Wednesday, September 26, 2012

I Am From, by Yolanda Adele


Here is another in our series of “Where I'm from” poems. I cannot get enough of these! It has been such a rewarding assignment, with such varied and enjoyable results. Each gives us a glimpse into the life of one of our writers. If you have not yet written one, please see the instructions and links here. HERE

This one, from Yolanda, is a joy to read and I suspect that it will stir up memories of your own.
 
Bonnie

 

I am from an era of great hope for nations after World War II,

I am from the summers of Good Humor Ice Cream trucks chiming; beckoning children to run to it from all sides of the old neighborhood.

I am from the sweet aromas that the Helms Bakery trucks held in its highly polished blond-hardwood pull- out drawers,

I am from drinking milk delivered to the house and licking the cream off the bottle cap,
I am from Toni Home Perms and hula hoops. 
I am from petticoats and bobby socks, angora sweaters, pedal pushers, and wearing his ring around my neck,
I am from jukeboxes, sock hops and Sadie Hawkins dances, and Drive in movies.
 
I am from Rock n Roll,
I am from Elvis music,
I am from Crying in the Chapel, and Love Me Tender.
 
I am from an age that is said, more Americans bought homes, had a chicken in every pot, and a car in every garage than ever before.

I am from an era ushering in the space age, and Disneyland, “The Happiest Place on Earth.”

I am from an era of optimism for the future.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

"MY PERFECT MAN," by Kacie Cooper


 
If this poem by Kacie doesn’t bring you a smile, I’m not sure what will! Enjoy.

Bonnie
 

The perfect man I've chosen is really the perfect man indeed.
I've been looking all my life for him. My heart, my soul he feeds.

He is so interesting, debonair; the way he walks.
People call him an animal. But I love the way he talks.

He speaks with an Australian accent and he's a different color than me.
That's okay, who knows? I just might come from the same ancestry.

I saw him on the "tele" just a few years back.
He's very photogenic. Oh my gosh! He's wack! (good)

He drives around in a nice car and has a job-to die for!
If ever I was his honey, he'd have someone to buy for.

At least he's not a Mr. Hyde or a mean old Dr. Jeckyl.
No. My "Perfect Man" is wonderful. You see...he's the Geico gecko!







Monday, August 20, 2012

Living With No Place to Hide, by Kay Halsey


 
This insightful essay is full of observations about life. I think you will relate to Kay’s experiences.


            “Hide and Seek” or “Kick the Can” were favorite games of mine when a child.  My cover may have been small, but the excitement of seeing someone come to discover my cover was real fun.  I felt like I was winning over my opponents.  We even got rewards for discovery - points, or change of role, or a chance to hide again and be “it.”

            However, as I grew up my experiences became more complicated.  Fear, anger, pride, or distrust take over.  Sometimes I felt I couldn’t cope any more.  I felt boxed in and nervous that survival was to hide my real thoughts and feelings, to deny human reactions which caused hurt.  I felt obligated to present a happy and positive presence which hide the real truth.  Life wasn’t all “roses.”  Sometimes “bad” things happen that you have to acknowledge and there is no hiding place.

            Denial is no answer to the real truth.  Your inner spirit can direct the mind off the problems to let your body release its tensions caused by conflict of situations.  Meditation and focus on the inner spirit have good outcomes.  The cause of the inner emotions requires inner work.  You can’t accept that someone else is making you feel this way.  Life’s game is played in direct relation to what you bring to it.  When you let go, you are free to react in a positive way – joyful, happy, positive.  Each day is a gift.

            What a gift and joy to look forward to planning an exciting and open experience.  Where will you go and what will you find when there is no more hiding and waiting for good things to happen.  You are “it” and anxious to find all the things that are happening in your world when you have no place to hide.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Where I’m From, By Barbara Sparks


Here is the second in our series of “Where I’m From” poems. This one, from Barbara, reveals some insights into her past and piques some questions. One of the fun things about these poems is that they don’t give all the answers, but they are full of intriguing images. I hope you enjoy this one as much as I do.   

I’m from Sunday School, Bible Study, Spirited Preaching and Gospel Music.
I’m from Country Breakfasts, Church Picnics and Special Sunday Dinners.
I’m from meals that say “I love you,” and “Welcome to our home.”
I’m from solitude, laughter, colorful language and wonderful noise.
I’m from generations of storytellers weaving family tales from the past.
I’m from writers of journals, making sure that our stories will last.
I’m from fishing trips to the Colorado River, Ensenada, and the dangerous break water in San Pedro.
I’m from starfish, abalone shells, crayfish and other creatures of the sea, lake or other forms water,
Detached just for me.

