What a birthday we had
Rejoicing with Richard
Our beautiful birthday boy.
We first went to Mamie’s
To weed the garden
And play with her power toys.
The tiller wouldn’t start
The weeds wouldn’t budge
We hoed, hustled, and pulled.
We were determined
To beat the rains
Of which the clouds were full.
We got the job done
Almost killing ourselves
We had plans for a birthday feast.
Our chef friend Holly
Was cooking for us
In a town to our southeast.
She served us pasta
With fresh shrimp
Scallops and asparagus,
Tomato salad,
And fruit trifle --
She really made a fuss.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
Sunday with Several Friends
We spent Sunday with several friends;
It was all very nicely paced.
As Richard cooked his favorite pork ribs,
With Don’s presence, we were graced.
We talked of our veterans, family, and faith --
All favorite topics of mine.
Richard and Don both served our country
When we were fighting in Vietnam.
Mountaintop Mary came to meet her man;
We shared coffee and some laughs.
Richard sent them off with cabbage and ribs,
And jokes about Beano and gas.
Then it was over to our garden at Mamie’s
To pull some Hitler weed.
We’d like to get ahead of it
Before it goes to seed.
Mamie and I talked raising vegetables
And how we reared our kids.
I finally had to join Richard;
We had come over to dig.
We’re trying a new way to garden
With no plow or tiller or hoe.
The secret is to lay down very thick mulch
Before you begin to sow.
I began to transplant our butternut squash
Under the leaves Richard had spread.
We’re hoping this method will work
In smothering weeds till they’re dead.
When the rains began to blind us
We retreated to our place,
Where the scents of Richard’s cooking
Permeated all our space.
It was all very nicely paced.
As Richard cooked his favorite pork ribs,
With Don’s presence, we were graced.
We talked of our veterans, family, and faith --
All favorite topics of mine.
Richard and Don both served our country
When we were fighting in Vietnam.
Mountaintop Mary came to meet her man;
We shared coffee and some laughs.
Richard sent them off with cabbage and ribs,
And jokes about Beano and gas.
Then it was over to our garden at Mamie’s
To pull some Hitler weed.
We’d like to get ahead of it
Before it goes to seed.
Mamie and I talked raising vegetables
And how we reared our kids.
I finally had to join Richard;
We had come over to dig.
We’re trying a new way to garden
With no plow or tiller or hoe.
The secret is to lay down very thick mulch
Before you begin to sow.
I began to transplant our butternut squash
Under the leaves Richard had spread.
We’re hoping this method will work
In smothering weeds till they’re dead.
When the rains began to blind us
We retreated to our place,
Where the scents of Richard’s cooking
Permeated all our space.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Revolution and Retreat
Our country was created by men who had very varied lines of communication and education, but they were still limited to the WASP mindset, which was their only frame of reference for ruling. The world of communication and education today encompasses the wide world of ideas and ideologies. Some are frightened by this; others are energized.
I find it exciting that I can exchange ideas with people that I may never meet from places that I may never visit. My friend Susan can find some degree of connection in every encounter she has. I’m quite convinced that she could find someone who knew someone she knows in the snow banks of Siberia. I have learned from her to look for areas of agreement in every encounter.
What makes our country so vibrant is our ability to accommodate and assimilate. The changes since the Second World War expanded our technological and industrial capabilities, while opening our eyes to the horrors of hatred and the wealth of the world views beyond our borders. This happened mighty fast for easy assimilation, which has many of us reeling to regain our footing.
Our only hope to conquer our fears is constant communication. We must talk about what we fear in order to learn how to handle it. We must also learn to discern truth from a distillation of all the varied voices in the cacophony.
I read in Time Magazine about a study of how people choose their leaders. This article stated that those who speak most forcefully and loudly are followed. This seems to be the case in most of today’s society. My Richard is fond of telling me that just because I can talk louder than he does, it doesn’t mean I’m right.
I don’t think our founding fathers were a bombastic bunch. They seem to have been a very thoughtful, possibly even soft-spoken, group of guys. And they sure could construct a concise statement of their mission and position.
Society doesn’t wrap their heads around revolution without much anxiety about the unknown. We don’t change our way of life in a vacuum. All of our changes create a domino effect down the line of all our networks.
Those of us who are blessed with many unrelated spokes coming off the hub of ourselves in our sphere of influence may be better able to handle more rapid change than those who have all their people in a straight row from the center of their lives. Many voices may make new ideas easier to understand.
There’s an adage in business that, in order for a business to succeed, one shouldn’t invent something new, but should improve what already exists by ten percent. I come from a very malfunctional family. I have spent my life attempting to improve the functionality of the generations that come after me in ten percent per generation increments. Some have soared and some have stumbled, but I do believe that patient persistence is better than retreat to the safety of our past.
I find it exciting that I can exchange ideas with people that I may never meet from places that I may never visit. My friend Susan can find some degree of connection in every encounter she has. I’m quite convinced that she could find someone who knew someone she knows in the snow banks of Siberia. I have learned from her to look for areas of agreement in every encounter.
