Surprise Visita from Terisita - and her family - Trying to fill our Religion Program

Was upstairs on my stationery bike talking to Marcy from Grenada Hills, CA, when who should stop by the house?

Why, it's Terry, her son Nicky and husband Mo, short for Mohammed. Mo is originally from Germantown. Nick is a very talented viola player and will be part of a string quarter this Sunday. I haven't checked my sked, but I may indeed go.

Both Terry and Mo are nurses. He works at Jeane's Hospital, while Terry works at Temple.

I gave them a brief tour of the house before they left. I gave Terry the book Flicka Ricka and Dicka that my 'ungebroid' granddaughter didn't want.  So now a new generation of children will have a chance to read these delightful books.

New Directions will host a Scrabble Night the second and fourth Tuesday of the month at the Willow Grove Giant. Altho this looks like a foto off the Net, the game is actually sitting on my living room bench.

My mom bought me the bench about 26 years ago when I first moved into my house. In fact, I called her today to ask if I could come over and play a game with her.

My sister Ellen had emailed her that she thinks Mom is lonely, but Mom said to come another time. I didn't ask if she were lonely, but I did inquire if she ever got bored.

Never, she said.

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Spent part of the day phoning people for my religion program at the Giant. Wrote two people letters. The head priest, called Rector, at Our Lady of Good Counsel in Southampton. The neighbors who live behind mom - Austin and Margie Morris - go there.

I remember Austin saying to me one time he never understood what people meant by having a bad back until he got a bad back.

Terrific conversationalist. Unfortunately, I canceled my insurance from him so we never talk. Darn.

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These feathery fluffy puffs are from a shrub called Fothergilla. They're right outside my door.

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We had our third and last Poetry Class with Lynn Levin last nite.

We read a couple more sonnets. Very enjoyable!

Linda Barrett was the only one who wrote a sonnet. I didn't even try.

Linda wrote two of em, which I published in a previous blog post.

Lynn gave us an update of poet David Simpson, who is dying of ALS in his own home in Glenside, Pa. His wife had gotten strep throat so he's in a hospice at Holy Redeemer Hospital, so he won't get even more sick. Breathing is one of his main problems.

Lynn had visited with him in his home and they had a wonderful conversation of what's going on now in the poetry world.

Reminds me of when I'd visit my dad, 40 yrs ago, who was dying of a brain tumor at home. All he wanted to hear about was what was going on in New Hope, where he ran the Now and Then Shop.




"The Way Love Comes to Me" is David Simpson's new book. 

I feel like making a pilgrimage to visit David. I'm not in the 'inner circle' - dyou think I should go?

In our poetry class, we read "The Facebook Sonnet" by Sherman Alexie, b. 1966. Then we all discuss it. Lynn has a nice way of saying, "Good insight."

Read the sonnet here. 

Another sonnet was by Gerald Stern from Lambertville, NJ.

Titled September, 1999, it begins, "I was thinking about pears"

Let's see if we can find it.

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Scott is staying home from work, resting his back. Am going to his house to watch "Last Days in Vietnam." What an American tragedy that was.

Wonder if anyone has written an opera about it?

John Adams? C'mon! 





HINTS OF SPRING

Forgetting it was spring
I went outside and watched
birds come out of their
hiding places and swoop
before me, leading me onward.

I followed across green
grass, kicking off my shoes
and running like a deer
through our sunny
neighborhood, hair
on fire from the sun
while the silent half moon
nodded in approval.