08:002018-11-12T14:39:50.068-08:00Go Ahead, Call Me Pocahontas<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeskppXGkbJihWMCxhDzlR7bGKNxu1qVvrfMPfMxPBygq5aGVUkDFjpcqEbBalZo4SAzIWFGbg_-rkcQ1hOEepBKWchTpLFuhSA0vwWqQkLUU58g6LXpz-jlWWjqtuBGnUc1UPmCizawWK/s1600/Pocahontas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="480" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeskppXGkbJihWMCxhDzlR7bGKNxu1qVvrfMPfMxPBygq5aGVUkDFjpcqEbBalZo4SAzIWFGbg_-rkcQ1hOEepBKWchTpLFuhSA0vwWqQkLUU58g6LXpz-jlWWjqtuBGnUc1UPmCizawWK/s320/Pocahontas.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I don’t see the issue with Elizabeth Warren's DNA much different
than Trump’s birther movement against President Obama. Trump, and people of his
ilk, made such brouhaha that Barack Obama finally had his long form birth
certificate made public in 2011, because he considered it was causing a
distraction, of which he thought to put an end. Did it make any difference? No,
birthers claimed it was a forgery and, to this day, maintain their position.</div>
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It wasn’t enough for Elizabeth Warren to say she had empathy
for Native Americans because she grew up being told she had Indian blood. Conservative
talk show hosts went berserk, grasping any small item they can blow into an outrage.
Trump publicly stated he would donate $1 million to a charity of her choice if Warren
took a DNA test to prove her heritage. When she acquiesced, he didn’t donate.
Surprise.</div>
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I grew up with a father who always told us he was part
Indian (Native American was not a part of our vernacular at the time.) My mom
told me that when she brought him home to introduce him to my grandparents,
they referred to him at a half-breed, though he was only 1/16<sup>th</sup>. </div>
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My
grandparents, like Warren’s grandparents, were not all too happy when my mother
showed up with an older black-haired man, whom she’d met three weeks prior, and
declared their engagement. Props to my grandparents; they accepted my dad and
grew to love him. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicE54_qMsDOJ20SZBFTRTmxCOuFY9rWIkRUgUsR3s9WnCj41_D2iOoE4knJxUNBaWbZxVRMI6jz_vUN5qwm02Nvnm-TaX5ABbDjWV9jzqheNJbgcLYVsVenW5QETAw_fdGlcg-abmGA-re/s1600/dad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicE54_qMsDOJ20SZBFTRTmxCOuFY9rWIkRUgUsR3s9WnCj41_D2iOoE4knJxUNBaWbZxVRMI6jz_vUN5qwm02Nvnm-TaX5ABbDjWV9jzqheNJbgcLYVsVenW5QETAw_fdGlcg-abmGA-re/s200/dad.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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My mother was religious, went to church on Sundays and
dragged us children with her, though Dad rarely attended, only when it was a
whole family affair, like a baptism, wedding, or funeral. He told me his church
was the woods and he worshiped the mountain (Rainier), the stars, sun and moon.
He didn’t believe you could easily find God within four walls. </div>
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We knew my great-great-grandmother was Pocahontas. Not the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real </i>Pocahontas, my dad would tell us,
and that was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> her real name, he
insisted. Years later, I discovered that women were called Pocahontas during
censuses and on marriage certificates, when they couldn’t spell their name, speak English, their husband
spoke for them, or they simply didn’t speak up. It was common practice, as
calling an Indian woman squaw was completely acceptable, though there is much
debate about the use and meaning of squaw. I was called papoose from my
earliest memories. It was never said with malice or negativity. </div>
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For Elizabeth Warren to be taking heat for claiming her
own DNA seems to me just another media circus; I don’t care which side makes claims against her. It has Trump rubbing his hands together with more broken promises
and unmitigated glee. Another thing to distract us from real issues, such as 50
<a href="https://www.wiscnews.com/baraboonewsrepublic/news/local/update-nazi-salutes-in-group-photo-of-boys-from-baraboo/article_3224ea4a-7423-5fc1-b2ca-20159f7129e5.html">white male students of the graduating class of 2019 of Baraboo High School in Wisconsin</a> standing on the Sauk County Courthouse steps with the majority <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>giving a Nazi <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sieg heil</i> salute. Comments on the incident have been made by many, from the Democratic
Governor-elect of Wisconsin, to the photographer who regretfully took
the photo, but the fact remains. Trump has unleashed hatred and malevolence in
our country and it’s beyond bullying and pussy grabbing. </div>
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Thanks for reading.</div>
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<br />Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-19500314589509031452018-10-31T10:54:00.001-07:002018-11-12T13:14:11.928-08:00SPARROW<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3sldA8Th4knOeXeDB5trKjgpX6YiG8VOU-Oa_fXMnBjxCyXmmywa3xhajgvkPzy2Sg5oSSyAKzPu1Lbk8Vx5-RbWE90QMkY0kRNMQI0nwGkkwJ6QJ3_jP7-ScNcql41N7yqktK6BgCZj/s1600/Sparrow+dotted+image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3sldA8Th4knOeXeDB5trKjgpX6YiG8VOU-Oa_fXMnBjxCyXmmywa3xhajgvkPzy2Sg5oSSyAKzPu1Lbk8Vx5-RbWE90QMkY0kRNMQI0nwGkkwJ6QJ3_jP7-ScNcql41N7yqktK6BgCZj/s320/Sparrow+dotted+image.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Happy Halloween! </div>
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My blog slowed down to a frightening
deathly pace these past few months. I’ve got good cred though for being so
ghostly. Along with regular assignments, that help put food on the barbeque, my
main focus has been getting SPARROW ready to send. This novel has been through
a lot: dropped a character; tossed the first several pages and completely
changed the beginning; changed the title three times; found a focus so I could know how to relate to agents
and publishers what this books is about; did a lot of line editing; decreased
the word count from 121,000 to 110,000; found someone to put melodies to the
lyrics of Robin’s songs. In the process I’ve cried, laughed, wept, chuckled,
sobbed, and giggled. I’ve also learned the difference of all those emotive
actions. It’s part of what writing is about, isn’t it?</div>
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I’ve attended some wonderful workshops over the past year
and am so grateful for suggestions, recommendations, corrections, and support I’ve
received. I feel like I took my newborn baby from birth to high school and she learned
gobs in the process. My life was also enhanced this past couple years, thanks
to some very good self help books and my association with Arbonne, a nutrition
and skin care line wrapped up in a personal growth program. </div>
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This is a sneak peek for anyone who loves good fiction. I’ve
included the first chapter of SPARROW in my blog and excited for comments, as
well as anyone who would like to volunteer to read the entire manuscript and answer
some questions. It’s a huge commitment, I know, but my appreciation could quite
possibly put your name in print!</div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt;">Robin’s family is completely
unsupportive </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">of her goals in life; as a matter
of fact, </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">they think she’s delusional. All
she really </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">wants is a college degree and to be
a songwriter, a not too </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">lofty aspiration but it’s not going
to happen in her small </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">Northwest town. After a nasty fight
with her mother, Robin </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">packs a small bag, her guitar and
hitchhikes to Los Angeles, </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">in search of the ‘60’s California
Canyon music she listens to </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">every day in the sanctity of her
bedroom. She finds musicians </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">but they aren’t the ones she’s
looking for, which detours her </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">on a path of self discovery, love,
parenthood and eventually </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">success. Rich with well-developed
characters, whom you will </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">fall in love with, hate, pity and
embrace.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt;">Suitable for mid-teens, due to some
explicit sex, birth scenes <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt;">and language. Adult fiction. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“How can you catch the sparrow?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Stephen Stills <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Suite: Judy Blue Eyes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">"The reason birds can fly and we can't</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> is simply because they have perfect faith, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">for to have faith is to have wings."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">J. M. Barrie</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Little White Bird</span></div>
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<b style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Sparrow</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">By Margo Jodyne Dills<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Part One<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">My mother hovered over her ironing board
like a miner panning some precious metal; her shoulders hunched, laboring. She turned
each wrinkle into finely honed folds in my father’s boxer shorts. Her cotton housecoat
was worn at the short cuffs and her lacy slip peeked out from under the hem. She
shook water out of a bottle onto crumpled cotton and picked up her iron,
pressing steam that filled the air with a scent that annoyed yet comforted me. My
mother’s ironing took precedence over many things. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Did you hear me, Mama?” I stood behind
her, willing her to listen. “Reed College has accepted me! I can start in a
couple months.” I gripped the envelope in my fisted hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She wagged her head and precisely placed
the underwear into a growing stack on the kitchen counter and patted it with
her fingertips. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">No words. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I moved to the end of the faded flowery board
with its scorch stains and water marks. “Why are you shaking your head?” I
said, “I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">am</i> going.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She shoved a wicker basket with her foot
and I watched my mother carefully space hankies, t-shirts, pillowcases, sheets
in methodical order. She moved the pillowcases three times to make room for the
small tower of my dad’s underwear, which she would carry into the next room and
put in drawers equally as organized. I once listened while she explained to my
aunt that my dad deserved to wear his undershorts in the exact same way they
came out of the package. She stitched all the flaps shut because they were not
only unnecessary, but made pressing difficult. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Robin Margaret,” she spoke with her
back to me, “you talk like a man with a paper head. What on God’s earth makes
you think we can afford to send you to a fancy school in another state? You have
no idea what it takes to pay the household bills.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Mama, look at me…” I moved around the
ironing board and leaned down to peer up into her face but she focused on her
task. “Why are you ignoring me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Robin Margaret, if you don’t stop, I’m
going to get mad.” My mother had a way with her face; she could take on the
look of a rain-soaked pile of newspapers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Mad about what? What am I doing to make
you mad? I just got accepted into the school I’ve always wanted to go! I’m
lucky they even looked at my application, considering how late it was. Why
would you be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mad</i>?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You are the most unreasonable child!”
