The Children's Christmas Curse

Christmas time at the Baptist Church, at six years old I had to work to learn my solo hymn for the Christmas show.

“Away in a manger, no crib for a bed” were words I’d drilled deep in my head but what came out that night I still don’t know.

‘Though I practiced hard to learn that tune and words, the stage fright made it all just lights and blurs.

As I ran off to find my pew, deep in my heart I really knew, a show biz job was one I’d never do. 

Little kids, most scared to death, would mount  the stage and lose their breath and stand  like deer in headlights on the road.

When  mother’s prompting did not work, they stared and stammered, some with quirks, then ran for safety in a panic mode.

But some cool kids stood there serene and calm, and spoke their “piece” without a hitch or qualm.

Their folks were filled with joy and pride, while I looked for a place to hide. That Christmas show was stress I can’t abide. 

When I think of  a Christmas show, I think of all those kids that know they’re probably going to blow their Christmas “saying”.

It doesn't matter what they do, rehearse and practice, do voodoo, their cool & calm and memory’s just not staying.

They take the stage all brave but all alone, and most will wish that they had just stayed home.

And they’ll look back through all the years of loves and laughs and smiles and tears and think of standing, frozen like a stone. 

So now when Christmas comes around, I see the joyful sights and sounds and think of that cold night in that old church.

The clearest memory I recall was standing like beneath a pall as mind and body left me in the lurch.

Now I buy gifts and gild the tree and be the dad I’m meant to be but stay away from hymns and bible verse.

‘Cause in my mind I’m still that boy and that night’s end sure brought me joy as I got through the children’s Christmas curse.

 

 

 

 

Happy Holidays 2008

Hello Dear Friends & Family: 

We have cycled once again and are about to enter another Christmas Holiday season.  The year has been kind to us, giving us many opportunities to visit with friends and family.  Of course our favorite times have been spent with our little grandchildren, Hayden who was four in October and Elise, who turned one in June.  

David, Craig, Brinton, Hayden and Elise will all be here for about 8 days this Christmas.  This will probably be our last Christmas in Madison, so we intend on making it a wonderful celebration!

David is attending graduate school, working toward an MBA in International Business with emphasis on the Pacific Rim.  He is studying Chinese and, although he is intensely busy, he is enjoying it very much.  

Craig is still with Sun and is fortunately working on a project that appears to be "sustainable"!  (We have never really understood what it is that Craig does at Sun).  

Brinton is still enjoying her work as a member of an Internal Medicine group at Providence Hospital.  

Hayden is loving his first year at Montessori School.  Elise is learning Spanish from her beautiful Mexican nanny.  

Gerry is healthy, fit and stays busy with work, writing and music.  I am still working at real estate, but with the slow economy, am able to take more time to enjoy life in dozens of ways I had almost forgotten.  Life is good. We hope that life is good for all of you.  May 2009 be filled with family, fun, love and laughter

 

Happy Birthday Mary Ann Hubbard On 08/08/08

August angel, shining bright......

How’d you raise those rowdy kids

And they turned out the way they did

And since the time that we joined hands

Good hearted woman, good timing man

Loved your parents, loved mine too

Met all problems, saw them through

May we see you old & gray

Grand kids ‘round you every day...

August angel shining bright

Dilemma

Dilemma
“To be or not to be”,
The question Hamlet asked
Ahead, a dismal future,
Behind, a tortured past

Flights of time’s sharp arrows
Caused much travail and tears
And did not dull or lose their sting
As he worked through his years

“Not to be” is quite a risk
Of “if” and “where” and “when”
And all these risks are far beyond
Our paltry human ken

So when I think about it,
I guess this is the “why”
We all desire heaven,
But no one wants to die.

Surprise!

A woman swimmer from Toledo is recovering after a pelican apparently diving for fish slammed into her. The Fire Department Chief says he had never heard of a diving pelican colliding with anyone. The swimmer needed 20 stitches. The bird died. The Plain Dealer, Sunday, May 11, 2008

The Spring Lot

The “Spring Lot” was three acres out southeast across the road
Beyond the “crik” with minnows, frogs, the barnyard with its loads
Some years we’d plant Sudan Grass, tall, billows, green, in waves
In other years, we planted corn. Between the rows, dark caves

Lairs, from which we’d “hide n’ seek” and hunt for dangerous game
The rustling winds and dank dark earth held fears we couldn’t name
The lot was close and in full view of folks from our front porch
And through the trembling grass or corn, light flickered, as a torch

