Friday, May 31, 2019

Fueling myself with music, iced coffee, sardines and peanuts - Poem: Birdland

Wrote this poem earlier today.

BIRDLAND

In swoops the reddest cardinal
you ever did see
He sure likes the seeds in our
feeders
Mr Robin Redbreast
bathes in my birdbath
Not so much bathing
as standing sentry
over every living thing
in the neighborhood.

Come night, the birds
bed down in unseen places. As a child
I had a nature book by Donald Culross Peattie
the colors flew off the page and left
me stunned.

Feathers. Fly like Icarus, Fly.

Image result for painting of icarus


*
Am now working on my short story about the Million Man March. Gotta think of a title.

Went shopping this morning with my newly widowed mother/law, Natalie. Scott was taking her food shopping.

Am listening to The Magic Flute on YouTube. Waiting for Papagayna. There's a new group I discovered called The Twilight Sad. Let's hear that now.

Yeah, but the music turns off the blog.

Gotta tell you sitting here for hours makes my butt hurt and my feet sweat.

Stand up, for pete's sake.

*

Goodnight Swiftie, wherever you are.




Thursday, May 30, 2019

Early Breakfast at T N T - Outrageous attack against Planned Parenthood, defended well by its new president.... read on!



Sit anywhere you like, said Tim, a friendly guy. 


AN EARLY BREAKFAST AT TNT IN HATBORO PA

My phlebotomist Jane and I
were chatting, so I forgot
about the tubes of blood
that were quickly exiting
my body for my Lebanese-born
Dr Ghantous, God bless the
ruination of his people

To reward myself, tho punish
is the better word,
I drove to the diner
bargained with tattooed Chris
for a medium sized breakfast

Scrambled eggs I dotted with pepper
A huge pancake, the size of a
dinner plate at a formal wedding
I spread with butter, then poured over
real maple syrup, and munched happily
while swooning and swigging iced water
and hot coffee

The hashed browns I loaded with ketchup
the crisp ones are the best, as you probably
know, but that chipped beef (!) the one they
call SOS on Navy Destroyers, destroyed my
saline balance, you must stop eating, I
chastened myself and did.

The coffee was hot and topped off several times
as I read The Flicker of Old Dreams
then drove home over a road renamed for
a dead veteran

I fell into bed, at home, as one dead,
then awoke by a toe cramp, leaning
to the right, all by herself,
stomping it did no good.

Someday, perhaps I shall learn.

*
Just watched the PBS Nightly News. The president of Planned Parenthood defended the outrageous practices demanded by legislators.


Dr. Leana Wen, President/CEO

Dr. Leana Wen is the new President of the Planned Parenthood Federation of America and the Planned Parenthood Action Fund. She is the first physician in nearly 50 years to lead the organization. Planned Parenthood provides vital health services to nearly 2.5 million men and women each year through its more than 600 health centers across the country.

About Dr. Wen 

Dr. Leana Wen joined Planned Parenthood Federation of America as President in November 2018, which is the nation’s leading provider of sexual and reproductive health care and education. With over 600 health centers and a presence in all 50 states, as a national health care organization, Planned Parenthood provides vital community health care to nearly 2.5 million women, men, non-binary people, youth, and families every year. One in five American women have been patients at Planned Parenthood. Dr. Wen, who joined the organization in November 2018, is the first physician to lead Planned Parenthood in nearly 50 years and its first AAPI president. She is an immigrant, a practicing ER doctor, a public health leader, and a passionate advocate for reproductive health and rights. Previously, she served as the Health Commissioner for the City of Baltimore, where she led the nation’s oldest continuously operating health department to fight the opioid epidemic, treat violence and racism as public health issues, and improve maternal and child health. She is on the faculty of George Washington University School of Medicine and the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health.

Wednesday, May 29, 2019

Photo of Memorial Day at the Demings - Poem: My Living Room


I am drinking cold water with ice. However, I did have a couple sips of Dan's cold beer.

On this hot and muggy day, Garbage Night, May 29, 2019, I've turned on my AC to 80, to cool down the house. Rode my bike for 20 minutes while Scott was downstairs loading this photo.

Am working on a short story about the Million Man March. To prepare, went on YouTube and watched August Wilson on Masterpiece Theatre.


MY LIVING ROOM

My whole life history is here
The Ruth museum, my trip to Haiti
Overseas to find Michaelangelo
And suck gelati in the Plaza

Ralph Nelms, the schoolbus driver
who gave me a mama and baby stork
as he died of ALS and clay saucers
vibing from Africa.