She slammed the iron down on the board, making it slide into the kitchen table;
hot drops of water flew and hit her arms. She swiped them away like mosquitoes
and looked me straight in the eye. “There is no room in your father’s wallet
for this nonsense! We told you that last spring when you started this concocted
idea.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“It’s not concocted, Mama. I’m going to
college to get a degree. My grades are perfect. My SAT score was almost 2400.
It was higher than anyone in my class, by a long shot.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Don’t you get lippy with me, missy. A
degree in what? How to keep your legs together? How to lure every boy in town
to our back door like a dog in heat? How to roll your skirt up so anyone can
see all the way to China? Is that what you need a degree for?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I don’t need to listen to this shit,” I
said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">My mother chased me halfway up the
stairs to my bedroom, whipping me with her damp pressing cloth. It marked the
backs of my legs and arms with stinging red welts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I nursed my mental wounds with a
cigarette and blew the smoke out a crack in my bedroom window. My two numbskull
brothers tossed a football in the field behind our house and I hated them in
that moment; I hated their shitty grades, their piggish table manners, their
ugly buzz-cuts, and their stinky farts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">My guitar was a source of solace for me and
if I strummed quietly, no one would holler at me. I adjusted the capo and
played around with some chord progressions. My head got going and I jotted down
thoughts in my binder. Songs were born from jumbled words. I was a good
musician and better lyricist; I needed to tell myself this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">My
small sorrow is always next day, next day, You tell me you know the best way,
best way. I try to watch you, I don’t want to cause you, you think you may be
on to, It’s going to be your best day, when I go way away way.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">My bed caught me as I flopped onto my
back and stared at the walls. I loved my room. I hated it, too. How could the
same place feel like a trap and yet bring so much freedom? Here was where I
replaced photos of John Lennon with Paul McCartney, then back to Lennon,
bordered by Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, Eric Burdon, the three Joans… Collins,
Baez and Mitchell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cramped under the
pitched ceiling, I sometimes wondered if I could take a hatchet and carve out a
heaven for myself; wasn’t there an attic up there, wasted space? Behind my
bedroom door, I’d do as I pleased, but like a prisoner, I knew that the other
side held different thoughts, opposite opinions, venomous unspoken words, all
dangers to my wandering and wondering mind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I snuck into the bathroom and scrubbed
my hands so they didn’t smell like ashtray. I brushed my teeth and rubbed
Listerine around my mouth. Even that was chancy; my mother would suspect me of
hiding something and she was right. I was hiding something. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">My sister sat at the bottom of the
stairs on the phone with her boy friend, Karl, and I left the bathroom door
barely cracked so I could eavesdrop. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You won’t go there. You won’t go to
Viet Nam,” Holly said. “I just know you won’t.” There was a pause but I didn’t
think Karl was talking. “I just want a ring,” she said. “That’s your promise to
me.” Girls didn’t normally need to ask for a ring. The boy was supposed to
think up that part. “Oh, Karl…” Holly giggled in a way that made me want to
puke. My mother passed Holly and twirled her fingers, meaning my sister was
supposed to wind up the discussion. “I have to get off the phone, Karl. I love
you.” She wiggled around. “Karl, when you say ‘me, too,’ it doesn’t sound like
you really mean it. Just say it. Please?” My mother reappeared and I backed
away in case she might see me. She stood in front of Holly with her arms
crossed. “Karl, I’ll be waiting for you to come and get me. I’m hanging up now
and getting ready. I’ll be waiting for you, Karl, okay? I’m hanging up now. I
love you, Karl.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Holly raced up the stairs and into the
bathroom; she ran right into me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What’re you doing? You listening in on
my private conversation?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I ignored her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Mind your own fucking business!” she
hissed so our mother might not hear. “Skank. Twat.” She closed the bathroom
door hard behind me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">My mother yelled from somewhere below. “Stop
slamming doors!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Saturday night crept up while I listened
to my sister preparing for her date with Karl, her plastic rollers clunking in
the bathroom sink as she pulled them out of her hair one at a time. I sat on my
bed and counted all the money from my stupid waitress job. There was a total of
$346.28. Yep, some people left pennies. We had special names for those folks,
most who came from Seattle, which was only an hour to the north, though seemed
like a million miles right now. I spent a lot of my own money that summer on
dumb things. My boyfriend and I drove all the way to Ocean Shores a couple
times and stayed in a motel. We didn’t see much of the ocean. My mom thought I
was staying with my friend Pym. That was a lie. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The coast was clear, my mom in the
living room watching The Jackie Gleason Show. I snuck downstairs, out the back
door through the dark yard, and found my dad in his shop. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">My father wasn’t the chatty type. He
said what he needed to and then shut up. Daddy went to church on Sundays and
the rest of the time he worked. He was an electrician by trade but did all
kinds of other stuff, too. People liked him, but you didn’t see him socializing
much, unless it was a wedding or funeral. The most we usually heard from him
was a mumbled grace at dinnertime. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Hi, Daddy.” I closed the door behind me
and hugged myself against the cold. A potbelly stove in the corner put out
enough heat for the corner and that was all. The garage door had a breach in
the bottom large enough for every cat, dog, and raccoon in the neighborhood to
gain access and create all kinds of racket in the middle of the night without
being able to find their way out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Robbie?” He raised his eyebrows. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Can I talk to you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Sure, but if it’s about this school
nonsense, find another topic, because you know it’s not going to happen. We
aren’t those kind of people. We told you that in April.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">My mother had obviously beat me to it. I
cranked a vice on his workbench open all the way. I wanted to put my head in,
but it was too small. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I can help pay,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Oh, how’s that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I felt a flicker of optimism. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I can work and go to school. I can take
fewer credits and get a job in Portland.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">My dad put down the wires and cables he
was working on; he sat on a sawhorse he used to lean on when he was tired. I
lost my sense of confidence in his deep sigh. I would’ve had better results if
I’d been able to stick my skull in that old vice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">A quick look around might have been
depressing had it not been amusing. My old bike from ninth grade sat against
the wall, its deflated tires sunk half an inch in the dirt. It was host to so
many cobwebs, it could have stood up on its own, the bright red enamel paint
faded to a pinkish gray. I waited too long for Daddy to make a priority of
fixing the wheel rims; Richard showed up in my life and my need for a bicycle
to get to work and school disappeared in one fatal lingering look.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">My father liked me; I knew that, but I
didn’t think it should make a whole lot of difference if I wasn’t around. I
didn’t have a boyfriend anymore. I hated waiting on tables at Mattie’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Men patted my butt; high-schoolers laughed at
me and asked what happened to Miss Most-likely-to-succeed from last spring’s
graduating class; women placed their orders like they were at the Hilton and I
was their personal servant. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">There were few streetlamps in our
neighborhood so no one would see me walking around in the dark, smoking my last
two Salems. I climbed onto the big rock at the corner; Mr. Ross had tried to
move it over a decade ago but the deeper he dug, the bigger it got. We all
watched the progress every night after he came home from work at Boeing Field.
