Looking For Love

What a night!!

First the cards ran, then they galloped.

Whatever I needed; came,

And I turned it into a disaster.

It’s a really small stakes game.

Nobody gets hurt, or at least shouldn’t.

I set a record, winning $100.

But the “buy-in” box was short $25.

Everyone pays in $25, but this night someone forgot…

And I was angry

Not because I collected only $75, but

No one suggested we each put in $3.15 to make it right.

I could have offered that solution,

But I expected at least one of my friends to propose the split.

Nobody, not one of my “friends” , no-o body!!

What kind of buddies are these?

Next day I emailed each and every one of them.

Even the guy who had left before we found the shortage.

I expressed my disappointment with them.

I’m sure I’ve done stupider things, I just can’t remember when.

I got a couple of sympathy notes

And one short email that I will remember.

Jimmy wrote, asking why I hadn’t suggested we split the tab,

And mildly chastised my assault on the guys.

Later that morning I sent a note.

No apology, no sir!

I told them that a 90-year old cousin had died.

He was a complete stranger to my poker buddies.

It’s two days later; my cousin is still dead,

And I don’t know what to say to the guys.

Jerry will start a new control system next month.

I’m not ready to apologize.

Family

No one here is wanted by the police.

Everyone appears healthy,

And almost all can discuss

Movies and off-channel TV networks.

I walk the pier at Imperial Beach,

Where fishermen line both railings and

Occasionally land small sardines.

Only then can I imagine eternal sufferance.

Evan, my emaciated grandson,

Eats fries at the grill, protecting his paper plate

With an encircling arm.

At four foot ten, he best protect his food.

I’m the only current resident that thought

Harry Potter and “The Deathly Hallows”

Was a dreadful movie;

Two hours of water pistol fights.

All nine family visitors leave this week.

I shan’t make predictions for the next generation.

Look what a lousy job we’ve done.

Did I tell you, all had a very good time.

Doris, I Was Wonder---

It’s morning, and a spring breeze

Is bringing a cooling trend

That is vying with an ascending barometric reading,

Creating a destabilizing front, possibly altering morning’s fate.

Most readers would look for meaning in the above.

But to those who suffer from a rare, pernicious condition

Known as the “ing” syndrome, such conditions could prove fatal.

There is only one effective treatment available:

There is a form of yoga that a sufferer might find efficacious.

Near a small lake in an undisturbed Kenyan village

Lives a magic frog whose “ribbit”, if repeated 600 times

From the tallest branch of  the wazzit tree could help,

If the sequence is initiated at the time of the “pale full moon.”

In several cases this incantation has lead to a fortnight-long

Cessation of the intense and interminable “ringing-ing-ing”

The “ing” syndrome typically produces in the head of the victim.

Alternately, the poor sufferer can consider giv—up: sing---, talk---,

walk---, argu---, and smil--- simultaneously.  But it never works

      

What Has Happened to the Doctors?

I recall a time when doctors made house calls.

They were not armed with the gifts of modern medicine

And the science that made our modern medical miracles possible.

Most doctors made a living, few became wealthy.

It may be that we are better served today.

I just abhor what has happened to doctors’ humility.

I have not taken a meaningful survey.

This complaint is personal.

Yes, I know that the most scrupulous of surveys

Is never unimpeachably objective.

Having properly genuflected, I will pronounce judgment.

Some of you doctors assume an unfailing omniscience.

Whether the subject be moral, or material,

It seems you did not learn something from your fathers.

Mothers might have told stores of your awesome wisdom,

But it was your Dads’ job to suggest, “be easy on the pedal.”

Happy 31st Birthday

I should have sensed something was wrong.

She was new to Hawaii, … she would return to the mainland.

Just about every haole went home in “short time”.

Also, she sounded too educated.

Best decision I ever made, hiring her.

This wahine learned fast and had a really nice figure,

Not that I would notice...Right!??

She soon outsold every other employee.

She was the best employee I ever had.

Turned out we fell in love,

Moved to San Francisco and became partners…

In business and marriage.

On this, her 31^st  birthday,,,, since we married,

We still look forward… if we turn our heads slowly,

To the tomorrows we will share

And a million amazing memories we have gathered.

