Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, 2o14 WK o4

Wednesday, December 24, 2o14

It was interesting to see the morning. David and I were out our respective doors by 1o:15 AM. Most times we both aren't awake before noon. But today was special, being Christmas Eve and all. I was pleasantly shocked by David's declaration as we drove down Boyd St. that we were headed for the Sooner Fashion Mall. I love the mall at Christmas time. All the people scurrying around on Christmas Eve to get that last present. And the mall today didn't disappoint. So many people, young and older running around from store to store. A few people were riding to the shops on big, fluffy mechanical dogs! Big rental. The automaton was big enough for a grown person and a kid to ride on it's back . . . for 25 cents a turn. AND there was a genuine Santa Claus, real salt and pepper beard, real red suit, not that cheap, fake velvet stuff. AND for X amount of dollars you could get your kid's pic taken with him on his very realistic throne! Great fun.

We had to stop at Walmart which was even more busy than the mall. People were moody, angry, running round more like combat soldiers than jolly, holiday shoppers! I was walking up to this register and this woman pushed me out of the way to get to the groceries she had on the conveyer belt in front of me. I found myself getting "angry." It's really way easy to buy into the negative energy of other  people. BUT, no, it was Christmas Eve, Damn it! I was going to stay positive. So, I smiled at her and said, "Merry Christmas." She glared at me with devil eyes . . . and said nothing.

I wrote this Christmas time poem for a challenge on Facebook:

Christmas Time in Oklahoma

 

My sister loves the snow.

 

Disappointed she is
when Christmas rolls around

and all we get in Oklahoma
is black ice roads and a stiff wind
that makes the neighbor’s cat
curl up alongside the engine block
of my sister’s beat-up old Chevy.

 

Two cats have passed on this year

due to frigid weather and my sister’s
need to get to work early in the morning.

 

But the snow my sister loves

at Christmas time. It has a way
of making even the most dreadful day,
a day filled with cat funerals
and weeping child mourners
seem somehow cheery.
rrw 12-12-14

Thursday, December 25, 2o14
So, how was your Christmas day? Went over to David's apartment complex, Bishop's Landing and did laundry. Watched the ducks from the Duck Pond swim around in David's  pool. When a wind picked up, there was a flock of mallards that gathered on the north side of the yellowed lawn using the apartments' façade as a windbreak. 

I used to live in Bishop's Landing back in the nineties. Was nicer then. Now the managers have let it all go to hell. Lots of damage to the buildings, swimming pool . . . well, the pool hasn't been open for at least a year, hence the ducks claiming it as their own. Laundry room sucks too. No folding tables, NO hot water! What the hell, man? I think I've talked David into going to one of the laundry mats in town next time we feel like doing laundry! {smile}

So, it wasn't a "traditional" Christmas for me or David. I don't mind. Pretty much I think David feels the same. I did write a Christmas poem for this year. It has been a very "active" year's end! Disturbing a lot of it. Frightening, very frightening at times. But we are alive, are we not? Don't we experience life most when we have struggles to over come? Anyway, here's the poem:

Dreaming Christmas

I’m barefoot for some reason, yet not walking fast.

A slow, steady pace, in a bewildering state, yes,
I roam through the frost bitten streets.
Thin patches of snow litter the ground,
no sounds, no morning birds fluttering around,
or carrying on in the bare naked boughs.

 

I’m wondering and wondering as I wander along

why am I here, why’s this dream taking so long
and why am I not cold, no, not too cold at all
just pleasantly cool, cool as a breeze,
a summery breeze . . . ?

 

Then out of the sky through the chimneys’ black soot  

Kim Jong-un glides towards me on a red parachute
as Seth and Jim in their souped-up Eldorado GM
come roaring along:

 

“Hey guys,” they shout, “what’s going on?”

 

I’m thinking they must be high.

But I say nothing, and Jong-un just sighs.

A shockingly brash air-conditioner sound
breaks the awkward silence with a grand,
angry cry of a high school marching band.

 

“This will not stand!”

cries the woodwind section.

 

“This will not stand!”

moans a lone trombone.

 

“This will not stand!”

is the drum’s thunderous reaction.