My father said an engineer should have been able to figure a way to unearth the
rock, but confessed it might have tumbled down from its mother, Mount Rainier,
and somehow was still attached. When Mr. Ross made the fateful decision to give
up and leave it, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Rock</i> became the
corner for every kid within a half mile. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I stood at the top where I could view
the stoplight on the edge of town, its tiny blinking light going from red to
green to red. I tossed my half-smoked cigarette butt, jumped down at green, and
ran all the way back home. The oncoming winter set deep into a person’s marrow
and I felt cold to the core.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It was early the next morning, November,
chilly with the scent of snow in the air. My mother stayed up waiting for Holly
to get home and they got into it, right after I fell asleep, with my sister
crying and pleading with our mother about how she would never do something that
I didn’t care enough to find out about what it was. I never went back to sleep
after that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">When the house was finally quiet and the
dark was darkest before the dawn, I let myself out the back door. Things looked
different than they had the night before when I’d walked down the same street,
my little town that I’d lived my whole tiresome life. I don’t know what it was
about the air that morning but I’d breathed it along enough. There were stars
to follow, on sidewalks and in the sky. It was 1968.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The sun was still buried behind the
foothills and crunchy gravel stuck together with bits of ice as I walked out of
my neighborhood and to the end of Main Street. My guitar case was stuffed with
extras like t-shirts and skirts, rolled up in small spaces, and my knapsack was
bulging with an extra pair of jeans, underwear, and flip-flops, plus my
toothbrush, comb, and two little bottles of shampoo I’d kept from when Richard
and I had stayed in the motel on the coast. I stayed low off the side of the
road and waited for trucks, half hid in the ditch, turning my face from anyone who'd
cheerfully report they'd seen me loitering. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">A semi braked long and hard; I was
shocked and gleeful with the realization I had a ride. It was that easy. I climbed
rungs into the cab and burned my hand when I grabbed an exhaust pipe next to
the door. For a long time after, every time I gripped the neck of a guitar, I
pictured that exact spot in the road, the last street out of my humble
northwestern birthplace. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I tossed my gear in and hugged the door,
the luckiest eighteen-year-old idiot on the planet. The burly, bearded driver
asked where I wanted to go and took me all the way to the freeway, no questions
asked. I rode with my jaws clamped shut, afraid to give anything away. I shook
with shivers and giggles when I piled out with my belongings at an onramp; I
shouted gratitude over the rumble of the departing engine. Not a soul heard me,
cars whizzing past like I was no longer visible. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I thought my thumb would fall off until
I got my next ride, but it took me all the way to Portland, Oregon with two
wizened country musicians on their way to a fiddle contest. I sat in the back
and listened to them argue about their performance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“We only picked you up cuz of your axe
there, girl,” the driver said. “You should carry a tire iron in that case.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“A tire iron? What for?” I asked. I
could hardly imagine something so tough and clunky nestled next to my guitar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Case someone takes you on, you know,
thinks he can have his way,” said the passenger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I’ll be fine,” I said, with the first
suggestion of doubt entering my mind since I started out that morning. “I can
take care of myself.” I sat up taller.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You ain’t that big,” the passenger
said. “You better be prepared to defend yourself.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He fumbled around in a canvas bag at his
feet. Considering we were going seventy per on the interstate, there was no way
out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“This here is what you need.” He scared
the bejesus out of me, reaching into the back seat with a black can that said
MACE and had a picture of a yellow dog baring teeth. “I’ll let you have that
one. I get the stuff from an army friend so it’s free. Be real careful with it;
you have it turned the wrong way and you spray yourself in the face, it’ll likely
knock you right outa your socks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The can landed on the back seat between
me and my guitar; there was no way I was going to touch it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The rest of the way was music; he pulled
out his violin and though there wasn’t a lot of room, he practiced for their show
while his friend drove and sang. I watched him pluck and slide his finger up
and down the string, which inspired me to pull out my guitar. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well it ain’t the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cotton Eyed Joe,”</i> he said when they stopped, “but it’s a goodun. I
think we’ve got a chance.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I thought it was a winner, for sure. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Did you have a lot of lessons?” I
asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Some,” he said. “You’re pretty quick on
that axe, young lady. How many lessons have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i>
had?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“None,” I said,” I just get books from
the library.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You’re a smart gal, alright. You keep
practicing that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">pizzicato glissando</i>
and you’ll have something there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“That what?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“That picking style. That’s what it’s
called. You don’t need no lessons. Just keep playing, chickadee, every day.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">They had a ways to go off the freeway so
they dumped me at an onramp. I left the can of spray in the car, but I took
away some lessons from those fiddlers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I had a series of short rides until I
got to Roseburg, just north of the California state line. One was a Christian
family who preached to me the whole time about what a sinner I was. Another was
an old man with pigs in the back of his pick-up. They were all tied in and made
a lot of racket. He said they were crying because they knew they were going to
the slaughterhouse. He was the ride that took me to the truck stop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You need to find someone going all the
way to your destination,” the farmer said. We walked along a line of huge
rumbling trucks. I stood behind him while he talked to drivers to find out
where they were going and asked questions. I was a helpless kid, tagging after
this old man around a huge parking lot while he carried out mini-interrogations.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">First question he asked every one of
them was “What’s your CB handle?” The guy who answered <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Virgin Surgeon</i> was immediately eliminated. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You got kids?” “You married?” “Love
your wife?” “Are you a Christian fellow?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">My own father didn’t seem to have this
much concern about my existence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">After being given the third degree, a
lucky trucker was chosen to have the pleasure of my company, for free, all the
way to Los Angeles. I climbed up with my blistered hand, made worse by playing
guitar with the hillbillies. I bid farewell to a stranger who cared for me
maybe more than I did myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Truckers don’t talk much unless they’re
having a conversation with someone on their CB radio. This guy’s handle was
unimaginative and boring…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Road Roller</i>.
I listened for awhile to him joking in CB language, which I didn’t understand except
maybe the goal of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tinseltown</i>. I slept
for hours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">When I opened my eyes, it was dawn and
we were in the city. We drove through a flat area with low-slung buildings,
large lots with huge empty spaces, and writing on walls in Spanish. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I’m letting you off on Olympic
Boulevard, little lady,” the truck driver said. It was the most he spoke to me
the whole trip. “I don’t got time to take you where you want to go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“That’s okay,” I said. “I don’t really
know where I want to go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You meeting someone?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No, I don’t know a soul here,” I said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well, be careful,” he said. “Don’t get
mixed up with them Jesus freaks, okay?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Sure,” I said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I got out at an intersection, climbed
down to the pavement, and reached up to swing the door shut, just as the light
turned green.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I felt like a young émigré who doesn't
know the language, wearing culturally objectionable clothing, and doesn't have
two local coins to rub together. One thing I did know: the meager funds tucked
under my cleavage wouldn't last forever. The small wad of cash in a cloth bag sat
against my breastbone like a little bird nest. In 1968, a few hundred dollars
could go a long way, but I knew from my brief hitchhiking journey how fast a
ten-dollar-bill can turn into a handful of change. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I had to pee bad and headed to the 7-11
on the corner. A baloney sandwich on white bread and a bag of Fritos was my
first meal in California. I sat on a bench at a bus stop and looked up. Palm
trees, tall and slender, reached up to the sky in an unnatural way. I was used
to trees that were thick, with gigantic feathery boughs, sturdy and full. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I had no idea what direction to go; I
started walking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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THANKS FOR READING!<br />
.Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-40826196761315885552018-01-01T23:33:00.000-08:002018-01-02T18:48:00.451-08:00One Year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXbTwFEAenoYDsvdmKncF7i1h_QThl5vxMx_m4MkjesSwoL4wgXxXdBYRqVy61sfHE5SttMKdg17Z12LuSNwlmevA1GiRVpLDnQsuPmPU-6M1IaiePQmA4ZBaAJTlrwN9bBbQojGmC0H5/s1600/Jodi+in+Garden+McLeod+May+17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="478" data-original-width="665" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXbTwFEAenoYDsvdmKncF7i1h_QThl5vxMx_m4MkjesSwoL4wgXxXdBYRqVy61sfHE5SttMKdg17Z12LuSNwlmevA1GiRVpLDnQsuPmPU-6M1IaiePQmA4ZBaAJTlrwN9bBbQojGmC0H5/s320/Jodi+in+Garden+McLeod+May+17.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b>Summertime 2017 in the McLeod Garden</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">A lot can happen in a fraction of a second. So I’ve
learned. Oh boy, your whole life can change. Boom. Just. Like. That.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Then again, a whole lot more
can happen in a year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">A year can be a short amount of time, especially
in hindsight; but if you’re a kid waiting for school to be out, a handful a
minutes can seem like an eternity. I've found lately, in the past couple decades or
so, years seemed to be bunched up together and October always came way before I’ve been ready
to put the flip-flops in the back of the closet. Then it’s Christmas and before
you know it, you wake up one morning and it’s a New Year. For me, the years were rolling by, non-stop, no change. Same old shit, different day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">In the first week of December 2016, I was
unhappy, overweight, hated my job, in debt, and intensely disliked my home.
