Fishing

Springtime in Redding
We lived in a little pink house
at the bottom of some yellow hills.
A creek rolled past us.
I was nine years old.
I ran throught the field
with it's crackly weeds,
chasing butterflies and collecting spiders
Wild flowers colored the field,
purple, yellow, pink and green.
I loved to pick them for my mother.

At the creek, I sat on a rock
with my feet dangling and splashing.
I watched the tadpoles.
Some of them were growing legs.

I spotted a fish in the middle of the creek.
Standing up slowly, I hung on to the
slipper rocks with my toes.
I stood above the fish
with my legs spread apart.,
I grabbed the fish.
It slipped through my hands
I kept grabbing and splashing.
Amazingly I kept my balance.
Finally, I caught him and
took him home to my mother.
She said, "That's just an old carp."
garbage fish."  We can't eat it."
I thought to myself,
"I risked my life to catch a garbage fish."

Pearl

Crocheted heirlooms

remind me of the aunt I never knew.

In her pictures, she is about twelfe years old.

It was probalby during the late 1920's

 She had white hair and

wore a white dress.

 
They say she had brain fever.

She stayed in her room,
.
according to my mother's memory.
 
My mom was 6 years old

Pearl, was 16,

She was taken

in a horse drawn ambulance,

To live with the mentally ill.

She died young.


I wonder what she suffered.

Numb

Moving around,
walking, breathing, feeling
Nothing.
Trying to hurt
To show that I am real.
Open eyed, yet
asleep, wandering.
That's why
I watch sad movies,
write sad poems
and have done horrible things.
I need to be real.
I need to feel.

Today at Table 6

I wonder what Jay is thinking about.  He is obviously thinking very intensely.  Every once in a while, he giggles, shaking the table like an earthquake.  I mistake his solemn stare as an opinion of something I just said.  Then I realize that he doesn't hear my conversation.

Faye, must not feel well.  She didn't show up for supper.

Rueben is making a joke in his broken English.  Being from El Salvador, he speaks with an accent.  Actually he speaks pretty good English.  When he is asked what he wants to drink, he answers "Tequila and a gallon of milk."

For the last couple of days, Felix hasn't been feeling well.  When I pointed that out to Judy, she reminded me that he put a bunch of sugar on his fruit salad during lunch.  That was an act of rebillion against his diabetes. Tonight, he was asleep in his chair.

Judy was trying to be pleasant, but is annoyed at someone who talked about her behind her back.  She is also annoyed that during Karaoke, people liked someone else's singing.  I get thoughts like that sometimes, but I usually keep them to myself.  We all want to be the best, right?  Judy has had a lot of praise for her imitations of Elvis and she's afraid that someone will steal her glory.  I tried to explain to her that because she is good, doesn't mean that nobody else can be good also.

That was the aciion at table 6 this evening.  As usual, we were served last, which continues to teach us patients.

Stop it!

Your secrets are showing,

Like a slip at church,

That hangs below your skirt.

It's not the same thing.

I can live with embarrassment.

This is my life.

Because my life is important.

I choose what I show

No one can remember

What they never knew.

As Winter Approaches

Kids are dreaming about sledding and throwing snowballs.  Skiers anticipate the coming of the new season.  Bring out the coats, the rock salt and the snow blowers.  The most dreaded part of the snow is driving in it.

In 1967, I was 20 years old.  It was a snowy evening, a blizzard.  I had a night class at the University of Utah.  As I was getting ready to go, my mom said,  "You can't go out in that.  It's a blizzard."  Thinking that I was indestructible, I grabbed the car keys and went out.

The hill on 1st South leading to the University was steep and snowpacked.  It was a white out.  All that I could see in front of me was snowflakes flying.  I stopped at the intersection then attempted to drive forward.  My tires started to spin.  The car made a complete circle and landed on the sidewalk.
A man who had watched me spin around came over to my car and told me that I wouldn't be able to get the car off the sidewalk until morning when some of the snow melted.  He asked me if I would like to stay with his mother, an elderly lady who had an apartment nearby.

At the lady's apartment, I called my mother.  I told her that the car was on the sidewalk and that I wouldn't be able to drive it until morning.  Mom screamed, "Is the car alright?"  She was furious.  "I think the cars alright."  I answered.  "I'm alright." "Aren't you glad that I'm alright?"  "I'm concerned about the car." she replied.

I spent the night with the nice lady.  The next morning, after some of the snow had melted, I was able to drive the car off of the sidewalk.  The car and I were alright.

Dysfunctional

When the abnormal becomes normal,
the dysfunction makes our insides sore.
No dagger stings or penetrates deeper
than when it comes from a loved one who
analysis it, dissects it and wallows in it.
In the end, details don't matter.

Love,
at the core of our being
may be battered and bruised,
but it can survive.