 

And with a jolly “Ho, ho, ho!”

Santa himself magically appears
tossing chocolate reindeers
into the crisp winter air.

 

And for some unknown reason

I start to cry and Jong-un too
he starts to cry, and  Seth and Jimmy
and Santa and that lone trombone
start weeping Christmas song tears
as we stand here hugging each other.

 

“I’m sorry," cries Santa.

“I’m sorry,” laughs Jimmy and Seth,
“I’m sorry," I whimper under my breath,
“미안해요,” Kim Jon-un said, a catch in his throat.

 

And like that, I awoke.
I ran to the window and said to the boy on the street below,

Young man, young man is it still Christmas day?”
“No,” said the boy, “it’s the middle of May!”
rrw 12-25-14
 

 

The Daily (W)Rite December 2o14 Wk o3

The Daily(W)Rite

wk o3

Monday 11:45 PM

 

I can't seem to go out on the weekend without getting sick. I was fine Friday night at ART WALK even though it was a bit cold outside. But as soon as I got up on Saturday morning I started feeling a little feverish. But I went out again in the cold and Sunday and today . . . UGH! I caught some kind of could cold, I think.

The picture above I shot at ART WALK. We walked into this gallery and BAM! There was this living art expos (four scantily clad young women in rather strange, primitive hairdos)  in the center of the floor! It was really grand. Lots of people were taking pics, so I just jump right in there. See the girl in the back, right hand side? She just really caught my eye. That's her in the picture above, hair comb down to cover her eyes! It was fantastically beautiful. Turns out the girls were a promotion for a new hair salon in Norman town.

My best friend from my Marine Corps days went in the hospital last week for abdominal surgery. I called him everyday . . . well, not true . . . almost everyday. He was really in bad shape when he got out of the surgery, which took four hours to perform. I was worried about him, yeah. We've been good friends since 1969.

I don't have a ton of things to say tonight. But I wanted to write something. I'm trying to get out of this staying up all night and sleeping all day routine. I want to be a day person again, walk around with the living for a while. I really need to get back to writing that poetry book I'm always talking about. Why? Because after all this heart checkup nonsense, and David being so ill that he can barely get out of bed, AND my good friend Moe being in the hospital for a week? I guess, I'm feeling my fragile mortality. I don't think I've got much time to be lazy about my writing. I have been writing a bit lately. Here's a new one. I think it may be good enough for the book of poetry I plan to create. Well, maybe after a few more rewrites.

Hawk and Sunlight

 

I can barely make you out. This Oklahoma sun

transforms your shape into a bright yellow shadow
floating across a sea of burnt grass.

 

I love watching the blur of your hips

as they bounce up and down
beneath the protective shield
of your cotton umbrella sail
that dances with your hair
in the warm summer breeze.

 

I also love the way you abruptly stop,

urn your head towards me and smile.

 

“What are you doing back there?”

 

Tiny dust devils blossom around my shoes

as I rush to catch up with you.

 

And I love talking to you about this and that

steering away from conversations concerning
the weather, the goings on in Ferguson, New York,
or those other terrible places that seem
so far away from where we are right now.

 

Yes, we can talk about important things some other time.

But not today? Not in this miserable heat
that makes your eyes glisten like rain drops,
makes my head ache and wish I had worn a hat.

 

For now let’s gossip a bit about that black hawk

silently gliding across the harsh sky
right above our heads. You can see him
if you shade your eyes with your hand.
Yes, let’s talk about him.
rrw 12-o5-14

Wednesday, December 17, 2o14

Guess what I got today? A Christmas card from Kimm! NO, not an "E-card," not a "Tweet," an actual Peter Paper Press, Inc. Christmas card sent through the regular U.S. mail! Had a stamp on it and everything! It's the first card I've gotten this year. Hmmm, come to think of it, it will probably be the only card I'll get this year {sad face}.  So, I went out To The WALL mart and  bought an even better card to send to Kimm. Why am I like that? Someone gives me a something and I just gotta reciprocate with a card that cost more? I'm a strange sort of person.

