End Games

I cannot begin to number the times

I stood at an imagined window

Wrapped in failure

A bad throw to first, a smile not returned

So many endgames resolved at that window,

Many climaxing from an unseen direction,

Some brilliantly others less so

All, all those crescendos are histories

That will color tomorrow’s chapters,

Reducing or eliminating yesterday’s Endgames.

Between Dying and Death

If I assume that we are born

With no meaningful objective,

Beyond embodying another example

Of the continuation of our species

And a vehicle for another generation,

I will make of my life deeds that

Express my shifting notion of values

With little thought of my story’s end.

To stand apart with my perception

Of the day’s events is merely a necessary

Device that permits dreams that sustain

A rationalized continuity, which

Camouflages the inevitable realization

That our performance is of the act of dying. 

Values

Two days before Xmas my neighbor, Jim, lost his very expensive chimney decorations. No doubt it was last night’s storm winds that destroyed his Santa Clause, Reindeers and assorted gift boxes.

I was across the street, walking our dogs, when Jim began cursing the fates that had crushed his electrified Santa. His anger seemed to overwhelm his sorrow as he crushed the pathetic remnants to dust.

 Alex, our one-armed street recycler, was on his regular empty bottle run and witnessed both the grief and the rage that enveloped Jim.  Alex continued his regular garbage can route which carried him up to the despondent Jim’s sidewalk. After checking Jim’s trash and finding nothing of value, he offered Jim condolences for the broken Santa and continued his morning route.

Jim smiled after the retreating figure for a few seconds, shook his head and returned to his house.    

Part Of The Game

I wasn’t going in to work this morning.

The courts were empty but for a guy

Ten years younger and a better shot.

After exchanging first names

We chose and David got the ball out.

Like just about every outdoor court

The rim was merciless

Your shot swished or bounced high and wide.

David was killing me when we took ten.

For reasons beyond recall I spoke about black players

When did they get guys who could hit an outside shot?

I spoke about Sweet Water Clifton.

Man could dribble, but was blind beyond 15 feet.

David spoke about Oscar Robertson

Who could dribble, pass and score 30 points or more.

David, a black guy, suggested

Oscar played when color didn’t limit your game. 

More Fog Possible

That was the forecast “more fog possible”

It’s hard not to appreciate the cleverness

And ambiguity of that assertion.

It immediately rules out the impossible,

While not laying claim to a definitive result.

I suppose less fog would still be possible,

And, for that matter, we could have a sand storm

Which would not foreclose a pastrami sandwich

If the corner deli is open when more fog hits

As to the service that tracks the accuracy

Of weather forecasts, they have a problem.

If every daily prediction allowed for an infinite

Number of possibilities, the forecaster would never be wrong

One could argue that his/her pronouncements

Are brilliant reminders of days past

When the Greek Pythia were called upon

To mumble what the gods might favor.

He Who Speaks Last Loses

Maybe I was old enough, or I had lost enough verbal battles to conclude that there had to be a better way. It was finally brought home to me after yet another unsatisfactory finish to a negotiation with a Taiwan merchant’s sales representative.

What he had learned was that Americans, and maybe many others, could not abide a round of bargaining that stalled just short of consummation. When faced with what I took to be a failure on my part I inevitably conceded or offered a less self-satisfactory alternative.

After an embarrassing series of such meetings I decided to try a different close. When all but one aspect of an agreement had been completed, a particular manufacturer’s rep, wearing his best innocent smile, “looked” for me to nod. Instead I just returned his smile. This standoff lasted a very long 30 seconds. He was on commission and decided he had more too lose.

Over time I found this tactic (just shy of being a strategy) very effective, and not only in business. You and your friend are discussing what movie to see. Go silent and see what happens.  

It certainly doesn’t always work. Often I broke the silence and changed the subject. Still, if properly handled the downside is small.  

Straight Line

Recalling an event that occurred yesterday

Two years ago, or was it some other time

While still being yesterday’s image, though

Less clear?

If there is a straight line connecting

All my recollections to me.

Then, perhaps, I have metamorphosed 

So that my history is of one day?

One day, but in different times and places

One day but “I” was always in transition

And it was an other me

Who thought the same reality had shifted.

It is very confusing, and

May require a mental archeologist

To decide on the probability that

Something had happened at sometime.

They’re Not Ready Yet.

No doubt Judge Scalia is right.

Blacks are not ready for really good schools.

Unfortunately, he offers merely acceptance.

