May the Lord Defend and Protect You
Let me tell you of my dream last night…
I was in a desert land. It appeared to be Jerusalem.
My eyes looked past a stone wall to an open building.
Stepping inside I saw a curtain in front of an altar.
I could faintly see through the curtain a group of bearded men.
They were praying and singing. The words of the song were
May the Lord Defend and Protect You.
I kept asking to hear the song over and over again.
When I awoke, I took comfort in hearing the words of
May the Lord Defend and Protect You
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Coffee Shop
Squeezed in between the theater and the clothing store was the Mayflower Coffee Shop. I decided to stop in for old time’s sake. Painted on the door was the familiar amusing slogan:
As you ramble on through life brother,
No matter what your goal
Keep your eye upon the donut
And not upon the hole
Always a people watcher, I took a booth by the window. This was an opportunity to watch both outside pedestrians and the coffee shop customers. It was fun to imagine who they really were and create a scenario about them.
Entering the shop was a tall young man with black curly hair and a short blonde haired girl walking close behind him. They took the only table left. It was right in front of me. Ordering coffee the young man was tapping his fingers to a song. The girl with an adoring look kept her eyes focused completely on him. Feeling the emotion of their gazes, I sighed. Daydreaming I was transported to that same booth years ago. Time stood still…I heard the tapping of a song. Looking up into the face of my beloved, I smiled adoringly.
As you ramble on through life brother,
No matter what your goal
Keep your eye upon the donut
And not upon the hole
Always a people watcher, I took a booth by the window. This was an opportunity to watch both outside pedestrians and the coffee shop customers. It was fun to imagine who they really were and create a scenario about them.
Entering the shop was a tall young man with black curly hair and a short blonde haired girl walking close behind him. They took the only table left. It was right in front of me. Ordering coffee the young man was tapping his fingers to a song. The girl with an adoring look kept her eyes focused completely on him. Feeling the emotion of their gazes, I sighed. Daydreaming I was transported to that same booth years ago. Time stood still…I heard the tapping of a song. Looking up into the face of my beloved, I smiled adoringly.
Family Gathering
This was my stop! I began to depart the bus. Holding the railing and opening my paisley umbrella I stepped onto the curb in front of me... Almost losing my balance as my feet sloshed in my soaked high heels. Dreading the two blocks I had to cover before I reached my apartment. As long as it doesn’t thunder or lightening! In fact, I started humming “Singing in the Rain”…I always liked when it rained. For me it created a refreshing, cleansing feeling.
Crossing the street, I lapsed into my day dreaming. I always let my imagination roam to pass time. I guess the world was not too exciting for me, so I had to create imaginations.
I don’t know what made me look up to the left. A house I passed everyday made me take notice. In the front window, a few feet back was a lighted chandelier. A family was seated around the table with their head bowed, saying grace. This made me nostalgic. My tears began to flow. The pouring rain trickled on my forehead. The rain water ran over my eyes causing my tears to be washed away. Ahead was the apartment building…I climbed the wooden stairs. Opened the door to the dark kitchen and entered.
Crossing the street, I lapsed into my day dreaming. I always let my imagination roam to pass time. I guess the world was not too exciting for me, so I had to create imaginations.
I don’t know what made me look up to the left. A house I passed everyday made me take notice. In the front window, a few feet back was a lighted chandelier. A family was seated around the table with their head bowed, saying grace. This made me nostalgic. My tears began to flow. The pouring rain trickled on my forehead. The rain water ran over my eyes causing my tears to be washed away. Ahead was the apartment building…I climbed the wooden stairs. Opened the door to the dark kitchen and entered.
Cherished Memories
I opened the envelope addressed to me and took out the photograph of the gaunt looking elderly man taken at the hospital. This is not my father! They must have sent the wrong picture? I cried as I thought of how strong, handsome and alive he was the last time I saw him. This man’s face was ashen. His cheek bones were sunken in. Those eyes that were always brown and vibrant were now sad, with a far away look. His trademark smile, now replaced with false teeth looked wooden.
He was seated in a green chair, with a cane at his side, and an IV in his right arm. He was wearing the brown-striped robe I bought him for his birthday last year. The robe looked at least two sizes larger on him. He had lost nearly thirty five pounds! I could see the varicose veins on his ankles that appeared more prominent with the weight loss.
Family communications were not always easy. The only pleasant times were when we all attended church on Sundays. My sisters and I seated in the choir could see dad and mom in the church pew smiling proudly at us as we sang the anthem. All cares seemed to vanish from their faces. I will always cherish those memories.
Coughing and crying at the same time, I put the photograph back in the envelope. On my way to the kitchen sink I passed the hall mirror. Wiping a tear from my eyes I looked at my reflection and whispered, “I love you dad.” .