(That’s a story for another time but it wasn’t a place I’d chosen to live, and
even though others thought it felt homey, I was never content or comfortable
there.) I tried to get ahead but I was in a rut, working my butt off for literally nothing, with no appreciation or acknowledgement. I shared a lot of that sob story with
any poor soul who’d listen. Most preferred not to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Because of <a href="http://www.arbonne.com/pws/international.aspx?ref=/pws/homeoffice/tabs/home.aspx">Arbonne</a>, in one year I’m living a different life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">My first step forward was doing a 30-Day
Cleanse. I got a few sideways glances, making a decision to start a <i>healthy
eating regime</i> at the most tempting time of year. I did cheat, on Christmas Day, and then went right back to it on December 26th. By mid January, I'd lost 12
pounds. I felt lighter, plus I stopped taking afternoon naps and had energy
that took me all the way through the day, rising early. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>Me, September 2016</b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwHV0ipUGXNm_x7gyMLl_HWMuIcCrcesMrQBFkQ65JZorga9MB6LfMT3Ag_pYxcCjlfytDy1mQZg9QMZJyl8XtQxGiiR3W5tdd3vTcDdH7zoj-RmHW_GAIsk0_HVeu3CilMC7GGOIh5U5G/s1600/Jodi+bday+67+garage+man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="464" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwHV0ipUGXNm_x7gyMLl_HWMuIcCrcesMrQBFkQ65JZorga9MB6LfMT3Ag_pYxcCjlfytDy1mQZg9QMZJyl8XtQxGiiR3W5tdd3vTcDdH7zoj-RmHW_GAIsk0_HVeu3CilMC7GGOIh5U5G/s200/Jodi+bday+67+garage+man.jpg" width="160" /></a></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">
<span style="text-align: center;">Around February 2017, I joined Arbonne online meetings and
discussions, <a href="http://www.arbonne.com/pws/international.aspx?ref=/pws/homeoffice/tabs/home.aspx">Arbonne</a> Facebook pages, participated in a monthly gathering in
Bellevue, Wa, where women and men of all backgrounds spoke and shared their successes.
These were people who were making major changes in their own lives. Some
had been rewarded with Mercedes Benz's</span><span style="text-align: center;">, others were supporting their favorite causes,
like saving wild horses or building houses for the homeless. I’ve become
friends with a woman who used to have a
nice life selling life insurance (a good job with security) and because of five
years in <a href="http://www.arbonne.com/pws/international.aspx?ref=/pws/homeoffice/tabs/home.aspx">Arbonne</a> she’s living in her dream home on the beach in Southern
California and working limited hours, spending time doing what she wants to do,
as opposed to what she </span><i style="text-align: center;">needs</i><span style="text-align: center;"> to do. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Because of <a href="http://www.arbonne.com/pws/international.aspx?ref=/pws/homeoffice/tabs/home.aspx">Arbonne</a>, I've developed some
wonderful new friendships. It’s like church, but it’s not church, and these are
folks from all walks of life, colors, races, religions, affiliations, and income levels.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">I shrug when I get feedback about <i>MLM’s</i>. This is
<u>Direct Marketing</u>, and it’s what many are looking for in a gig economy, where
Uber, Care.com, Doterra, Airbnb and many other second incomes are helping
people live better lives. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVqYeUG0w5DBL9cxRdKHkCZXCrNekEX39iub_8vXkUnL2jp4qlhUEhN8Yb9DCHATj-F-9v-VugJ_dkCs28gvZIJr5BDJ6rIEhrlXbO-9laT7eimASYEJ_ocjOl1xLFLmJopxJTZwrY0D2O/s1600/Jodi+at+Cuale+may+17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="1135" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVqYeUG0w5DBL9cxRdKHkCZXCrNekEX39iub_8vXkUnL2jp4qlhUEhN8Yb9DCHATj-F-9v-VugJ_dkCs28gvZIJr5BDJ6rIEhrlXbO-9laT7eimASYEJ_ocjOl1xLFLmJopxJTZwrY0D2O/s320/Jodi+at+Cuale+may+17.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>Me, in Mexico, May 2017</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">For me, it goes beyond that. I’m making
money, yes... and my income from <a href="http://www.arbonne.com/pws/international.aspx?ref=/pws/homeoffice/tabs/home.aspx">Arbonne</a> is certainly making a difference in <i>my</i>
life but what I love is helping people change <i>their</i> lives. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">This is what people are looking for:
health, living well, and for some, a step into a possible lucrative future.
Because <a href="http://www.arbonne.com/pws/international.aspx?ref=/pws/homeoffice/tabs/home.aspx">Arbonne</a> is vegan, kosher, and developed for people with diabetes, there are few people who can't make major changes with these nutrition and skin products. <o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">It’s pure, safe and beneficial.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>April 2017 with my pal Waneta </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>at the Arbonne Global Training Conference </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>in Las Vegas</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxB0mCEq-XyxxdF6M41uAIHTasIjDvWJXpN_3QAjJ2ve6aXrTLZTnYRXb5oV-5VYu-H5_h89N8Fz5hBtNK3SjTIByVxjvJ7fR-u3YIK5ER5xc6UDaqmObCFeyJzhdhu9P4bBImEKQ4E8q/s1600/Jodi+and+Waneta+GTC+Live+Inspired.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="533" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxB0mCEq-XyxxdF6M41uAIHTasIjDvWJXpN_3QAjJ2ve6aXrTLZTnYRXb5oV-5VYu-H5_h89N8Fz5hBtNK3SjTIByVxjvJ7fR-u3YIK5ER5xc6UDaqmObCFeyJzhdhu9P4bBImEKQ4E8q/s200/Jodi+and+Waneta+GTC+Live+Inspired.jpg" width="110" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Because of <a href="http://www.arbonne.com/pws/international.aspx?ref=/pws/homeoffice/tabs/home.aspx">Arbonne</a>, I began reading inspirational
books. As I applied some of the steps suggested in books like </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Flip-Flop-CEO-Whitney-Roberts/dp/0986425907/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1514875066&sr=8-1&keywords=flip+flop+ceo" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"The Flip Flop CEO"</a><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> (Muirhead/Roberts/Finney); </span><a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=7IqhfiDhlXEC&source=productsearch&utm_source=HA_Desktop_US&utm_medium=SEM&utm_campaign=PLA&pcampaignid=MKTAD0930BO1&gclid=Cj0KCQiA1afSBRD2ARIsAEvBsNkXp4GwmFVePXnRiF03dTSolFpEMXLAkHs3mMfn3o8iHIYErIK4LlUaAlWgEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds&dclid=CIuQ8ZfVuNgCFcJYfgodJJoCSQ" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Take the Stairs"</a><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">
(Rory Haden);</span><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/you-are-a-badass-jen-sincero/1112580370?ean=9780762447695&pcta=u&st=PLA&sid=BNB_DRS_New+Core+Shopping+Textbooks_00000000&2sid=Google_&sourceId=PLGoP165116&gclid=Cj0KCQiA1afSBRD2ARIsAEvBsNlOHoztgigvpetXooH277EsYT-qtVK-HOStuKdCLMosaW-U2wwEcBsaAmO9EALw_wcB#/" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> “You Are a Badass”</a><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> (Jen Sincero), things began to pop and
snap in my life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">I didn’t realize the changes at first. I kept doing these
steps because I remembered what someone had said to me about what difference would it make? I could keep doing what I was
doing or try something else and see where I ended up at the end of a year. This was not rocket science.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">I made a <a href="https://www.huffingtonpost.com/elizabeth-rider/the-scientific-reason-why_b_6392274.html">Vision Board</a>; I posted little notes on
my mirror, fridge, and around my house. Reminders about what I want; who I am;
what I can get in life, belief in myself. Goals, dreams, hopes. I spoke my affirmations out loud and when someone inadvertently heard me, I learned to smile and carry on. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b> Me, in Las Vegas in April 2017 - Inspired</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuOBwj2DlTZxECEurJTI2IteGMZvoMZordkj73BQymtZsgJjCk0cPLOiR71ZyzWzTtW5ei84U5zOLTy9PNART0Gloxa2bCmLfKGVDjspjfkJOqsgFOcic5ivh2BKemVRqKBdizjwb46gao/s1600/Jodi+at+GTC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="359" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuOBwj2DlTZxECEurJTI2IteGMZvoMZordkj73BQymtZsgJjCk0cPLOiR71ZyzWzTtW5ei84U5zOLTy9PNART0Gloxa2bCmLfKGVDjspjfkJOqsgFOcic5ivh2BKemVRqKBdizjwb46gao/s200/Jodi+at+GTC.jpg" width="112" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">At monthly meetings, I listened to people
talk about how <a href="http://www.arbonne.com/pws/international.aspx?ref=/pws/homeoffice/tabs/home.aspx">Arbonne</a> had changed their lives and I wanted to BE one of those
people, in front of the crowd, telling what <i>I</i> had done to get there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">In June I came upon <a href="https://www.amazon.com/s/?ie=UTF8&keywords=book+miracle+morning&tag=googhydr-20&index=aps&hvadid=241635492420&hvpos=1t2&hvnetw=g&hvrand=1444053661273249859&hvpone=&hvptwo=&hvqmt=e&hvdev=c&hvdvcmdl=&hvlocint=&hvlocphy=9033326&hvtargid=aud-397161105788:kwd-261689619687&ref=pd_sl_1cm0f3ikbg_e">Miracle Morning, by Hal Elrod</a> and every morning I got up and did the six recommendations for changing
my life. I kept telling people I met about <a href="http://www.arbonne.com/pws/international.aspx?ref=/pws/homeoffice/tabs/home.aspx">Arbonne</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">In July, I was in front of the room, telling a little bit of my
story, and receiving recognition for reaching the level of District Manager.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">I no longer live in that place I hated. I learned
to be grateful <i>for being there at all</i> and aspired to something better! I love
the home I’m in now. I'm super happy with my new job; started in November, right
after I got back from a Writer’s Conference in Mexico that lit my fire. My
house in Mexico is rented, kicking a little extra income my way. I even got a
raise in my Social Security (I know, it’s a bit of a joke but even small
amounts add up.) The writing I get paid for isn’t breaking the bank…not yet,
but that will also change. Watch out, 2018,<i> I’ve got plans</i>. I've found that dreams really do come true. But it really is up to <u>you</u>. Because of
<a href="http://www.arbonne.com/pws/international.aspx?ref=/pws/homeoffice/tabs/home.aspx">Arbonne</a>, I've accomplished more in the past year than the entire last decade. I did the work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Dv4f5TKEOa37DOwS_Nvxu51J6APVZrNZSo-8-iJ7VfGU404cGZWBW5GpXmIjGbBDjsp4IbqKOY9Q0ljKDTBdt5LBxNXMJzGCwblEquTo8DDQY7Cgqyr-a-EdWThTagjy2CytLwOp6SDd/s1600/jodi+with+arbonne+girls+aug+da+meeting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="574" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Dv4f5TKEOa37DOwS_Nvxu51J6APVZrNZSo-8-iJ7VfGU404cGZWBW5GpXmIjGbBDjsp4IbqKOY9Q0ljKDTBdt5LBxNXMJzGCwblEquTo8DDQY7Cgqyr-a-EdWThTagjy2CytLwOp6SDd/s200/jodi+with+arbonne+girls+aug+da+meeting.jpg" width="155" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>Me and some of the girls. Love these girls! It's kind of amazing to be "one of the girls" again, at 68.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">I've lost a total of 40 pounds. I’m getting compliments
galore on my skin. I love buying clothes again. My living situation is great.