For the last two years, ever since I moved into this apartment, I've been taking pictures of the sky at sunset through my east window. Sometimes I go out on the front porch and click a few off. I'm getting some great shots, and every day it's the same two locations, either in the direction of the Facilities Maintenance Building or the Energy Center. The one on the left is the Energy Center. And man, each shot, each day is a different set of cloud formations. I'm thinking of trying to make a book of them.
If you want to see more, go to my Facebook page: 
https://www.facebook.com/robert.woods.35728/media_set?set=a.10152679233842394.1073741839.707757393&type=3

Sunday, December 21, 2o14
 

Well, here it is the last day in this third week of December. Yes, Christmas breathing down my neck. Not much to say about Christmas. Each year I get farther and farther away from celebrating it in any traditional way. Yes, family pretty much nonexistent. Father, mother, brother all dead. Do have one original sister and a half sis from my mom's second marriage, but sister number two lives in Cali. and me and my older sister . . . well, we've parted ways. I know, I should reconcile with her . . . but I don't think that's going to happen. My family now? You know, it's my friends. Really, it's just one friend, David. And he's a good friend too. I'm not going to write anymore tonight because I gotta feeling I'll just wind-up depressed. I'll leave you with the poem I wrote for Christmas:

 

December When

When the snow has come to nest

in giant drifts above my head,

when the wind blows softly

through the naked boughs

of the winter weary trees,

when the singers sing

along the snowy streets

those gentle songs of birth,

those jolly songs of

goodwill upon the earth,

when he arrives in his

rickety old sleigh drawn by

eight giant deer, I will not hear it.

I will not know.  And though this surely is

a special time of year, when it comes?

I’ll find no pleasure in the stories,

in the glories marking this most pleasant day

because, my friend ,your bold and

strident comments will be mute, your shadow

will be gone, your off pitch voice will not insult

another human’s ears. And I fear, in time,

I too will forget that you were ever here.

rrw 12-18-14

 

The Daily (W)Rite December 2 wk

I had an appointment with a heart specialist today. I was surprised that my primary sent me over. I never knew I had a heart. I'm sure that a few of my exes will back me up on that last statement . . .

Thursday

Actually, it started a couple of weeks ago when I got a new primary care provider. She insisted on a routine exam done in her office. Okay, it was free, no big thing. So, we do the test and I come back in a week later for the results: I have COPD (knew that coming in), cholesterol is a bit high (knew that too), and there appears to be a strange "blip" in my heart beat. Okay, so that's something new. Never had any doctor at any time in my life ever say a thing about problems with my heart. But again no biggie. She sets me up with a trip to a heart specialist.

The place I go to hook-up with the heart doctor is in this big sci-fi looking building. Lots of doors inside and a lot of "old folks" in, I'm thinking, because of heart stuff. "Robert Woods?" "Yeah, that's me."

The nurse looks like a Nurse Ratchet type but she's nice enough to me so I don't tell her that. She asks a lot of question about getting dizzy, feeling tired and I keep saying, "yeah" and it dawns on me that this might actually be serious. It spooked me a bit. So, to calm my growing concern, I asked the nurse, "How'd you get into the heart business?" She smiled like a girl remembering her first kiss, "You know, I was assisting this open heart surgery for the first time, and there was this big, beautiful heart inside this man's open chest (I think she almost cried here), well, I fell in love and wound up here with the best heart surgeon ever." With that confession she left the room, left me there thinking I just heard the most beautiful story ever . . . or one of the creepiest stories . . . ever!

Another nurse came in and asked pretty much the same questions. This one was definitely Nurse Ratchet. Every attempt I made to "lighten" the situation was met with a stone-faced, professional grimace.

Ratchet: You drink coffee?
Me: Yeah, lots of coffee.
Ratchet: Hmmm, five cups a day?
Me: Oh, more like two pots a day.
Ratchet: Holy CRAP! That's a lot of coffee!

Ratchet leaves telling me that the doctor is doing a surgery and he'll come see me when he's done. I refrain from say, "Make sure he washes his hands." Not sure Ratchet would appreciate the humor.

Then the doctor comes in, a little guy with some kind of foreign accent, and pretty much says the same things I had just told to two different nurses . . .  and saying them as if he had come up with the answers all by himself. And then he sets me up for some sort of test on the 29th and . . .  out the door he sped.

