Old Man Wisdom #1 - The Attributes Of Character

For my beloved son, Daniel, a United States Marine, currently in Iraq.

Optimism:
Abraham Lincoln said, “A man is about as happy as he makes up his mind to be.” To choose to be an optimist makes you one over time. Like wrinkles in your brow (my brow), they don’t get there permanently overnight. It takes time for them to set. It is the same with optimism. Some people are more readily optimistic than others, it’s true, but it is a decision. We have only this day, this hour, this moment to live. The choice to live it with enthusiasm and love, energy and caring, happiness and thankfulness is magical. It brightens ourselves and the light from us shines on others and they reflect it back towards us and others. It is wondrously contagious.
As your dad, if I have influenced you to have optimism, to foster it and embrace it, I am happy. And optimistic.
Love, Dad

Belated Birthday Rumination

One week past another anniversary of escaping the womb. One week past another completion of solar circumnavigation. Already 11,285,000 miles past the way point. The miles fly by without the awareness of traveling. The years fly by without the awareness of aging.
But a look into any reflective surface and the evidence is there. Like a river bed beginning with a trickle of water, the etching of the land growing deeper with each rain, the body shows the storms of the years, the showers of the seasons, the freezing and thawing of the decades.
Thankful for the shreds of wisdom that accumulate along with the years. Thankful for the ability to recognize blessings in everyone and everything. Thankful for still having awe and wonder for life and love.
Another birthday? So what? They are mile posts only. They are not meant to guide the trip – only to mark how far one has come. The destination is unimportant. It is the joy of the journey that matters. Happy belated birthday to me? So it is. ©

And Now - the News from Chicago

Another young man was killed today
Four animals were charged
They hit him with clubs in the head
Knocked him down and killed him as he lay

Sixteen years old, going to be seventeen
A good kid by the reports, honor student
Used to being picked on by his peers
Another young man was killed today

Four animals were charged
Another young man was killed today
Another young man was killed today
Another young man was killed today
Another young man was killed to….
Another young man was kill…
Another young man wa…..
Another young man ….,
Another young m….
Another youn…..
Another…..
Anoth…
An….

Can there be any explanation? Any rationale? Any lesson learned? Any hope?

UFO Lands on Orono Estate?

26-Sep-2009; Orono, MN, USA

Two people reported today that an alien craft had landed last night sometime after dark. Unknown at this time whether the depressions were due to four landing pads plus a support stanchion of one craft or multiple craft, an Orono spokeperson, requesting anonymity, stated,”It is obviously an anomaly, not a normal event – at least for this town.”
The depressions were discovered this morning when the two residents – unnamed within this report out of concern for publicity – awoke and looked out at the lawn towards Lake Minnetonka. One of them offered this, “It was a cool morning and we thought the lake was fogged over but perhaps it wasn’t fog as much as the residue from the UFO’s lifting off the lawn. We detected no odor but it’s widely known that alien technology is far ahead of ours – they don’t even need catalytic converters.”

-------- Men Friends --------

Ah, men and their sports---------- The ardor with which I
That sense in their shorts-----------Hear these men talk
That seems to support--- -----------Is quite disconcerting
Their need to report----------------- I ponder, I balk
---------\/-------------------------------------\/----------------
Did you see that punk?--------------And I raise my awareness
That run or that dunk?---------------Of the only true game
The shot that was took?--------------The one where life matters
The kick with the hook?--------------From whence all else came
---------\/-------------------------------------\/----------------
Oh jeez did he miss?------------------There is no kicked ball
You boo and I’ll hiss!-----------------No hot shot on goal
Another bad call----------------------- No lay-up or tip-in
The worst of them all!-----------------No “Put-It-In-Da-Hole”
---------\/-------------------------------------\/----------------
Is that all there is to------------------- Just beauty and angles
These guys and their lives?-----------And rhythm and pace
Is this stuff more sacred---------------And fans lolling eating
Than children and wives?-------------With mustard on face ©

---------------------------Go Twins!

May-2006 – Sitting at Caribou, watching people float in and out, sit and talk, sip and taste the goodness of companionship and friends – and the couples who – being quietly observed from my “distant” sight – inspired the last line of the first stanza……

For you are a true love, a wonder to me
Someone who wakened a longing you see
To walk down a beach basking in sun
Enjoying each other, one with the one

We’ve both seen the pairs who cherish their time
Together as people, each separate, combined
They challenge, cajole, discuss and talk through
Ideas and feelings and things they must do.

