Monday, May 31, 2021
Saturday, May 29, 2021
not once but twice this week
Not once but twice this week
A moment of surprise followed by dismay
The realization of an empty-headed mistake
Doing what used to be automatic
Something not packed I was sure I packed
Missing a credit card not handed back
Not in either case causing real trouble
Only the distress of an unforced error
Symptoms of decline if you ask me
But excusable if you want to dismiss it
As each happened at the end of a busy day
In the fog of fatigue that comes with age
And so I must learn to know my limits
As the extent of my abilities slowly contracts
Accepting the things I cannot change
Doing what I can to slow the progression
Knowing what is important
Letting go of the rest
Getting on in years gives perspective
Just when we need it most
Friday, May 28, 2021
unspoken thoughts
Wondering who was this man my uncle
In addition to his generous giving
Underneath his many good deeds
Furthering a measure of social justice
One-sided conversations with the dead
Questions not asked remain behind
Too personal to discuss when I could
Too late now for things I will never know
Thinking about him as a playful young boy
Growing up poor in backwoods New Hampshire
Learning his lessons in a two-room schoolhouse
No heat in the house except for a kitchen stove
I read the books I took later from that house
A glorified series The Boy Allies about fighting in WWI
But what I really want to know is all about
My uncle’s feelings in relationship with his father
His father who lost his hand in an accident
Working a sawmill summer job as a teenager
His father who excelled in appliance sales until the Depression
Left him trying to survive selling eggs in Lyme Center
His father who devised clever machinery to replace
What a one-handed chicken farmer could not do
His father who shot himself dead in despair
Leaving a ten-year old fatherless boy
I would ask my uncle about the shared similarities
With the girl he courted and married and adored all his life
My aunt whose father also killed himself as I learned later
A kind of shameful secret never talked about
Hidden like the unmentioned ghostly presence in their house
In a separate room for my aunt's mother who lived with them
Bereft and grieving motionless in endless silent sadness
Invisible behind the spirited noise of their five children
It matters to me because I myself lost my mother as a boy
And I dearly miss all the conversations we never had
But at my uncle's memorial service I did not speak of it
Being not the time or place to share such thoughts
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