It wasn't till David drove me home and I got into the apartment that I realized that . . . there might be something seriously wrong with me. I know, it's too early to worry about it . . . but once the seed is planted the thoughts start growing on their own. What if I'm deathly ill? What if  I have to have some kind of heart surgery (I then broke into a daydream about nurse #1 standing over my open chest and smiling at my beautiful, old heart--), How would I pay for a heart transplant? Well, I woke up this morning with the thought of my mortality weighing heavily on my mind and wrote this on Facebook:

Okay, so here's the plan:
1. get up every morning and bike ride for a half hour.
2. Eat breakfast.
3. Cut back on coffee intake.
4. Eat better.
5. Start writing that damn book of poetry . . . damn it.
6. Make more friends.
7. Be kinder to the friends I already have.
8. Find out who my enemies are: send them Christmas and B-day cards.
9. Keep reading science books so IF I ever get the chance to debate Neil deGrasse Tyson I can kick his ass.
10. Keep working towards "spiritual enlightenment."

That should cover what time I have left on this plane of existence.

Saturday, December 13, 2014

So, yesterday I had to go back o the doctor's for ultrasound, and or the first time in my life I had the chance to see my heart! Well, okay, a ultrasound simulation of my heart, but still my heart. The image wasn't as sharp as the techy would have liked, years of smoking had scared my lungs so much that a fine, smog like film covered the view, but he said it would work . . . okay.

It turned out to be a very long day for me and David. After the doctor appointment (David had one too for the cold he can't seem to shake off), we both went home to prepare for ART WALK. I admit I did doze off a bit, but never actually fell asleep! I don't want to leap all day and wind-up staying up all night anymore. I want to join the living who wake at six AM and get out the door to do . . . something by eight! Okay, not quite there yet but getting closer.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

Friday night Art Walk. A bit of mild winter breeze forcing people into winter coats, stocking caps and gloves; a fine mist of fog clinging to the stoplights, an the mild glare of the passing cars' low beams, makes Main St. look more like Hogsmeade than Norman Town, Oklahoma.

David and me got a chance to finally meet Kathy's husband, Chris, who's just the most remarkable guy. He's a independent "art" musician who has lived a big chunk of his life in New York City. How's he taking to living in Norman Town? Pretty well, I'd say. Being introduced to Norman Town on 2nd Friday Art Walk really shows off our small towns artistic side. He seems to like it.

There was so much going on, on this Main St. Friday night. People were everywhere on the streets, laughing joking, greeting everyone with a friendly "Hi!" a wonderfully happy night. I'm guessing the Norman Arts Council decided to celebrate Christmas early because Santa and Frosty was out in force on the streets and in the shops.

The whole night reminded my why I'm so in love with this "little" town. It also reminds me why I grimace when I see home changing, becoming more "corporate" and less the "Mom & Pop" oriented businesses I remember back in the 70s and 80s. But that's the way life is, it continues to change and we adapt those changes to meet our needs as a community.

Anyway, a very fun night, and this is the last post for this 2nd week in December. I hope my few readers will hang in with me as I try in the weeks left to capture the feel of Norman Town during Christmas time.

 

 

The Daily (W)Rite November WK 4

The Daily (W)Rite

wk o4

Sunday

 

I just had to laugh and get a picture of this sign on The Earth's front door. What is "The Earth" you may ask, and I might answer your question with  something like: "The Earth is one of those health food stores with lots of exotic vitamins, "organically" grown food (I think), a bakery, hot "organically" grown coffee (probably not), and,oh, yeah, it's also a restaurant of some kind. It must be sort of like my mom's kitchen . . . if you cut out all the bad things mother use to put in our food to make it taste . . . good."{smile}

Okay, I'm taking a break from my wicked thoughts to concentrate on the earthquake I'm experiencing . . . Phew! Glad that's over. I'm telling you, I have experienced more earthquakes in the three years I've been back in Oklahoma than I ever experienced in the twenty-five years I lived in L.A. Okay, the quakes are taking a break. Back to my original story:

Forget what I said above about The Earth being sort of pretentious. I was just trying to be funny. It's actually a very nice, homey sort of breakfast/lunch place, and the food IS really great. But as I said above, I did have a good laugh at the door sign:{heart}Please, NO SMOKING W/in 100 feet of The Earth {heart}

I admit it. I was confused for a second. Was the sign talking about The Earth restaurant/organic grocery store, or did the sign pertain to THE Earth! If it was the former they were talking about, I can understand the concern and have no qualms about abiding by the owner's wishes. However, if they meant (and remember this is a nature loving, free Willie, type of place so this isn't that big a stretch) the latter . . .  well, I have a few question about that.

