The funeral of Denis Omar Hazam at St Mary's Episcopal Church - Poem: Taxicab Ride

TAXI CAB RIDE TO THE FUNERAL

Rob arrived at 12:16
in van saying School
Children Aboard.

We talked about flowers
as we bounced along. He
grows cannas and brings the
tubers into the basement
to hibernate, the tissue-
paper of grizzly bears

Four oclocks are beautiful
he said. I told him the
story of Denis, who died
from complications of
dialysis

Rob picks people up
from dialysis, Young
kids, he said, and told
of the many tests you
must get to have a
transplant. I closed
my eyes in silent
remembrance, as I
gripped the handle
on my seat as Rob
drove like a Nascar
driver

Shoulda turned left
he said as the
Schuylkill River shimmered
on our left. Later,
Never saw this before.
A little water falls, Maybe
we're in Niagara Falls,
I joked joylessly.

He turned off his
meter. We found Saint
Mary's Church. Another
five minutes while he
fumbled with a laptop
as he took my credit
card.

Half hour late.

Frankly, I was grateful
I was still alive after
our hairpin-turn drive
and took the train home.

***

 On a side table, there was a photo album. Few people looked at it.

 Denis. Fran printed out a huge photo of Denis, with his most impressive bio on the back, and I keep it on my living room desk. When I pass by, I say, "Hi Denis! I miss you!"

 Saint Mary's. Denis and also Fran helped out a lot on Sundays. Many folks from the church attended his funeral and luncheon afterward.

 Edie Mannion of TEC looked wonderful as did Mary Catherine Lowry of MHASP.

The feathered Cranford Coulter lost his earring feather. View his website here.

Do all churches have red doors? Ours does at Abington Prez.

 Saw this sculpture on The Penn Campus as we were leaving for lunch across the street.

Frank talked about buying The Perfect Turkey

Holman, orig from Iceland, is writing a sci-fi novel since he retired as a scientist, and Hannah was guiding people on what to do.

Since I have diabetes, I ate no pizza. Diabetes is always in the back of my mind. As soon as I sat down I injected 14 units in my belly. Got insulin-dependent 5 weeks after my kidney tplant from my antirejection meds.

 The coffee wasn't hot, but then Brandy returned with freshly made hot coffee. I'm on the left wearing earrings my friend Elaine K made. Light blue danglers.

 I hate sitting with my back turned for the simple reason that I like a panoramic view. What! You think I'm a riverboat gambler and they're coming to git me?

Mary Catherine Lowry is on my email list. Now I have a picture of her. MHASP does excellent work. Denis was the benefits manager and helped hundreds if not thousands of people. I sent people his way.

 David in the middle will probly run the DBSA support group held at the Hospital of the University of PA. Photo later of the hospital. The feathered one also attends. He lives in Perkasie, PA. Let's find out the meaning of the name.

Both the town of Perkasie and Pocasie Creek come from the Lenape word Poekskossing [or Pokesing], meaning 'where the hickory nuts were cracked.' There was doubtless a village on the site of the present town before William Penn’s Perkasie Manor was settled.

Also from his group. Devorah on left is from Bosnia in Croatia. Genocide places. She also wrote Denis a poem. I gave her the poem I wrote.

When she was leaving she reached under the table to grab her pocketbook.

Sez I, I already stole all the valuables.

She said, Then you took nothing!

Fran Hazam munching on her burger and fries. I gave her a goodie bag with some Pepperidge Farm cookies as she'll be having company.

 Couldn't wait to meet her grandson Brian from Downingtown. This is a very smart family. I call Fran a polymath. Brian goes to an online cyber school where he's way ahead of other kids so he mentors some of the students.

He also takes martial arts. As a kid he was really into trains, like Thomas the Train and then Nana (Fran) bought him Legos, out of which he made a train.

Banned from my diabetes diet are pickles and fries. First thing I did was ate the yummy pickle and a few fries dipped in ketchup. Did you know Jackie Onassis put ketchup on her scrambled eggs? Unacceptable!

The veggie burger was outstanding!

To clean off my fingers - should I tell you this? - I dipped my fingers in the cold coffee.

Cranford and I walk to the Thirtieth Street Train Station. I hated to hold him up but I needed to take photos. Remember the red sculpture? It's called Covenant. Click twice for the artist. 

Lovely old bldgs on the Penn Campus, rich with endowments.

 The famous LOVE statue, by Robert Indiana, who's 88 yo. 

 Look it's getting dark already. Couldn't resist taking a pic of this silver tree.

Hospital of the University of PA. where the support group is held.

Thanks, O Feathered One, for guiding me to the train station.

 Lots of waiting around, then transferring, I always asked a SEPTA person for help and got off the Willow Grove train around 6:30 pm.