They’re honest and open and want to grow far
Each with the other, entranced by the bar
That gets raised every day, a little, a lot
But raised nonetheless, more intimate, more hot

Not in the sexual sense though that’s there
But into each other, a part unaware
A personal nuance, a piece re-revealed
May give rise to an aspect as yet still sealed

The key to this dream is deciding to be
Oneself at the outset, oneself, just me
True to my values, my sense of what’s right
Unfettered by fear of rejection or slight

Strong in my own sense of value and worth
Strong in my own self, God given from birth ©

The Angel

On my way to Wednesday morning 7 am men’s group. Waiting to turn left onto 101 – old bicycle, seat set low – happy. Life is good…

I saw an angel today
He was riding his bike
Singing away
His ear buds in place
Pedaling to race
‘Cross Route 101
Heading east toward the sun
He wore a red shirt
And his legs showed some muck
From road grit and rain
Flung up and stuck
As he passed by me
His voice sounding sweet
He smiled and kept singing
His mission complete ©

Sittin' On A Fender

Duane rode his Harley Sportster in a couple of days ago. Three of us were out looking at it and Bob commented about a trip to Sturgis for the bike rally and how this couple had come riding into the campground. She was “sittin’ on a fender” and off I went to write ….

Sittin’ on a fender, she rode up to the place
Where gathered, there were people who had ridden across space
And time to come together and celebrate and be
Enjoy themselves and one another. At Sturgis, they were free.

Free of timeclocks, free of ties and free to sing a song
Free to stay up all the night as they were pulled along
With camaraderie and oft-told tales of life’s downs, ups and woes
As they sat themselves beside the fire and warmed cold feet and toes

But I digress, which is to say, my mind does easily roll
To other thoughts which good times bring upon my heart and soul
This started as a reminisce about a woman , she
Provided me with joy of life as she displayed her glee

Came ridin’ up to Curley’s Bar, her arms around her man
Just sittin’ on a fender, a blanket on steel pan
She was a beauty with long, dark hair and eyes so almond brown
Her smile, it lit the graying eve as she stood up, climbed down

The ride they’d shared was off the roads, she’d mud streaked up her back
But she was laughing and having fun, her spirit was intact
It mattered not, for she was with a man who thought her smart
A man who loved her for herself and had a poet’s heart. ©

2009 Minneapolis Bike Tour - September 20

Plying their two-wheeled, handle-barred thrones
Still waking up with stiff morning groans
All shapes and sizes arriving en masse
In ones, twos and threesomes, some lay in the grass

To stretch before leaving this chaos of park
And race off to finish before the first lark
They’ll pedal and pant and push as they ride
Along the paved parkways with lakes at their side

But most of us will take a more leisurely pace
And treat it as fun – not so much as a race
First Kenwood with neighbors out lining the street
To wave and encourage this annual fete’

Of people together enjoying the morn
Three thousand plus strong, on bicycles borne
To Lake of the Isles, Nokomis, Calhoun
Look to the west, we can still see the moon

Past Harriet and Cedar, with joggers on paths
To the Falls of Minnehaha, a rest stop at last
The river miles start here and we follow it down
Under the freeway and up into town

Past Gold Medal Park and the Guthrie we ply
O’er old Stone Arch Bridge so flat we can fly
Across the deep water and St. Anthony Main
We follow the river on cobblestones lain

So long ago, when horses trod there
And hundreds of grain men worked for their share
Then northward we turned to follow the flow
To Nord’east and neighbors who pay as they go

The old Grain Belt brewery, still regal in age
As we pedaled our tandem, we turned back the page
Of time, for these homesteads had been here for years
Through good times and bad, through good days and tears

Crost’ over in Camden, then southward we roam
And rode the wide parkways that many call home
Then Theodore Wirth, the park known by name
Through green woods and landscape – not wild, not tame

And now almost done, just one piece to press
A couple of miles of trail to address
And back to the park from where we’d begun
Tired, happy and glad. We’d had so much fun. ©

"Double Trouble" - The Recumbent Tandem

We've been riding a Rans Recumbent Tandem bicycle this year after having a "normal" tandem last year. The trepidation I had over going to the recumbent (I feared losing power on hills) was not an issue. The gearing takes care of that and the tandem lets us talk together - I can even get a shoulder rub during the ride!! How cool is that?