1. Do you mean if I want to smoke I have to hover 100 feet OFF the ground to do it?
2. Or do you mean by "THE Earth," you meant that also includes THE Earth's breathable atmosphere?
3. Are you saying that the only place I can smoke (in your opinion) is in outer space?{heart}

I don't smoke anymore. But I did find this sign a bit funny and a bit pompous. I know, how bad smoking is for the smoker AND the nonsmoker. However, it's not against the law to buy cigarettes, why should it be against the law to "smoke 'em if you got 'em"?{heart}

 

 

 

 

The Daily (W)Rite November WK 3

The Daily (W)Rite wk o3

Sunday, 3:o2 AM

As is usual for David and I, we went to 2nd Friday Art Walk in Norman, Oklahoma. Wasn't sure we would make it because of how cold it was. Being old seems to not mix well with freezing weather. As a matter of geriatric fact, the hot Oklahoma summer ain't our best friend either. Anyway, we were able to spend a few hours on Main St. looking at the art. I took a few pics of some paintings and what not in the main gallery. I got a pretty neat one of David and an unusual art piece on display. I posted it on the Book of Face and here, of course.

When we walked in the first person we ran into was this woman who I had an obsession with back in the day. She came up to David and started talking, saying something like, "Why do we keep bumping into each other? It makes Woodie very uncomfortable." I rolled my eyes and told David I was going "over there." I don't know why I can't forget shit that happened a long time ago. I just have always carried  grudges for longer than is necessary. I mean, I don't have feelings for this woman anymore . . . I think. I guess I just don't like her. I know. Not very good for my karma to just not like somebody. I am working on that fault in my "character." {SMILE}

I love taking pictures at night. It's challenging to get shots without using a flash. But I think I figured out how to do it. First you gotta get the settings on the camera just right, the shutter and ISO speeds. Then you have to make sure that when you're shooting outside on the dark streets that you wait for the subject to come into the pools of light created by the street lamps and/or the light spilling out of the shop window. This one, on the left, is one of the best shots I got on Friday night. There's another one I shot that uses the darkness even more that this one, and that is the tricky part. It's not just lighting that you have to be aware of. You need to use the darkness too, 

to create some ambiance. Hee! Yeah, I like that word, "ambiance." It is, however, somewhat too fancy for me to be using. This one (again, on the left) IS my favorite shot of the night. It was a real lucky shot. I did do some editing to it, but that's also a part of the fun, working with an editing program to fix the little problems that develop when shooting in lowlight. After a half hour of walking around on Main St., my hands started to ache from the cold. I could tell by David's breathing that he too was ready to call it a night. So, we did.

12:30 PM

The first snow of the season arrived early this morning. No fanfare, no blast of artic air to signal its arrival just a thin coat of white greeting me when I finally woke up and raised the blinds. It was a surprise. A pleasant surprise. I may have actually smiled when I saw it. Not that I love snow or the cold weather that accompanies it. I don't like the cold at all. It was just-- I woke up in such a sad state of depression . . .and then to open the blinds and having that little bit of white staring at me
. . . for a moment, a very brief  moment. . . I felt . . . happy? Well, let's not get carried away. I wouldn't know "happy" even if it came up and bite me on the nose! Let's just say I didn't feel quite as depressed as I normally am when I first get up, when I crawl out of sleep and into this uncomfortable reality. I may have smiled a bit but nothing more.