How are these inferior souls to be prepared

So that they may, someday, be smiled upon?

If the parents are unwilling or unable to lead

Where are the children to learn the necessary skills?

Perhaps Blacks are best served by lesser goals.

Options that are more easily attained,

Will likely cause less emotional distress

For a child that must grapple with its 

Impoverished home environment.

Of course if I were black I’d be outraged

Failing the color test I am outraged

By the assumptions carried in the good judges words.!!

Hawaiian Holiday Music

Stanford Court Nursing center

Lies twenty miles east of San Diego

There, if the dining room tranquility is disturbed

We could blame the Hawaiians;

Nine ladies and two male musicians who

Have come to share a pre Christmas hour

With residents and guests of this nursing home.

They offer Christmas songs and soft swaying Hula dancing.

Hawaiian smiles and humor are plentiful and warmly received

By staff and wheelchair bound residents.

When the music is pau  (finished)

Dancers and singers walk among their audience

Offering season greetings and a warm gentle hand.

The Cycles

Life, wherever it may be found,

Will have a beginning and an end.

Cycles within cycles are our home.

There all life is experienced as truth

No matter the direction of the wind

Years end despite our tracking

Of days and hours

Which surely will not be remembered.

If there is value to our cyclic clock

It lies in the belief that it matters.

Alessia will not have finished her grades

Before we have settled our affairs.

The year just past may bear witness:

To time spent, some pleasantly,

The arrival of new people, and the passing of others.

If this, the first day, in this New Year,

Finds you with love for some earthling,

No matter its species,

Possibilities exist that your continued journey

Will not be without smiles.

For The Cause

They knew what was expected of them

What the reward would be

And the necessary transit fare

The killings righteous and mandatory

Each of them understood their martyrdom,

If the Caliphate was to become universal.

Their small contribution would be rewarded by eternal

Acceptance into the hallowed circles

This was her last night in Paris

She and her classmates were celebrating

The wonders of the six weeks

Of boys, music, wine, and a little learning

It was a star-filled, warm night

Sitting outside the café seemed

Just the prefect ending to their adventure

When a pair of bearded guys carrying guns approached

Word, maybe inaccurate, spread through

The refugee camp

Poland was closing its boarders

Would Germany be next?

Something had happened in Paris

He offered hope

We are not going to France

Tomorrow we reach Germany and freedom.

The Sun In My Eyes

It looks different

Orange Avenue bathed in morning sunlight

Feels altered, but without manifestation.

Momentarily stores will open, presenting their best face

Christmas has passed and tourists will surface

Recreating possibilities for retailers in this second season.

Nothing is out of order, but something is unique

I seldom walk north on Orange at this time of day

It must be the Sun’s warmth and glare

That has made this stroll to the barber

Particularly pleasant, and for the moment

Changed my perspective of the world.

Rose And Me

She is older then me

And I am not her primary caregiver,

But we share a certain state of life.

We look to our next move

Without a clear idea of how, why or where.

We have traveled and still are loved

We have our differences:

I can climb stairs with little difficulty,

She has arthritis, and needs to engage reluctant legs.

Rose sleeps more than I

And eats when hungry, not when served.

We can both expect a more sedentary future

With further personal limitations.

Diana or I need to assist

If she is to sleep in our bed,

Something she has been doing for 15 years.

Shame

Paris was attacked on Friday and over 120 people killed.

Paris was attacked and France bombed ISIS territory.

Paris was attacked but continued to take Syrian refugees.

Sunday Paris cafés were busy.

3000 miles away Washington was busy.

Politicians voiced outrage, and raised the “American Flag”.

Efforts have begun to honor Syrian Christians

As the only Syrian refugees worthy of our consideration.

Governors of half our states have hung “closed” signs

To Muslim refugees.

Rumor suggests that the Statue of Liberty

Is, for the foreseeable future, draped in funereal black.

Punch The Pickleball

I can take pleasure in announcing my legs still work!

Perhaps not with the swiftness of a 14 year old,

But substantially faster than an old man’s stroll.

That leaves contact as an unresolved issue.

My shots tend toward the velocity

Of a four year old throwing a baseball,

Easily reached and often high enough

To allow for a solid smash from an opponent

Who need not move her feet.

My serve is equally hospitable.

Given my competitive nature it is hard adjusting

To the very welcoming nature of the other players.

If you can’t scream at the offending Gods

How are you to improve your stroke?

The Joy Of Sailing

Having bought a sailboat it was time to sail.