Tall feathers on a sunny window sill
waiting to fly away when the Apocalypse comes
Hark! The bugle sounds. The flood rains down.
Pick one thing and be gone.

A wall hanging from South America?
David's ceramic bird house?
A vanilla Dixie cup?

The memory of the swiftly flying
hummingbird.

Tuesday, May 28, 2019

Happy Memorial Day from the Demings' Abode - Poem: Backyard Deck


Great photo of Mom from several years ago.

She had met little Max and said, Now I know why you like to visit so much.

My sugar was very high so I injected 16 before I left home.



Using my handy-dandy directions, I arrived at their home in about half an hour. Olive Garden is the key.

BTW, Dan sent me a marvelous photo of all the guests but for some reason I can't load it here.

Dan ran out of propane and picked up some more at Lowe's. I always tell him what a great guy he is and how proud I am of him.

Just did my back exercises downstairs on the bed.

My bean soup is cooking on high heat in the crock pot.

Ruth, what is it you wanna tell your readers?

First of all, wrote in my pink diary this morning and realized my problems are not so bad.

Glenside Kron will not publish my excellent article, tho she said she would.

It would do their paper proud!

While waiting to leave for Dan's, wrote a short story. Think of a name, Ruthie, I said, and stick to it.

"Regrets."

My writers liked the story.

My grandkids are 8 and 6.

Made some Starbucks coffee this morning. Very strong, so I added water. It was Christmas coffee.

Hold on, I'm gonna have anudder cup.

I do miss drinking coffee.



The hot coffee is in my Gevalia Keep Hot Container.

The photo is from EBay.

Food we ate was

corn on the cob
BBQ chicken
asparagus, Nicole likes to mention it makes your pee smell
shrimp and mushrooms

Vat else? Vat else?

This coffee is very good AND I can still fall asleep.

As soon I arrived, Max insisted I get down on the floor with him and play with his trains.

I did. He got some real SEPTA trains.



Very tiny. And of course we always hear em pass by in their backyard. And my backyard, too!

So with my dress I was mopping their floor.

They also got a huge new fence from Everything Fence.

Fences make good neighbors, right Mr Frost?

OMG! I almost spilled my coffee, in a lovely blue cup that once belonged to sister Donna. When her Hatboro condo was flooded, she gave me loads of coffee cups.

We were talking earlier this morning via email about CLUMSINESS. Mayo Clinic had some good info.

The Deming family love to play games.

Goody!

Since Musical Chairs brings out the worst in some people, Grace decided on other games to play.

They have a large backyard.

First we played BOCCI.

The balls are very heavy.



They stay on the ground the whole time.

Next we played softball. Grace has an excellent swing.





In their backyard, they had a rose bush growing.

Smell this, I said to Max.

Mmmm, he said.

After dinner, we played charades.

Super fun!

Grace had written out the clues.

I had easy ones like swimming.

Mom-Mom had a tough one and couldn't get down on her hands and knees.

This was on their back yard deck.

I rarely use my back yard deck. However, if you'll excuse me a moment, I'll write a poem about it.

MY BACKYARD DECK

When I first moved in
I had no back yard deck.
What did I need it for?
I drove to work 45 minutes away
where I helped my clients,
Tina, John, Stephen, Wendy
Therapy was hard but
also fun.

A neighbor got a new deck.
I followed suit. The deck's
a beaut. Scattered with leaves
from nearby trees, and seeds from
maples, we call mustaches, but Judy
calls Pinocchio noses.

Birds stop by. The royal cardinal,
the jabbering blue jay. Occasionally
I talk to neighbor Bill.

A purple lilac spreads its leaves
waiting for the return of the man
in the top hat, Mr Abraham Lincoln.



Monday, May 27, 2019

Chatting with a friend - Poems: Elinor's Bowl - After the Big Dinner

Joy and I were chatting away. I'd sent her flowers from Kremp and she said they were gorgeous. She told me the colors. Let's see if I can find a reasonable facsimile ... hold on



After we hung up, I realized I should've told her the story of my confrontation by the Upper Moreland cop.

But I was in a hurry to go to the Giant before it got too dark.

I needed to buy OJ for the next time I go low.

Blood orange was there. It was sticky so I tried to turn on the faucet right there but it was locked.

First tho I bought a coffee before the kiosk closed. I described what I wanted to the barista. Iced, Sweet with caffeine. That's why I'm awake now at 12:19 am after watching the Mem Day Show.

I just threw the coffee away.

Patrick Stoner was interviewing a few folks and he makes me shudder. So I went to YouTube and listened to Radiohead.