Walked briskly down Davisville Road, the way Scott walks when he goes to work. Tried to cut thru the path behind our houses.

Could not find the path in the dark, so walked to Ball Road, knowing I was gonna ask someone to drive me home. Cowbell is a huge hill.

A young man was painting something for his grandmother when I asked him.

Just a sec, he said, I'll go in and get my keys.

Called Scott to tell him I was home.

I had a 7:30 pm event by a Holocaust survivor at the Township Bldg. which is on my next blog. Don't get no relief!

My niece Jade's baby shower - Poem: Father's Blanket

Jade is an amazing young woman. Mom, Ellen and I drove down to Doylestown where the shower was held at Pocos Mexican restaurant.

Coming home, I had to drive in the twilight and then the dark, but I made it. Wore my driving glasses.

Here are some pix.

 I felt Jade's tummy. The little girl-child was asleep.

Mom looked terrific! Mexican food on her plate, which she very much enjoyed.

 Delicious food! I sippped on my niece Nikki's Sangria. And later on some Diet Coke.

Was on my stationery bike for a total of an hour and got my sugar down to normal.

Watched Channel 12 where Wayne Dyer told a famous story about a monarch butterfly. Wayne meditates for an hour at a time, even at red lights.

But now I'm munching on Triscuits.

Watched a terrific show while on bike. Robbie Robertson was interviewed by Warren Zanes. Great stories he told. From an Indian rez in Canada where his mom lived, he grew up hearing stories. He asked Martin Scorsese to film The Last Waltz.

Here's his song Broken Arrow.

ni

Hello new friend Ina from Australia. She lives in the same condos as Lynnie, who will be called Nana.

Told Ina - pronounced Eena - that my camp counselor was named Ina. I still have her pic from Camp Cardinal in Rome, Ohio. Taken with my Brownie camera.

Hello JoAnne. She's been losing weight steadily. How we admired her!

 Hi Ellie Belly. She ordered a bloody mary, like Dad used to drink.

I love the smell of Sterno, which keeps the food warm.

 I came close to guessing correctly the no. of Hershey's kisses. Gave the jar to Sister Lynn. I was so shocked that I won.

Who is this, I whispered to Lynn.

Roger from Milford, N J.

His new wife was there along with daughter Maxie.

Sorry I didn't get their photos. Veronica, Mile's GF, was also there from Jersey City, NJ. Ellen said Jersey City is one of the best places to live. View Times story here.

When Dad worked at Majestic Specialties - he worked in Cleveland and then NYC - they had a factory in Jersey City, as well as Ridgefield, NJ.

Right, Dad?

 Ina gave her some terrific gifts including this book called The Penderwicks.

This organza dress was worn by Jade as a baby. Nana bought it for her. My mom brought over a lotta baby close she was saving.

Mom is ecstatic that Jade's having a baby.

I think this is Lynn's gift to her daughter. My check for $10,000 is in the envelope.

We designed diapers. Maxie won.

I wrote, Thanks for diapering me, Daddy.

Another game we played was What's in your purse?

Have a cupcake for dessert! They're from a sweet shop in Peddlar's Village.

This is me now. Freezing outside and quite windy.

I keep a rain hat in my trunk which we clamped on Mom's head.

She did quite well, not falling, until we got to her house.

She got outa the car and was leaning on her walker, when she began to tip backward, but luckily landed on my car door.

Whew!

Here's my FB poem of the day.

MY FATHER'S BLANKET

When dad lay dying
his older sister, my
Aunt Hy, mailed him
a blanket. The head
of a tiger roared
in silence as if to
chase the deadly
cancer away. Apparently
it doesn't work that
way.

Last night I'd forgotten
to turn on the heat - it
was 54 when I awoke - but
Dad's blanket kept me
warm. Every stitch is in
place, the material as
new as the day it was
made.

Like my father, wherever
the hell he is. Nowhere
I suspect.

Just another Saturday - Poem: Four Hours Sleep - Poem: The Man in the Other Room

Went to bed last night thinking I'd turned the heat down to 65, which makes the house quite cold.

Instead, I'd had the heat OFF all day b/c of the warm weather.

When I came downstairs it was freezing inside.... 58. The heat's kicking in right now, this Sunday morning.

Looks like a lovely day despite dire warnings by the weather folk.

OH! Almost forgot.

Beatriz, Rem and I met at  her condo for our Writers Group.

I was late as I met "Laurie" for lunch at the T N T  Diner in Hatboro. Does that gal love to talk!

She voted for Trump b/c he's pro life. I told this to Beatriz who said, Wait'll she sees what he does to the environment, as Laurie and her family are huge nature lovers. She's visited Alaska several times to see the grizzlies. And also Merrill Creek.

Beatriz brought a piece about pollinators. She told us there have been six major extinctions this century including Frogs. Her late husband was a herpetologist and had discovered a new species of frogs, which was his specialty.