It was a 24-foot Columbus,

Unless it was 22-foot something else.

My boat was docked in Kaneohe

Unless it was Kailua.

It was a Sunday… maybe,

And I was squeezing in an hour.

I turned down a tow-out to the bay,

And gone maybe 20 feet from my dock space

Before I ran into the rocks.

Fortunately, it being a Sunday (maybe),

There were lots of seafarers on the near shore

Who could and did holler advice.

It was fascinating to hear terms unfamiliar.

After maybe 20 minutes

The tow I had turned down appeared

And pulled me into the middle of the bay.

Where I sailed for about 15 minutes

Before my rudder whacked something, and …disconnected.

I put the boat up for sail the next day. It was a Monday.

Six People Waiting For Godot

Soon the angels of care will smile and push,

Push the six wheelchair bound patients to their rooms.

The passengers have made this trip before,

Except for Morris, a new case,

Who, like the other five, is destined to stay in waiting.

The silence of the patients is reflected in their blank eyes.

Doris, in the third chair, might speak if prompted.

Unlike the others, her eyes moved, perhaps seeing.

Of the 50 people in this senior end-of-life program

Several can cheer a bingo victory.

Perhaps fifteen could follow the called numbers to their card.

We did not do well locating the patio,

But we did not get lost on our way to the meal room.

Residents were wheeled in.

Each white clothed table seated three or four.

At the next table a woman fought a ham slice

To within inches of her mouth

The third person at our table was unable to speak audibly,

And I saw a thousand tomorrows.

I left Ray as lunch was ending.

He was not ready for this place

He could still laugh.

He did not belong in a row of becalmed living dead…yet.

Fairness In Parking

I waited patiently for what promised to be a superior parking spot. As I was idling to the right of the sport-coup that was getting ready to leave, an SUV moved to the left of my premium space.

Of course, as the next car-in-line I was ready to move. The little sport-coup pulled out facing me. OH NO, this could not be. I beeped several tims to alert the big, ugly SUV gliding into my spot. MY SPOT! I held the horn down  for several  seconds. It did no good. I’ll kill the son-of-bitch.  

OK, I will not kill the miserable bastard. I have spotted another slot just a little further on, so it isn’t really a problem, except that FUCKING BASTARD would have seen that spot & chose to not back up ten feet and claim his rightful parking slot.

De Boys

Jack looks unhealthy,

More then 50 pounds overweight. His walk is halting,

Juan drove us to the game.

He would not make it as a New York driver.

We both won, Juan $9.25, me $9.50

Dick had a haircut and talked about his proposed class in genealogy.

I momentarily could not recall Obama’s first name.

Bruce was the big winner, $20.

Poker over 10 PM.

Nice guys. Most have religion, no proselytizing here. 

Good Morning To Ya

A block from our house

On a day that is shaping up to be just fine

We meet with Sam

He is sweeping the concrete that fronts his shoe store

I suggest it will be a beautiful day

And he can keep it for just $5.00

Sam proposes we split… $2.50 each

I mumble about overhead

Before agreeing

Cemented by a hand shake

A Magical Lunch

I was alone

By no means a tragedy

My small table partially shaded

Would render me freckled faced

To a passing stroller

And very involved with my blintz

Add my puzzle, coffee, water,

And the service of a very friendly waiter

To the day’s perfect weather,

Might bring a smile to a Crows scowl.

Collapse

If the threat from without is spreading, it is the disease within that foretells our passing. We have one more horse and no pending response to the fellowship of the circle. Yes, there is a potential solution, but even if successfully executed the results may merely facilitate the ride.

The panel of deciders has gained its utter independence, and is no longer accountable to any or all. Arguably, the road to our imminent destruction has been a long time coming, but it is no longer a matter of “if”, and “when” is merely a question of whether my, or my sons, generation will be on the welcoming committee.

No, I am not preaching “the end of times”, merely the passing of the United States. It was, in its current attire, dressed, or addressed, in “Animal Farm.” Five men dressed in black have decided the meaning of the words we thought we understood.  Sadly, global restraint, a frail creature, yet a miracle of no small magnitude, has not seen the dropping of the third bomb. Whether our democratic and economic ruin will be part of something larger is beyond my willingness to speculate.   