My job is…well, it’s just swell. I haven’t enjoyed working for someone else in a really long time. My debts are getting paid off. I have ENERGY! I love waking up in the morning and starting
my day healthy! I sleep like an old bear. My high blood pressure is a thing of
the past and I’m off medications, under doctor’s supervision. My
relationships are stronger, happier, sounder. I’m helping me, helping others, and helping the earth. I’m able to be generous again. I’m positive and I’m
<i>unstoppable</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0G4MMqDEsJGju_0yZuTotCh7pb9IL7wQV_A0mBLKaRhboK5XtKBIUnv7C4b5ffCCripoV8gkNblffIyu0TpGfkVGoLpYEmXwMhsJcPKBtMwYd3wa1a60LU7hoRJrqm0pwAb1T1WASbVrw/s1600/Jodi+Aug+2016+cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="938" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0G4MMqDEsJGju_0yZuTotCh7pb9IL7wQV_A0mBLKaRhboK5XtKBIUnv7C4b5ffCCripoV8gkNblffIyu0TpGfkVGoLpYEmXwMhsJcPKBtMwYd3wa1a60LU7hoRJrqm0pwAb1T1WASbVrw/s320/Jodi+Aug+2016+cropped.jpg" width="187" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b> Me, now. And I'm not done yet. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">You don’t have to join me. You can continue
doing what you’re doing. I can tell you though, I’m glad I gave this bit 30 days, and then, when things seemed to be working quite well, I gave it one year. A lot can
happen in a year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Thanks for reading. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-10705210175390148692017-09-14T22:17:00.000-07:002017-09-22T17:53:30.318-07:00August Poetry Postcards 2017<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">August Poetry Postcards 2017</span></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpm77FrTSc8AelJhiNDIyL_QO-wYFZA9kBuGQQpQaRrZsjdi6mlu735Q_exdl4LBMEa765zLw158GW57OVxjNRe_CgsRg9nQcEMgrM8mznTCObZ3rop33yyAlJJAROSidls1vVD26fJxzw/s1600/Postcard+Rabbit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="608" data-original-width="410" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpm77FrTSc8AelJhiNDIyL_QO-wYFZA9kBuGQQpQaRrZsjdi6mlu735Q_exdl4LBMEa765zLw158GW57OVxjNRe_CgsRg9nQcEMgrM8mznTCObZ3rop33yyAlJJAROSidls1vVD26fJxzw/s320/Postcard+Rabbit.jpg" width="215" /></a></div>
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This year I've used a book of postcards that I found in a box of my mother's things. She passed away seven years ago and there are some papers I've still not had a chance to read through. I can't simply chuck them without knowing what they are, and believe I gave this little treasure book to her many years ago. We shared a love of dolls and these types of pictures. </div>
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I imagine this being a small tribute to my parents and decided to write each postcard, as inspired, about my childhood. These words were given no forethought; I sometimes used the illustration for inspiration, or memories flowed onto the thin cardboard and flew off to their destinations around the world. There has been some slight editing. </div>
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<i>Hurricane Harvey</i> happened in the midst of this so there are some contributions there and randomly placed. </div>
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These are the works of fifteen excellent English illustrators; all images reproduced from The Blue Lantern Studio. </div>
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The title of the book is first and then the artist’s name
and birth and death dates. These cards were so old that many dates of death
aren’t recorded here since they were still alive at the time.<br />
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<b>From The Rosie Posie Book </b><br />
<b> by Anne Anderson
(1874-1930)</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE9tCsM0q6DqyXxD5FH2FUq13B9Toz2O4qLyiqytr_ct5b-0DEywvtKtysz3iPURSqoUWx59LFAXhe7JW8Dy6-mRVQtnhRk12_cnsc4ZiaCMpXGVoI3gVTEtVAX8l2qd_j7zrPWkrTTUpz/s1600/Postcard+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1088" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE9tCsM0q6DqyXxD5FH2FUq13B9Toz2O4qLyiqytr_ct5b-0DEywvtKtysz3iPURSqoUWx59LFAXhe7JW8Dy6-mRVQtnhRk12_cnsc4ZiaCMpXGVoI3gVTEtVAX8l2qd_j7zrPWkrTTUpz/s200/Postcard+1.jpg" width="135" /></a></div>
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My mother could not stand </div>
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the idea of </div>
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“sleeping in,” </div>
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for
herself </div>
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or anyone else. She dragged me,</div>
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literally, </div>
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out of my bed on Saturday
mornings</div>
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so I could get my chores done </div>
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in time for my cartoons </div>
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to come on TV.