Joy told me to watch the Spike Lee film about the KKK. It's on Netflix. Not tonight, I won't. How about a nice murder mystery.

So long for now!

ELINOR'S BOWL



Elinor's bowl has died slowly
over the past ten years.

It's been cracked since the day
she gave it to me.

Yet it was perfect for my needs.

I visited her and George at the
old ladies home, as George called it.

She developed dementia after they moved in.
I was so mad, I loved them so.

The bowl is made of ceramics,
Produced in a factory, no doubt in China.

When I eat from it now - say, a salad with
Bibb lettuce, whole crunchy pecans, American
cheese made by Boar's Head - little pieces
fleck off like sand.

Sand, of course, is what ceramics are made from.
What shall become of the bowl?

Smash it on the sidewalk and paint it like
stained glass?

Trash it on Wednesday night?
Let it hold its own in the landfill?
Or bury it with me and one book of
my choice.

My dad's Bible from World War II?
Jimmy Piersall's biography?
Nay! Frank Magill's Masterpieces
of World Literature. That's where
I learned about Quo Vadis and
Kafka's The Trial.

*
AFTER THE BIG DINNER

After the big dinner on Mother's Day

I took to the sidewalks to walk off the

charbroiled hamburger with tomatoes and blue cheese dressing

sandwiched between white bread

and long stalks of dainty asparagus

when a tuft of grasses lifted themselves from the sidewalk

to greet me like an old friend.

Every single one of these blocks had its own story.

Big paw prints were laid deep like one of those

Saint Bernards carrying Jack Daniels home for the family

to sit by the fire and imbibe slowly, some reading short stories

or turning the pages of magazines.

Holes in every single sidewalk, coming up like little maple trees,

or oaks with leaves that look like big hands, the hands of

the Giant in Jack the Beanstalk. More trees, weeds - but what is

a weed anyway, but something you don't want - and parts of those

infernal plastic bags that fly like kites and land smooth like

geese on the water.


Sunday, May 26, 2019

Part 2 - Memorial Day Concert

Joe Mantegna talking with a man seated in a chair and a woman next to him  Help Wounded Warriors.

Actually my Republican senator is doing that, or trying to anyway. Legislation takes a long time.

View concert here.

General Colin Powell below


   They showed the SUICIDE HOTLINE.

Years ago we had a Vietnam Vet who took his own life at New Directions.

Are these hotlines effective? Do they really help?

Joe Montegna emphasized the importance of calling.



Nice job, Joe. Enjoyed your movie House of Games. Should I check it out again at the library?

Rode my bike for half an hour while watching the show. Had eaten my bean soup for dinner.

Had a dreadful time dismounting from the bike. I was sweating terribly so my butt stuck to the seat. 

Gonna post one more time. I wet my hair to stay cool.

Memorial Day Concert on TV - Part One

 Excellent concert that shows the true horrors of war.

Joe Mantegna is the host.

Dramatizations are performed by leading actors. Songs are performed by


Allison Krause. The audience loved her, as they did

the gorgeously attired Patti La Belle - did I spell your name right, Patti?


Guess they had her sing to honor the formerly enslaved members of our nation. God bless America.

The Vietnam Wall was the first time Vietnam Vets were honored.



I visited a couple of times.

All armed service members were honored. Each came forward in a pageant and sang their songs.

I could not remember the words to FROM THE HALLS OF MONTEZUMA. My dad always had us sing that song. He was a proud Marine, who called himself "hard as nails."

Holy cow! The famous Jacques Offenbach wrote the music,

Saturday, May 25, 2019

Saturday Writer's Group - Story called HOW DID THEY DIE - Officer Comes After Your Little Ruthie

The story was loosely based on the recent death of my first cousin Chez Ray of the restaurant biz in Eugene Oregon and then his daughter Shine aka Jennifer.

I thought the story would be difficult to write but it wasn't.

Good turnout at B's house.


HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY

Are you stuffed from the BBQ you just finished?
We ate on the new deck still smelling of fresh lumber.
The Weber grill is a shiny black, filled with hot red coals.
Wrapped in foil are potatoes and corn on the cob. Cauliflower, flavored with turmeric and pepper, and sweet baked beans balance like tightrope walkers on the stainless steel grate.

While we relax and chat, birds fly overhead. A blue jay jabbers and we hear the drumming of a woodpecker in the distance. Rap music pours from a car speeding down the road.

What we don't hear on this day that honors fallen warriors in Arlington or Arles are explosions in faroff countries. Thou shalt not kill, reads the first commandment. Once you get started, you can never turn back.