I’m from boringly long baseball games, wrestling and boxing matches at the Olympics,
The Globe Trotters, and a hunting trip that caused me to refuse to eat rabbit.
I’m from rodeos, circuses, zoos, and the Pike in Long Beach.
I’m from elaborate Christmas Displays on neighborhood streets, in Santa Monica, and stores in Downtown L. A. 
I’m from wonderful visits with a grandmother
Who drove like a maniac, but managed to get us safely to
See Red Skelton and Rose Parade Floats at the park.
I’m from Red Car rides to Grand Central Market and the delicious Fig Newtons that we would devour on the trip back home.
I’m from “Don’t embarrass yourself, your family or your race,”
“A hard head makes a soft behind,” and “Nothing beats a failure but a try.”
I’m from a loving family that taught by example how to live life.
I’m from a mother who always said, “What did you do to contribute to the problem?” “Tomorrow is always a new beginning.” “Don’t let anyone take your joy away from this day.”
I’m from the strength of a family that survived many hardships but knew that love, laughter, family and prayer was the mortar that holds people together.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

“I am from!” By Maria Zeeman


A couple of months ago I shared a poem with the class and challenged them to write a poem of their own, loosely based on the format of the original. The poem was “Where I’m From,” by George Ella Lyon. You can read it here. The result was just plain wonderful. This is one of the poems. You will be seeing several more of these in the weeks ahead.
I am from oceans fresh & endless & clear
From flowers and boats
I am from a big white house
Cool, roomy, with many people around me
I am from tulips & fresh air
My lime tree
Whose long gone limbs, I remember
As if they were my own.

I’m from closeness and games
From loving parents and many siblings
I’m from good card, monopoly & charade games
And from competitively fun squabbles

I’m from the apple tree, I like sugar & spice
And songs in my own language
I’m from love, sharing care for others

I’m from Indonesia & from Dutch heritage
But love Indonesian Food; spicy & sweet treats

I’m from 3 little girls, playing and acting together
Dressed alike and enjoyed by others

I’m joy in heart & head
Ready to take life’s challenges.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Hummingbirds, by Gail Earl


Life is full of beauty and wonder. Here is a sweet story about Gail’s parents and their connection with one of nature’s tiny, beautiful creatures – and with each other.
_________________________________________________________________
 

Let me tell you that Hummingbirds have always been my parents’ things. They loved them. They had many decorations at each of their homes with Hummingbirds on them.

They had stained glass windows, garden birds, hummingbird coasters, books, photos and drawings. Every time they went anywhere, they would look for items with hummingbirds and bring them home as souvenirs.

My dad was very proud of his invention that had a small tuna can at the base of a bird feeder. The can was filled with ant poison that would prevent ants from crawling up the pole and drinking the brightly colored, sweet liquid.

Mom and dad lived in Palm Springs and spent many hours in their garden patio, eating all of their meals outdoors, watching the little birds . My dad would even name them and claim that he recognized each of them as they visited along side their breakfast table each morning. They truly looked forward to greeting them each day.

All of my parents’ friends knew of their love for the little critters, so they were gifted with many hummingbird items.

When my father passed away and the family was at Riverside National Cemetery for his services, a single hummingbird flew into our little shelter and presided over dads ashes. It was a moment in time that the entire group of family and friends took note of, loved and appreciated.

After dad died my mother moved to La Mirada. Mom still had a passion for the birds and always felt comforted when she saw one. She believed that it was my dad saying hello. She loved the little birds and watched them daily from her bedroom window.

There was a bottle brush tree with thousands of brightly colored brushes that was constantly alive with the hum of little birds. At any given time, you could see the flapping of little wings as birds flitted from one brush to the next.

Fast forward 15 years.  Mom was on her death bed. My sisters and I spent two months in her bed with her, helping her die. Mom cried a lot because death was taking much longer than she expected. She cried and couldn't understand why my father wasn't coming for her. She feared that he didn't want her any longer.

In one of those last difficult days, when we all needed it most, a cluster of 6 hummingbirds came from the tree, flew over about 10 feet to her window. They as a group began to tap their little beaks on the glass. They continued for over one minute.

The continuous tap, tap, tap startled us all. We were speechless and couldn't move. We were watching something that we could not explain. None of us have ever seen anything like this and still can't physically explain what would make a pack of 6 birds go to a window and in unison tap tap tap.

We definitely have our beliefs and that comfort brings smiles to our faces.

Friday, June 29, 2012

"A WORLD OF SUDS," by Gloria Hannigan


Sometimes we need a simple solution to solving the world’s problems. We often refer to Gloria as our “resident Erma Bombeck.” This piece is a gentle reflection on the value of a routine task. Enjoy. ~ Bonnie

This morning I stood with my hands in hot soapy water, washing dishes, gazing out the window, solving the problems of the world. I tried to sum up the number of times I've washed dishes in my lifetime. I started with the years my sister and I argued over whose turn it was to wash or dry.

This was not a very peaceful time, but we did interact with each other. Then I had to subtract the dishes my children did while growing up in our home. This probably puts me in the hole, as they were doing dishes for a family of eight at a time when I was cooking full meals every day. This is probably why they all have shiny chrome dishwashers in their kitchens today.

I add in my solitary years when all the children have moved on and I once again had custody of the Palmolive. I soon decide all these calculations are getting me nowhere so I return to solving the problems of the world.

My plan for world peace is to have the leaders of every country take a twenty minute break in the middle of the day and immerse their hands in hot soapy water and let their problems rest.

I worry that my granddaughter is missing all this. I watch her load and unload the dishwasher and wish I could put her hands in warm soapy water so she could feel the power of solving the world's problems. I am afraid that putting her hands in water might short out the headset that is permanently attached to her head. The fear of sparks flying from her braces and damaging her teeth forever, keeps me from even suggesting she try it.

Dishwashers are prevalent now. Those colorful dishwashing soaps are being crowded off the shelves at the super market by dishwasher detergents and rinses, cleaning sprays and kitchen wipes. We are gaining more sanitary kitchens but losing those precious moments of peace. Soon the day will "Dawn" without "Joy".