He was seated in a green chair, with a cane at his side, and an IV in his right arm. He was wearing the brown-striped robe I bought him for his birthday last year. The robe looked at least two sizes larger on him. He had lost nearly thirty five pounds! I could see the varicose veins on his ankles that appeared more prominent with the weight loss.
Family communications were not always easy. The only pleasant times were when we all attended church on Sundays. My sisters and I seated in the choir could see dad and mom in the church pew smiling proudly at us as we sang the anthem. All cares seemed to vanish from their faces. I will always cherish those memories.
Coughing and crying at the same time, I put the photograph back in the envelope. On my way to the kitchen sink I passed the hall mirror. Wiping a tear from my eyes I looked at my reflection and whispered, “I love you dad.” .
The Gentleman
I’ve seen him on the bus every morning five days a week on my way to an office building downtown. He boards the bus at the 40th Street Stop, cheerful and nodding to the regular riders that are seated. Flashing a beautiful wide smile and twinkling blue eyes he takes a seat across the aisle from me. I smell a faint scent of Drakar men’s cologne. I notice he is tall. Neither fat nor thin, but muscular built. In a few more stops there will be standing room only for those who live closer to the downtown destination, obliterating my view of him.
His clothing adapts to the seasons. He is wearing a conservative, light weight beige suit. sporting a pastel colored shirt and tie to match a summer ensemble. He has begun a conversation with the lady seated next to him. She is very animated with graceful hands showing him a book she is reading. He appears interested in what she is saying. I try to listen to their conversation along with the usual bus chatter but have trouble hearing any thing being said that would be of importance.
I first noticed him about a year ago in the winter, wearing galoshes, gloves and a top coat.
It was right after Christmas. He was limping and had a cane to support him as he boarded the bus. He would wince in pain as he sat down, holding the steel bar in front of him for support, I wanted to comfort him, to know his story. This beautiful, gentle looking man endeared himself to me through the coming seasons. His appearance began to change and come alive in the spring. Walking, unaided by his always present cane, his demeanor was brighter and the beautiful smile began to appear. He brought joy to my heart.
Coming to the final downtown destination of the downtown bus exit, I stepped off the bus and onto the curb of the sidewalk, turning to walk towards my building. I heard, “Wait, lady, you forgot your bag”! I turned around…It was the smiling gentleman
His clothing adapts to the seasons. He is wearing a conservative, light weight beige suit. sporting a pastel colored shirt and tie to match a summer ensemble. He has begun a conversation with the lady seated next to him. She is very animated with graceful hands showing him a book she is reading. He appears interested in what she is saying. I try to listen to their conversation along with the usual bus chatter but have trouble hearing any thing being said that would be of importance.
I first noticed him about a year ago in the winter, wearing galoshes, gloves and a top coat.
It was right after Christmas. He was limping and had a cane to support him as he boarded the bus. He would wince in pain as he sat down, holding the steel bar in front of him for support, I wanted to comfort him, to know his story. This beautiful, gentle looking man endeared himself to me through the coming seasons. His appearance began to change and come alive in the spring. Walking, unaided by his always present cane, his demeanor was brighter and the beautiful smile began to appear. He brought joy to my heart.
Coming to the final downtown destination of the downtown bus exit, I stepped off the bus and onto the curb of the sidewalk, turning to walk towards my building. I heard, “Wait, lady, you forgot your bag”! I turned around…It was the smiling gentleman
Sanctuary
Sanctuary
Most people think of their home as a sanctuary away from the cares of the world. To me it was a non-nurturing atmosphere ridden with verbal abuse, alcoholism and sadness. Life had already taken its toll on me. I was a very emotionally fragile child. In spite of this malady, there was a spiritual sanctuary co-existing in my life that was a source of protection, a home like feeling of belonging that took me through my youth to adulthood. It was my childhood hide-away. Years have gone by and I can still capture those days in my dreams or wanderings of my mind. It was the world of spiritual music.
As a member of the choir I was enthralled by the beautiful music. It was as if I was transcended to realms beyond my everyday being.
My soul felt uplifted, and my spirit was touched by the beautiful compositions being sung and brought to life by the singers who surrounded me. There were tears in my eyes as the words and music came to an end. I had savored a taste of my true home. I needed no other.
Once back to my life of exile in this earthy existence, I felt renewed with strength. Strength to continue on my journey, knowing I could always enter that beautiful place. It would always be there for me.
Most people think of their home as a sanctuary away from the cares of the world. To me it was a non-nurturing atmosphere ridden with verbal abuse, alcoholism and sadness. Life had already taken its toll on me. I was a very emotionally fragile child. In spite of this malady, there was a spiritual sanctuary co-existing in my life that was a source of protection, a home like feeling of belonging that took me through my youth to adulthood. It was my childhood hide-away. Years have gone by and I can still capture those days in my dreams or wanderings of my mind. It was the world of spiritual music.
