Sunset of Lake Swan

Flash! From the state that dried up Lake Okeechobee, another gem of a lake is about to go the way of her sister. Lake Swan, a premier clear water lake in West Putnam County Florida, and long time summer residence for many old Gainesville and Jacksonville families, is on its last gasp from a combination of environmental factors, but now hastened by the greed of Jacksonville water consumers. The lake is declining at a rate of 5-10 linear feet per week and at this rate will be a collection of ponds by this time next year. Jacksonville’s JEA, Jacksonville Electric Authority, the public utility for vast Duval County asked for and received permission to draw off 184,000,000 – yes folks that’s 184 MILLION-gallons of water per day from the aquifer. So, you see folks Lake Swan doesn’t stand a chance. But we shouldn’t be too surprised-after all look what was allowed to happen to Lake Okeechobee.

Lake Swan is in very good company because the much larger Lake Santa Fe, just two miles down the road is also at alarming low water levels for the same reason. All throughout this region lakes have dried up due to expanded water usage locally and by neighboring metropolitan areas. Once these lakes are gone they will never return in the state they were previously.

Among other insults to Lake Swan this year was acidic pollution from the fires in Georgia and Florida. For weeks smoke hung over and ash fell on the lake. Where this smoke came into contact with the water a stringy substance was created,hanging in the water until rain came and it finally sank to the lake bottom. Now there is a slimy residue on the lake bottom. Minnows which were plentiful during spring of this year are no longer seen because there is no grass in the water. People are walking and driving ATV’s around the lake further damaging the lake bottom and impacting the minute springs that bubble up when water levels are higher.

When the lake dries up there will be no more reason to live here than any other ‘burb.

December

photo J. Culley "Bored"facebook 12/30/11


Once more she stood there
On the corner of her dreams and one more bout
Of settling for
A shimmering rainbow filled her eyes
Her tears the chrysalis for all her hopes
But could she muster up the grit
Enough to propel her forth
Doubt gnawing at the gates of her determination
Watering down her resolve
She never felt more hunted
But the hunter was her own doubt
The opal that was poised upon her bottom lid
Slid down her face as she turned and walked away
Brushing aside the tears as she went
No one even looked
Just that stinging wind
Was all anyone
would remember

Anyone Post Quotes?

I read postings from folks
who search for quotes
and having one they feel
represents their thoughts
they pass it out
like goods put on display
I wish that they would dig inside
and suss their thoughts
and their individuality reveal
you can do it, I'm egging you on
it really isn't what you say
it's how the words are said
it will never be what you put on the page
cause Anyone's reading it his own way
is it asking too much
are these specious quotes
a specious way
to hold me at bay

Overwrought

Dripping off the eave great drops elongated,
Echoing thoughts of the rainy day
And all I've saved to fill it with,
The cost I've paid to will it with
Years rolling by
Piled upon the pyre of decreased expectations
Until all the fire, the ire has been blunted
By the disappointment of one more promise unfulfilled.
I recognize you too, with all your glory one more lie within my story: story upon story,
And none alone have any significance,
Save for a life here and there snatched from the maw because of care I gave in my anonymous role.
And didn't I want it that way?
Days spent deprecatingly,
Breaking down my core bit by bit,
Turning me into this vestige of my former self,
An image I can claim no more,
No self I recognize, and certainly not one my lovelies care much for.
No! Now I'm just a hanger on, a pitiable charity case
Trotted out on special days, while
They, the "busy ones", have careers waiting.
Lines are growing long and heavy, measured with the drops now dripping from the eaves on this rainy day of days!
Once upon a time, when all was golden, we held promise, where did we grow old, how did it happen, how is it so, did we not know, or feel it go?
So, Rainy Day, what can one do?
Who are you when you are old and purpose gone?
Gold disbursed from sow's ear to gravestone!
Dreams amended I am changed!
And while my soul decries it, speaking to my callow youth, my life stands as it's own reproof that all will fall,
Although perhaps not to such decay, these morbid musings on a rainy day.

Bridge of Lions

A walk across the Bridge of Lions
a blustery, gray, Fall day with
wind whipping as the cars pass
and two teen boys on bicycles
rush by us on the narrow path,
sullen look upon their face
matches the lowering skies!
We are on the south side of the bridge
looking off into the waters where there’s
little demarcation between the chop
and sky.
It’s a watercolor in shades of gray.
Reaching the other side we find
no dirth of traffic in the ancient little town,
fascinating even when there’s no sun!
Maybe more so…

El' s House of Beauty

The concentration...
showing frown lines
furrowing,
I was less certain than she
of the enterprise’s outcome,
and so I sat
intensely waiting
for the product of her making
inside I was quaking.
Scarcely looking toward the mirror
I heard the scissors sssssuk
and piles of hair fell from their blades,
and floating in the air in
moats of sunlight through
the dusty window there just
over my left shoulder where
I wish I had stayed! Out on the street!
But on she snipped and now with hairdryer
and a brush she blew my
hair, now
a much shorter mane into
a svelte and stylish ‘do,
and I confess that staring back
at me
was someone so brand new
I’ll have to get used to
as I pass by
the reflection in the glass.
How such a different person can emerge
from just one hours pass
through El’s House of Beauty!

Mother's Prayer

I lie here on my side

pouring over my day’s work in my mind,

you already sleeping next to me.

My thoughts flow out in cadence with your breath,

Taking inspiration in your depths,

there is confidence in rest.

I think about our children grown,

and pray they always do what is right.

I pray their lives will be good, and filled with

all good things as mothers always do.

These homely thoughts give comfort

lying in this bed so late at night

before sleep comes.

Memory of a Summer Romance

A million years from now

A wave is crashing on the shore

The beach ten billion shells

Crushed to form the pearly sands

The scent of sea air

Pure and washed in salty spray

Infused with lover’s kisses

Thousands stood in just the way

We did

eternal ocean, shore, and sky

ephemeral

you and I

My Birds!

