Midtown Magic

I experienced midtown magic in my trip to New Orleans,
Where the people are so real and the trees are evergreen.
This is the essence of New Orleans that I so dearly love,
The one of my childhood, before the working class got shoved:
Moved into to the suburbs and the city's periphery,
With the promise of housing that would be rent free.
They moved to secure their piece of the American dream,
Never realizing this was a political and corporate scheme.

With the advent of a new city caused by a hurricane,
The essence of the working class, in midtown remains.
There are divas dressed to die for still meeting for lunch,
With shoe polish black hair and hair as pink as punch.
There are old time politicos whose children now rule,
Hoping for anonymity as they set on their bar stools.
The smell of sweet olive trees may not permeate,
But the shade of the lives oaks is still something to celebrate.

The friend that I met for lunch certainly spoke to my soul
When she shared that in the Bible Belt she didn't feel quite whole.
She shared that her child had asked her about the people who were left out
Of the fundamentalist beliefs that Bible preachers love to shout.
She said that she and her husband, a moral Jewish man,
Were seen as not equal parts of the Christian salvation plan.
New Orleans has always been a center of spiritual openness
And the mistakes in relationships, the people are quick to confess.

I cannot think of a better way to live until I die
Than celebrating we're all human, as long as we continue to try.
We are very outspoken about where our boundaries really are,
So that those at our same parties won't rain on our cigars.
We understand that those around us may be on different paths,
And we have the choice to wait for them or to take a pass.
All I ask is that those who say they love me work with who I am
Instead of trying to convince me I was a mistake in their god's plan.

Pets and Safe Bets

I sit and watch out my window how people treat their pets;
This vicarious viewing of other people's lives gives me no regrets.
I think it is good training to have pets before you have kids
This probably would have been better than the way my first husband and I did.
I had always thought that pets could take care of themselves,
Like the stuffed animals that many kept upon their shelves.
The father of my children thought pets should be kept outside
To only be paid any attention if something made them cry.
We were quite the pair to bring children into the world:
A boisterous little boy and a sweet, sensitive baby girl.

It is a source of constant amazement that humans continue to survive
With all the efforts we make sabotaging that for which we say we strive.
Chickens, cows, and horses have more attention paid to breeding
Than those in whom we are, our own genetics, repeating.
There is an accepted adage in lesser animal husbandry
That the offspring will only thrive if the mother is stress free.
Yet we continue to allow breeding women to be abused by their mates
As if this has no effect on their gestating children's fates.
If people can't be bothered to train and care for their helpless pets,
Their children becoming something other than wild animals is not a safe bet.

Goodness Gracious Grandmas

Nobody ever asked in our family, "What do you want to be?"
But as an adult I knew what I wanted was to be a granny.
We sat at the feet and worshiped our grandma in her chair,
And talking back was something that I would never dare.
My daddy, her husband, and my uncle made great fun of her emotions,
But she enjoyed the luxury of my mother's complete devotion.

We had another grandma who came over to help with us kids,
But she was treated as "domestic help" for all the work she did.
This was not a place of honor in our completely chaotic home;
I was able to understand why this widow chose to live alone.
I've spent my granny years vacillating between the two;
I wasn't sure which of their shows of love was more true.

My deceased sister said it was the love of the grandma who came to us,
But our other grandma, over her grand kids, made a bigger fuss.
I do know that as a youngster, I drove them both quite wild
I was never a "sit silently worshiping" kind of child.
It is so strange to me to now come to realize
How much I do like these two women by whom I thought I was despised.

Granny Games

Wow! What a weekend I had at my son's home!
I'd like to never again spend a weekend alone.
I showed my granddaughter and one of her friends,
A favorite game of my sister's twins.
Then granddaughter and I taught her friend a board game;
Rummikub will probably never be the same.
There's no such thing as peace and quiet;
When these two girls are together, it sounds like a riot.