What makes our country so vibrant is our ability to accommodate and assimilate. The changes since the Second World War expanded our technological and industrial capabilities, while opening our eyes to the horrors of hatred and the wealth of the world views beyond our borders. This happened mighty fast for easy assimilation, which has many of us reeling to regain our footing.
Our only hope to conquer our fears is constant communication. We must talk about what we fear in order to learn how to handle it. We must also learn to discern truth from a distillation of all the varied voices in the cacophony.
I read in Time Magazine about a study of how people choose their leaders. This article stated that those who speak most forcefully and loudly are followed. This seems to be the case in most of today’s society. My Richard is fond of telling me that just because I can talk louder than he does, it doesn’t mean I’m right.
I don’t think our founding fathers were a bombastic bunch. They seem to have been a very thoughtful, possibly even soft-spoken, group of guys. And they sure could construct a concise statement of their mission and position.
Society doesn’t wrap their heads around revolution without much anxiety about the unknown. We don’t change our way of life in a vacuum. All of our changes create a domino effect down the line of all our networks.
Those of us who are blessed with many unrelated spokes coming off the hub of ourselves in our sphere of influence may be better able to handle more rapid change than those who have all their people in a straight row from the center of their lives. Many voices may make new ideas easier to understand.
There’s an adage in business that, in order for a business to succeed, one shouldn’t invent something new, but should improve what already exists by ten percent. I come from a very malfunctional family. I have spent my life attempting to improve the functionality of the generations that come after me in ten percent per generation increments. Some have soared and some have stumbled, but I do believe that patient persistence is better than retreat to the safety of our past.
Friday, June 4, 2010
My Community, My Country
I’m so proud of my country, how far it’s evolved.
Though there are still many problems to be solved,
We no longer wait for our politicians to protect us;
We know that our neighbors are who we can trust
To rebuild our communities and share our plight.
If we’re all in it together, we will do what’s right.
We have always assisted those in need.
We now accept those of all races, religions, and creeds.
We have always attempted to shore up the weak.
We try not to hurt anyone with the words that we speak.
We work for fairness and speak our anger
Rather than putting our families in danger
With outbursts of violence in response to our fears.
We share our concerns through our words and our tears.
Sometimes,sharing thoughts is all we can do
To help others understand a different point of view.
It’s a blessing that we are empowered to say
What’s on our minds without joining the fray
Of hysterical bullies and their fearful lot.
Our blended voices are the best tools we’ve got.
Though there are still many problems to be solved,
We no longer wait for our politicians to protect us;
We know that our neighbors are who we can trust
To rebuild our communities and share our plight.
If we’re all in it together, we will do what’s right.
We have always assisted those in need.
We now accept those of all races, religions, and creeds.
We have always attempted to shore up the weak.
We try not to hurt anyone with the words that we speak.
We work for fairness and speak our anger
Rather than putting our families in danger
With outbursts of violence in response to our fears.
We share our concerns through our words and our tears.
Sometimes,sharing thoughts is all we can do
To help others understand a different point of view.
It’s a blessing that we are empowered to say
What’s on our minds without joining the fray
Of hysterical bullies and their fearful lot.
Our blended voices are the best tools we’ve got.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Heroic Hypocrisy
How we treat our heroes is a major disgrace;
We pretend to care deeply, but that’s not the case.
A friend served our country In the Vietnam War;
He’s now denied care because of what the rules are.
We cover the children of those that break our laws
But covering our heroes somehow gives us pause.
We can spend untold dollars on bombs, planes, and such;
When the fighting’s over, we don’t care very much.
The politicians keep feeding at our tax trough,
But those who risked their lives seem not much better off
Than those who waste their lives on wine and drugs, and song
How is it that we’re not working to right this wrong?
We pretend to care deeply, but that’s not the case.
A friend served our country In the Vietnam War;
He’s now denied care because of what the rules are.
We cover the children of those that break our laws
But covering our heroes somehow gives us pause.
We can spend untold dollars on bombs, planes, and such;
When the fighting’s over, we don’t care very much.
The politicians keep feeding at our tax trough,
But those who risked their lives seem not much better off
Than those who waste their lives on wine and drugs, and song
How is it that we’re not working to right this wrong?
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Ribs Redux
The homemade wine that Millard made was actually quite good.
Deborah and Charlie partook with us as we waited on our food.
The first batch of pork ribs had been cremated on the grill
The second batch was perfect, and I surely ate my fill.
We sat around after dinner debating politics and such
The heat of the discussion was, at times, a bit much
But we enjoyed ourselves immensely, at any rate;
Charlie even thanked us for not becoming irate.
It was quite pleasant to have others cook for us
This was indeed a meal fit for the upper crust.
Deborah and Charlie partook with us as we waited on our food.
The first batch of pork ribs had been cremated on the grill
The second batch was perfect, and I surely ate my fill.