I watch the size, markings, eyes,
I listen for their calls.
Whistles, chirps, trills, and warbles,
an alert expression says it all.
Fly from the feeder!
Or chase that raiding hawk
away from nested baby birds!
Flitting, fluttering, musical kites,
fly across an open field
between the house and lake.
Noisy devils at 6:30 a.m.,
so early awake!
Little birds peck at knots
in the maple tree,
knots darkened by rain and rot.
Woodpeckers have pierced a tribal scroll
around the pear tree’s trunk.
They peck and peck ,
at insects a la carte.
Bluebirds watch the ground below feeders,
searching for ants and other bugs.
Bobbing flight across the meadow,
they swoop to snare their prize,
guided by a dab of brain so agile
and ingrained with powers
greater than their size.
The winds of storms blow hard
and strong around the corner my house,
I wonder where the birds go then…..
when thunder rumbles
and lightening streaks the sky!
Leaves and branches stripped from trees,
and silence falls on the meadow dim…..
At 6:30 in the morning
the birds are at it once again!
Blessed with strength, and resilience
Beyond proportion to their size,
birds are miracles
to these eyes!

Habits

It seems, according to the latest research
our brains are easily programmed
to become addicted to almost anything
it just depends on how it's presented!
Well duh? I always heard
presentation is everything!
But seriously - and this is the truth,
the expectation of a reward
to the brain, is its own proof!
Just tell your brain
this is going to be good
before you start your task
this starts the dopamine rush -
like giving it the gas!
And how to overcome a bad habit -
willpower must be used!
It is much harder to undo than to do.
And if you are an addict
no amount of cutting back will do.
Abstinence is the only choice,
and if you slip,
just start over again.
Abstinence helps restore your brain.
Sure this is an over
simplification of
a complex set of bodily functions.
But it explains why it is so easy to
get hooked and so hard
to break this hold. The brain
is easier to train than to un train.
We'll need luck and perseverence, friend!

Midnight Rain

Waking up to the sound of hard rain
striking the patio outside the open window,
I lie there, coming to the realization
of what the sounds are.
Keening wind at the corner of the house
brings a clutch of alarm to my chest.
Walking as quickly as my drowsy state allows
I cross the room and flood the patio with light,
to see a curtain of flickering gray
with diamond-like flashes.
This is a good rain and just what we need
are my twin thoughts as I shuffle back to bed.
This time I dream of green roadsides
and rushing mountain streams.
Water dreams.

Smothered

We enter the home

subdued and smothered as the woman there

subdued and colorless

oatmeal beige everywhere

dry wood furniture covered in dust

two people sitting in a big dim room

a man and the woman we've come to see

she

pale, withdrawn

trying to disappear

she

barely dressed

in a thin nightgown

thin

with graying hair

our interview conducted

with the florid husband

looking on

sucking the air

right out of the room

steering the conversation

his voice loud,

strong

stridently he denies any abuse

the abuse he says she

accused him of

maybe the big lunk is innocent

but his overt actions say otherwise

his prominent occupation of the space

does not allow us to speak in peace

underscores his controlling ways

next time we'll go later in the day

hopefully she will be clothed

we'll take her out in an open place

out of the dusty coffin home

out in the clear, open air

we'll see if she can breathe on her own

next time

Discounted

Magazines show clothes

no one I know can afford.

Four hundred dollars for those boots,

not even on sale day

could I acquire,

when four hundred dollars may

be all that's earned

in two weeks time

at that part- time

job I work.

I'll have to wait ‘til that

boutique goes belly up

and those chic boots

surface in some other place,

consigned to a thrift shop

or a flea market,

where they'll seem a little

less proud somehow.

So what if I must wait!

Ten cents on the dollar

is how we’re living

now.

Hmmm..........

A little thunder?
the sky is almost white
although it's now past six
and evening fast approaches
I can't believe that it will rain
maybe it's just heat
we've spent the day entertaining
friends
too many beers
but I feel good
now sitting warm
in leather
feet kicked up and contemplating
more convivial hours
spent with my mate
and dog was fed
no need to rise
no need to fashion dinner
we've had a day spent
doing what we love
entertaining
being outdoors
eating well
reading books
what more
could
there
be?

Back to Work!

I’m happy to report that I’ve finally been offered a position with a home health agency in a nearby town, and I’m set to begin my orientation in the coming week. My hope is that this will work out to our mutual satisfaction, and I’ll have a good job for the foreseeable future. Any doubts I may have are connected to possible changes in the Medicare guidelines secondary to the present economy. I could see a time when cuts in the program would result in less caregivers needed or the visiting nurse program being scrapped altogether.

It is such a boon to be able to work out of an office close to my home, instead of having a lengthy commute. When you live in the countryside, as I do, it is generally a given that you will be spending time in the line of traffic coming and going to work. I recently read somewhere that a lengthy commute impacted on job satisfaction, and I believe it. The job as a visiting nurse already involves driving so not adding a lengthy commute is a plus.Since I will be working close to the community where I live, my travels will allow me to better acquaint myself with the area. I have owned my present home for many years but moved away from 1994 to 2009. There have been many changes in the intervening years. It’s also good to be working with people you will see within your community. I feel people always interact more positively with you when they know they may run into you in the grocery store.

I haven’t worked in Medicare home health in a long time so I have a great deal to learn about the documentation. There is much documentation in all aspects of health care, there’s no getting around it!You will be filling out forms or entering it into a computer, it just comes with the territory. In Medicare home health the documentation is voluminous. This volume of documentation was a specific point discussed during the interview process. My interviewer wanted to be absolutely sure I knew the amount of paperwork involved. Granted , paperwork is not my favorite thing. I am sure it will be months before I am at ease with it!One of the other concerns my interviewer plumbed at some depth with me was how I felt about being inside people’s homes. This was one of the reasons I chose to interview with a Medicare agency. These home visits are visits as opposed to shifts. There’s a big difference in making an hour’s visit versus a 4 to 8 hour shift in a private home. I can tolerate almost any conditions for one hour but a shift in cramped, dirty, or hot quarters can be unbearable. It has been a year and a half since I’ve been employed and I feel I am ready to go back to work!

