A Grandfather’s Questions
Who will clap at the baby’s first laugh,
And help her count the stars?
Who will listen for the dove’s call,
And sniff the fragrant flowers?
Who will encourage a child to grow,
And love her fellowman?
Who will take the time to explain,
To help her understand?
Will she ever learn how to respect,
The young as well as the old?
Will she discover over time
Love is more precious than gold?
Who will chant the songs,
I learned as a child?
Who will tell stories at night,
Of ancestors gone awhile?
Who will sniff and enjoy the taste,
Of Grandmother’s fresh baked bread?
And who will explain the Will of God,
When life is hanging by a thread?
Will someone hug her tightly,
And wipe away her tears?
Will someone answer her questions,
And soothe her endless fears?
April 23, 2017
Posted in bravery, fear, love, People, poetry, Religious, Uncategorized
Tagged ancestors, flowers, grandfather, respect, stories, tears
Early in the morning before all the stores were open, two men arrived in a nondescript gray sedan. They had looked the small town over, debated on several escape routes, and finally decided they would leave on the same street they came in. It could have been any other street but their choice was probably the best because the other streets were not as clean.
“Odd way of thinking about a getaway street but there had to be some criteria for picking an escape route.” I remember telling the sheriff that after the ill-fated episode. We were just sitting on the porch, after the robbery, playing lawyer, trying to come up with reasonable explanations why someone would rob a café when there was a bank right next door. It still doesn’t make sense.
Anyway, these two men sauntered into the café, sniffed the air, and plunked down on a couple of swivel chairs. “It’s gonna be a hot one today,” the short man said. “I bet you could fry an egg on the sidewalk.”
One of the waitresses, Rebecca, was busy wrapping the silverware so she almost missed the expression on the stranger’s face when Ruth said, “Bobby, don’t bother using the skillets or frying pans today. This man says he wants his egg cooked on the sidewalk so it can get more flavor.”
“Now, honey, I didn’t say that. you’re stretching the truth and making me mad. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I just want an ordinary breakfast so we can be back on the road.”
“Where you all heading? You don’t want to be on the road after ten. And make sure you put on plenty of sunscreen. You’ll fry if you’re in the sun too long.”
The short man said, “We’ll take our chances. Now give us each a breakfast and be quick about it. We’ve got to be in El Paso before noon. And,” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gun. “I want all of you to finance the adventure.” He looked around the room. “Put all your money in this bag. George will be coming around to collect.”
“As soon as I fry these hash browns and flip the eggs, I’ll be right with you,” Rebecca called out. “We’re short-handed right now. The other waitress went home sick and Floyd, the cook, is out getting supplies. I can’t tell you when the cash drawer will open. It’s on a timer. The cash was counted this morning and delivered to the bank. You might as well put your gun away and have a cup of coffee. You’ll feel much better if you get your blood circulating. Last week, Bill was feeling poorly and got real cranky. He didn’t settle down until he had coffee and some apple crisp. Did I tell you Sally Mae is the best pie maker in Succotash County? She fries the apples before mixing them with the other ingredients. She will probably win the blue ribbon this year too.”
“Lady, I have no interest in Sally Mae’s pies. I thought her apple crisp was tasteless, like it was fried on the street. Please don’t make me hurt you. If we get caught this would be my third strike. The judge said if we got in trouble again we would fry on the rack.”
“George, will you check our escape and make sure nobody’s in our path?”
George did not return as expected. Shorty, the short man, found George and two other gang members working the grill, selling hot dogs and hamburgers. It was the first time the Succotash County Wildcats made enough cash to purchase matching uniforms .
It was the start of a new era. The Wildcats reigned as champions for several years. The Bad News Wildcats did quite well until that notorious girls’ team beat them in the championship. That humiliating experience was fried into their memory but never mentioned again.
Posted in bravery, fear, People, Romance, Uncategorized
Tagged advice, changes, Christianity, inspiration, real world, relationships, truth, Word
My body is playing tricks again,
And it’s driving me insane.
I’m tired of all the drama,
And tired of all the pain.
My doctor’s appointment is scheduled,
It would be sad if I should miss,
Especially if the doctor shouts,
“Hey, everyone! Come and look at this!”
I understand it’s not fun and games
To get a colonoscopy,
It might be fun for someone else,
But it’s not much fun for me!
Nothing to eat but an awful drink,
What could possibly be any sadder?
Oops! It’s time to go!
The drink affects my bladder!
Doctor, just check me out,
The procedure is long overdue.
Which way are you going in,
To get the scenic view?
You’ve done this procedure numerous times,
Please be gentle and not rough.
The nurses have prepped me up,
So, doc, do your stuff!
April 15, 2017
It’s hard to keep topics timely.
Whatever I say or do,
Is often out of view.
What was said yesterday,
Is swallowed up by today.
Forgotten. Pushed aside. Covered up.
Two hundred girls, chemicals used,
A murder in our town,
What does timely mean
If we ignore what’s going down?
There’s not much we can do
If we only sit and stew.
How can we write with pride
If important things are set aside?
We have to be timely.
Dear Amy, I was pleased to receive your letter,
and I hope you’re getting better. Sorry that I scared you, but it seemed the best thing to do. I was expecting you to leap into my arms, but you chose to withhold your charms. As for the garden we planted by the light of the moon, I hope it grows real soon. My heart beats faster each time I see you, and I realize no one else will do. I’d be pleased if you gave me a kiss, and I would promise you this. I will love you forever. Oh, by the way, your father was just having fun, he doesn’t really have a gun, does he? Was he serious when he told me to go away, that I would never find a way? Please write me soon and we’ll meet at noon.
Sincerely, Sneaky Pete
Posted in bravery, fear, humor, love, People, poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged advice, changes, fun, life, relationships, Word
I’ve had a pity party, it’s true.
Seems it comes right out of the blue.
But I wonder what I can do.
It doesn’t wait for every guest
Nor does it hang around at my bequest.
Pity Party, show me laughter, not the tears,
Give me hope without any fears.
Tell me in dreams about despair.
I might say my party begins,
When all laughter and fun ends.
I try to urge each pity party to go away,
Bluntly insisting it can’t stay.
Pity Party, why are you here?
From the depths of despair you appear
And ruin my day. What else should I say?
Too often I languished in despair,
While you encouraged my presence there.
But what can I do
To get rid of you?
No more pity parties for me,
Turn me loose and let me be.
Your insidious being will be blocked at the door.
Get the hint. I don’t want you any more.
There was no streetcar he desired,
So he trudged through snow although tired.
He wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere,
But on a mission only he would dare.
The snow was still falling, silent and deep,
Gathered in drifts for the snowplow to keep.
He thought about a lover, sweet and proud.
That’s when he saw her, a face in the crowd.
He watched from a distance, a block or two,
His heart was racing because he already knew.
He drew closer, separating her from the herd,
Animal instincts alert, he spoke not a word.
Quietly he moved until he was a step away,
He wanted her and desired her. This was his day.
Her eyes burned bright with a strange eerie glow,
He felt sudden fear, but he had nowhere to go.
It was not as he planned, though her beauty he saw,
He looked desperately for help, even from the law.
She pinned his arms. He knew something was wrong.
He was muscular and lean, but she was very strong.
Like a cat with a mouse, she played him night and day.
She wanted and desired him and never let him get away.
Posted in bravery, fear, humor, love, People, poetry, Romance, Uncategorized
Tagged desire, instincts, love, muscular, snow, strong