Unless...

*

COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS!

A Hawaii woman has been found alive in a forest on Maui island Friday after going missing for 17 days.

Amanda Eller, 35, was found injured in the Makawao Forest Reserve, the Maui News reported Friday. News of her discovery was announced on social media.

 Amanda was found by a helicopter searching out of the general area. She spotted them and waved them down.

She was deep in a crevice between two waterfalls. Amanda is doing great and spoke to her father from an air evacuation helicopter.

Her leg was broken, since she fell over a cliff, and she had a torn miniscus. Unable to move, she ate whatever came her way, such as moths.

The physical therapist and yoga instructor from the Maui town of Haiku went missing on May 8. Her white Toyota RAV4 was discovered in the forest parking lot with her phone and wallet inside. Her boyfriend reported her missing on May 9, Hawaii News Now reported.


Use this long weekend as an opportunity to visit friends and relatives you haven't seen in a while, esp. if they're in a nursing home, and to read your favorite books.

*


Wrote this to my writing group.

First I stopped at the CVS and picked up my prescriptions. AND I bought two frozen Amy's Mexican Dinners there.

Then I drove to the Upper Moreland Library to pick up my books, which were The Flicker of Old Dreams by Susan Henderson and Machines Like Me by Ian McEwan.

Figured I'd read em over the long Memorial Day Weekend.

Parked in the 15-minute parking zone and left my door wide open, as  I do upon occasion.

Went inside, got my books plus some stickers for my two grandchildren, whom I'll see on Monday, and entered the library.

As I was leaving an UPPER MORELAND POLICE OFFICER was coming in.

I knew he was for me.

Are you Ruth? he asked.

Yes, I said. How did you know my name?

I did my research, he said.

We walked out together.

You left your door wide open, he said.

I jangled my car keys.

If they want to hot wire your car, you just gave them the idea.

Officer, I said - and he was parked right behind me - you can be sure I will never do that again!!! 


*
Reading time!!!

Thursday, May 23, 2019

The arduous chore of....

changing my sheets. 10 whole minutes I'd say.

Walkin round and round that bed tucking in here and there. I have a huge bed that seems about 9 feet above the floor. Nice sheets. Beige.

Other challenges including ruminating about how would I pay my credit card bill, when am I gonna pay my taxes, which have been extended, how will I find the tax place?

Woke up very early and sent off some important emails TO the group. I always get my prepositions mixed up.

Whew, I'm glad I said dat.

Am eating a delicious salad. Went to the Giant hoping I could see Helen and I did, as she was leaving.

Did I tell you the importance of my losing weight. My diabetes doc wants to add Lantus tho I'm still on Novolog.

Numerous mistakes on here which I'm not gonna change. 60 percent chance of losing everything.



Film called PANIQUE. Very strange French film, loosely based on a George Simenon novel.

When my 90-yo friend HAR would get depressed, she would read one of his novels and clean her African Violets with a Q-tip.

Depression is the worst suffering there is. Hold on.... poem coming

DEPRESSION SUCKS

But I refuse to die.
I'll just stand on the edge of the ledge
head spinning
eyes seeing nothing
hoping just hoping
to fall.

After my hard work, I fell asleep on the downstairs bed, falling quickly asleep to Bel Canto and Save me The Plums by Ruth Reichl, who grew up with an unmedicated absy krazy bipolar mom.

POEM

POEM I wrote this morning

Thank you
cool air
for floating
thru my house
not ready yet
for the dreadful unnatural
isolation of the AC
whoosh whoosh
go the cars and small
yellow buses that whisk
the kids to school
a quick downpour
refills the birdbath
and the street
is as quiet as a cloud.

SO MY FIRST COUSIN Chez Ray Sewell died recently.

Now his daughter SHINE, aka Jennifer Sewell is dead of organ failure.

40 yrs old. Mother of Annabelle.

Another world in Eugene Oregon.








Saturday, May 18, 2019

New poem Lights, Writing Group and the Eats we et

LIGHTS

May 18, 2019

Open the window
feel the cool breeze
on my hot skin ensconced
in a green nightgown
I bought when Simon
lived with me.

Once after he moved out
we talked on the phone
about God. Thomas Aquinas
was his alibi for why
God exists. Sorry you died
a miserable death. Misery
stalked this good man.

The moon is rising, huge,
simply huge, over Charley's
house. What happened to
Charley's mind? Guess it's
what you call dementia tho
he taught me many things about
plants when he walked across
the street in his slippers
and pajama tops.