My daughter-in-law joined us in playing games,
And my son, as usual, kept us quite entertained.
My grandson came home with a lacrosse team mate,
And into his boy cave they went to hibernate.
When my son got skunked in trawling for shrimp
Down to the street shrimp vendor he went.
Oh, the pure bliss of a gulf shrimp boil!
Eating like this has me quite spoiled.

On our song book we began the printing process
With our favorite songs we sing before we rest.
"The Lord is My True Shepherd" is something I sing
For the comfort to the children it seems to bring.
We went to bed and snuggled and read a silly book
About six fishermen with no good sense or good looks.
And then I scratched her back so very softly
And crooned to her til she was feeling sleepy.

Sunday came with joyful anticipation
Of Richard joining our family celebration.
My son and his wife went to the Saints game,
So to their house, kids, and kitchen I laid claim.
The boys asked for pancakes, eggs, and bacon;
We had all the kitchen counters shaking.
I made them sit at the counter so I could see them
I won't feed anybody who won't give my labors attention.

As Richard made his arrival, so did our niece
With her two baby boys, so my joy was increased.
My granddaughter's chocolate cookie cake
Was out of the oven for all to partake.
Richard had the counters almost rocking
With all his precise seasoning chopping.
Richard taught meatball rolling to our little cook;
Then she made the baby boys their own coloring book.

By this time we had four teenage athletes in the kitchen,
Coming through and on each trip snitching
A bit of chocolate cookie or a meatball or two.
Our meatballs were diminished by more than a few.
By the time the weekend warriors returned from their games
The pot of sauce was ready with the meatballs that remained.
More board games, some TV, and singing of our bedtime songs,
This is the kind of family life where this granny belongs.

Granddaughter Day

I'm going to see my granddaughter;
I'm so excited I can hardly say.
This is one of my favorite
Ways to spend a Saturday.
This one loves to be snuggled,
With covers "strapping" her up.

She also likes to cook with me
To create that on which we'll sup.
Her neighborhood friends may join us
In our little cooking school.
I'd love for her brother to join us,
But he doesn't, as a rule.

We plan to make a book
Of all my favorite songs
Then, when I sing to her,
She can joyfully sing along.
I don't know what she's planning
For tonight's entree.

She loves to make lasagna,
But for something else I pray.
We plan to bake a cookie cake,
Chocolate, this time, she says.
And when she goes to sleep tonight,
I'll scratch her back and sing our prayers.

Watching Others Work

It is such a luxury to watch others work;
In rental condo living, it's a definite perk
Richard comes home; we relax and play games;
He doesn't face problems with nobody to blame.
Our dog lived outside; so did our cat.
He didn't blame me; don't worry about that.
But the stress when one has nobody to kick,
And the tension at home can get a bit thick.

He's at the point in life where he deserves some leisure,
And extremes of temperature almost give him a seizure.
He works in a museum all day, in climate control,
Where camaraderie and service are his primary goals.
It's nice that he has no household responsibilities
When he has the leisure time to spend with me.
He still likes to think that he's a pioneer man,
So we'll let him upkeep our mountain cabin as long as he can.

Lasagna on the Loose

I would know that I was rich enough if when I create a catastrophe,
The person left to clean it up would not be little old me.
The grown daughter of a best friend came over for her favorite food
I baked chocolate cookies and lasagna, being sure they were extra good.
Because she was in a hurry, in the excitement of seeing her after so long
I forgot to support the lasagna pan, boy did this turn out wrong!
The beautiful baked lasagna wound up in a puddle on the oven floor
We had to scrape it together and serve it; there was no time to bake more.
It tasted really delicious but its good looks were omitted
Now the bottom of my oven looks like someone vomited.
Where is a cleaning fairy when a bomb goes off in the oven?
And my Richard is not here, his helping hands to lend.
It's time to stop putting it off and roll up my sleeves to clean;
I'll reward myself with lunch out with a homemaking queen.