We sat around after dinner debating politics and such
The heat of the discussion was, at times, a bit much
But we enjoyed ourselves immensely, at any rate;
Charlie even thanked us for not becoming irate.
It was quite pleasant to have others cook for us
This was indeed a meal fit for the upper crust.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Ditch Diving
Richard has been ditch diving to clean out several years’ accumulation of leaves in the drainage culvert by the Ruritan building. He also volunteered to clean the Ruritan’s roach coach, which was apparently really roachy. Not many people get so much joy from helping others and doing dirty jobs, and not many are so willing to work so hard all alone.
He was all ready set out mid-day on Monday to begin these tasks when I reminded him that the garden still needed tilling, but getting the tiller started proved to be as problematic as starting the tractor had been. The tilling would have to wait until the repair shop completed the equipment repairs, so he was off to the Ruritan building.
He returned to the roach coach several times, stopping in at the house to consult with me with on cleaning methods and collecting equipment. Even after the cancellation of the event for which he was cleaning, the cleaning continued. He never accepts his “at-a-boy” until the job is complete. Unfortunately, the grill that he hoped to display as like-new is pitted, so he probably won’t even want to admit that he’s the one who created the cleanliness.
Richard and I have been learning enough about how back-breaking traditional crop-raising can be and how difficult it is to continue as we age. This has led us to many a discussion regarding alternative planting and growing methods. We had both been contemplating raised-beds, especially in light of the trouble getting Mamie’s fifty’s era tractor and ninety’s era tiller ready to roll.
When I went over to weed, I spied a book, The Ruth Stout No-Work Garden Book in Mamie’s kitchen. Pointing to the first chapter heading, “Throw Away Your Spade and Hoe,” I declared that the book seemed like a must-read to me. When I asked to borrow it, Mamie declared, “You read it and tell me what it says.” So I am reading it and telling her and Richard exactly what I’m gathering from it.
The author promises that heavy mulching will eliminate the need for composting, plowing, tilling and most weeding. This is similar to the “lasagna gardening” that Mountaintop Mary has mentioned.
Even though I often accuse Richard of never hearing a word I say (to which he replies, “Huh?”) he must have been listening. He informed me that the reason he volunteered to unclog the drainage ditch was that he figured the mostly composted leaves could enrich our garden soil.
Every day, for the last week, Richard has pulled his trailer to the Ruritan building with his now well-running Bronco II. Every day for the last week, he’s come home with the load of leaves to wait out the rain. Every day for the last week, he has gone over to the garden and neatly distributed the leaves on a previously plowed and harrowed patch.
Now Mamie has informed me that I really must move the butternut squash plants and might want to consider planting another stand of corn. What I thought was going to be a beginning of next year’s garden method is going to get its first run this summer.
Richard and I are both absolutely ecstatic about his leaf relocation program.
He was all ready set out mid-day on Monday to begin these tasks when I reminded him that the garden still needed tilling, but getting the tiller started proved to be as problematic as starting the tractor had been. The tilling would have to wait until the repair shop completed the equipment repairs, so he was off to the Ruritan building.
He returned to the roach coach several times, stopping in at the house to consult with me with on cleaning methods and collecting equipment. Even after the cancellation of the event for which he was cleaning, the cleaning continued. He never accepts his “at-a-boy” until the job is complete. Unfortunately, the grill that he hoped to display as like-new is pitted, so he probably won’t even want to admit that he’s the one who created the cleanliness.
Richard and I have been learning enough about how back-breaking traditional crop-raising can be and how difficult it is to continue as we age. This has led us to many a discussion regarding alternative planting and growing methods. We had both been contemplating raised-beds, especially in light of the trouble getting Mamie’s fifty’s era tractor and ninety’s era tiller ready to roll.
When I went over to weed, I spied a book, The Ruth Stout No-Work Garden Book in Mamie’s kitchen. Pointing to the first chapter heading, “Throw Away Your Spade and Hoe,” I declared that the book seemed like a must-read to me. When I asked to borrow it, Mamie declared, “You read it and tell me what it says.” So I am reading it and telling her and Richard exactly what I’m gathering from it.
The author promises that heavy mulching will eliminate the need for composting, plowing, tilling and most weeding. This is similar to the “lasagna gardening” that Mountaintop Mary has mentioned.
Even though I often accuse Richard of never hearing a word I say (to which he replies, “Huh?”) he must have been listening. He informed me that the reason he volunteered to unclog the drainage ditch was that he figured the mostly composted leaves could enrich our garden soil.
Every day, for the last week, Richard has pulled his trailer to the Ruritan building with his now well-running Bronco II. Every day for the last week, he’s come home with the load of leaves to wait out the rain. Every day for the last week, he has gone over to the garden and neatly distributed the leaves on a previously plowed and harrowed patch.
Now Mamie has informed me that I really must move the butternut squash plants and might want to consider planting another stand of corn. What I thought was going to be a beginning of next year’s garden method is going to get its first run this summer.
Richard and I are both absolutely ecstatic about his leaf relocation program.
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