The solar lights are placed
just so on the lawn. Bird poop
well-aimed sits atop a few.

Do you feel important?
Do you feel God cares?
At night if I remember
to say my prayers, or, vespers,
as Christopher Robin would say,
I fall asleep in the middle,
bored to death.

*
We had a terrific writing group at B's. I drove Judy who wrote Weather Report. On the way home I started narrating - oh, look, there's a dialysis center, I'm sure lucky I never needed it. Then I apologized for constantly telling her the same things.

That's fine, she said. I know you enjoy talking about them.

My true story was called I LOVE SCOTT EVERY SINGLE DAY.

The group liked it. What should I do with it?

*
Rem's "Randy Package" was awfully good. Witty and profound.

Rem brought two huge choc chip cookies and shared one with Judy. Salivating mightily I waited for her to ask me to share them.

Fab!

Stood up, went to the dining room and shot up in my big fat belly.

Ken brought fresh sandwich cookies. I chose strawberry. They had a remarkably fake quality to them.

BTW, got a film out of the library. What was it called? Absolutely horrible.

Other writers were Barbara Custer who is a publisher. She read several pages from her sci-fi novel. Linda Barrett wrote a poem about an egg and a sperm, her mom Jane was there with her cane and fell asleep for awhile, I did not, probly cuz I had my delicious Taster's Choice while I was writing.

Like wine, it gets better with age. I found it in my cupboard above the dishwasher I never use.

Beatriz wrote about Dancing Wasps, males courting, better than going to a singles bar.

Shall I insert photos?

Image result for tasters choice




Wednesday, May 15, 2019

What a salad!

I forgot all about cucumbers, but there they were.

Into the cart they go.

Butter lettuce.

Let's take a peek.



Pecans, cheddar cheese, and a dressing made of mayonnaise.



The relationship between man and his noble steed is almost as old as civilization itself. Ever since the mysterious beginning of our extraordinary partnership, horses helped shape the human world. At the speed of a horse, our ancestors conquered distances and built empires. Together, humans and horses flourished side by side. What makes us so perfect for each other?
Yes, I rode my own horse - stationery bike - as I watched EQUUS on Nature.

Man, that was hard to spell.

Off I go to upstairs bedroom to watch Part Two of Horses.

Don't wait up for me, Norman.


Norman Cotterrell of The Beck Institute.

Our house at 2128 Marlindale Road, Cleveland OH 44118 - Mother's Day Poem - A Stroll Around the House



$140,000
3 BR, 2.5 baths

My Uncle Donny slept in the top most dormer, where it was freezing in the winter and hot in the summer. 

He was just a kid who wound up going to college at Ohio State in Columbus, Ohio.

Great sense of humor. His widow, Mary, never remarried. They fought over whether she should have her own career. 

Women were home-makers back then. 

Don had some sort of paddle which read Zeta Beta Tau. 

These objects disappear with time.

I just finished watching and sleeping to an excellent film called SAPPHIRE on YouTube. Who killed her? 

She found she could pass as white.

It was just a question, said the cop, of putting the pieces together.

I was drinking Taster's Choice, which I found in my cupboard.

Five yrs old, but quite tasty.

The sound of buzzing outside as folks mow their lawns.

Out back, tho, I watched wasps and bumble bees pollinate a huge azalea bush.

Today, a real spring day. 

FINALLY 

It seemed to rain for thirty days and thirty nights
Glumsville, I'd call it
Tromping around in my shoes
squooshy from the rain

Now I celebrate
my pink bleeding hearts
have arisen, like He did,
tiny sparrows twitter from
the painted pink birdhouse

The sky covers us with a
great show of elegance
perhaps our sins are forgiven. 

This poem came out differently than I had planned.

*

AFTER THE BIG DINNER

After the big dinner on Mother's Day

I took to the sidewalks to walk off the

charbroiled hamburger with tomatoes and blue cheese dressing

sandwiched between white bread

and long stalks of dainty asparagus

when a tuft of grasses lifted themselves from the sidewalk

to greet me like an old friend.

Every single one of these blocks had its own story.

Big paw prints were laid deep like one of those

Saint Bernards carrying Jack Daniels home for the family

to sit by the fire and imbibe slowly, some reading short stories

or turning the pages of magazines.

Holes in every single sidewalk, coming up like little maple trees,

or oaks with leaves that look like big hands, the hands of

the Giant in Jack and the Beanstalk. More trees, weeds - but what is

a weed anyway, but something you don't want - and parts of those

infernal plastic bags that fly like kites and land smooth like

geese on the water.