Addlepated

Why do I persist?
This foolishness should stop…
And yet who am I harming
Surely not myself!
Now see, to me that has a
Certain cadence,
Pleasing to my ear,
The rhythm of the words
Is quite enough….
Enough for what?
start me ruminating
on words,
a phrase or random idea,
oh dear,
I lost my thought!

Proximity

We drive out through the country
looking for scenes to shoot,
my daughter and I with cameras,
a new lens, and time to spend
studying country views.
A pale old horse
behind a fence....
a friendly horse with time
to pose for strangers.
But the view that I remember best
was a field of tobacco
and beyond, a graveyard.
I was struck by how appropriate,
tobacco next to a graveyard.
We took our shots
and traveled on
to other winsome settings,
an old log cabin,
a scenic lake,
but my thoughts persist
and recreate that scene
of tombstones,
the backdrop of tobacco leaves so green.
My thought is that things are so seldom what they seem.



photo courtesy of guaromiami

Goldhead Fantasy

The old mill stream in Goldhead Park,
is a daydream for we mortals.
Cipher mossy rocks and fiddleheads,
meandering, crystal waters.
Ponder rocks
strung out along the bank,
a rosary for your thoughts.
Chattoyant water,
tinsel streaks on cashmere sands.
Be Gulliver in this land
of dew and palm and hoary,trailing moss!
No limits to the fancy thoughts,
at any moment one could see
a fairy or a water sprite,
sprung from this hidden grotto.
Down the stone staircase,
into the cleft
carved by those aqua waters,
Indulge your nature fantasies
in this exotic, ferny, old mill stream.
If your legs can just make the climb
down the stairs,
to rewind your mind!

Ennui

The sun dogs have all run home,
but darkness procrastinates.
Earth puzzles over purple clouds floating
above houses inhabited
by lying people collared in gold and diamonds.
What have we come to?
Overstimulated, we languish,
characterized by feckless intentions.
We deify doggerel,
and despise common sense.
The sound bite rules.
Civility is unknown.
Manners are a sign of weakness.
Surly darkness falls and
we watch the dying spasm of day.
Circumscribed by pitch
we are forced to confront our addictions.
Twelve steps demand we look
to our hearts, our core
and pick our higher power.

Once More......Sticking My Toe in the Labor Pool

Well, keep your fingers crossed, here I go again on another job interview! I'm almost afraid to write about it for fear of "jinxing" it. I actually went to interview with this company several weeks ago, but got sidetracked when the manager told me they had another branch closer to my home. She had graciously given me the number of the other branch manager and I went to that location, and truthfully I never got the same good feeling when I went to this branch. It didn't work out. Three weeks later they had still not gotten my references or called me back. I had a funny feeling they felt I was too old! Maybe it was them calling me Miss Fran! I called the first manager back and she was happy to make another appointment for me to come back, so perhaps that's where I am meant to be after all.

Morning Salutation

This morning as I took my exercise out in the lake
An egret coasted overhead and alighted
Paying not much attention at all to me
And little dog who walks along the shore
While I call out encouragement
To get her to walk some more
She like me tends toward the sedentary
But as long as we have these gorgeous days
We come out and do our salutations
To the sun, and lake and sky
And whatever else should catch our eyes
And our imaginations

Self Analysis

I don’t get it!
All this approval seeking,
Consensus by committee.
Maybe I’m just not meant to be
A part of the group,
And yet I have a dozen friends
who gather round
at the slightest provocation
or tenuous invitation.
Why do people ask for prayer?
Do they fear their true intentions?
Say what you want,
make it so!
Don’t blame it on
“not God’s will”
in somber tones.
Sometimes it’s time for a change!
I will always hold
a sunny thought of you.
I’ll see you in your best regard,
even though
you know you hurt me.
I’ve long since let it go.

Real Estate Back to Being a Good Investment

Oh what a convoluted web our financial picture is these days. Thus, it is with a sense of wonder that I take upon myself the mantle of championing real estate as a good investment. What credentials do I have for making this claim? All my life I have been invested in real estate, either personally, with my parents, or with my spouse. In this economy we have now, I believe real estate represents one of the best avenues to restore assets lost in our recession.

In 2004 and 2005 we divested our holdings, at that time 5 rental homes. My husband had grown tired of managing the properties, so we sold them off. I might also add that we had moved 600 miles away so this had become a cumbersome chore. We had never utilized a rental agent and in retrospect this was probably a failing on our part.

The reason I've done an about face on the real estate investment concept for the average person is from personal experience and from information gleaned from Realtors I've recently worked with. With all the foreclosures existing in the US today a large pool of good rental candidates is seeking housing. The attitudes of Realtors has changed toward managing these rentals. The rentals they manage are a better product and the rents are higher, resulting in better fees to them.

Additionally lenders are making loans for investment properties. I was surprised to find this. Granted the requirements now are followed to the letter of banking guidelines, but loans are available. Interest rates are still very low. It is possible to buy a substantial home for $125,000.00, put down a 25% down payment and finance the balance at 5.5%. Your monthly payment will be around $530.00 a month. Your rental income should be hundreds of dollars in excess of all your expenses. Generally a family does not want to move every year so once you have your good tenant in place and your Realtor /property manager, you are set. As our economy improves and your investment grows in value, as it should if you do your due diligence in selecting your subject property, you have a safe place for your money that will outpace most other long term investments. You are also gaining equity in your property as the years go by.

