WriteInSpace.com 2016© all rights reserved.
WriteInSpace.com 2016© all rights reserved.
hysteria is contagious Don’t be manipulated by the media – fear sells commercials Stand by your own convictions and remember you have lied & been lied to before – Remember when someone you love asked if they look fat in the jeans they are wearing?
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you know who you are you know - what to do we both know the difference a commencement – a debut a need to share for one who cares and lives the dare i am there. a mute trepidation........ hangs on the wire a beginning to end or what will transpire? “Out there things can happen, and frequently do, To people as brainy and footsy as you. And when things start to happen, don't worry, don't stew. Just go right along, you'll start happening too!” ― Dr. Seuss, Oh, The Places You'll Go! WriteInSpace© all rights reserved. Do not reprint without explicit permission.
of mute silence holding you inside of my heart Putting aside the exhaustive supplicatory screams and night terrors reserved for reticent confessions. A halo of deleterious pain recognized by members of the club no one asked to join i hear you calling for me in the store, in the dark, in my head... Saddle shoes crashing down the hardwoods little pink mittens attached to ribbons on the floorboards Silent Night Silent Chaotic Crowds i hate hollow ho ho ho’s uptown girl downtown bus rides complete cessation from never letting you out of my sight, out of my arms, yet the reverent search for an authentic angel vacancy void vacuity timorous chasms each morning, mourning, knowing, you will be another day further from me 08.25.2016
WriteInSpace.com 2016© all rights reserved. may not reprint without explicit permission
I will let
be in your darkness –
everything will be alright
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I have no idea why this popped into my head – true story
Accompanying, then husband on a business trip to Oscoda, Michigan (yes, there is a such place) a few decades ago, I was introduced to a business associate’s, wife – Janet. This woman was petite and extremely gorgeous from her scarlet spike high heels to her impeccability coiffed hair. Soft spoken, size 2 rings and cordial were her Jackie O attributes. She presented herself as polished, refined and cosmopolitan.I knew her husband controlled a bunch of bucks due to the position he held for the trip’s purpose.
The purpose of my presence was to entertain Janet so the “men folk” could negotiate a multi million dollar agreement. It is a lot harder to ride a rocket when you are used to waiting for a bus, in the snow. This had to be an academy award performance.
Janet’s husband sounded like Leghorn/Foghorn when he spoke – and he talked LOUD. His suits were shark skin, cuff links were gold and his head was shiny bald. The shoes on his feet could’ve been traded in for a new Pontiac.His demeanor was southern drawl Atlanta (darlin’) and his appetite was top shelf double scotches, thrown down faster than a steel worker just off shift.
We were all staying in beautifully appointed homes on an upper echelon resort property. Activities for Janet and I included golf, tennis, the spa and salon while the wind bags blew smoke, kissed ass and impressed each other. This woman excelled, like a pro, on the courts and golf course and she never appeared aglow with sweat or had a hair out of place. I’m guessing she was approximately 15 years older than myself, at the time. My kids were toddlers and her 4 sons were in college. She informed me that their youngest son would be available to join us for dinner the last night on property.
The dinner was at the resort’s clubhouse – after-five attire – cleavage (if you have it), crystal chandeliers, lobster and champagne. Up until this point, Janet was the epitome of perfect business etiquette. Gracious with a goddamn! In fact, my ass was aching from being such a “good business wife”. I was ready to drive my own car, eat peanut butter out of a jar, hold my kids, actually go back to work and cut loose into my usual wild child rants and antics.
During cocktails, a really ginormous young man entered the terrace. He was dressed in a golf shirt, couture’d by Omar the tent maker. This guy’s neck was bigger than both of my thighs – put together. He had to lean down and turn sideways to enter the doorway. If he wasn’t 6′ 7″ tall, I’m crazy. You could sail a family of six with cousins to Europe in his high ticket athletic shoes.
Janet stood up and in a clear and distinct voice, proudly announced, “I’d like to introduce, my youngest child, the fruit of my loins, Joshua!”
From that point forward, all decorum got pitched. The deal got closed and I got a new set of golf clubs.
And the Oscar goes to……..
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schlepping sticky car seats
waiting for calls that never happen
wearing Lilly Pulitzer dresses
hauling bicycles state to state
counting missing quarters
driving dilapidated trucks
thinking their heads will explode
buying snow globes at the airport
singing kikker songs to the radio
paying for everything- every time- everywhere
100 degree camping with mosquitoes
never seeing their kids – missing them
baking at the beach
sleeping on the chaotic couch
building soap box derby tracks & cars
handling the bossy orthodontist
fighting wars near and far
judging idiot boyfriends & girlfriends
living with a ticking clock
burning oatmeal, sandwiches to order
washing the red sweatshirt with the whites
dropping a panic stricken kid off at camp
teaching art appreciation, writing stories
covering up a multitude of kid mistakes
sharing laughter at inappropriate times
wishing they were single-knowing they’re not
polishing old shoes
working second side jobs
giving up the Harley
listening, smiling, giving hell
vacations at Disney instead of Vegas
loving us, mine, theirs, ours………..