Looking for a way to be a more friendly couple?
Then my advice is to get you a double.
A bike built for two, that’s partly the answer
Especially if you’re not a very good dancer

Aerobic health rises as you pedal the streets
The two of you working with leg pumping beats
And talk if you chose to, whatever comes up
Its great time together, an intimate sup

Breathing in sunshine, alive and astraddle
A four pedaled wheeler forbids you to battle
It brings two together as one for the goal
Of wind in your face and food for your soul. ©

A Blatant Attempt At Poetic Success - Dear Oprah:

It has come to my attention that should you deem to mention
A genre’, book or poet, the world will come to know it
So pardon my intrusion but my work does need infusion
Of karma from a greater sphere than I

My mother thinks it’s great stuff, my sisters’ say it’s “Good ‘nuff”
I have no brothers so what they think is moot
But readers find me droll, they say I bare my soul
My heart is on my sleeve with every one

So Oprah won’t you please, just read a few of these
And think it over just a little while
Regardless what you do, my respect for you
Will continue unabated with a smile.

Thom's Gone

What is there to say when someone is "let go"? Through no glaring fault of their own, it is done - in the "best interest" of the organization. Though I understand with my head, my heart doesn't listen ...

They let a good man go today
Sent him off with a shrug and his pay
I watched him struggle to come to grips
As he packed his stuff with taut, pursed lips

It hurts my heart to see him go
For as I struggled, he let me know
That he cared about and for me through
His words and deeds, and others too

Sweet man, now out upon the street
With mortgage to pay, needs food to eat
He finds himself without a job
Less place or purpose, a keyless fob

Be safe my friend, I farewell bade
I shant forget, but memories fade. ©

My Son, The Marine

A friend of mine sent an FW with photos of Marines in Iraq. Manning a fire station in a rain storm. Asleep in foxholes dug between to rows of convoy vehicles. On patrol as a sand storm rages. My son, Daniel is currently serving in Baghdad, the lion’s den . Hence …

That’s him, I think, my son so dear
Though I can’t see his face with all his gear
I know it’s him by the way he stands
I know it’s him by his strong, gloved hands

The way he moves, his purposed gait
Wherever he is, the hour is late
I long to hold him just as I did
When, so long ago, he was just a kid

To tell him I love him and to see him smile
To tell him I love him and all the while
To protect him and clothe him and eat all his greens
To tuck him to bed and fold his blue jeans

That’s him that I see asleep in the sand
Where today is yesterday for him and his band
The pride of this country, our finest, our best
Our young men and women being put to the test

Oh Lord, please protect them, each one of them loved
By those of us here, by you up above
And allow my prayer heard, this moment, this hour
That’s him, I’m sure of, my son, life’s flower ©

Sittin' In The Waiting Room

Went to see an old friend the other day. He stood me up! Good thing - because if he hadn't, who knows where this would have gone ......

Sitting’ in the waiting room
Waitin’ for “the man”
A friend from quite some time ago
When wildly we ran

From fire to fire, our days so filled
With normal stress and strife
Now all becalmed since we’ve become
More mature in life

So as I sit and ponder
This junction I’ve come to
My mind can’t help but wander
And think of me and you

Young love is such a glorious thing
We’d play along the streams
Our days filled with thoughts of youth
Our heads chock full of schemes

Remembering we’d share our meals
We’d each eat our fair share
Combining germs with every bite
We surely didn’t care

Same spoon, sure, that’s okay
We’d have at our ice cream
No need for separateness with us
We share our hopes and dream

O memories, sweet tastes of pasts
Some fade but others stay
To take us back in time and then
To help us through our day

I sit here in the waiting room
My friend’s now overdue
But that’s okay because I’ve been
Just hangin' with Ol’ Blue. ©

The Bubble

"The Bubble" was sparked by a conversation with a young man with a very good heart. We were speaking of why acceptance into a group can be so difficult for someone outside the "circle." As we talked, the circle became better described as a bubble and hence, this poem.

