Monday, February 13, 2012

A garden of lost children

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Daddy said someone took mommy away... And he cried with my brother and me... Hoping she would come home any day... Wanting things like they used to be... Daddy cradled us carefully... In the place we called home... The now burned down halls... Where we cried and we roamed...
I dare you to love us... Your first born child... And the brother I had... Who laughed and smiled...
"You don't look the same daddy... What is so wrong... Where is our mommy... And where is her song?"...
I think I smell gasoline... Why are you so cold...Why is the surprise... The hatchet you hold...
You said that you loved us... But this we do know... Your eyes were so empty... When you hurt us so...
When we go to that space... Where other dead children Are kept in this place... A place between life... And their sad unknown... A garden of lost children... Who are never alone..

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Words left in the shifting sands..

After walking the shores in South Jersey, I wondered where my inspiration would come from, then when I least expected it, the sand showed me everything I needed to know. As we are bombarded by the media with incoming messages that all we know is likely to change and not necessarily for the better. I wondered if these words were indeed true, or were they like the small and large sand castles that lined the shores last summer. Many beach lovers, especially the young children with the help of their moms and dads, spent hours creating sand castles. Some, in between eating their hot dogs and drinking their warm soda, actually drew a crowd. A competition began and their castle's took on a life of their own. Each bigger and more uniquely beautiful than the other as the day went on. The rest of us re-lathered with suntan lotion dragged our blankets over to our favorite spots, and watched them until the sun slowly took their spotlight away. Today in the chill of a winter sun, the castles are all gone, having been wiped away by the reality of the season and changing tides. The barren beach is now left with only pock marks where fragments of litter lie and where castles once sat. We wonder about our times and our truths, and because we believe, or not, we do know that new castles will be built by our young when the time is right. And even though we have no control over these things, the seasons will gracefully grant us another chance to enjoy the warmth of summers and to live as if the tides will never come.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

"There are two ways of spreading light, be the candle or the mirror that reflects it"

Extreme Makeover was one of the most popular TV programs during the last nine years.
Those who volunteered and those who contributed to its success received the accolades they so deserved.  The final show was in Joplin Missouri where they began the resurrection of a town that was hit by a devastating tornado last summer.

In addition to building and furnishing seven homes in a week. More was being done behind the scenes, the community park was rebuilt and college scholarships were offered to graduating seniors. Massive donations, and corporate support found  ways to begin getting Joplin back on their feet again.

That is the true power of the people.

 There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it * Edith Wharton

Just don't blow it out !

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Recycling good thoughts


As the new year is off and running, writers are looking for inspiration again.  Each of us searching for the thought that opens the flood of energy that drives us and keeps us at our laptops. We hunger for words that reach our dormant finger tips and have a mind of their own.

I find myself bored by the mundane and the redundancy in today's political unrest. We are witnessing the subtle indoctrination of our youth,both in our society and in our great halls of education. The language used has been changed to meet and great an idealistic, but unrealistic new world vision. One that has failed in the past, yet it appears we are doomed to repeat.

If we were truly to learn from our mistakes,and to move forward to rights and freedoms for all, our best lessons would be in our history. Yet,it is said, that has been changed to be part of the larger plan, one that is not within our control As if the puppets with strings to the puppeteer.

We are unable to insulate ourselves or our families  from the negative forces we all live with. However, we do have the power as writers to perpetuate the positive things in our culture and be sure that it stays out there and is read .We can recycle the wisdom of the past and make it part of today.We can consider it a calling and make it our own. Such as reminding others of the wise words of George Washington:

"Be courteous to all,be intimate with a few,and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence."

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Ten pounds of love

As if gifted to me by the calling I had after I lost my 75 pound Weimaraner dog, I knew like a person, a loved pet can never be replaced yet I ached for another dog to love and to be loved back unconditionally.

You would think that a dog is a dog right ? No, in every case no. This small 4 pound yorkie was more like a cat. She jumped high off the ground and pulled off the scarf I was wearing when we first met. Never still and in constant motion. Yet, I found myself still making the decision to  keep her after her owner found her more than she could handle and was ready to give her up. I spent two weeks wondering if I had made a big mistake with this little dog.

But slowly she came to me and looking up at me as if to ask "can I trust you ?"  One day she leaped up into my lap and stayed there. We finally made a connection. The kind that is comforting like one's favorite blanket or old worn slippers.  I gave her a name I thought suitable to her personality, Sasha, she follows me room to room, even knows the time of day and night when she will let me know that its later then ususal for anyone of our routines.

 She is 10 pounds of willful independance and tucks herself into any suitcase or box that she thinks will leave without her. She also has her own travel bag and doesn't mind being tucked under the front seat of an airplane, in spite of her ticket being as costly as mine. She never barks in public and is used to the attention she gets when I have to take her out of her bag going through security. And me, clumsily like any barefooted, laptoped,  dog traveler I think most of the time it goes well.
Much of my budget includes a pet sitter that cares for her when I travel without her. But I would never have it any other way. Because she is the first one to greet me when I return. And I yell to her " Sasha, Mommy's home" And I know it matters to her. 10 pounds of love that fills my world unconditionally, just one of the many I love in my life.

Monday, December 5, 2011

The way the Christmas cookie crumbles

Every year my preparations for Christmas has included making cookies. All kinds of cookies, using an old fashion cook book. I begin making a different batch every day right after Thanksgiving. But I finally have fine tuned making Christmas cookies into an art form. I usually make only one batch a day in order to not get "cookie fatigue" . One day this week one of my batches didn't turn out well, they stuck to the cookie sheet , in the end when I finished them they were a pile of crumbled cookies. Feeling disappointed and while eating far too many of the pieces that tasted good , a light bulb went off in my head. "Make cookie crumbles to put on ice cream" it said. So I crumbled the rest of the broken cookies into smaller pieces and packaged them in  colorful Christmas boxes and then labeled them Christmas crumbles for ice cream.Then I put a colorful bow on the top. Needless to say my misadventure turned out better than I could have imagined. 

There is so much in life that turns out to be like crumbled cookies. It has become a pass time  for some of us to see just how creative we can be with our lives. Sharing the struggling economy, fractured relationships,or the pain of loss in our lives. However, if we keep focused on what really means the most to us, even our crumbled cookies can turn out to be a gift. Especially,if we can remember that the most important ingredient is love.