LANDLOCKED

                                                           LANDLOCKED

 I am a foreigner to my music once again
I've let it drift off to a land far across time
and though I think about the days gone by quite frequently
There doesn't seem to be much chance to make a rhyme

My path seems to have taken me away
from all the dreams I knew, that once, for me, were real
and though I still touch upon those dreams from time to time
they have lost their shiny, innocent appeal

When I wake up now, it's no longer to the music
and to hours spent in rapture of the tunes
The sun above has passed through many seasons
and I no longer feel the call of rising moons

There was a quietness that one filled all my being
and miracles occurred with frequency
until I took to sailing with the landlocked
then was driven by a cold wind, out to sea

Although the soft spectrum of light still lingers near me
and entices me to come and share its song
I am bound to other voices for the time
that simply say to me that it does not belong

Perhaps one day I'll find the wind has changed
and become a constant breeze back to the stars
but for now the visions of the past are all I live by
for there doesn't seem much chance to make a rhyme

*originally written  Thursday, 2/5/1975 at 11 am

THE RIVER THROUGH OUR VALLEY ( a memory and a dream)

                                                  
                                                 THE RIVER THROUGH OUR VALLEY

                                                        ( a memory and a dream)

On cold days, silver-grey and lazy
 after rain, dark and fast and hazy
sparkling in the sun beneath a bright sky
with tides running low  and running high
      is the river
      is the river
     through our valley


So carefree when its sunny
Splashing children being funny
Teasing sailboats as they drift
Our water garden, our gift
   That's the river
   That's the river
   through our valley

I remember as a child
watching it by night
when the stars were full and bright
as a train rushed into sight
bobbing shoulders to the Moon
saying, "I'll be changing soon!"
  That's the river
  That's the river
  though our valley

An autumn night a meteor shower
dazzled us for over an hour
as we rode the river upstream
following the Sloop was like a sweet dream
     On that river
     On that river
     through our valley

More than a river, it's a friend
with little towns at every bend
and people out to sing their songs
to keep it clear and keep it strong
We can't replace the gifts it gives
as it will, long as it lives

     That sweet river
     That sweet river
     through our valley

• written in 1970

For the Pleasure of a Tree

                                                                     For the Pleasure of a Tree

                                                             
                                                   Outside the windows
                                                   the sunshine glares
                                                   rows of apartments
                                                   hot concrete squares

                                                  Designated spaces
                                                  for parking cars
                                                  across the highway
                                                  restaurants and bars
 

                                                  A reckless breeze
                                                  molests the rooms
                                                  children screaming
                                                 city fumes

                                                  A factory bellows
                                                  smoke from stacks
                                                  What I crave
                                                  this city lacks

                                                 Off, in my  mind,
                                                 a stream runs free
                                                 the gentle hum
                                                 of a busy bee

                                                Children laughing
                                                playing games
                                                flowers blooming
                                                from showery rains

                                               A country Fair
                                               alit with smiles
                                               All far away
                                               from this land of aisles

                                               A favorite place
                                               a world long past
                                               the dreams I dreamed
                                               and prayed would last
   
                                              The night's breeze, soft,
                                              cool and clear
                                              the weeping willow
                                              without tears

                                             It's graceful tendrils
                                             a home by day
                                             for singing birds
                                             to dance and sway

                                            Beneath its boughs
                                            a shaded dome
                                            of tiny leaves
                                            my second home

                                           How these memories
                                           come to haunt me
                                             and oh!
                                                for the pleasure of a tree


written in 1975

SILENT WORDS

   SILENT WORDS

My cries have fallen on deaf ears for so long that it seems all but hopeless that my prayers will finally be answered... but I know that all things are possible, and continue to pray.

This is the end of a road I have been on for a very long time. It is not one I would have chosen.
I have survived every peril along the way, finding blessings to sustain me, to keep me going for one more day, for one more hour, only to find that the end of this road is filled with the monsters that threaten to take my life.

