John had
Great Big
Waterproof
Boots on;
John had a
Great Big
Waterproof
Hat;
John had a
Great Big
Waterproof
Mackintosh-
And John
Is Tired
Of That.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
To Right the Ship
15 March 2010
My son turned twelve today. I looked to the horizon and wondered if I am doing the right things for him. Am I giving him the skills to navigate a happy and productive life? On this small sloop of a life, it’s a constant balancing act. I need to guide him but not control him. I need to teach him but not lecture him. I need to let him develop his own knowledge and opinions. I need to respect his desires and needs and help him figure out what they are and whether they serve him well. I need to teach him to chart a course to achieve his goals hopefully without gaffs, to keep him on an even keel.
I want to help him learn what is important in life. I want to teach him reason while at the same time to accept that some things happen without reason. I want him to learn to be realistic. I am sometimes strangely relieved when he is disappointed, hoping that he can learn to overcome it and move on to something more positive. I want to teach him that there are more good things than bad, without going overboard. I want to help him understand why things happen and that, all in all, most of it is good. I want to be here if he needs me but not smother him.
I do not try to be perfect for him. I want him to accept me and others, including our imperfections. I want him to be strong enough in himself such that he doesn’t look to others for sustenance. I want to instill sensitivity toward others while ensuring that he also takes care of himself. I want him to be strong enough to simply turn away from those who are not kind to him.
I want to set him on a straight course and let him sail.
My mother self-destructed before our eyes. My parents furled the sails and were sucked into the maelstrom of their mutual destruction. They neglected to batten down the hatches. My brothers and I were the flotsam and jetsam on the tempestuous sea of their relationship. We went adrift when they divorced and almost drowned when our mother committed suicide when I was twelve.
My son turned twelve today. I was twelve when my mother blew her brains out. Have I exorcised her demons by redeeming myself as a mother. When we have successfully passed this marker will it be clear sailing. Can we ever start over? Can we ever right our parents’ wrongs? Can we ever exonerate ourselves for the perception of being responsible for our parent or parents’ heinous self inflicted crimes? Can I grant myself absolution for someone else's transgression, for which I have felt culpable, although I should know I am not?
He is twelve and I am twelve again. Have I healed myself by raising him. Have I grown as he has grown. Did I right the ship.
My son turned twelve today. I looked to the horizon and wondered if I am doing the right things for him. Am I giving him the skills to navigate a happy and productive life? On this small sloop of a life, it’s a constant balancing act. I need to guide him but not control him. I need to teach him but not lecture him. I need to let him develop his own knowledge and opinions. I need to respect his desires and needs and help him figure out what they are and whether they serve him well. I need to teach him to chart a course to achieve his goals hopefully without gaffs, to keep him on an even keel.
I want to help him learn what is important in life. I want to teach him reason while at the same time to accept that some things happen without reason. I want him to learn to be realistic. I am sometimes strangely relieved when he is disappointed, hoping that he can learn to overcome it and move on to something more positive. I want to teach him that there are more good things than bad, without going overboard. I want to help him understand why things happen and that, all in all, most of it is good. I want to be here if he needs me but not smother him.
I do not try to be perfect for him. I want him to accept me and others, including our imperfections. I want him to be strong enough in himself such that he doesn’t look to others for sustenance. I want to instill sensitivity toward others while ensuring that he also takes care of himself. I want him to be strong enough to simply turn away from those who are not kind to him.
I want to set him on a straight course and let him sail.
My mother self-destructed before our eyes. My parents furled the sails and were sucked into the maelstrom of their mutual destruction. They neglected to batten down the hatches. My brothers and I were the flotsam and jetsam on the tempestuous sea of their relationship. We went adrift when they divorced and almost drowned when our mother committed suicide when I was twelve.
My son turned twelve today. I was twelve when my mother blew her brains out. Have I exorcised her demons by redeeming myself as a mother. When we have successfully passed this marker will it be clear sailing. Can we ever start over? Can we ever right our parents’ wrongs? Can we ever exonerate ourselves for the perception of being responsible for our parent or parents’ heinous self inflicted crimes? Can I grant myself absolution for someone else's transgression, for which I have felt culpable, although I should know I am not?
He is twelve and I am twelve again. Have I healed myself by raising him. Have I grown as he has grown. Did I right the ship.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Pandora
Great heaps of jewels
Spilling over the side
Carnelian glows
Tourmaline sparkles
Deep luster of chains
Of tarnished silver
Jet glints
Anthracite refracts
Ruby glitters
Gold gleams
Topaz glistens
Jade
Jasper
Mountainsides of treasure
Struck by sunrise
Spilling over the side
Carnelian glows
Tourmaline sparkles
Deep luster of chains
Of tarnished silver
Jet glints
Anthracite refracts
Ruby glitters
Gold gleams
Topaz glistens
Jade
Jasper
Mountainsides of treasure
Struck by sunrise
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Relativity
At 675 meters
An old woman stands
Before an ancient church
Watching
Slack jawed
An older man
Wield
A loud machine
On dead leaves
An older woman strides
And stands quietly
Looking out
Over an older church
And drinks from a timeless fountain
Gathering strength
For the road ahead
An old woman stands
Before an ancient church
Watching
Slack jawed
An older man
Wield
A loud machine
On dead leaves
An older woman strides
And stands quietly
Looking out
Over an older church
And drinks from a timeless fountain
Gathering strength
For the road ahead
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Trading in Futures
Or penny stocks
If I had one cent
For every time
I’ve said go brush your teeth
I would be rich
What is the value
Of fixing a cup
Of hot chocolate
Or
A bowl of oatmeal
Mm that was good
Is the
Return on investment
What is the value
Of patiently waiting
For a sullen child
To finish his meal
Or his homework
Payment in Kind
Will have to suffice
If I had one cent
For every time
I’ve said go brush your teeth
I would be rich
What is the value
Of fixing a cup
Of hot chocolate
Or
A bowl of oatmeal
Mm that was good
Is the
Return on investment
What is the value
Of patiently waiting
For a sullen child
To finish his meal
Or his homework
Payment in Kind
Will have to suffice
Sunday, January 10, 2010
The Importance of Being Earnest
Lay no flowers
For Algernon
Poet man or mouse
The measure of wisdom
Is not
Intelligence
She had that in spades
Though she had never used one
Before he was Jack
She loved him as Johnny
His identity was no ruse
And I am left
A de facto member of Al-Anon
With the unredeemed legacy
Of sarcasm irony and ridicule
Her weapons of choice
When
In an earnest effort
To assail her pain
She had not yet used
A .38
For Algernon
Poet man or mouse
The measure of wisdom
Is not
Intelligence
She had that in spades
Though she had never used one
Before he was Jack
She loved him as Johnny
His identity was no ruse
And I am left
A de facto member of Al-Anon
With the unredeemed legacy
Of sarcasm irony and ridicule
Her weapons of choice
When
In an earnest effort
To assail her pain
She had not yet used
A .38
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