As an adult, </div>
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she would phone me, and when I’d answer at 7 am, she would say </div>
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“ARE
YOU STILL IN BED?” </div>
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To be able to sleep in </div>
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was always </div>
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a lifetime goal. I wish </div>
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she could call me now </div>
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and </div>
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wake me up in the mornings. </div>
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I still here.</div>
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I still want to sleep in.</div>
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<b>From The Little Busy Bee Book </b></div>
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<b>by Anne Anderson</b><b style="text-indent: -24px;">(1874-1930)</b><b> </b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRH7coM9PcYJQdbTQAQ0gpqlVllD3qSAUMwlZAoF2W-SQg-t_WSIBln-J3h2QYCfE4sNzb0md6dk6PvFvLtqBEI9PzH26gEJpvvxNkDxV8fZtIfLnNNqHXGtOrtlXcKPj-10lhrFbNxtCN/s1600/Postcard+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1046" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRH7coM9PcYJQdbTQAQ0gpqlVllD3qSAUMwlZAoF2W-SQg-t_WSIBln-J3h2QYCfE4sNzb0md6dk6PvFvLtqBEI9PzH26gEJpvvxNkDxV8fZtIfLnNNqHXGtOrtlXcKPj-10lhrFbNxtCN/s200/Postcard+2.jpg" width="130" /></a></div>
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I was my mother’s </div>
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<i>little
butterfly</i>. A least – until </div>
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I could walk, or </div>
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perhaps run, which soon
followed. Then </div>
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I became more my mother’s </div>
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<i>little bulldog</i> </div>
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and she had to keep me on a leash. </div>
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I would run away </div>
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given the slightest
opportunity. I spent my life </div>
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trying to please her and I was overjoyed</div>
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when I
knew I’d made the grade. </div>
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For the most part, I was a disappointment. </div>
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I kept trying. </div>
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As did she.</div>
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<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="text-align: center; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="text-align: center; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="text-align: center; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>From The
All Sorts of Stories Book 1911 </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>by H.J. Ford (1860 – 1941) </b></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="text-align: center; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>
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Sometimes I had creepy dreams. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
So sleeping wasn’t always
what I did at night. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
As a child, my ordinary day was filled with schemes; </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
And
how I might get those ideas to ignite. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Bedtime I kept my thoughts alive, on
fire; </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Warding off the darkness that lurked in my mind. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Though it was rest my
body desperately desired, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
That wasn’t how my psyche was designed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The boogeyman
slept under my small corner bed; </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A ghost in the closet who hid in the day; </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The
monsters that grew out of my head. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
It took 60 years to make them go away.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">From
The Orange Fairy Book 1906 </b><br />
<b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">by H.J. Ford </b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>
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I collected an odd assortment of friends as a child.</div>
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My parents embraced them, every one.</div>
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Some were “brains” like me and some were completely wild.</div>
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Judgment wasn’t allowed in my home. Childhood was meant to be fun.</div>
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<br /></div>
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It wasn’t until Grade 7 when a somewhat clingy girl was exiled.</div>
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It seemed there was evidence incontrovertible</div>
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That made my mother uncomfortable with what appeared to be</div>
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<br /></div>
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Bed bugs.......</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
it seemed had most likely caused the red spots on the girls face</div>
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<br /></div>
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And though she was liked, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
the insects didn’t belong </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
IN OUR PLACE.</div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><b style="text-align: center; text-indent: -0.25in;">From The Story of the Rebellious Dolls c 1910 </b></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b style="text-align: center; text-indent: -0.25in;">by
E. Stuart Hardy (Born 1870)</b><span style="text-align: center; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span></div>
</div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
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Uncle Howard came to stay with my mother and father, (this was long before I was born) </div>
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in their apartment on Boren Avenue. It was a one bedroom </div>
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and there was little space for </div>
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three people, two of them being honeymooners.... </div>
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And my mother
was a fastidious woman. </div>
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Hard on her to accept this giant of a man who had been
injured in the war that was still raging </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
all over the world. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“But he’s my uncle,”
my father pleaded, yet reluctantly let the veteran leave. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I grew up hearing about
CRAZY UNCLE HOWARD, but my father loved him. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I never forgot that. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>From The Twilight of the Gods 1911 </b><br />
<b>by Arthur Rackham </b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When my cousin would </div>
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come to stay with us, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
she flirted with all the
boys in the </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
neighborhood. I didn’t get it. I was 9 </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
when she was 12 and boys </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
were not a priority </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
in my life. She was </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
cool. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was a “little sister” and my
older brother, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
who was her age, had more </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
in common with her, so </div>
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typically </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was
ignored. She almost married</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
one of those boys and there </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
were things that
happened that I didn’t </div>
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know about but </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
really – I didn’t care. I found them to
be </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
just as annoying as </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
they found me.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<b>From The Stories of the Three Baby Bears Told c 1910 </b><br />
<b>by E. Stuart Hardy (Born 1870)</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
One time when I was about 6, we were huckleberry picking up in an area
that was wooded but had natural meadows. My grandma, who never wore pants her
entire life, had her skirt tied between her knees. Her two daughters (my mother
and my aunt) were picking in a group and we children were down the hill. There
were others picking, too; Betty was there, my mother’s best friend. I remember
as if it was yesterday when they came tearing down the hill, their legs like
cartoons, scissoring the air, my grandma holding hands between her girls,
leaping. We thought it was bees but it was a bear.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b>From House Fairies 1925 </b></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b>by Margaret W. Tarrant (1888 – 1959) </b></div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I had my suspicions about </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
the tooth fairy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I lost my first tooth while </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
on vacation in S. Dakota. It was </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
a hot July morning and </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was hungry and wanted
to bite </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
into my large piece of toast, oozing </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
with white butter, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
dripping with blood red jam. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was fussy and acting </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
like a 6 year old. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
My mother’s cousin Inga </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
turned me to
her and asked </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
to have a look in my mouth. She had dry flour </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
on her fingertips; </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
it was all a plan. She grabbed </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
my tooth and yanked. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Gone! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I cried and </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
she
laughed and</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I laughed, too. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The tooth fairy found me halfway across the
nation.</div>
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<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
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<b>From The Child’s Book of Verse 1918 </b><br />
<b>by Margaret W. Tarrant (1888 –
1959)</b> </div>
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I said my “Now I lay me<br />
down to sleep” prayers<br />
every night and always
ended<br />
with “God bless” – a long list of<br />
people. Whoever heard<br />
my prayers before
tucking me in,<br />
kissing me goodnight and<br />
turning out the light, would<br />
inevitably
cut me short as I blessed the<br />
pastor, his wife and children,<br />
all the neighbors,<br />
my father’s friends,<br />
the car,<br />
the kitty-kat,<br />
dog,<br />
the president.<br />
I often
lay awake far too long, staring out the window,<br />
blessing the moon and the
stars;<br />
blades of grass;<br />
my father’s garden<br />
and the breakfast I would eat in the
morning. <br />
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<b>From Mrs. Mary Blaze 1885 </b></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b>by Randolph Caldecott (1846 – 1886) </b></div>
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<b><br /></b>
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I taught myself how to read.<br />
My brother brought home his books, tossed
them, and I picked them up.<br />
I was 4; and he was 7, but only in 1<sup>st</sup>
Grade, since he was held back for two years in Kindergarten.<br />
I poured over the
illustrations of Dick, Jane, and Sally; Spot, the dog; Puff, the cat; and Tim,
the teddy bear (I had a particular fondness for Tim.) I would sit on the
linoleum floor in our kitchen, while my mother prepared dinner.<br />
I never learned
to read phonetically.<br />
SHOES<br />
was the first word I was able to memorize, relate to,
and READ!<br />
After that, they came in a flood and I graduated out of primers
before I entered school.<br />
I loved the library from a young age.<br />
On the other
hand, I was insanely bored in school and hated it,<br />
my entire life.<br />
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<b>From Jackanapes 1883 </b></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b>by Randolph Caldecott (1846 - 1886) </b></div>
<b></b><br />
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<b>
<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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I was bullied. It began in kindergarten when big boys got to ride the
trikes at recess and I never got a turn.<br />
I never did get a turn. All year. By
high school I had developed a personality that was molded by a decade of being
made to feel inferior.<br />
I wasn’t stupid. It turned out I had a very high IQ and<br />
I considered suicide when the entire 7<sup>th</sup> grade found this out. I was
mortified that something must have been innately wrong with me that could never be fixed.<br />
I was smashed up against my locker by one girl who threatened to kill me.<br />
<br />
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<b>From The Adventures of Borbee and the Wisp 1905 </b><br />
<b>by Florence K Upton
(1873 – 1922) </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">From the time I was about 2 </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">or 3 years old, I had </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">a constant companion.