My heart has been broken into many pieces, bit by bit. Nearly everything that I love and hold dear has been taken... all the love and effort I put into them, all the beauty they contain,  dashed upon the rocks... a pile of rubble, and me among them.

I am numb from shock and unbearable pain. I can only cry.

My tears are my blood... my life draining from me.

I sit in silence. Words, unspoken, trapped inside me. I dare not speak, for the time has not yet come. I count the minutes. I relive the memories of the end... I dream of the future and I pray.

Thanks, Mom

 My mother passed away last Saturday night, and although she was very quiet most of the time, there's a silence in the house that goes beyond quiet. My older son and  I have lived with her in her final years, and we have looked out for one another. We were always passing in the hallway, or ending up in the kitchen at the same time, and there were the sounds of her moving about doing this and that, all day, and we were passing a few words with her every a few hours that she was awake, day or night.

  I couldn't really hold conversations with her most of the time these past few years because her hearing was so bad, but she could hear her grandson's voice quiet clearly. I would often hear them talking about all kinds of things, as she sat in the livingroom surrounded by her books and shelves of special keepsakes.

 We would always ask her if she wanted something to eat, or if she needed anything, as we were on our way to the kitchen, or going out the door to run errands. There are so many little ways we all interacted, that they are impossible to really recount, and to put into words... and we will miss all of them... even those times that were upsetting at the time.

 Yes, we saw her in pain a lot of the time, for a long time, and were well aware of her more rapidly declining condition, but there is nothing that can really prepare you for the passing of someone you have shared your life, and then your living space, with ever since you can remember. There are times when we disagreed, and times when we got in one another's way, and all that, but no matter what differences we had, or misunderstandings, I, personally, always wished I could do more for her, and I'm sure she felt the same. .. not just about me, but all of us.

 The end of January she went to the hospital and was there for a week. When she went there, she asked if she would be able to come home again. We told her she could... and we made sure she did... even though it was only for two weeks. We all did everything we could to make her see how much she was loved and appreciated during that time, and I do believe she was aware of it, if she had ever had any doubts. I wish we could have talked more, but she was sleeping a lot, and didn't feel up to conversations. A line here and there, followed by a response, was about all she was up to, for the most part, but in those few words there was a communication that really didn't need a full conversation. The matters of the ordinary day to day living didn't concern us anymore. It was the one day at a time that we spent together that mattered now, and it was in doing the little things that were so important, and her appreciation of the care we were giving her, as best we could, that said more than words could to convey the love between us all.

 So many times I had wanted to do more for her, to show her how much I loved her, and it was frustrating to only do little things, when it seemed so clear that she needed something more... but what? How? Bringing her home to spend those days with us provided the answers... and I am sure she got some she was needing to know before she let go, and moved on, as well. I believe she was worried about us for years, too, and wanted to do more, but didn't know what to do, or how, as well... and I'm sure she would want true reassurance we would be fine, before she passed on.

 During that time, the immediate family came to visit her, including those who had moved away, but had kept in touch with her through cards and letters and phone calls, but were living their own lives. Her coming  home suddenly brought us all together under one roof, to catch up on things, and to bond with one another, and her, again. We were united again, and she saw this. She was responsible for this. This was something she could do, just by being who she was, and the love we all felt for her.... and she saw it. She felt it. It wasn't easy for us to care for her needs, but we did it. She knew this, and she did what she could to make it as easy on us as possible.

 Yes, we all wished it was MORE perfect than it was, but the love we shared, and conveyed to her without words, and her silent expressions of appreciation, was what came forth to override the desire to do more, or better. We all gave our utmost, to the best of our abilities, and she knew this. We made sure she knew that her care wasn't a burden to us, and our shortcomings were not imperfections to her. All that mattered was the love that was expressing. All else was just the limitations that come from living here on earth, but the love didn't care about that. It just kept flowing, and like a tide rising, it overtook all else, no matter what pain, concerns, or worries we had. They were there, yes, but they just didn't matter.