Real Estate is something I feel comfortable with after years of being involved in buying, selling, and managing. I do not manage the one rental I have now, but the Realtor I have employed to do this for me does a more than adequate job. The tenant in the property has so far been excellent in fulfilling the terms of the lease. There are so many excellent properties available I recommend checking into this viable investment.

Since 9/11 - a retired nurse reflects on her personal experience and lifestyle changes since the event

Hubby and I were eating breakfast in Tombstone, Arizona when the second plane flew into the World Trade Center. Since arriving in Tombstone the evening before, checking into a small motel, we had planned the next day’s activities . We were up early in a small café. I noticed the waitresses standing, looking up into a television and asked “what’s going on.” When told, I turned to my husband and said “we have to get out of here.” Like many, my first thought was of being home and with our loved ones. We had a long anxious trip back to North Carolina by car, listening to reports of the disaster.

My husband and I had retired from health care careers and were dabbling in antique sales. and renovating our home. Our business immediately fell off and I soon realized I would have to resume my nursing career. At the time I was fifty-four years old and the prospect of going to work in the hospital setting was daunting. We considered ourselves fortunate when compared with the daily heartache of the World Trade Center victim’s families, and the rescuers, since they were also victims.

I became aware of how insulated we, as a country, had been from attack by virtue of geography. Being surrounded by oceans on two sides, and allies on the others affords an insularity many countries don’t have. But 9/11 shattered all feelings of safety from terrorism. We now know that huge defense budgets don’t guarantee our safety. We experienced terror as Europe has for decades. At the time I felt reassured by the efforts made to gain knowledge of terrorist activities, but now I wonder if it was all too much and if wars on two fronts hasn’t brought us to the brink of disaster. The fear caused by the terrorist attack had devastating financial consequences to small business owners across our continent and ripples spread around the world.

Ten years later we are sixty four and seventy one years old and we are refinancing our home to be able to afford it. We have unsold investment properties. We are out of the stock market. We still have a good life but it is not without concerns for our future in all aspects. We see the desperation of people around us and fear falling victim to this desperation. We still feel we live in the greatest country on earth but we want our troops home and our government to work together to restore our tarnished world image.

Let's get it on poetry gurus.......

Let’s get it on poetry gurus…..
Send me your poem
Write it below
Here, now!

Dodging the Storm with Lia

Looking over her shoulder
the sky is a leaden blue.

She hurries up our boat ride
worried about the coming blow.

With raindrops on the way
we make it safely back to land,
tie up the boat
and race the sandy beach
and sandy lawn beyond
to the safety of the cool house.

Aaliyah's excitement over the boat ride,
as only a three year old can be,
quickly becomes excitement over
Grandma's store of worn out toys.

Barbie and Ken held over in 80's attire
are still a big hit!

I looked out as lightening cracked
and a thunder boom sounded
to see a beautiful steady downpour.

Maybe just a small donation toward
the goal needed to refill our thirsty lake,
but all donations are gratefully accepted
on this day of gathering our family together.

Bee at Peg's Window

My Dog

My sister was a dog lover,
we had this in common.
I had a big old doberman
and she had three small fluffy dogs.
Unexpectedly she died, my sis.
I did the best that I could.
My old Dobie had passed away
and two of hers I found good homes,
but the sad old dog
that was left to me,
a white mixed breed named Sophie,
was such a pitiful sight
no one would have taken her in.
In her distress she'd lost her hair
nothing but pink skin!
So she came home to me.
Home to me to be nursed to health
and then sent on her way
to a good home where she'd be loved.
When that day came
I couldn't stand to let her go,
so Sophie was here to stay.
She really is a pretty girl now
with fluffy white coat
and she even smiles!
People who see her always ask
about her breed. I haven't a clue
but her feet are decidedly Bassett,
and body is also very low slung.
The white coat that grows
very thick and long - who knows?
She has a good temper
and doesn't bark much.
She just seems grateful
to be cared for and to be loved.

Looking Out The Window

Looking out this window
I watch the world pass by.
I look out on my garden,
the mountains, and the changing sky.
My mind is free running
as once again I face this page.
What will come forth from my literal sense
of things seen in my everyday
that reveal the inner me?
What to say and what to save?
For seekers will always be
looking to our words
and words are not the same
to all.
No, words are not the same to all.
I could describe in literal detail
the sky above the mountain ridge
and to another it would convey
the sense of space and solitude.
I could quote some runic rhyme
for those literate professors
that would sound altogether fine,
but perhaps a bit nonsensical
to others uninitiated.
If I express myself in humor,
and make fun of those I see about,
I'm mocking country ways,
and mocking my own self!
For truth to tell
I have stayed here too long
in this country place I call my home
to be taken seriously anywhere else.
So take me as I am:
a woman, at home in her own skin.
Looking out at this garden and wondering
why I stayed so long.
Fastened to this small place
with my window on this my world.
My friends coming to my doorway
for a cup and talk about the news beyond.
What do they know about me,
these friends who show up at my door?
What do they know about me
that they've not shared?
What do they know about me,
they're not afraid to tell?

Bear Lake 2011


Ancient as the rocks and sky
yet constantly renewing
is the forest of my dreams
this multitude in browns, grays, and greens.
The rare green of a mountain lake
mirrors fir and poplar,
home of bear, deer, and snake,
and skies of hawk and hummer.
Nightly cicadas serenade
and fireflies pierce the blackened skies.
It's early to bed and early to rise
on this dark side of the mountain.
Overhanging the mystic lake
the rugged road leads homeward.

Ordinary

Ordinary words I've taken
to fashion 'maginary scenes
to make the real and gritty seem
less unseemly
more dream'ly.
Ordinary words can tell
a story, weave a spell,
plant a kiss by feathery lips,
or bust a puff ball open
scattering spores for miles and miles.
It only takes eleven words!
So these words when marching
on these blue lines
have power far beyond their form.
Their power enters through your eyes
and fashions those 'maginary scenes
from plain old words............
like these.