*
A STROLL AROUND THE HOUSE

Elinor's hurricane lamp is a stunning
chinaberry blue, though Elinor is no more

And feathers in all the sacred spaces

The dining room window sill
The living room sill

What is it with feathers?
The urge to escape?
To fly like Icarus, poor soul,
soaring beyond the ken of humankind

And that silly clock for working at the Intell
for five great years - impossible to read the time.


A new lamp I bought at a rummage sale
Pull the red drawstring for a feeling
finer than petting the silky ears of a


baby pig, Wilbur?








A Simple Matter of Gassing Up - Poem: Vanilla Ice Cream

I pull into the Giant Gas Station, new groceries jostling in the back seat. I wave to Sherry whose name escapes me until she says Hi Ruth and then I remember her. She has slow-growing MS. B'ful black hair and a mother from hell.

I can't find my bonus card and I've got about 40 cents off. Finally, after chatting w the folks in the little house, no, not the gingerbread house, I drive away.

At home I realize the bonus card is on my key chain.

I could not wait to come home and write. Emailed myself this morning, Four Stories from ND, tho there are thousands to be had.

For lunch I just ate fresh fruit, peanuts and ricotta, while still listening to Sarah Bird's Daughter of



So hot I'm sitting here in my grey shorts and black tank top.

Am watching on Netflix a film called The Ant-Man and the Wasp, A Marvel Comic Film.



Costumes are great.

I'll tell ya, sitting on my red couch a big spritz of maple leaf seedlings of all sizes flung out from the spent azaleas on neighbor Nancy's lawn.

OK, time to drag my fat ass upstairs and write.

May I have a wee nap first?

Oh, you want a poem?

Bless your heart.

VANILLA ICE CREAM

It's tough getting onto
the high stool with
red cushion, but up I go,
lifted by invisible arms.

Smells of burnt coffee and
stubbed out cigarette butts
of ink print from comic books
and newspapers, The Race Track mag,
Wall Street Journal and local
Intelligencer.

Karl takes my order.
Vanilla ice cream with
chocolate syrup and a glass
of water on the side.

A fluted cup arrives and a
shiver of delight goes through
me, as if I'll die in a
diabetic coma.

Whatever will be, will be,
I think, from the newly dead
Doris Day, 97.




Thursday, May 9, 2019

PART THREE OF GARBAGE DAY BLOG - Poem: Mustaches

Sarah sent me photographs by the famous Brit photographer Don McCullin.

He's now 83.

Here's a poem I wanted to write since I saw them tumbling from the sky early this morning.

MUSTACHES

They twirl around willy-nilly from the sky
A dance by Grieg or Telemann or Vivaldi
Seeds from the almighty maple
Disguised as a child's toy.

That's why when I was a kid
I wore it above my lip and
accidentally snuffed it up
my nose

To the doctor we went
where it was painfully
removed and I never did dat
any more.

Part Two of Garbage Day Blog



Sarah sent me photos from a famous British photographer named Don McCullin. They are stylized and bring out the haunting, the dark and the desperate in not only war photos - he was an aerial pilot in WWII but also shows photos on the dark side of life.

The photo of the Homeless Man - see above website - could be taken on a park bench of any city in the Western World. When I lived in San Francisco, I saw just such a man. I was curious. Sat next to him and he simply babbled.

I was so cold today I just sat around and shivered.

Finally went to the Giant to buy my party supplies.

One poem I wish to write.

See PART THREE.



any more.

Thursday, Garbage Day PART ONE

I ran outside, or should I say, limped, to bring in our garbage cans. Loads of detritus. Why, asked Scott, dyou have so many papers?

B/c I'm a writer, I said.

I also wanted to apologize to him cuz I threw out the chipped ceramic bottom of a birdbath. Ruth! I had plans for that, he said.

Came in and did my Peggy Cappy exercises including lying on my yoga mat, the floor in my upstairs office.

I do believe they helped.

Then I ate my super egg omelet which was nothing short of superb.

BUT...

I bit the inside of my mouth, my cheek, and it killed!

Told Scott there were two GREAT nature shows on last night. One was about wildfires in California. HolThese

Tuesday, May 7, 2019

Ellen and I visit Specialty Flooring in Roslyn, PA - Last night's Valley Forge Writers and Poets Group

Ellen directed me to Specialty Floors. View it here. Everything in life deteriorates, if you haven't noticed already.

Nick Della Guardia, hope it's spelled right, was there. It was like meeting an old friend. What a vibrant fellow.