There are bubbles we all live in - through out our days and nights
They protect our view, our scenery - of life, love and our plights
As sunshine splits into its parts - as through a prism lens
Our view from through our bubble’s wall is colored and depends

Upon our past experiences, upon our hopes and dreams
Upon the dad who yelled at us, upon our childish schemes
Upon the loves we’ve won and lost, upon the Grandma who
Loved us unconditionally, perhaps an aunt or two

At any rate, to know this, is vital to our task
Which is to be a caring one - to look beyond this mask
For this is what that bubble does. It masks our view of things
Protects us from – or so we think – life’s door dents and its dings

There is danger there - within that thought - of remaining so aloof
From all the pushes and the shoves - that man who’s such a goof
There’s richness in a fabric - as defined by complex weaves
To shield our eyes inside our bubble - akin to fine meshed sieves

To filter out the pulp - the meat of fruit so lushly grown
Left only with a distillation - a yard that’s freshly mown
Neglects the body of the fruit - the grass that holds the life
‘Tis better to have loved and lost. ‘Tis better to face strife

So Lord, I pray thee, please burst it now - and never to return
Within the confines of that orb - and leave to me discern
The fullness of your sunlight - the depth of your love sown
The widest view of your great gifts - your fabric fully known. ©

Buy 1, Get 1 Free - A Geriatric Rap

Saw my mom the other day. She told me she'd been to Jerry's Foods in Edina. It was "Buy 1, Get 1 Free" day and she excitedly told me of all the things she'd found. The tempo of the line resonated with me - and it wrote itself.

Buy one, get one free
The grocery store mantra of the elderly
Two loaves of bread, cream cheese too
Just a pound of bacon? Oh, that won’t do

Shufflin’ along, filling my cart
The deals the deal, I’m feeling smart
Box of rice, grab some sauce
Making it two, just because

Today’s the day. Ooh, this looks great!
Sliced bananas will be good on my plate
Meat department’s around the bend
What’ll it be? What’ll I spend?

Don’t much matter, I’ll give it away
Score some points with the kids today.
'Cause I’m gonna buy one, get one free
The grocery store mantra of the elderly.©

Review of: “Prince Harming Syndrome” by Karen Salmansohn

A book came to my attention the other day
My dear one passed it to me as if to say
“You should read this before I do.
It may explain why I love you.”

At least that was the thought I had
The other reason was that it may bode bad
For me to read ‘bout all the stuff
I lack, her rationale’ to huff and puff

Not that she does, don’t misconstrue
She’s not like that, no streaks of blue
But nonetheless, a man can be
A bit unsure of where fits he

Within the fabric of his love’s life
And that’s what caused my angst, my strife.

So read I did.
I started out and read it through
In one long sit, a good book too
To educate a woman of
Her real intents, a real, true love

The manner which the author uses
To press her points and see abuses
Within the context of our heart
She puts quite simply, very smart

She hammers home what she is saying
With humor, care and without braying
She provokes thought, she asks for more
And yet again, says “Show the door”

To men who are not worth the trouble
And there’s a bunch and it’s a double
Yet shall a woman ply advice
Contained herein, she’ll know quite nice

Just what is odd about Prince Harming
And what is even with Prince Charming
And how to use the wisdom she’s imparted
To those who’re tired of “broken hearted”

An Ice Cream Story

This morning I asked Peter if he had a nice weekend. He told me that his wife and son had gone to Chicago and he and his little girl had spent the weekend together - they'd gone out for dinner and ....

Sitting alone, enjoying my treat
Watching the folks walk down the street
Some hand-in-hand, some further apart
Some distant, some close, connected at heart

I mused as I watched them come near me and pass
Their stories imagined. A young man with sass
Accompanied by a yet girl in high heels
Walking uneasily, fighting a reel

The elderly couple, ambling along,
Dressed finely in old clothes, humming a song
Perhaps to help relive a time in their past
A time when cavorting seemed ever to last

And then as I watched this parade of us all
I saw at the corner a sight to enthrall
A dad and a daughter were making their way
Towards the place I was sitting – an end to their day

She must have been three or four at the most
She smiled as she looked up to her hand holding host
Her daddy looked down at his precious, his love
And I knew his heart cherished his gift from above