Sandpipers on the Silver Beach

Sandpipers by the dozens
race the silvery beach
On staple thin legs and tiny bracket feet
Race along the sand
Seeking at the waters’ edge
That little sandpiper meal
A bite of conch
A bite of crab

What Mama Knows

Why do you lie to me?
You know I’ll always catch you out,
You’ve never once put anything over
On me for very long.
I know when you’re up to it,
I can read you sure as text upon a screen.
I’ll let you think you’ve done it,
But you know you’re only hurting yourself.
Your mama knows what you’re doing
And I’m not lying to myself.
Come clean kid!
Even though you’re way beyond childhood,
You’ll always be
Your mama’s baby boy.

untitled

Sunset melancholy is a feeling purple blue
and I wonder who there is that knows this tune?
For a few brief moments I could feel the sky's jewelled tones
speaking to me in her sonal purple blue and gold.
Will you tell my children that I love them,
in case I don’t get to say goodbye?
I can ask you this because I trust you,
as keeper of my private thoughts and lies.
I can tell you some mornings when I wake up
all I want to do is just get high.
Some days I ask myself “why not?”
The power of suggestion has always
had a vivid hold on me.
I read a fiction novel where the hero has a smoke
And all at once I want to do the same!
I wish that I could dream a long and lovely dream,
the kind where you wake up, then fall asleep
and dream again!
I'd dream of my grandchildren, porcelain dolls with
milk teeth and skin.
Doll babies that run and talk,
so much smarter than we were then!
So, please tell my children that I love them.........

Sunrise Gold

The torch of sunrise tops the trees,

ignites the glassy surface of the lake.

Minnows schooling shallows,

scatter with my steps.

I board my boat,

evidence on my parsimony
in it’s shoddy shape.

No money spent upon it’s rotten deck!

No money for a fancy captain seat!

My morning pique relieved by golden ripples,

the wide V of my wake.

My fool’s reward,

my champagne dream,

the only gold I’ll reap today,

the only gold required,

is this reward,

this real world of water, sun, and sky!

Restore

I let it go
Erased it all
Made it go away into that dark nether world
Out in space
The words are circling Earth in orbit
All the bad poems
And emails from clandestine lovers
All the coupons for percentage off
Your dreams
And fears
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All that’s left is here
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Still Good to Be Alive!

It is STILL good to be alive! Another year older, I have reached the age extolled in the Beatles’ lyrics “will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four”. Recognition of the passage of time and the fragility of the human condition has more relevance to me today than ever before. A few years ago I considered my status and felt that time was slipping away, and my life seemed to have lost its focus. Now I find I am reenergized and still have a contribution to make, and possibly another twenty years of life. My circle of friends and acquaintances has increased exponentially.

Of course I’m STILL sixty four years old and nothing changes the reality of that. One concern is maintaining my ability to reason and my memory function. To this end I write these little epistles to apparently a very rare audience! So if you are reading this you are part of my coterie! Of course the job quest is still there and unfulfilled, but there are developments. Progress has been made, if only in my psyche.

My resolution continues to be to put into practice my better intentions, a practice that is elusive. I start each day with a germ of a plan of what I wish to do and find seldom do I accomplish it. This is an area definitely in need of improvement. Execution is not everything but far surpasses intention!

So, I get up from this screen to do my exercise, and then fill out another application.

Gliders

Authors note: This poem speaks to those languorous summer evenings when it's too hot to do anything, and it would be a sin to park yourself inside! In past generations this would be porch time. Our version of porch time is two old Mexican steel gliders with cushions under a vintage pear tree that's perched on the edge of the wall overlooking a long open expanse to the lake. The birds don't like us being there because it interferes with their bird seed consumption. I wanted to express the feeling of the time, the companionship, the comfort, and the contentment of this experience. Hope you enjoy it and leave a comment.



Old green glider chairs, two
Intense shadows like velvet ooze
My soft skirt rides on tan thighs
Old cotton allows my summer sighs

Just a while ago our patch was dry and hot,
Now sprinklers toss diamonds out.
A breeze stirs my sky,
My sky seen through canopy
Of old Bradford Pear.

A wake board rider towed by a boat
Puts on a show for us.
How does he stay on top
Cutting back, forth?

Gliders squeak,
drinks in hand,
Read a page or two,
Agile rider back in view…

Gilded sky and water,
We breathe in this gildedness.
The golden light bathes our dry summer toes.
No profound thoughts,
No heaving breath,
We coexist.
The fullness of this time of day
Has cast its spell on us.

'Somniac

I think my insomnia started
because of nights like these...
Nights so hot and still
when I was a child
Perspiration oozing from my tender head,
running in my ears,
before air conditioning.
No breeze,
just a fan of little use
except to move hot air around.
Lying, trying to sleep.
A futile exercise,
as if trying could accomplish something
that happens passively.

Balance

a birth
a death
the joy of one does not diminish
the pain of the other
two separate events
opposite poles of existence’
continuum
and yet
connected by this slender thread
called life
we peg our way
from beginning to end
full knowing what awaits us
we’ve seen it all before
clinging to those fat moments
time spent with
fellow travelers
and revelers
until we are reduced by
time and age
and circumstance
unable to resist
the turning of our days
once again to Mother Earth

Killing Stress

I’ve said it before: “you never know how close to the edge someone might be”.

A few years ago a co worker of mine related a story about a woman she worked with that was constantly borrowing money from her. One day she had just “had enough” and snapped at the woman over her trying to borrow some inconsequential sum. That evening the woman’s car collided with an overpass pylon and she was killed instantly. My co worker wondered if perhaps the woman was so despondent she couldn’t face living, and if their minor altercation had been a precipitating factor, “the last straw”, or a moment of inattention. In either scenario, we could be certain that stress played a part.