My parents </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">tolerated the presence </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">of Timmy, </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">my Imaginary Friend (now referred
to as </span><i style="text-align: center;">IF</i><span style="text-align: center;"> in the field of psychology). </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">I went everywhere with Timmy. Sometimes </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">I led and other times I followed. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">Timmy
had a place at the table during meals, </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">my parents sometimes sat on him, </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">and
once my father slammed Timmy’s hand in the car door, of which </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">I became
hysterical. “Jesus Christ,” </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">my father said and opened the door </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">to let Timmy in
and grumbled that </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">he needed to keep up. My parents were </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">ordinary people. What
made them </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">so open-minded is a mystery. As an adult </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">I asked my mother and </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">she
made it very clear </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">that as a parent one must choose their battles, </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">lest they
lose all the time.</span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div>
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<b>From The Vege-Man’s Revenge 1897 </b></div>
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<b>by Florence K Upton (1873 – 1922)</b> </div>
</div>
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Daddy always had a garden. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I never appreciated it </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
until I asked him </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to
come till and plant my first real garden </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
with me. I loved </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to be with him </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
in his garden as a
child, and </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
would roll around in the </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
dust and dirt </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
between the rows, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
while he
weeded and hoed. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I picked peas while they were too young, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
pulled up baby carrots
and </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
washed them with the hose, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
eating their sweet earthy youth </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
before it was
ready. Sweet peas </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
were strung at the end of each row </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and my father would pick a
small bouquet </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and have me take them in to my mom, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
where she would put them </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
in
water and their fragrance </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
filled our small kitchen.</div>
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<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b>From The Story of Snips c 1910 </b></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b>by Anqusine MacGregor (1905 - )</b></div>
</div>
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School was dreadful.<br />
I was always in trouble<br />
and so often confused<br />
as
to the reason why.<br />
My mother was exasperated.<br />
My father was apathetic.<br />
My
teachers beat me.<br />
I took swats in the principal’s office,<br />
holding my skirt up
so Mr. O’Dell<br />
could smack my panties with his paddle.<br />
I cried<br />
and snot ran down
my face<br />
with nothing to clean it up with.<br />
I ran home and was<br />
marched back to
school.<br />
<br />
I want to go back and<br />
find that little girl and<br />
hold her in my arms and<br />
not let any more hurt her.</div>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>From Nonsense Nonsense! </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>1902 by Charles Robinson (1870 – 1939) </b></div>
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I learned my first swear word from David T.<br />
I went home saying FFFFF<br />
and thought<br />
it was something people<br />
would find amusing.</div>
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David T<br />
used to come to my house<br />
and we’d paint our nails<br />
and<br />
wear my
mother’s hats.<br />
For some people it was confusing.</div>
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In 1964,<br />
David T, my friend,<br />
was found hanging<br />
in his grandfather’s
garage.<br />
He could no longer<br />
face the world.<br />
He was 17 and<br />
he was dead.</div>
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I still mourn<br />
the loss of David T,<br />
who was relentlessly teased<br />
by people
I have not forgotten.<br />
I truly understood his pitiful dread.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
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<b>From Marigold Garden 1885 </b><br />
<b>by Kate Greenaway (1846 – 1901) </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
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I adored my mother.<br />
She was
beautiful.<br />
I loved to go to Nordstrom
with her<br />
while she shopped for shoes.<br />
(They sold only shoes then; I think the
store was on 4<sup>th</sup> or 5<sup>th</sup> Avenue).)<br />
They would bring her a
standard ashtray<br />
and place it in front of her. She would<br />
tap out a cigarette
and the clerk lit it for her,<br />
as she pointed to the different styles of shoes<br />
she’d like to try on.<br />
Her favorites were De Liso heels.<br />
The boxes would pile up<br />
and be scattered everywhere.<br />
Until her death at 89,<br />
my mother kept her shoes in
original boxes;<br />
dozens and dozens and dozens of them.</div>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b>From The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle 1905 </b></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b>Beatrix Potter (1866 -1943)</b></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b><br /></b></div>
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I thought I would grow up and be famous and rich,<br />
as all children do.
For quite some time<br />
I imagined Hayley Mills was a friend of mine<br />
and we wrote
letters to one another. I,<br />
of course,<br />
wrote <u>all</u> the letters<br />
and
pretended they were send from England<br />
and Disneyland<br />
and NY. For a long time<br />
I
kept this secret imaginary relationship<br />
to myself but then,<br />
one day,<br />
so
convinced it was real,<br />
I blurted it out in a boastful moment. I already<br />
considered
myself special enough to do so.<br />
It was a big mistake. </div>
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<br />
<b>From Rumbo Rhymes 1911</b><br />
<b>by Walter Crane (1845 – 1915) </b></div>
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I went through a very short period of time when I refused to eat meat.<br />
I considered animals sentient beings (and I do believe they are)<br />
but it so
vexed my mother that she could not get me to eat.<br />
I didn’t go about it properly
because in the early 60’s there were few<br />
who thought that carnivores were
unacceptable and vile.<br />
My father advised me to study Darwin and the Food Chain<br />
and do my best to eat my mother’s cooking because<br />
I was stuck with it for
awhile. He told me I could<br />
make those kinds of decisions s an adult. </div>
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<br />
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<b>From Undine 1909 </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>by Arthur Rackham (1867 – 1939)</b></div>
</div>
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I had no fear as a child and I didn’t know it was wrong for others to
touch. Alarm was a feeling I became familiar with but somehow, somehow I
blocked fear. My boldness was often my downfall. I was afraid of all the wrong
things. Shame is a terrible thing for a child to bear and so hiding becomes the
remedy. Disguise. Diversion. Distraction. If you don’t think about it yourself,
then perhaps no one will know. No one will guess and you can keep the charade
going for years. And years. And years. </div>
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<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b>From Flora’s Feast A Masque of Flowers 1889 </b><br />
<b>by Walter Crane (1845 –
1915)</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<br />
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Once I began reading,<br />
the stream of consciousness began<br />
with a
vengeance. My parents read,<br />
so a library was available<br />
once I’d moved on<br />
from
Nancy Drew and the Bobbsey twins.<br />
Two books stand out in my mind<br />
as making as
impression that was<br />
indelible and undeniable.<br />
“OF HUMAN BONDAGE”<br />
by Somerset
Maugham<br />
took me on a thrilling ride<br />
and opened my eyes<br />
and ears<br />
to HUMANITY.<br />
Even though<br />
“Captain Horatio Hornblower”<br />
didn’t have quite the impact,<br />
it did
have lots of lessons and<br />
was an easy read. My mother hesitated<br />
allowing me to
read this book at 13<br />
due to the “N” word but I overlooked that<br />
and it was a few
more years<br />
before I grasped the<br />
depth and the hollowness<br />
of this word.</div>
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<b>From The Tale of Peter Rabbit 1901 </b></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b>by Beatrix Potter (1866 – 1943)</b></div>
</div>
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I was never a big fan of<br />
Beatrix Potter as a child.<br />
I loved the
illustrations<br />
but the stories all seemed<br />
silly.<br />
Yet,<br />
Peter always held me<br />
in
his naughty thrall and<br />
I was intrigued by<br />
his boldness. His sisters,<br />
on the
other hand, were wimps<br />
and probably didn’t have nearly<br />
as much fun as Peter. As
a child<br />
I was probably a<br />
mix of both – a very typical kid – nice<br />
and
troublesome. I know for certain<br />
there were people<br />
who thought I was an angel,
and<br />
others who considered me a<br />
hellish little brat who<br />
should be neither seen
nor heard.<br />
I named my first born Peter.<br />
He is a Gemini;<br />
born in June –<br />
complete
split of personality,<br />
depending on company. </div>
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<br />
<br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>From The April Baby’s Book of Tunes 1900 </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>by Kate Greenaway (1846 –
1901)</b></div>
</div>
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When I was born in the small town </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
of Enumclaw, Washington, the hospital </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
was new and I was the 2<sup>nd</sup> baby born there. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My grandfather came to
the hospital and </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
handed my mother a bouquet of </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
September flowers, dahlias and
roses, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
through an open window. A nurse took them a</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
nd told him he couldn’t come
in with his cigar. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He came in anyway, through the front door, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
which was just
around the corner from the window. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It was a small hospital. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A nurse put the
flowers in water </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and scolded him. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He laughed and told her, in his Danish accent </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
that she was a good woman. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That was when I was born. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My favorite photo of </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
my grandpa
and me is me on his knee, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
me holding my little African skinned doll, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
AmosSandra.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
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<b>From The Black Cat Book </b><br />
<b>by Charles Robinson (1870 – 1937)</b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The first cat I had in my life was<br />
“Mittens” – we fondly called<br />
her
“Mitts” and she loved<br />
my dad, even though she was<br />
<i>my </i>cat.<br />
I’m sure she loved my mother<br />
equally,<br />
as that was more
often than<br />
not, the hand that fed her.<br />
I was 4 years old when we went to<br />
John
and Tess Howells’ farm<br />
and I got to pick out this<br />
tiny wee kitten,<br />
out in the barn,
from a couple of litters. All black,<br />
she had 4 white feet.<br />
She was too little
yet to be weaned<br />
so I didn’t get her until we came back from a trip to<br />
Montana
and S. Dakota.<br />
I can still see her running to me<br />
that day.<br />
I picked her up and
cuddled her<br />
as I would for many years to come.<br />
She lived until I was<br />
22 years
old.</div>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvxYUFoQe45DmEImDC30f6Iljx6AR7nW7Dehog8VgpREIRoeltZbBnJc3e2W0523TJ4Ovsu2AsqbWQhn7oBoo__NUYeq3cmif3Jo3ehre4H2A-fOlz_Wjg-LxjMOiQXeAggeI9QSCTOXmj/s1600/postcard+farmer+market.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1238" data-original-width="858" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvxYUFoQe45DmEImDC30f6Iljx6AR7nW7Dehog8VgpREIRoeltZbBnJc3e2W0523TJ4Ovsu2AsqbWQhn7oBoo__NUYeq3cmif3Jo3ehre4H2A-fOlz_Wjg-LxjMOiQXeAggeI9QSCTOXmj/s200/postcard+farmer+market.jpg" width="138" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is not a postcard from the series.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>29 August 2017 </b><br />
<b>2<sup>nd</sup> Day of Houston’s Hurricane Harvey.</b><br />
<br /></div>
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Perhaps we shouldn’t have built all these levies and dams on Mother
Earth. Maybe all this concrete that holds up streams of exhaust-spewing
automobiles will someday collapse. Boom. Down. Gone. We have reconfigured the
surface of our planet and now she is reacting. Dead dinosaurs providing
compounds for greenhouses gas with the aid of combustion and mechanics.. We
have created dustbowls and floods and melting glaciers and the extinction of
hoards of animals. What will stop us?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><br /></b></div>
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<div style="text-align: right;">
<b>From The Three Little Pigs </b></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b>by Frank Adams (Active 1903 – 1944)</b></div>
</div>
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There was one neighbor we all disliked. Even my dad didn’t like her too
much, though he was always kind to her. Mrs. Baum was not a happy person, my
dad told us and her husband was a
jerk. I think it was “First-Class Jerk.”