I'll bet you're happy with what THE DONALD is doing, I said.

He is. "The economy's doing great," said Nick.

His wife Sandy is still crocheting her lovely blankets and scarves. I've bought half a dozen and mailed them as baby gifts.

Here's a blog about my getting my new kitchen floor.

It's very long and absolutely fascinating.

Last night I wore SHORTS for the first time this year when the writers n poets came over.

I'd set the table in the kitchen but everyone wanted to stay dans le living.

What a cleaning-fest I went on.

Did I tell you the delicious food I bought?

Red roasted pepper hummus, carrots and celery to dip in, red raspberries we never touched, - hold on - I'll make up for that now -

Raspberry Red Latham รข€“ Harris Seeds

And we jabbered until around 11:30 pm as cool breezes blew thru the screen door.

Where else can you talk about The Dubliners by James Joyce or what type of people have premarital sex - the Catholics? - for sure, said one of our Protestants.

We discussed pot for pain - I dunno how to spell marijuana, so I wrote pot instead.

When I was finished putting the snacks on the table, I ran upstairs to write something.

PILGRIM, I called it. It was about a Jewish soldier returning from Iraq and Afghanistan and not having anything to live for.

They LOVED it!!!

We also talked about the great William Zinnser who wrote WRITING WELL.

I did not mention my hideous leg pain, but this morning, before Ellen got here, I did Peggy Cappy yoga from the Internet.

CUTTING LILACS AT NIGHT

Who wants lilacs, I announced,
after the party was over.
Judy found a silver shears
and out we went into the
chilly night air.

I carried a flashlight
and handed it to Linda
to hold, while I stepped
on the moist grass. Strands
and strands of lilacs
glistened in the night air.

Shimmering.

Clip clip clip

Onto the tall grass they fell.
Originally billed as "Dwarf Lilacs"
they disobeyed their limitations
and rose toward the beloved sky.

Here you are, Lori, named for a
TV soap opera star. She reached out
eagerly to clasp them as if receiving
a bridal bouquet.

Marlene had been in Paris.
Her black hair shone like
a princess in the night.
For thou, I said, for thou.

And I felt like my duty was done.
And then some.
What would my lilacs look like
in the bright morning sun?



And now, if you'll excuse me, am going out on Scott's deck to get some sun and to read a bit.



Friday, May 3, 2019

Cream of Mushroom Soup - Poem: The Favorites - Happy Birthday Dad - Interested in Privacy?

Dee-licious! Sauteed mushrooms, onions, garlic, in a broth of Almond Milk. A complete meal.

Am gonna see the free film THE FAVOURITE at the Huntingdon Valley Library.

Why not write a poem of the same name?

BTW, my phone is off-hook so the solicitors can't reach me. We'll show those batardes!

THE FAVORITES

Grandchildren
Grace and Max
who call me Bubby
"Bubby's here!"
My Robert Shaw Timer
which dings politely when time's up
Thing to do
is write write write
Movies that bring chills
and tears
Living another day
eating buttered toast
and drinking a hot cup
of java.

GUESS WHAT?

The movie was horrible!
Stayed thru most of it and finally left.
Look, I don't mind cursing and nudity but what the hell was it all about?

AM GATHERING INFO now about my article on MAY IN MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS MONTH.

My son/law Ethan Iverson won a prize for Best Jazz Blog. View here. Scroll down.

Super-kind fellow which is why I was overjoyed when they married. Come on over to my house to view their wedding photo on my wall.

I have Mozilla Thunderbird. Read this article on privacy. Fas-cinating!!!


2.36 percent
citi card

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD

Marlindale
Glenmore
Loretta Court
Gantt Drive
You had an entire life
before you and I met, Dad
I can pick you out in a
faded black n white photograph
my little Dad, always trying
to climb the mountains of
desire
Did Mama know you smoked,
hung out with the tough guys
in the back alleys of coal-dirty
Cleveland?

That's why you joined the US Marines.
"Tough as nails" was your middle name.

I remember when you dragged me to
Majestic on Superior Avenue, we
ate with the boys, Hexter, Morty with the pock-marred face,
Harvey, Wittis, Shelly with the coffee breath,
you gave me money for the jukebox while I chowed down
a ham sandwich on rye, crunchy potato
chips on the side, while "I Only Have Eyes
for You" played and I swooned.

How's heaven treating you Dad?
Some people your age, 98, are still alive
It's the statistics you said on your
death vigil,
"We're waiting for him to die,"
Donna told us, as your faithful wife Penelope
aka Bernice, fed you bubbly enzymes to keep you alive
B-u-r-p!