In today’s unprecedented economic crisis we are all under some stress, but how do we recognize the signs of killing stress? Can we learn to recognize the numerous outward identifiable signs of stress in ourselves, our loved ones, friends, and co workers? More importantly, can we learn ways of dealing with this issue, of decreasing the overload, before it becomes fatal, either by a suicidal act or from inattention?

Stress, in all its mutations, as many as there are different human beings, has layers of manifestations. You and I both handle it differently and on the most basic level it is influenced by our gender and our personalities. A person who is confident will handle it better than a person with low self-esteem. Men generally handle it better than women, although women feel stress from different quarters, being still the primary caregivers and housekeepers in most families. Therefore a working woman comes home to face her second shift, caring for the family on a daily basis. Caregiver stress has been well documented. Sometimes it is the accumulation of events that causes the feeling of being overwhelmed.

A partial listing of stress behaviors is a change in eating habits, a change in sleep habits, isolating self, procrastination or neglect, using drugs, alcohol, cigarettes to relax, and an increase in, or new, nervous habits such as pacing, nail biting, yawning, or picking at yourself. Cognitive manifestations of stress overload is memory problems, inability to focus, poor decision making, negativity, anxious thoughts and constant worrying. Emotional aspects of stress include being moody, agitated, having a “short fuse”, feeling overwhelmed, lonely, depressed and unhappy. Physical symptoms of stress are aches and pains, gastrointestinal changes, nausea, dizziness, chest pain and palpitations, decrease in sexual energy, and frequent upper respiratory infections. Have you or your significant others any of these issues?

We all know by now that proper diet, exercise, and rest all help in relieving stress. However when you are in the midst of a situation causing stress it is supremely difficult to enforce this trinity on yourself or anyone else. Probably one of the best stress busters is having a good friend to just listen to you, or to be a good listener for a stressed-out friend. Just having someone else who knows what you are going through is a help. If you have access to professional help, get it! Ultimately you are the person making the decision to move forward or remain stuck in your stressful situation, and a professional has the training to guide your decision. Your employer may offer assistance through your employee health or human resource department.

If you recognize the above issues in your own life try to enumerate the factors that may be causing you distress and determine if there is any positive action you can take to decrease your stress. Try looking at your situation as someone else momentarily to see how you could behave differently. Treat yourself with kindness. There is much validity to the command “take care of yourself”. Don’t keep playing those same negative thought loops through your head. If you are feeling overwhelmed choose one thing to start with that you can manage and work from there. As you gain control your confidence will build and your attitude will improve. Deal with your emotions. Choose to stay in control. Find acceptable ways of soothing and calming yourself that don’t involve self-destructive behaviors including smoking, drinking, and eating poorly. Avoid people who encourage those activities and seek new friends if necessary. If you are a spiritual person or have had an unanswered curiosity about matters of faith, find a church to attend and seek out fellowship. Many AA chapters have social activities for people seeking to maintain the sober life.

The importance of having a good support system of friends and family cannot be overemphasized. If you want friends it is necessary to be a friend . Are you aware when people around you are distressed?

Having a pet is a stress reliever if you are able to responsibly care for an animal. Walking a dog is a bonding time and stress reliever. Having that unconditional love a pet gives can help get you out of your funk. Can’t afford a pet? Some rescue groups will provide food and care for animals fostered until permanent adoption can occur.

Stress reduction practices are excellent for a quick fix. Sometimes just adopting some breathing exercises can get you through a situation, and back to focus on what needs to be done. Stress reduction methods require some training and commitment to learn techniques. One of the biggest parts of this commitment is seeing yourself as worthy of investing the time in your well-being. Many employers offer courses in stress reduction. Tai chi www.mayoclinic.com/health/tai-chi/SA00087 and yoga offer stress reducing benefits http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/yoga/CM00004 . DVD’s may be purchased on-line for even geriatric patients to perform. The point is this: there is something for everyone in the way of stress reduction. You CAN do it!

When you consider the long term effects of being overstressed: risk of heart attack and stroke, anxiety and depression, digestive and sleep disorders, obesity, auto immune disease, skin conditions, and acceleration of the aging process, devoting the time to learning stress reduction techniques is a good investment.

For more information on identifying and managing your stress check out this comprehensive site. http://www.helpguide.org/mental/stress_signs.htm

Going back to the first line of this blog, remember, a little kindness goes a long way. A little recognition can do so much good. “Thank you” is always appreciated.

Farewell to Michael

Michael, when I think of you I think of a gentle man.

Who cared about his friends, his family, his dog.

I admired your loyalty, and your trusting nature.

I appreciated your humility and your humanity.

The fact that you could admit your mistakes and apologize

and accept responsibility, and that you could accept an apology and

freely forgive showed your true stature.

I miss your humour, and your gentle spirit.

I mourn your passing, keenly, for it means that you are gone from us,

and never stand the chance to find that great love that I believe was

out there waiting for you,

the woman who could help fill that void that you filled with drugs,

and give you the children you deserved to father.

We have been deprived of your support in our old age.

We are left with so many questions.

What really happened?

Was there something we could have done?

Did we not try hard enough to dissuade you from your course?

Lastly, Michael we will miss you……..

Alarmed

I’ve taken to this chair
my back pressed in and warm
as the evening news brings
no good news into my home.

On the surface all seems right
and good the life we live,
but murder and unspoken acts
take place and we can’t help
but fear. Why does murder happen
in all its forms,
one soul astride another
til the very life is gone?

My want is peace and safety
and I puzzle events that
brought us here.

Should I just turn the power “off”
so I don’t see? Or is this
cowardice, if I should choose to
turn the other way,
and not suffer the outrage?

This plangent outcry in my core ,
is aching remorse
for all of us.