running like home movies
reverberate color slide shows
the associated event memory may be vacant
but the feelings remain analogous
a bewildered old man in a web lawn chair sitting on steaming sand where his beach house used to be a yellow formica table with beveled bright chrome around the edges i'm kicking the table from a wooden high chair - trying to touch the Wheaties box myself crumbling as I pull my small daughter from the back seat of a car to carry her into a funeral home but she changes her mind and i put her back into the car. my 5 year old niece building a goopy sandcastle on foggy Crystal Beach, New Year's Day Wayne and I swinging on the new red swing set at sunrise drive surrounded by vibrant purple irises, a fire barrel with stars and moons cut into the sides and the red rock gravel in the drive. myself running down the boardwalk in Virginia Beach wearing a green and blue itsy bitsy bikini, to chase down the canvas cover that had blown off of my father's metal sculptures. the grocery list written for Thanksgiving dinner last year - french bread, onions, celery, mushrooms, scallions, flowers, asparagus, turkey, butter, pecans, etc.... Dave holding my hand on top of his as we turned the key in the lock of our new home for the first time - before he gallantly picks me up into his proud arms and carries me over the threshold. the bottom of every trash can in the Louvre museum as my bronchial pneumonia hacking cough echoes through each surreal gallery i drag my sick ass through each of the hallowed halls the ginormous neighbor girl, Cindy Lou, throwing my skinny self down the rock path from school because i tell her Santa is real - she doesn't believe me a black Studebaker with red plaid seats, covered in thick clear plastic. My face sticks to it as i sleep in the back seat. airports across the US - dirty old carpet in Newark, a glass box smoke filled room in Chicago, La Guardia's modern new view, soft snowflakes falling outside the floor to ceiling windows at Reagan, crying in the parking lot at Daytona Beach International, holding on to my Sailor son at HOU, broken hearts left at PIT, holding precious grandson Andrew at Honolulu International, Lexi relaxing in the vibrating lounge chair in Nashville Airport, and glad the jet didn't land in the water in San Francisco. seven of us on a six man toboggan - flying down Sunny Slopes all night long beautiful red headed Moira, arms out stretched, scampering down the sidewalk to me Friday dance nights in the living room - two-step and d i s c o myself walking our cocker spaniel into the Vet office for the last time each of my children as I left them in those little wooden school chairs for the first time my proud grandparents sitting in the bleachers in the sweltering auditorium for my high school graduation. Wish I knew then, what i know now a hermetically sealed house and melting ice-cream as my lanky frame fits through the little second floor bathroom window to unlock the front door the long frigid walk up Mt Washington after abandoning the car at the bottom due to a blustery blizzard Nancy, Diane, Kathy and I carrying on at South Park pool trying to get the lifeguard's attention the fire raging on top of my first Thanksgiving turkey and the smoke detector sirens blaring Happy Hour at John Q's - and finding out what I thought was a french fry was a fried smelt. glass enclosed candle lanterns swaying and fireworks blaring from the top deck of the beach house firing a shotgun at the deer lease in Ridge Texas you talking to me in the car - in The Rose parking lot the mother's day card with the upside down flower stem my aunt, my mother and grandmother all screaming at each other in the Arbor Lane kitchen the horse stepping backwards onto my foot at the country house - I, also see the reprimand the rapids cascading over and over at the Ohiopyle cabin - the water is crystal clear - dancing and cold the students, hippies and old people sharing reefer on a smoke filled Greyhound bus cruising through to State College, PA the last run at Seven Springs ending up at the bottom of the slope, on my stomach with my skis over top of my head - in front of classmates my kids holding onto my knees as I skate them around the north and south ice-skating rinks sitting at the glass top table in the screened-in back porch on a hot January night. receiving the phone call i had dreaded my whole life... us walking all of the beaches words of wisdom, philosophy, god and care on a Christmas post as rain falls silently in the woods and drips from the moss you walking in my dreams
an inescapable plangent thunder Calling My Name O N E m o r e time two (2) phones ringing revere ware off the slick granite onto the sticky tile floor - as another IPhone fatality – a $700.00 symphony bounces the bank account into a defeated deficit. a pager vibrating my last jagged nerve as it flails and bounces into the commode from a couture black satin back- ass pocket simply monogramming a designer dollar – a blaring billboard at my expense. honk a shrieking text brake a profane IM into Siri’s impervious ear as she directs me to Pittsburgh through Mijas Spain listen intently for the most missed maternal control faintly from the Bravado’s radio speakers. Mute is stuck “off” the cacophony blare of public address panic waking me up and putting me to bed WriteInSpace.com 2016© – all rights reserved.