One day I lay beside the spring in warm and tender sun
And overturned a rock to watch the insects’ frantic run
I pondered their perceptions in a world I couldn’t see
And wondered if their eyes and minds could see that it was “ME”

The “ME” who made the calls about their right to live or die
I thought that this was how we were when looked at through God’s eyes
And then I saw wild strawberries, a sweet and tangy taste
And left that rock turned over, the insects to their fate

I often think, if there be gods, they must be like a child
Playing in a “Spring Lot” while we skitter, scared and wild
They'll never know the why, the what, the wonder of our days
'cause all they see are strawberries and blithely move away

South Mountain

South Mountain loomed, its camel’s hump a background for our days,
Was always there, foul wind or fair, it seemed to draw our gaze.
Its deep, dense woods with square hay-lots embedded in its hide,
Hid narrow roads that tunneled through just barely one-car wide.

Before electric lights came in, in nineteen forty six,
That mountain brooded in the night as by the River Styx.
My Dad and Uncles talked of ghosts, strange beings wrapped in white
That roamed those steep and winding roads on windy, rainy nights.

They spoke of driving home one night late from a Windham dance.
The drinks, the rain, their lights through trees, all put them in a trance.
The whole car saw this white-robed girl who walked the road that night,
And they never wondered why she walked or if she was alright.

Till several miles down the road they turned and started back,
And all they saw in headlight-glare was empty, narrow track.
No sign of footsteps, gaps or trails, or paths that she could take,
Just glistening leaves and swirling trees and nothing in her wake.

They drove on home to Hubbard Hill and put up for the night.
Their sleep of dreams with spectral themes and vague and floating fright.
They told this story many times,  with lots of sheepish grins,
And wondered why they drove on by and where their minds had been.

South Mountain still holds sway today, the hay lots all grown in,
The mountain face all forest now, its woods more dark and dim.
My Dad and Uncles all gone now, I miss their tales and talk,
And wonder if that lonesome wraith still walks her lonesome walk.
I wonder, does that lonely girl still walk her lonesome walk?

Expectations

Dad, Mom, David John, Wayne Morris, Douglas Maynard

1947 Gilboa New York

Ruminations At 70

I’m looking at their picture and am wondering if I had
Ever met the expectations of my mother and my dad
When looking back a past events, it seems it went quite well,
Though my mother and my sisters always said I’d go to hell

‘Cause I didn't have much faith in those things I couldn’t see
And that’s why the Flat Creek Baptist Church saw less and less of me.
As the magazines and books I read took me ‘round the world
And then at twelve, I recognized those things out there called girls.

About sixteen, the cigarettes and beers were all the rage
As I watched James Dean and Elvis rock the movies and the stage
Through high school and first college my folks helped me do alright,
Though the switchblade from Ft. Wayne caused my Dad a sleepless night

When he saw it in the attic on the dresser by my bed
And he asked me what the hell was going on there in my head
After that, I joined the Army, then college and career

And wife and kids and family and now old age is here

When I think about my parents, my emotions ebb and tide

And I hope I didn’t scare them much on my erratic ride
And ‘though they never said too much no matter what I did
I think they felt the same as I when watching both my kids
I hope they felt the same as I when watching both my kids…….

50,000 Names

There’s teddy bears and high school rings
Old photographs that mommies bring
Of daddies with their young boys playing ball
There’s combat boots he used to wear
When he was sent over there
And there’s 50,000 names carved in the wall

There’s cigarettes and cans of beer
And notes that say “I miss you dear”
And children that don’t say anything at all
There’s Purple Hearts and packs of gum
Fatherless daughters and motherless sons
And there’s 50,000 names carved in the wall

They come from all across our land
In pickup trucks and mini-vans
Searching for a boy from long ago
They scan the wall and find his name
The teardrops fall like pouring rain ...

Then silently they leave a gift and go ..........

There’s Stars Of David and Rosary beads
And Crucifixion figurines
And flowers of all colors large and small
There’s a Boy Scout badge and a merit pin
Little American Flags waving in the wind
And there’s 50,000 names carved in the wall
There’s 50,000 names carved in the wall

Viet Nam became a member of the World Trade Organization January 11, 2007 and is now a
Most Favored Nation
trading partner with the United States

50,000 Names Lyrics By George Jones

A Six Word Novel

For sale: baby shoes, never used.

.......Ernest Hemingway