We were believers then and knew you'd survive.
Once you and I were on the bright back porch
with flowery cushions. You'd had your vanilla ice cream
and Planter's Peanuts
and would soon go to bed.

And did finally at 59, curled up like a fetus
as they wheeled you away to Heaven.

Good ole Handsome Hal, who loved to sing
and honor the Jews with that huge ever-
growing lump in your brain, that destroyed
our whole family for a while.

Let's sing the birthday song!

May 4, may this day with its songbirds, flowering azaleas
and clouds scampering across the sky, be forever blessed.



Thursday, May 2, 2019

From the NY Times: Half of College Students Surveyed in a New Report Are Going Hungry



Many skip meals and take "poverty naps" to keep from feeling hungry.rW?OS Nf College Students Surveyed in a New Report Are Going Hungry


any routinely skip meals and take ‘poverty naps’ because they cannot afford groceries. Campus food pantries are helping, but are they enough?
In the coming weeks, thousands of college students will walk across a stage and proudly accept their diplomas. Many of them will be hungry.
A senior at Lehman College in the Bronx dreams of starting her day with breakfast. An undergraduate at New York University said he has been so delirious from hunger, he’s caught himself walking down the street not realizing where he’s going. A health sciences student at Stony Brook University on Long Island describes “poverty naps,” where she decides to go to sleep rather than deal with her hunger pangs.
What did you have to eat today?


Disobedience by Jane Hamilton - Today is Holocaust Remembrance Day - Holocaust Poem

All we did for a while was complain about the above book.

Eileen, an assistant librarian I'd never heard of, led the discussion. She had finished the book the night before and remembered so many details.

We had a big group. I didn't tell them I hadn't finished the book. Had a few comments and finally said, I changed my mind and I do like the book after all.

Hold on while I get my Starbucks Iced Caramel Black Coffee w cream, since I just came home with a box full of groceries.

Remember, I keep my groceries in a box. I plopped it on the kitchen table, Was anxious to hear if Sarah Lynn left me a message.

Yes, Ethan is finally coming home tonight.

While driving home from Giant, I was disobedient and didn't wear my seat belt. It's so much more comfortable that way.

Read the book downstairs on the comfy bed, but I was freezing!

I read the large print edition which was harder to read. It seemed like I rarely made any progress.

At the Giant I ate chick noodle and dumpling soup and broccoli au gratin. Both superb!

My sugar is over the moon - an expression I do not like - but I won't inject anything as I'll go to Scott's to watch the evening news.

Today is Holocaust Remembrance Day.

Let's see if YouTube has any poignant songs about it. Click here.

Poem:

THE HOLOCAUST

Finally in my early 70s
I watch or read anything
offered about the Holocaust.

A dream by the Third Reich
that almost came true.

The Fuhrer, I imagine, was blown
into a million pieces, no, make that
a billion, so each particle could
do no harm and has been sucked
into the Black Hole, the point
of no return.




Permission was granted for me to write a piece about MAY IS MENTAL HEALTH MONTH.

The new editor wrote me back this morning.

WHOOPEE !!!

I feel it's my obligation as Founder/Director of New Directions Support Group.



Will I ever finish this book? Pure Slush will publish my Mailman Dante story

Image result for disobedience by jane hamilton


I had all sorts of nightmares about finishing Jane Hamilton's DISOBEDIENCE. Difficult to read and repetitious but I daren't let our book club down by not appearing.

At 3 am I remembered I had one more plastic bag of unwanted items to bring to the curb for garbage eve.

Downstairs into the night I goes.

It was beautiful outside. No sky, but a mist over the entire neighborhood.

Wished I could stay outside and linger.

As I re-entered my side door I had a fierce urge to pee.

Pulled down my PJ bottoms, stuck my plump ass out and peed.

What if one of them coyotes hippety hopped to my big-ass bottom and tried to eat a chunk of it.

Ooh-wee, not a good way to go.

Lovely purple iris are coming up on the side of my house.

Got them at Wankel's Nursery when I worked in Bristol as a psycho-therapist.

Wankel's is long gone. Linda Rooney and I bought them together. She was Tim's secretary, the big boss.

The gong on the ranch just rang.

Time for breakfast.

Oh, I've gotta write a poem.

AZALEAS A'BLOOMING

What? To you reading this from faraway
you may not know what's an azalea?
They planted them in clumps when this
neighborhood was born.

My white ones are coming in
Pure and pearly as the wedding dress
I wore from Evan Piccone, all those years ago.