They came and they sat, she stood and she twirled
Just showing off, in love with the world
And as I sat back and observed this life scene
Savoring flavors of vanilla and bean

It occurred to me how this memory may part
From her young mind but not from her heart
Too young to remember the details of this
But able to know the sense of her bliss

Her daddy and she were out on the town
The two of them, special and heading on down
For ice cream and time to share, special and dear
For daughter and daddy, the both of them here

Our forming of bonds, our self love to know
Is cast out of these times, these love times we sow
To stand us in good stead all through our days
Of happiness, sadness, joy or malaise

How light was my heart as they finished and left
My ice cream now long gone, a drip in my cleft
And as the eve deepened and light dropped away
They’d shown me His goodness at the end of this day. ©

The Hug

There is nothing to introduce here. The entire story is contained within ....

I know a little girl who has sneaked up on my heart
We’ve known each other for many years, less two since we’ve been part
Of common lives of families who combined I do derive
Great joy to be a part of – and now she’s almost five.

At any rate, the story here is not about the years
But, truth be told, it is about a grown man and his tears

Of circumstance, shall go unsaid, we didn’t get to see
Each other for a couple weeks and I was sad to be
Apart from her, her childish laugh, her sticking out her tongue
The way she called me, “B come here”, the way her brown hair hung

She’s always been a bit reserved, rebelling at my tries
To tousle hair, to pat her back, to look into her eyes
I wasn’t Grandpa, just a man who loved her Grandma yet
She knew I loved her just the same, kids do know that, you can bet

Then yesterday, my luck, it changed. The stars aligned for me
And I was going to see the lass I longed so much to see
I wondered, “How to let her know I’d missed her, oh, so much.”
And had a thought, a bright idea, a way to bring a touch

She’s into bears, all brown and soft, the teddy kind’s the best
She has her two most favorite ones with her when she’s at rest
A poem I wrote to let her know just how much she was missed
And stuck two snaps of teddy bears at corners as they kissed

As I went to meet with them, with Grandma at her side
My heart was full of worry and woe, concerned I might miss wide
And have my heart rejected, my love she may forsake
But as I read her the short poem, I knew that she would wake

I asked her for a hug you see, a simple, human deed
Expressive of our caring sides, expressive of our need
To feel connected to those whom we’ve come to care about
And feel the closeness of two hearts without a simple doubt

She hugged me hard and held me tight, my heart it soared aloft
She let me know she’d missed me too. How wonderful, how soft.
©
12-Sep-09

Gracie & Hanna - Walking the Dogs - An alliterative essay

Tethered to two, toothy, long tailed tuggers
Their passion pulls us along promptly
Hoping to hastily head off, heedless of our “Haw!”
To quickly chasten a curiously contentious cat

As we leg it behind the long limbed Labradors
Looking at the loveliness lining the lane
Oaks overhanging, offering acorns to us
Ashes aspiring to achieve altitude
Scrub scavenging remaining sunlight, seeking sustenance

We weary from our walk
Slowing steps, seeking solitude in self
Speaking of what seeps from our souls
Our softness, our sanctity of simplicity

Not to be for long!
Our fierce, four legged, flea bitten, fang bearing flesh eaters are off
Hastening towards a huddling herbivore hiding in the hedge
These canine carnivores! To chase is their concern.
Wildly wending their way after that wascally wabbit.
Tally Ho! ©

Time Travel

Going through boxes of old photographs the other night. “Simplify your life.” Hot mantra of the masses these days. When the kids were kids, the grand parents and even great grandparents were alive and it seemed – although we knew our lives were progressing – that those days – that vitality – would be within us forever.

We’ve all done it. Old photos of family - holidays, vacations, birthdays, A daunting task sometimes - piles of acetate covered paper – inches thick. We look at each one, absorbing the scene, tossing many aside quickly but often coming across the ones that stop us. We study them – and for a time – our hearts and minds flow backward to that moment – those people, that time of our lives.

Oh, those times. The birth of a child. The love that wells in our hearts recalling that moment. A party in the back yard with Grandma and Grandpa. They are sitting in those old lawn chairs with the lime green and white plastic strapping. They loved me – and still do although they’re gone from here. I loved them – and still do.