Haole = Caucasian  Wahine= woman

“---And Siri Said”

In answer to the question,

Siri said “Pope Francis is 77,”

That resolved the issue.

Siri speaks only the truth.

Siri has a female voice and is eternal.

We ten adults accepted her pronouncement without hesitation.

The wizard of Oz carried wisdom in every word…

Until he didn’t.

In time Siri’s voice will become perfect,

And it will “guide me in the paths of righteousness...”

There was never a time before prayer

Since first man sought knowledge.

We are unable to imagine being other

Than the “decider”, but like the Wizard

We must, in time, rely on ritual

And imperfectly understood history.

Lessons in Parking and Humility

It might have been the severe angle, or the unsolicited assistance proffered by the wife, but my first attempt to parallel park was a failure. Not a minor misjudgment. 30 seconds into the effort I had formed a perfect perpendicular, with my car's nose blocking the only entrance lane to the memorial chapel. My second attempt was only nominally better.

It was then that a man named Murray appeared at my car window. He explained that while he was certain I was a terrific highway driver, it appeared that parallel parking had not been my college major. I accused Murray, who would be attending the same memorial service, of being from Brooklyn. He countered that he was from L.A., but had always aspired to be mistaken for a New Yorker. I congratulated him on his ascendancy to the BIG CITY.

After consoling me with the thought that my aging process might be the problem, Murray offered a solution. He was parked in the space behind the one I had failed to negotiate. He suggested that I cease my efforts and drive around the enter/exit circle, while he advanced from his space, which flowed directly in from the entrance. Hence, I would not need to put the car in reverse.  To the cheers and laugher of my wife were now added directions to the circle that I was still partially blocking.

A Time of Good Cheer and Laughter

There was never a low point.

It was not New Orleans, the little music we heard was

From the Cantor: sober, melodic.

The children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren offered joy.

Not joy for the passing of Buba, rather for her life

And the personal interactions, that, with each descendant’s

Recollections, grew as a tree adds branches and leaves until

With the fullness of time, its most beautiful display subsides.

As wondrous as the display of love for Buba was,

It could not exceed the overarching omnipresence

Of the love that permeated each child’s smiling, crying,

Vision of the times that fortified relationships.

For here were only children, irrespective of age,

Celebrating Buba’s life, and much more.

We friends of the family easily joined in the

Smiles and laughter, and yes, the tears.

Without drink or bravado, we all bore witness to love,

From and to each member of the family, 

And, for those moments it glowed,

All in attendance were washed in its abundance.

Lies Without Consequences

I listened to the man

As he related a self-aggrandizing story  

That could not be reconciled with an earlier version

Which portrayed him in a dimmer light.

It seemed an easy choice,

And it coincided with my increasing disappointment with Harold.

I could have spent more time attempting to give him a pass,

But I was not of a generous turn of mind.

I had lied to him once,

But felt his question was irrelevant,

Or potentially condemning.

His lie was gratuitous, completely unsolicited.

Both lies were designed to cover a failing.

Of course, who would lie to cover heroism?

Finally, I need to concede, I was glad for his lie.

It left me with secondary support for choosing separation.

The Dawning of Aquarius

Maybe tomorrow, said the orthodox. Yes, if not tomorrow then  

soon, very soon. But our concern is Aquarius, not Jesus. We will

swim unchartered waters. Our life’s experience will move

beyond our beliefs so that we will hail the 11^th sign of the zodiac,

and look to a constellation in the southern hemisphere, if we wish

to exalt the coming age in the manner that has directed our

existence for the last 100,000 years.

 If a new age approaches, which the gods might call a rational

state, I suspect no meaningful dialogue can ensue, for we did not

evolve from such a history, and we cannot reason without

reference to our irrational past. While our immediate successor to

the earth’s dominant position will, of necessity, still retain some

marginal elements of our “rationalized behavior”, much like our  

remnant of a now irreverent tail, its superfluous nature will likely

be expunged in time.

Whether humans will be viewed as valuable to what-or-whomever

follows in our wake is only of mild interest to this writer. Of

course, it could make for a fascinating curtain call.