Fossil

My days are filled with not too much
And I wonder how I ever held a job,
When now I ‘m incapable of linking
Two synapses of thought

My husband works at trading horses
So we can eat and keep electricity
The roof over our head is mortgaged
The rates we pay show no pity

My mind wanders on various planes
Conjuring ideas of how to secure
A stipend to afford my style
And my style becoming more obscure

My wardrobe is worn and old
Why I still hold on to some of it
Would a mystery be , to anyone
Who stumbled upon it

In a closet full of thrift shop would- be’s
Not too many job- seeking could- be’s
But off I’ll go with a little hustle
To see if anyone will hire this fossil

Gone

I'm watching you from a great distance
as you talk on your cell
and as you talk you're backing up,
backing up to an abyss.
I'm screaming at you to stop,
turn around!
You look my way
and wave,
but keep walking backwards.
Your child pulls on your hand,
crying.
Still you keep talking on your cell
until
you reach the edge
and step off
into the void.
You never did see the pit,
but it was there.
Now you're gone!
Although,
truth to tell,
you've been gone
a long time.

With Love in My Heart

Mama, I think of you
with love in my heart.
I don't know how you managed
to keep your humour
as well as you did
with all the disappointments
you endured.
You got an early start
on disappointment.
Is that why you tried so hard
to give us everything?
Mama, I think of you
with love
in my heart.

I Wasn't Always

I wasn't always
this person you see now.
I had long red hair, green eyes,
a long neck, and a tiny waist.
Even after birthing two kids
men would still introduce themselves
in the grocery store
or follow me
waiting for the chance
to say hello
or ask me for a date.
Anyway, I put that aside so long ago.
My appearance now just has to please
me and my husband of thirty five years!
What freedom not to be the subject
of such speculation!
And that is the point I want to make.
I was always known to have
a fiery disposition and a keen intelligence,
but I think I peaked early,
beat down by care and discord.
I let my dreams slip through my fingers
and settled for less than I should have.
Should have gone for it.
The cost in the long run
would have been worth it.
Now I'm old and it is a pointless exercise,
but I still write.
Maybe some young girl will read this some day
and say
"I won't have those regrets,
because I'll see it through".
And I say "good for you".

Our Kids Are Ashamed of Us!

Our kids are ashamed of us
We’re not thin enough
Or successful, or smart enough to make the cut
Of people they’d be seen with.
What’s more
They don’t want the grand kids
Exposed
To our bad habits of diet
And speech and stories
Of their childhood escapades
And, God forbid
We should make a correction
Or instill a little fear
It could mark their precious psyches
Or make them schizophrenic!
It’s absolutely amazing
Though not exactly clear
How they turned out so damned perfect
Under our poor parenting skills

Lunch

For some reason
don't know why
the man scared me,
perhaps because he
was truly a man
and confident,
not some grown up boy,
but a man.
Most of the men I'd known before
seemed less manly than he.
He gave me his card.
So, I called him one day to
inquire of his product,
and he suggested we
get together for lunch.
I met him downtown
at fast food place,
a place I felt safe.
I could tell this wasn't
his idea of a satisfactory way
for two adults to pass time
and get acquainted.

He overcame my fears
and nervousness too
and soon we were an item.
Our friends were
introduced to each other
and now it seems fated
that we arrived here
after going to lunch
back those thirty five years!
He's still my man
and I'm still that gal.

These young girls I see now
with these silly young boys
have no serious thoughts
of the ways of this world.
If they asked me,
I'd say
look for a man.

Indian Summer

When the hot days carry on and on
Past the summer's portion
and moon is huge and golden
like a Jack o lantern
and leaves are falling yellow, orange,
and red.
We know these days are numbered,
Indian summer is upon us.

Our skin still feels the sun's caress
the air still moist and heavy
We know the year has seen it's best
When Indian Summer is on us.

I Chose To Be A Nurse

For better or worse
I chose to be a nurse.
There were times when it was
Such a reward
And times when it was just hard.
It seems in recent years
The job has become
Only possible for the young.
And as you age
You’d best be ready
To set aside your desire
To work with sick and damaged
Souls
And become the maven
Of graphs and stats
And data and schedules
And rules and regs
And budgets and almost anything but
The one thing that you loved the most
And did the best.

Clobber

I’ve been the victim, yes I want to be a victim here, of an obsession with trying to hang on as long as I can to any memory scrap of loved ones who have died or otherwise moved on. Yes, this is a sickness of sorts and if left unattended starts to multiply in other areas of your life, or so it seems to me, not that I profess any accredited training on the subject. So what form does this affliction take? Well for one thing it makes it difficult to part with items that were the property of the “departed”. In my case I’ve got gobs of crap clogging my life that need to be gone, and yet I can come up with all kinds of valid sounding reasons for hanging on to it. Enough already! Here’s how I’m tackling the issue.

I’m taking each area of my home and going through everything and packing away anything that I am not actively using. Packing it up. Out of sight out of mind. It is going to the garage where it will be sealed and stacked with a date one year from now. If I haven’t gone out to rescue it in the next year it goes to Goodwill. This seems to be my best hope of conquering this issue. Incidentally, the way I’m going about this also is to contrive to make every area as attractive as I can as I go. So there is also a decorative element at work here also. Because that means what remains also has to be attractive as well as functional.

Well, wish me luck!

Best Wishes

Best Wishes!


Gathered we are
Our dearly Beloved
‘round all the faces
well wishers, and offers to
lovers their witness
of hallowed commitment
We stand here sustaining
Your pledge.