I offer my tenuous hope for a deferral of the inevitable. We must rid ourselves of two of the five horsemen. While I have my favorites, any two will do. Unfortunately, the results are likely to be disastrous. It may well facilitate a sort of Armageddon. I give it a 5% chance of some kind of success, but here is the list of upcoming events if we do not make a correction:

1.   Democracy, expressed by voting, will not last beyond 2016.

2.   Breathable air will be quite limited by 2040.

3.   Water will be available to 1 in 5 people by 2050.

4.   Good news: catastrophic war could offset: “3”, if 3 of 5 die.

5.   Beach property will be cheaper, but changing, by 2030.

From The Outside

Looking back on my volunteer career

(ignoring the fact that I just put 2

eer words in sequence)

I think SCORE might have been my most meaningful job.

SCORE was designed to offer free assistance

To small business folks

Good people, lots of challenges, good results ...overall.

Buried friends, and retained a few.

It’s 10 years since I retired

And now I’m told I rejected would-be friends.

I can easily dismiss the suggestion but

I will retain a curiosity.

Did the teller of this unhappy news

Find me wanting?

Whether for love or money, did I

Look upon staff or associates as less,

Not my equal?

I Have Found Conservatives Who Almost Believe in Global Warming

Some of the boys from the Lawrence Welk top ten

Have at least reached the sputtering stage.

They “just don’t have enough information”.

I don’t expect to feel the impact.

It reminds me of the current reckoning

That the 2003 invasion of Iraq did not work well.

Of course that belated realization took 13 years

And seems cast in a time warp.

I look for a principle that ties such pieces together.

Might it be that the other fellow is infallibly wrong?

Is there perhaps no principle, just interest ?

Are we still running under the oil aristocracy?

This has been the warmest year in recorded history.

Of course there will always be a warmest year.

In the last 20 years we have had 7 of the top ten.

Not to worry, those Lawrence Welk guys may come around.

It will be too late, in fact it’s already too late.

Bad Call

It wasn’t close

Golden State Forward number 18 pushed

It was deliberate

With no push back

The referee who was two feet away

Pointed at Huston Guard number 27

TV replay showed…

Bad call

The head referee did not ask for a replay

Probably 10 million viewers would say “bad call”

The ref might be very blind, hate that guard,

Or the fix was in…

Or all of the above.

I think the fix was in.

Facebook is stalking me

Every day I receive Facebook notification of 99 unsatisfied requests. My mood bounces from unmitigated joy to utter self-contempt. Often I smile noting that 99 people have updated their Face book account(s). I restrain an urge to respond to all 99.  What if I sent each of them a notice that they had won 80 billion dollars, but alas they had not acknowledged the great news in time to collect? No doubt too busy updating their Facebook pages   

I wonder how these people would respond to a notice that I had died 3 years ago, but all their Facebook notices have been sent to the Library of Congress to be preserved… forever.

Running

It is long past time to breath deeply.

My inherent race to finish first

Continues as an old man runs up the stairs.

A message reaches me from the guy

Running down the stairs

“You are incredibly inefficient.

You will pass me again it you do not slow down”.

I understand my error count continues to rise and

The finished product may be an embarrassment.

For The Love Of Family

White and Tan, curious and tiny with no leash,

I’m guessing the puppy was two weeks old, and under two pounds.

It sat between three little girls;

The oldest appeared to be under three.

Her one sister might be two and the crawler under one.

The mom had just parked on the far side of Ocean Avenue.

Thrusting the compliant puppy into the smallest child’s arms,

Mom picked up the baby and started across the wide

And heavily trafficked avenue, with the other two kids

Holding hands and attempting to keep pace with mom.

I saw mom and baby, with clutched pup, reach the curb. 

Within seconds all four plus one were safely on the sidewalk.

I should have seized the youngest child, and

The diminutive puppy and headed for I- don’t-know-where.

Fast Reflexes

Maybe it was evolutions reward.

My grandparents migrated before the worst.

At the dawn of the 20^th century,

Long before Hitler invaded Poland,

With clever fingers that might

Help a tailor in the New World

He and Rose moved to America,

To never leave Brooklyn.

It was a far more dramatic move than

Jacob’s grandson moved to Hawaii

And a very different future.

He, the grandson, was escaping from New York

That reinforced his need for speed.

He could shoot dice before the city,

Family and a job sealed his future.

He landed 1 AM on February 2, 1965.

Honolulu Airport was quiet, the night sky

Filled with starlight and warm, a welcome feeling.

He drank from a water fountain that offered pineapple juice,

His pace for the next 15 years was slower, much slower.

He thought of his grandfather and how

Jacob’s trip made Hawaii possible.

Here was time for children, a dog, and adventure.

A time to reorder his life’s arc.