The Corvette sitting on the grass in the front yard – freshly washed and waxed. Funny. I probably would have said at that time that “I loved that car” but I would have been wrong. Love is not possible for an inanimate object but I didn’t know that then. Love springs from the meeting of hearts between people – or dogs, the occasional cat.

Christmases. The tree overly decorated with “tinsel” – does anyone besides me remember “tinsel”? Grandma would come over and – strand by strand for the first few hundred – put on the tinsel. After a while, she would make it two strands at a time, then six, then “Lets get this done!” and the tree would glisten in the lamplight for the next two weeks.

Here we are at the family vacation in Duluth. We’re all standing on the rocks with Lake Superior in the background. Dad’s taking the picture so he’s not in it. Look at those clothes! Mom was so young then. A beautiful woman. My sisters were just twerps – maybe 8 and 6 years old. Let’s see, that would have made me 10 – almost 11. Beth hadn’t been born yet. Two more years and she’d be here.

Each photo, each vignette of our lives brings a sense of grounding – and a sense of closeness to those we love.

As the pile diminished, many to be thrown away, many to be saved and savored again the next time – when? – another five years? - perhaps – I realized that I was exhausted. Time travel is tiring. And love is the fuel. ©

A Great Little Place to Call Home - to the tune Me-O-Mi-O

I live near a town called Excelsior
Should you walk down the street, you’ll meet me or
Someone else you may know 'cause we won’t go
To a town where the clothes shops sell Dior.

Oh, it’s a quaint little place where the kids play
In the sun on the sand at the beach - hey
And the church organs all play in C or
The cantors off key in Excelsior. ©

A Bird In The Cat

This title amuses me because there is a bird in the poem - although not a "major player" - but a cat is nowhere to be found. The title line was the first thing that came to me - and as I wrote I realized there would be no cat and just a bit player bird! Amazing where the mind goes.

Start the day as a grain of food matter
I wondered what matter I was
A grub came along and inside of a minute
I was inside his soft jaws

There I became a bit of a snack
But as I began to digest
Along came a mouse, a little, gray ball
And quickly I fed a new pest

Here I did languish for just a brief spell
For out of the blue we were hit
Me and the grub and that well fed gray mouse
Were taken aloft in a whit

The old jay was struggling returning to base
And we were all three just agog
Suddenly falling back to soft ground
We landed right next to a frog

Suprised by our coming, he leaped to the pond
And disappeared in the drink

But that skunk who'd been stalking him
Didn't blink twice and down the hatch we did sink.
©
25-Jul-06

Doc's First Poetry Post

After writing for a number of years, the time has come to shine light on these things and see what they reflect.
For A Brown Dog
She's proud and tall with warm, soft ears
She walks with purposed grace
Her cord-like tail still makes a whap
On walls or Miss Avery's face

Her life force ebbs, her age is old
But muster on yet she will
Confused a bit by what besets her
Yet yearning for the thrill

Of another walk around the lake
Or a trot along the trail
A chance to roam and chew some grass
Or sniff another's tail

Oh brown dog, you precede us
As your essence mists away
Yet knowing that it must be so
To follow you some day

If I believe that we are spirit
With taken human form
It's not such a reach to say the same
For a dog with ears so warm.

© For CoCo - 2-May-08

This morning, after a too long hiatus, I returned to my Wednesday morning men’s group. As I walked towards the Starbucks front door, it occurred to me that – not unlike the prodigal son – I had finally come to my senses and realized that I had abandoned many wonderful aspects of my life because of my own laziness and inattention. I was embraced and welcomed. I had been missed. I was humbled and honored by these men whom I had grown to love over the six years we’d been meeting – and I still love after being gone for almost two years.
While the past two weeks for me have been the most difficult emotional roller coaster of my life, I have much to be thankful for. And many to be thankful to. Robin is and will always be a catalyst for me. Thank you , my dear one.

Exciting? Yes. Terrifying? Yes.

What is the upside? To touch people. To reach out and open someone’s heart to something within them that has remained closed – or guarded. To publicly acknowledge and accept that my given talents are not to be denied but embraced and shared.

What is the downside? To touch people. And by doing so, risk derision for audacity – that the conduit that is within me has value outside of myself – to a greater audience than just me and those whom I love.