We weep for the beauty
Renewing the dream
Of life, and the promise
Of everything
we hold most dear
And most dear for you
Our beloved too

We recall our
Day of all days
Our happy occasion
We know what you’re feeling
Those feelings o’erwhelming
And lift you up in thoughts
Of beautiful wings
Wings of love

And that’s why we weep
Tears of joy
And best wishes……


Written for my Cousin Mary Louisa Jordan

A Familiar Garden View

When I was a teen my mother had a garden
With hibiscus planted all along our drive,
And Confederate rose and wandering Jew
too.
My favorite exercise was mowing in my white
Miss America bathing suit with my hair pulled in a
pony tail and tennis shoes.
So every home I’ve ever owned,
from mobile home
to five o’er four
I’ve had a garden of some type.
Now, these final twenty years, my views are garden views.
In so many ways, I’m still that golden girl;
Some intrinsic things cannot be let go.
I’m waiting for the drop of this daily heat
To walk in grass the deepest, deepest Irish green.
In this place of conspicuous performers
Verbena tendrils race in tangled mass.
Over-wintered, running almost from control,
Verbena such a tidy bloom,
Belies your tangled under view,
Along the edge of old concrete.
Backlit by the sunset filtered through the trees
Sonal, tepid air, a point where two sprays arc and meet
And at their juncture, there the droplets turn to steam.
Contrast sharply drawn in hues of gold and green and palest blue,
Blue the color of my childhood room.
I stick to simple things to grow and gratify.
Over years I’ve learned my limitations well.
My past from Alabam, to VA, to Florida, NC, now back to Florida where
The soil’s deficient in every thing but sand.
But at this time in my life sand’s best for me.
So my simple garden ministrations
To provide my sultry, sonal, steamy view
Are things that may be grown in sand
And don’t preclude this weakened hand.
As I look at all that must be done on my tiny homestead
The microcosm of this garden,
Each connecting area of sight,
Reminds me of childhood romps in water sprayed,
Just like today,
And verbena Mother grew in Ocean View.
Canna lillies, impatiens, coleus, and herbs, numerous
Conjure other places, times,
Watching birds and flowers grow, especially familiars.
I putter on, pulling weeds, and taking cuttings, and wondering when
that long-limbed girl will reappear to mow.
No wonder crones like me love their gardens so!

















Sonal, tepid air, an arc where two sprays meet
And at their juncture, the droplets turn to steam

Testify

I’m not a man
Will I suffice
To testify?
Since that hormone
I have not
Or have not in manly portion
Nor that gland
But a brain I have
And I’ve been told
My hormone’s the strongest
Of all known drugs,
Estrogen!
No disrespect here
Just a clarification
My testimony influenced
By my station,
Woman,
I am.

Late Thoughts on Mother's Day

If you’re from Botswana and say someone is “late” it means they are dead. So the title “Late Life”,etc. is really an oxymoron in Botswana because dead and life are opposites. Well I’m not dead yet, I’m not even in the anteroom! We recently celebrated Mother’s Day, though and this was my second Mother’s Day without my late mom. Mom died in 2009 at 81 .
My mom was absolutely sold on her kids. She believed in us all, including the failures and would do anything she could to help us. She defended us and always portrayed us in the most positive light. The family secrets were in the vault. She kept from us any event that she thought was shameful or that she felt would harm our self-esteem, or hers for that matter. We were never told the events behind her father’s death. He was shot by a policeman while committing a crime. Since she was a teenager at that point it’s hard to imagine the impact this must have had on her life. She married young and unsuccessfully. Her first marriage ended in divorce. Her second marriage to my father was rocky pretty soon too. Her third marriage to my father also –a few days before my birth was rocky but lasted until I got out of high school and married. I know the toll this divorce took on her because I was old enough to understand the dynamics and emotions. I was never privy to the details though. My mom could and did keep many secrets.
My parents had a financially stable life because my father had skills in electronics that were in high demand by the military. We travelled not dissimilar to folks in the military with assignments near military bases where my dad would instruct servicemen in the radio equipment his company manufactured. I was an only child for six years and I have to believe that was because mom wanted to be sure the marriage was going to last. Finally they added my sister and when I was nine a brother. When I was fourteen their last child, another son, was born. So four kids spread out over fourteen years. Then just four years later they divorced.
I can’t go into all the details because , after all, I am my mother’s daughter. I really believe the divorce was my due to my dad’s mid-life crisis. I wish I had known him better in those last years but he headed out west and I wasn’t in touch with him much. He died with cancer at an early age.
Mama started another family with a man ten years younger and they were happy until his health declined and he died. That’s how I ended up with a sister 23 years younger than I am. The years Mom was married to Tony were happy years for the most part. There were still some secrets lurking about. After Tony died she was beset by a number of serious health issues but she battled back from all of them to a baseline existence in a little mobile home in Alabama where she and Tony had ended up after he had lost both legs to diabetes. At every stage she was fully engaged and making the best of her situation. Downsizing to more manageable circumstances.
Mama eventually moved in with my younger sister in Gadsden. When my sister died unexpectedly Mama went into a nursing facility and was there for two years. She came to live with me the last six weeks of her life. My only regret was that it wasn’t for longer.
When I encounter problems with my children I often think of my mom and how she would have handled the situation. What I’m always impressed by is her generosity and her acceptance. I realize it’s because she had such a difficult young life and remembered how hard it was just to get by.

She gave to us beyond her resources. It’s of note to me that the ones she gave the most to treated her the shabbiest. I wish I could say she loved us all the same but I know it isn’t true!

Echoes

I heard my mother’s voice today
An echo faintly heard
In conversation
It was the strangest thing to say
I don’t know where it came from
It was a word of caution
Not my usual style
It brought Mama to my mind
Some things seem universal
A mother’s concern for her child
Somehow expressions of that love
Be they caution’s tale
Trump even fear of censure
My daughter so sure
And in her prime
Looks askance at me
Just Mama speaking through me
An echo cross the void
Was what I thought
But didn’t say!

Tangy Odor

Darker dimples on the bright orange rind
Of a succulent naval orange
And how the oil sprays out
When the rind is pinched
Between a child’s finger and thumb
And the fragrance,
That sharp tangy odor
A child’s delight
Such a simple fascination
Over and over the repetition
And each time it never fails to bring a smile
And carries me back
That orangey scent
When I was that delighted child.



Fran Rossano April 2011