His son discovered one right on their land in Argentina. Dad named it after the son. That son, now 88, is coming to visit B in a month. He's a world-traveler!

Rem read another chapter of his novel. Laff-aloud humor.

I read a story I composed in an hour, before I went to meet Laurie at the diner.

A Dog's Tale, I called it. Written from the perspective of the Myers' dog Kalie from across the street. Told from Sabrina - the dog's - point of view, and using real details that the Myers shared with me, the dog begins to plot about escaping forever.

Teens do this. I did. Did you?

In reality, some do and end up homeless on the street and eventually ... well, you know what happens.

FOUR HOURS SLEEP


Didn't think I'd like
the movie much - too
gruesome, I thought,
too much like Stephen
"the master" King

It was Netflix newest
Paranoia, a bit of blood
in the beginning, but
then the mystery began

Our hero, Bobby, was a
drug addict, panic attacks
had him taking more and
more prescription pills

We know what that's like!

Each 40-minute episode
had me wanting more
I munched on my peanuts
instead of chewing my
nails.

One episode ended, another
began. As Bobby was determined
to find the killers, I was
determined to watch till
the end.

The bitter end.
The satisfying end.
The shocking end.

Then rolled over on
red couch and
slept and slept and slept.

***
CARDBOARD HOUSES

Pulled by mysterious forces from
my nighttime bed
I sleepily descend the stair
open the front door
and peek as a stranger
into the dark night.

A misty, charcoal world
lay before me
no moon
no stars
was this the earth I knew so well?

Two houses like cardboard cutouts
grinned at me from
across the street
windows dark
tilting slightly toward the other.

Had they just landed?
Were they sturdy or
in imminent danger of
collapse?

Did they see me or
have any regard for me?

I closed the door.
Then opened it again.
They hadn’t left.
Was it my imagination or
did I hear them laughing
under the cloudless sky?

***

HOEDOWN AT THE LANDFILL

Orange peels - eggshells - purple rubber bands
blood-soaked Band-aids - stinkbugs in napkins

Certainly
I shall miss you
plop you
with a thud
in the garbage can
the truck will pick you up tomorrow
grind you to bits while I sleep
   unlike father and brother whose bodies
   decompose with the worms and the grubs
you shall live forever
vying for superiority in the landfill

Will you come alive?
will you pull apart and swarm with the microbes
who love you so?
o dwellers of the underground
Let Orpheus sing his song for you
and Christ set you free on Judgment Day.

***


HAPPY SAINT VALENTINE'S DAY TO THE MAN IN THE OTHER ROOM

Dedicated to Bella of Troop 7063, Willow Grove, PA, USA

I hear him snoring in his favorite chair
my husband, the professor, with
his long snowy-white beard

We met at a pub in
Philadelphia, each sipping a
beer. He took my hand
and said, "O nameless woman
I aim to marry thee. Dreamt
about you only yestereday, in your
pink and purple scarf that frames
your cheerful face just so."

Sixty years went by.
Children, grandchildren
Book shelves filled with
books lined up from A to Z.
Julie Child cookbooks,
bios of presidents,
my slender volumes of poetry
his four tomes of ancient
history

Never dreaming that we too
would get ancient, memories
dim as fading stars at twilight.

I hear him awake from the
next room, fumbles around,
then, "Darling Mary! I've
bought you a Valentine gift."

Stutz Candy? The
Whitman Sampler? But, no,
this man of mine, wearing
his polka-dot pajamas, shuffles
into the living room bearing
a box of Girl Scout Cookies,
Thin Mints, we will share over
a glass of wine.

Denis Hazam passes away on November 18, 2016

HIS LONG BATTLE OVER

He helped thousands
with his bipolar support group
his wife Fran at his side

Lithium ruined his kidneys
dialysis was his fate
think of him when you

pass a DaVita Center
and how lucky you are

We talked frequently
his spirit brimming
with hope. Frankly,

I thought he'd win
each new battle, which
came as swiftly as

falling leaves in autumn
They came for dinner
one summer day

Such honor I felt
as I dished out
salmon on yellow plates

Denis Hazam. You will
always be my hero. All
the invasions and operations
on his body were worth it.

For he so loved the world.

***

Wrote a note to my support group.....

Denis Hazam died the other day of complications of dialysis. He was about 75.

He and his wife, Fran, ran a Bipolar/Depression support group at the Hospital of University of Pennsylvania. They helped thousands of grateful people.

Denis - and also Fran - worked at the Mental Health Association of Southeastern Pennsylvania.

Lithium ruined his kidneys. He had a kidney transplant via a cadaver and was fine for about 8 years. Then an infection set in and he needed to go on dialysis.

Fran Hazam asked that he be remembered by doing an act of random kindness to a stranger.

***