 At the end of those two weeks, she returned to the hospital. We had hoped that she would come home again. We knew her time was coming soon, but we didn't know it was as close as it was. We believed that she wanted to be home when she passed on, but perhaps it didn't matter when her final hour came, because we had fulfilled her desire to come home... and I believe she felt satisfied with that, because she didn't ask if she could come home again. She received better medical care and physical comfort than we would have been able to give her in her final days, and now she wanted us not to endure more, even though we actually welcomed it to express our love for her ( ... if endure is really the best word. I think it's the one she would have chosen.)

 When she took flight, she did so after several hours of visiting with her younger son and grandchildren, talking with them, enjoying their company. It seems to have completed her need to be assured that all was right with this world, knowing that whatever came next for us now, that we were going to go through it together... united. They had left only a short time before, and she went into her eternal dream peacefully, and quickly, with a very kind nurse at her side.

 In the days since her passing, we have noticed things that were lost have suddenly turned up in plain sight, things that were a concern have ceased to be, and other things ... and in unusual ways, we have gotten messeges that she is doing fine where she is now.

 Last night after we gathered here in her house, having said our adieus, we dined on a banquet of Oriental foods, which was her favorite cuisine. This morning, I was clearing away the remnants of assorted packets of condiments, napkins and plates from the table, and as I was doing so, I noticed a cellophane wrapper and a broken fortune cookie on the far, rear, corner of the table. It was the only one that had been opened, and uneaten, on the table. I thought it was a bit odd, since it seemed that if someone had unwrapped it and only wanted to read their fortune that it would be in a more noticable place on the table... more likely toward the front or middle of it, instead of to the rear, on an end near a wall, behind the many plates of food that had been there, and where there was noone could possibly have been sitting. Beside it was the little white piece of paper. (I have yet to ask who did that, but it really doesn't matter, because whoever chose it couldn't have known what the messege would be.)  As I finished clearing the rest of the things away, out of idle curiosity I read it. To my amazement it said: THE JOB IS WELL DONE



Thanks Mom, I agree

Aunt Evelyn

I met my Aunt Evelyn ( my father's sister) a few times when I was little, and through my father's telling me about her, and a few pictures, I got to know her ...

... and then we started writing back and forth a few times a year when I was 10 or so...  I continued to, with her telling me the good and bad things going on in her life, to share with everyone, until she got too sick and died, in her early 50's, of  the diabetes she'd delt with for years ...

I was the family liason because at that point, I was the only one with time to write often, and phone calls were expensive and left to one on Christmas or New Year's, usually.....................

I still remember the arrival of the Lei from Hawaii and the fresh dates from California that arrived during Christmas week when I was growing up. They were to the family. She was a stewardess for American Airlines. I never got gifts from her, only the photos and letters, personally... but when I got married, not long before she passed on,  she sent me a cut crystal salad bowl set that I treasured.

As terrible as it sounds to say it, I don't know what became of it in all the changes that have occurred in my adult life, but the memory of it means as much as the actual bowl did, and it's locked in my heart... safe and sound...................... and so is her smile

it was Christmas magic

Sometimes parents explain that they help Santa and how Santa is the Spirit of Christmas but there is a magic that this doesn't explain... like the year I just happened to pick up some really cute ornaments when we were shopping, and I didn't know why... and then some more candy canes.. I just had a feeling I should get them... and then drove around showing my sons the lights on people's houses. Suddenly I knew why I'd gotten them... We raced back home and they put on Santa hats and we prepared the ornaments and candy canes with a card. Then we went back to the best house and they went and knocked on the door. Unbeknownst to us, the parents were decorating the tree, and the little boy came to answer the door for the elves... and invited them in to see his tree. You can be sure that that was something they talked about every Christmas for a while... How Santa's Elves came to see them decorate the tree, and even gave them Ornaments to hang on it... because they had THE BEST LIGHTS AND THE HAPPIEST HOUSE OF ALL ... for real