But we could not help ourselves and she was the one whose doorbell we always
rang and then ran away. She looked like an old pig to me but I got in a LOT of
trouble for saying that. I remember once feeling bad for her when she came out
on her porch and stood with her hands on her hips. We didn’t really have a
reason to hate her.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
26 From Peggy and Joan by Honor C. Appleton (1879 – 1951)</div>
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I watched my mother painstakingly hang wallpaper in my bedroom. I was
about 4 years old. I recall the colorful little people holding hands and the
darling little blue and pink cottages. I wasn’t sure why she was doing this and
I guess most kids don’t really care what a room looks like, as long as they’re
fed, loved, and get to eat popcorn with their dad and watch TV. Those were the
things that mattered to me so when the babysitter let me have crayons at
naptime and I colored all over the walls, I never really knew what all the fuss
was about. My mother’s anger at the babysitter was beyond my comprehension.</div>
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<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
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<b>From Josephine Goes Shopping 1926 </b><br />
<b>by Honor C. Appleton (1879 – 1951)</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
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I had a happy childhood, as far as childhoods go.<br />
I hated school and
was taunted and bullied<br />
all the way from kindergarten until 12<sup>th</sup>
grade.<br />
But I had lovely times, too.<br />
I had a great collection of dolls that I
played with<br />
until I was probably 13 years old. I wrote poetry<br />
and little
stories, which my parents encouraged.<br />
I was a terror on my bike and rode for
miles.<br />
I adored Brownies and Girl Scouts and my Dad<br />
helped me earn a lot of my
badges.<br />
I performed and sang and danced.<br />
I loved music and was surrounded by
it.<br />
I was a voracious reader and loved the library.<br />
I enjoyed skiing and
swimming and was allowed to go into the city (Seattle) when I was quite young.<br />
I’m grateful for it all.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b>From Bobbity Flop 1912 </b></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b>by Augustine MacGregor (1905 -)</b></div>
<b><br /></b>
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My mother had an idea of what a little girl should look like and it was
largely based on her favorite little girl.<br />
Shirley Temple.<br />
Besides ballet and
dance classes, held above the bakery, where all I would think of was donuts and
maple bars, my mother molded me by styling my hair.<br />
Her first permanent
solution was applied to my tender scalp when I was still sleeping in a baby crib. Curls. Galore. Until they fell out the next day and my mother claimed "it didn't take."<br />
I believe I was
one year old at the time.<br />
My hair was tortured through the years until I took
control of it myself and didn’t cut it from the age of 14 until I was about 25.<br />
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<b>From the Pelican Chorus </b></div>
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<b>by L. Leslie Brooke (1862 – 1940)</b></div>
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I was a great singer. </div>
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I always loved “I’m a little Teapot” best </div>
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and my mother
had me perform it </div>
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for all who were </div>
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willing to listen. </div>
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By 3, I had a repertoire
of songs, </div>
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a couple in Danish, </div>
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which I proudly belted out. </div>
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The passion for
singing never went away </div>
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and although I was forced to play piano, </div>
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I don’t regret
that, and </div>
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wish my mother had made me </div>
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stick with it instead of </div>
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taking up guitar.
I was never really </div>
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good at that but </div>
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I faked it well enough to </div>
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ave people tell
me </div>
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I was a great singer.</div>
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<b>30 From Johnny Crow’s New Garden 1935 </b><br />
<b>by L. Leslie Brooke (1862 – 1940)</b></div>
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In the midst of our Poetry Fest was Harvey. This is my offering to
Trilla in Houston: </div>
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Trilla, I received your card today and hope you are safe. I’m so sorry
for what has happened to your beautiful city. I’m not even sure you’ll get this
card. I certainly hope you do. The good that has come from this flood, this
horrible frightening devastation, is the community coming together and most
people recognizing we are all one people, we must know it is okay to lean on
another and be pleased to carry our sisters and brothers on our backs. My hope
for Houston comes to you, with healing and love. </div>
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Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-839783730039365807.post-20250918654926301912017-07-07T23:24:00.002-07:002017-07-07T23:26:50.184-07:00It Was the Five Year Thing<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">It goes without saying that I’ve been away from my blog far too long. About the time I wrote the last one in mid-February, I was moving in a direction I would never have guessed I’d venture. I've been busy. The past year had been pretty tough in a lot of ways and I was tired of listening to myself gripe about it. Moaning and groaning not only annoys friends, it also doesn’t make the future unfold into rainbows and shiny happy people laughing. If you know what I mean. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Last summer my daughter Olivia was looking for a Plan B; she didn’t know what she wanted but she recognized her opportunities in the dental field had narrowed down to either going back to school, which meant loans and a huge investment of time or moving on to something else and keeping dental in her side pocket. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">When she told me about Arbonne in August, I listened with half an ear. She bought into it lock, stock and two whirring Magic Bullets (small blenders that change lives.) I watched. I listened some, too but I was working on finishing an intense edit of a book and didn’t have time. She lassoed family and some friends onto a health kick, and some lost weight, others shed aches and pains and all of them raved. It took me some time. In December I acquiesced. I started on the 5th of the month and detoxed over the holidays, resisting temptation and losing a few pounds. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">By January 2nd I decided to go beyond 30 days. I felt so good. I began to give up afternoon naps and slept better at night. My cravings decreased and didn’t want to eat crap. In February I started working as a consultant, a laugh really. Me? A nutrition consultant? In March I began to use the skin care products. Today, seven months later, I've lost a total of 28 pounds. I don’t just look better; I feel <i>really good</i>. My skin is soft and has a lovely glow that I don’t think I’ve ever had. Spots and bumps have disappeared from my face. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">This photo is on my birthday September 18, 2016.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I can’t remember the first time I heard someone say “where will you be in five years if you do this? Where will you be in five years if you don’t?” That was the heads up that socked it to me. I look back to December, the changes, and the impact of the <i>5 year</i> question is profound. I thank Olivia for not beating me over the head but showing me what I could do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The main thing I've found changing for the better is my <i>OUTLOOK</i>. I've never been a negative person but I can easily fall into a trap of feeling sorry for myself. With the books I’m reading (<b>On Fire</b> by John O’Leary; <b>Get Over Your Damn Self</b> by Romi Neustadt; <b>Miracle Morning</b> by Hal Elrod) along with the Arbonne people I’ve been associating with… my attitude is coming around pretty much 180.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Me in May in Mexico</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I have always wanted to give back. I probably hand out way too much money to street people and I have a hard time saying no to anyone, especially my grandkids. I want very much to do more. That’s one of the big reasons I’m working with Arbonne. I want to do things like this: <a href="http://mynorthwest.com/685174/homeless-girls-join-their-first-girl-scout-troop-at-marys-place/">Homeless girls join their first Girl Scout troop at Mary's Place. </a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I want to share healthy living with everyone I know. I'm on a bit of a rave. I know it seems hard to give up alcohol, sugar and bagels with cream cheese for 30 days but if I can do it, anyone can. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I'm also going to have an Airbnb again because when I was doing that, I met some splendid, wonderful people from all over the world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And, of course, my writing. I've published some poetry, including in an <a href="https://www.sixfold.org/PoWinter16/McCoy.html">impressive anthology</a>, and still working on publishing my books. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">These are my goals. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Getting healthy is not hard. It is never too late. I have about ten more pounds to drop and doing it gradually. I still eat some of those things I used to go-to when I thought I was hungry, but I find I’m not all that interested in grilled cheese sandwiches and baked-potatoes-with-everything these days. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I’ve kept journals my entire life and often jot down notes while driving, chatting on phone, daydreaming. The past few months I’ve added three things to my daily writing: “What I’m grateful for;” “What I’m committed to;” and “What I’m excited about.” It’s fun to go back and see how they’ve turned out. I’m grateful for feeling better than I thought I ever could and no longer having serious joint pain. I was committed to making District Manager with Arbonne by June; I got there by July! I love reading old notes and seeing how things turn out. I'm excited to keep up this lifestyle. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">At my age, all this….ha! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Every day I’m a little more amazed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Thanks for reading...........</span><br />
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Jodihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04629355449173550498noreply@blogger.com0