As a member of the choir I was enthralled by the beautiful music. It was as if I was transcended to realms beyond my everyday being.
My soul felt uplifted, and my spirit was touched by the beautiful compositions being sung and brought to life by the singers who surrounded me. There were tears in my eyes as the words and music came to an end. I had savored a taste of my true home. I needed no other.
Once back to my life of exile in this earthy existence, I felt renewed with strength. Strength to continue on my journey, knowing I could always enter that beautiful place. It would always be there for me.
The Chronicles of a Head of Hair
The Chronicles of a Head of Hair…
Yep, this is me writing…
When we first met many years ago, I was quite sparse then. Here I was, only a curlicue on top with fringes of straight, blonde hair, accompanying baby Joanne’s toothless grin.
I was quite uncontrollable in those grade school years. Her mother tied me down with “pigtails”. This worked to no avail for I even tried to walk out of those braids. I wore the label of being “contrary”.
It was decided to cut my braids and give me a permanent hair wave…Lots of luck!!! I walked out of the beauty shop as a “Harpo Marx” look a like!!
The teen age years gave way to the D.A. (modeled after a duck’s wavy backside) can you imagine? I was mighty cold in the winter months. The next trend was the Poodle. It also was another permanent wave horror. She couldn’t even comb through me.
Ah, the twenties…Independence and more styles. Here comes the bleach processing years. Ouch!!
I got processed before adding color. When the processed was finished I lightened up to a Lucille Ball orange/red. The color toner was added to create a honey blonde color. She had me styled in a page boy medium length look. Not bad but the pain to achieve the look at the time was worth it.
One of my greatest and unusual looks was the dye job so she could act her part for a stage play as an Indian. Yep, you knew I was going to say Black hair!! It took two bottles of dye for her friend to cover all of my thickness!!
The decision this time was to dye me red and cut me into a Pixie style! She decided to go out that night with friends. While having a drink a young man made the remark that she was pretty but needed more hair!
She got married. I never stayed the same. My life was always back and forth between long and short. Chemically, I had some vacation time. Fortunately, I was able to repair myself.
The years have gone by. She now has a job at a Hair Replacement Studio! I guess I have something to look forward to in my old age.
Yep, this is me writing…
When we first met many years ago, I was quite sparse then. Here I was, only a curlicue on top with fringes of straight, blonde hair, accompanying baby Joanne’s toothless grin.
I was quite uncontrollable in those grade school years. Her mother tied me down with “pigtails”. This worked to no avail for I even tried to walk out of those braids. I wore the label of being “contrary”.
It was decided to cut my braids and give me a permanent hair wave…Lots of luck!!! I walked out of the beauty shop as a “Harpo Marx” look a like!!
The teen age years gave way to the D.A. (modeled after a duck’s wavy backside) can you imagine? I was mighty cold in the winter months. The next trend was the Poodle. It also was another permanent wave horror. She couldn’t even comb through me.
Ah, the twenties…Independence and more styles. Here comes the bleach processing years. Ouch!!
I got processed before adding color. When the processed was finished I lightened up to a Lucille Ball orange/red. The color toner was added to create a honey blonde color. She had me styled in a page boy medium length look. Not bad but the pain to achieve the look at the time was worth it.
One of my greatest and unusual looks was the dye job so she could act her part for a stage play as an Indian. Yep, you knew I was going to say Black hair!! It took two bottles of dye for her friend to cover all of my thickness!!
The decision this time was to dye me red and cut me into a Pixie style! She decided to go out that night with friends. While having a drink a young man made the remark that she was pretty but needed more hair!
She got married. I never stayed the same. My life was always back and forth between long and short. Chemically, I had some vacation time. Fortunately, I was able to repair myself.
The years have gone by. She now has a job at a Hair Replacement Studio! I guess I have something to look forward to in my old age.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Restful Companion
Restful Companion
While he rested in a cocoon of comfort, easing his arthritic pain,
The old dog slept through the lightening and the noisy pouring rain
He occasionally lifted his head gazing at his beloved sleeping master
Dreaming of youthful days they ran through the cool green pasture
They suited each other well, comrades of mutual respect and devotion.
Good friends in this lifetime, bonding, in a truly unconditional emotion.
While he rested in a cocoon of comfort, easing his arthritic pain,
The old dog slept through the lightening and the noisy pouring rain
He occasionally lifted his head gazing at his beloved sleeping master
Dreaming of youthful days they ran through the cool green pasture
They suited each other well, comrades of mutual respect and devotion.
Good friends in this lifetime, bonding, in a truly unconditional emotion.
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