Update

Well, I can once again see that I need to do some catch-up. I always have good intentions with this blog, but it just seems like this time of the year there is so much to get ready for the cold weather, get ready for the holidays, get ready for church activities, and get some writing done, and then getting ready for a nap needs to be put in there someplace.

Anyway, here’s an update. I have finished reading two books over the last few weeks. Dan Brown has done an excellent job on The Lost Symbol. I suspect the tourists will flock to Washington D.C. to see the hidden secrets he has mentioned. Sure did get some insight from him for my own book. All that action in just a few days sure keeps the reader ready to turn the next page. I also finished Patricia Cornwell’s book The Body Farm. I have no idea why I have never read it before, but I can tell you, I thoroughly enjoyed it.

As far as poetry is concerned, I am going through a Ryan Adams book called Infinity Blues. You might know him as a singer/songwriter. Some of the poems are raw, very personal, and beautifully written. I also picked up Poetry of the Golden Generation Volume II. Some wonderful writings from southern poets.

The Blue Ridge Poets and Writers had a reading a few weeks ago in a local church. We were given supper, and then we had an hour to read. The room was filled with over 90 people, but the first timers were able to read with confidence, and I was very proud of the group. The feedback has been good, and before we left I think most of the readers gave the poems away to people who asked for a copy.

So, a few weeks ago after all the rain we had here in the North Georgia, and you might have seen this on the weather channel, or read about it, a stone the size of a bus came off the mountain and brought trees and other debris with it, blocking the road a little west of the 1996 Olympic kayak and canoe site. Well, that’s not far from my home, and when I want to go “to town” that’s the way I go to Chattanooga Tennessee for a day of shopping. We are told that it will be closed for at least two months, so there goes any Christmas shopping we had planed to do there. Well, I mapped out another route over the mountains, and that was no good, so I got out the computer and put in all the stores I wanted to visit, and headed south toward Atlanta, but hoping I could do everything before getting that far away. It was a great day, and the wife and I found everything, and finally rested in a bookstore before heading home that afternoon. This will be important to know later.

On a personal note, a week or so ago I was sitting with some men I meet with regularly, and they started to harass me about how sad and morbid my poems are. I informed them that talk like that really bums me out, and I would try to do better. So, on my trip to the “big city” I looked for inspiration, and I think I found it. Here is a draft of my new poem. Would you call it a prose poem, or just prose, or something you’d rather not say? You be the judge. Have a wonderful day, keep smiling, and have fun.

Rant

So, I’m in a book store fifty-eight miles from the house, and I’m at a table close to the magazines reading a poetry magazine because I’m really tired of buying it and then seeing a half a dozen poems and the rest advertisements, and commentaries and interviews by somebody who has no idea how to ask a question without adding words they just discovered from their thesaurus, and someday I just know one of these poets will ask them, are you just stupid or something, and what kind of silly darn question is that anyway?
So, I’m about ready to put it back on the shelf and out of the stacks comes this beautiful woman in blue jeans and a blue pull over shirt. She walks around my table and stands at my elbow looking at bride magazines, and you know how they put the good magazines under that middle shelf, and that’s another pet peeve of mine, but anyway she bends over to see them, and everything separates, and I’m looking at this triangle with straps going in three directions, and it’s red with white stripes, or white with red stripes, and it’s really close to my face, and honest, all I can think about is, that just doesn’t go with that blouse.

Veterans' Day Thoughts

Well, there I am in 1967. The third bunk up. I didn’t need much in those days, just three meals a day and a place to put a picture of my love.

I’ll write more this week, and I want to tell you about the reading we had last week, but today I want to say a few words about Veterans’ Day.

As I look back over the history of my family I see the names of men who have served this country proudly. All of us knew the truth of the statement, “Freedom is not free.”

It was easy to pack my bags, so very long ago, and exciting to put on the uniform, but I didn’t know the anguish of the loved ones who waited, until I was a parent and my son was the warrior.

My prayers are for all parents of those in the military, and my heart is breaking for those who have given the ultimate sacrifice.

And to those men who taught me how to be a man, by word and deed, I just want to say that I am proud of you. I love you very much, and thank you for your service to this country.

Time Off

Wow! I can see it has been a few weeks since I’ve been here, and I didn’t mean it to be that long, but as you can see from the pictures I’ve had visitors.

Ladybug and her sister Scooter came to visit, and my house hasn’t been the same since. It has been a year since Ladybug has been here, and she has really grown, and was comfortable to move right in. Soon after the car was unloaded she had an army of dolls and a library of books scattered around like a minefield in the living room. My writing partner Oreo decided that under the table was the best place to be, and was confused the whole week about which stuffed animals belonged to which one of these creatures. That’s how confused she was. To her credit no stuffed animals were destroyed during the visit. And another thing, I never realized there were so many different princess dolls, and of course they all have names and do special things.

Scooter has never visited, but was a good baby all the time. I named her scooter because when she is awake she wants to go someplace, anyplace, but hasn’t figured out just how to do it so far.

After the tears and the last waves goodbye I went to bed with a cold, and relaxed for a few days with some old movies and Dan Brown’s new book.

By the way I didn’t write anything at all during the week, but those kisses and hugs sure gave me ideas and a lot of good memories. I went on a hayride, and we hid behind some giant pumpkins, and fed the donkeys, and walked up the dirt road, and collected rocks. All those good things we forget to do when we are older.

So, I’ll get back to it, but for today I’ll share a poem for all my girls.

Note to Our Girls

There will come a time when the
memory of us will hang like leaf fire
smoke on the crisp fall air.

Swirling around you our touch and kisses will again
brush your cheeks, whispers of love will again
make you smile as you did when we held you
close to our beating hearts.

It is our promise to you, and if on that day you evoke us
with our names you will hear our laughter high up
as we float on loves soft breeze.