Wednesday, September 17, 2014

just a note on the table

This was it. Nothing else. What could I say?
She probably had my response anyway.

Some preconceived notion she already had.
It wouldn't have mattered, I was already sad.

So what? No kidding. I, at least, had tried. No more, no less.
The part of me rejected had already died.

Rejection is a bitch. There we are... not close.
Do we invite rejection in like a heavenly host?

I decided once to go one with my life.
To wade through the stream that brought me much strife.

Going out on my feet or out on my knees,
this was a thought that brought me to please.

"On my feet", I once said.
And this very notion did not bring me dread.

I long for life, even after I'm gone.
My very being becoming strong.

No one can take me more than away,
my heart, mind, and soul are here to stay.

No fine face-to-face.
No heartfelt good-bye.

Just a note on the table,
so the memories would die.

I say move on, move forward.
That's fine by me.

Here's to life, love, and freedom.
So May It Ever Be!

the moment with mom

The first real clear memory I have of my mother was when I was four. I was looking at the television and saw horses and soldiers coming at me very slowly. I looked at Mom and she was laying prone on the couch with her face buried in her right hand. She was crying and I was confused. Was I making her cry? I looked back at the television and realized what was on TV was making her cry. I went over and hugged her leg. She put her arm around me. The event on television was Jack Kennedy’s funeral procession.

Jane Chandler, my mother, and myself
Mom told me recently that I watched all of television coverage on President Kennedy’s death. I can’t recall watching the other television news items, just that moment with Mom.

One moment is all it takes to make a memory. In Mom's sorrow that day, I realized an understanding. An understanding of feelings, without and within. This came to be monumental. Perhaps difficult to describe, but nonetheless all around me.

I was only four but I had realized that the world had many places and that they aren't as foreign as in the past.

The moment with Mom was poignant. The total spectrum of that event didn't come totally into view then, but as I grew older my vision became more clear.

Monday, September 15, 2014


From Ullysses by James Joyce:

"A man of genius makes no mistakes. His errors are volitional and are portals of discovery."