Grinning In Gratitude

Feeling joy drives some folks mad:
Those who think their suffering
Saves them from being bad.
Don't they know that The Creator
Made us to be glad?

Some people think that being nasty
To all those around them
Makes them mature or classy.
When I'm around them,
I feel quite trashy.

Joy is our show of gratitude;
All it requires is change
In our overall attitude.
It's a way of looking at life,
Not a function of mood.

Pain Without Gain

My sisters and brothers are parts of my soul
Those born of my mother's flesh and
Those, too, who have chosen me.
There is no love without giving some of me,
A part never again to be fully my own.
There is no touch without the fusion
Of a part of you with a part of me.

I must build a shield before I go out,
Something to protect myself from pain.
I have slowly given away all of me;
And been infused with the poison of many.
I have depleted the wells of my loves;
They say to turn my face to heaven.
I fear that my plight on this earth is that:

I'll never be whole again.

Simply Sadness

So many false things are said about family,
Especially after a loved one is dead.
Is it because we are compelled to portray
Only that for which we most fervently wished?
Or is it because we have truly convinced
Ourselves that certain people have no faults?

Only one of my heroes was a perfect person;
At least that's what I was taught to believe.
His only weapons were love and words,
His heart's desire: eternal unity.
This does not seem the way with people of faith
Who continue to hate in the name of One God.

Sadly, there are many who demand that we
Bond with them in their hatred and fear,
Defining their allies by common disdain for "other"
Rather than seeking for something the same in all.
What may look like lack of forgiveness for wrong done me
May be simply sadness for what could never be.

I Wish I Could Miss My Mother

My mother has died at the age of eighty-four. I'll never know if her heart gave out from too many miles on her odometer or because it was so broken by her brazen brats, myself included.

My mother's religion was a religion of rules and rites; this was the most important thing in her life. All came second to that: her husband, her children, her happiness. It was her firm belief that her religion was God on earth, and that faithfulness to it was faithfulness to God. She could never celebrate the successes of herself, her children, or her marriage because this would have been prideful. She also seemed to feel firmly that suffering was necessary to salvation. She apparently felt joined with Jesus in her attempts to suffer for our sins in our stead. This left little space for loving us as we really are, much less liking us.

I suppose I could have tried to be more duplicitous in my relationship with my mother, but my face would have given away my falseness. My mother's religion required that she find fault with herself for poor mothering if she admitted to any approval of our doubts about the letters of her laws. It was an act of mercy to hide my faults from her, and the only way I could do this was to hide myself from her. We simply brought out the beast in each other.

My parents had a very troubled marriage. The sight of me brought back all of my mother's worst feelings about my father, both before and after his death. In my mother's eyes, the sins of the father were certainly carried by this daughter.

It is with great sadness that I admit that I will not miss my mother. There are many parts of me and of my siblings that come from her; these I can continue to celebrate or censure without mixed emotions. I feel liberated to finally get to know the men and women that my siblings have become.

How to Spend a Half Day

My niece, Marj and I are exploring;
Beginning with her hometown.
New Orleans is so interesting
Whether going up- or down-town.

We lunched in the Garden District,
Had coffee with my sister Michelle,
Drove out to the suburbs to supper
On Italian food and desserts, as well.

Tomorrow, we'll see plantation homes,
And perhaps a relation, or two
There's an almost endless array
Of local things to do.

Will Work for a Bed and Some Breakfast

Whenever I'm very afraid of something, I know that the only way to put my fears to rest is to understand that which I fear. This seems to be because I'm so afraid of being swallowed up by that which I don't comprehend.

If I can't see something, it increases my fear, hence my fear of living in the dark of the forest where I can hear all kinds of wild things, but have no way to see them. This also explains my general fear of all dark places. As long as something happens where I and others can see it, I believe I can conquer my fears with understanding a thing. Sometimes, I'm rather foolish in my willingness to place myself dead center in the middle of my fears to have a close-up vantage point from which to study them.

Richard, on the other hand, is very comfortable with the dark, and with wild four-legged animals that roam in the night. What he fears is the two-legged variety of wild thing, especially when they travel in loud packs. He and I have long had an unspoken agreement that he would protect me from things that go bump in the night, as long as I negotiated the crowds of fiery folks to make friends. He has now expressed an interest in my being more cautious about crowds of two-legged wild things.

I absolutely love the sights and sounds of the city, while he is partial to the peace of our place in the woods. What's a couple to do?

At this point, we're negotiating a compromise, driving back and forth from one home to the other. While it is expensive and rather frustrating, living from pillar to post, out of the back of our van, it beats living separate lives. While Richard wiles away his hours at the World War II Museum, helping refurbish a PT boat, I can "solve the problems of the world" with my soul mates, sisters, and various other family and friends. He also is the hero to the widows and orphans as he fixes minor household problems for them.

I always wanted us to spend our retirement years in a bus with cooking utensils and Richard's tool chest, with a sign on the side saying, "Will Work for Room and Board." (or "Will Work for a Bed and Some Breakfast") Maybe my dream is finally coming true. We may need to get our RV back on the road.

Paying Peace Forward

I am still pruning people off my family and friendship trees.
I don't need anyone else to bring me to my knees.
With shame or feelings of little self-worth.
I'm simplifying my path on this earth.

There are too many who are still wanting to grow
For me to waste resources on those that put on a show
Of valuing the gifts that we've been sharing,
But in paying it forward, they've been very sparing.

We wonder where family values went;
This is a common old folks' lament.
But they still lobby for all that they're owed;
No matter that the young folks are carrying our load.

There are few grandparents available today
To keep working families from beginning to fray.
Not one of us made it without the help of others.
Would it hurt us to reach out to young fathers and mothers?

Can you spare a few moments for a colicky baby
Before her parents simply go crazy?
What about mopping a young mother's floor
Before her depression sends her husband out the door?

Are we so afraid to face our past pain
That we can't stand to be vulnerable again
To the gut-wrenching hurt of a baby's cry
When the mother feels that she wants to die?

I wish there was a network of grannies,
Uncles, aunts, grandpas and nannies
Who would be on call at a moment's notice
To restore hurting families back to some peace.