The snow is still falling. Again, not raging in any way, just falling, drifting, swirling gently to the ground, and onto the slanted roof that covers the front porch of my apartment building. Those snowflakes that are unfortunate enough to land in street are instantly disintegrated, reincarnated into water, into a mishmash of rain puddles. I feel sorry for them, I truly do. Very little time on this Earth did they have before they changed into something lesser than a snowflake. Don't get me wrong. I love rain. Many of my favorite days are rainy days. But let's face the harsh truth. There's something regal, refined, elegant about snow. Whereas rain? More working class, rain is. Yes, rain is sturdier, more utilitarian, more earthly than heavenly. Rain is something you make love in . . . snow you snuggle up with (and perhaps gently kiss) the one you love as you both watch it fall majestically to the ground. Yes, rain is useful, and snow is pretty to look at. I play my blues albums when it rains. But when it snows . . . a Christmas carol seems more appropriate.

Wednesday, November 19, 2o14

In October I went to Walgreens Pharmacy and received my annual flu shot. Early November had my first appointment with my new primary doctor, Shelby Lucas, MHS, PA-C, for an old person checkup and she talked me into getting a pneumonia shot, and a week later I came down with this horrible head cold! :aid me out really hard. Been in bed for the last two days! I am finally getting over it, but it surely hammered away at my sinuses, and I was coughing all night. When I was able to sleep for twenty minutes or so I would continue to cough in my dreams! It was a mess. I've always taken wellness for granted . . . until I catch something, or break an arm, or just feel lethargic . . . walking around like one of those three-toed sloths.

I'm looking for something to inspire me to write. Yes, lately I've been NOT creative. I found this book "on-the-line" that piqued my interest, About Time: Cosmology and Culture at the Twilight of the Big Bang by Adam Frank. I mentioned to David that I was interested in finding About Time . . . and one week later he hands me a copy of it. He got "on-the-line" and bought it for me. He does that a lot. Anyway, I just started reading it today, and already it's inspiring me. Time! Lots of poetry to be written about time.







 

The Daily (W)Rite November WK 2

 

 

Sunday, 2:o5 PM

You know, I'm thinking that I procrastinate on the writing "everyday" because I'm afraid that I won't write something worth the readers time. Damn! I break my own rule! Artists shouldn't spend much time worrying about whether people are going to appreciate their work! They showed be singularly focused on the work right here in the fingertips and not the frigging outcome! The work will be whatever it will be and people will judge it based on whoever is viewing it at any given time! Sorry, I just watched Interstellar this weekend and a got all this Quantum Theory mumbo-jumbo freefalling through my brain cells . . .  or are they STRINGS of consciousness? Hee!

Went out the other night and took a few "night shots" around The Corner. That's one up there above. I love taking candid pictures of people as we walk or drive around Norman Town. Is that creepy? I don't feel creepy doing it . . .well, no more creepy than I usually feel. I don't like asking someone if I can take their picture because then you get this forced smile and stiff pose. Not all the time, though.

Sometimes you just need to say, Give me some "TUDE" and you get all kinds of crazy, wonderful stuff like this shot to your left (no, your other LEFT! Hee!) that I took up in Tulsa during their First Friday Art Walk.

Let's be honest. When folks are just walking around town they usually have that Zombie/noncommittal look on the face as if they weren't really present, as if the mind had left their bodies and their bodies are functioning on autopilot. People! When you are walking down the street, be present . . .  IN your body! Explore the world of sidewalks and trees and store fronts and weird, little old men snapping pictures of you! Get off your cellphone, take the iPod ( or whatever that damn thing is) out of your ears and HEAR the world you are presently in! Smell it, taste it on your breath . . . just be in it!

Okay, enough of my sermonizing for today. maybe I'll write a little more later on. I hope I do, and I hope you do too! {SMILE}

Tuesday, November 11, 2o14

Well, both my Marine Corps birthday and Veterans Day snuck up on me. Fortunately, my Facebook friends were on point and made sure I "woke up" to both occasions. Particularly, the Marine Corps Facebook page gave me the heads up on its birthday celebration!

I believe it's important to remember certain things especially those events that have had a hand in shaping your life. Whether it is for the better or not, being in the Marine Corps and going to Vietnam has a lot to do with who I am as a person and an artist.

So, David showed me a website last night that had all the restaurants in Norman town that offered "FREE MEALS FOR VETERANS." "You want to go?" David asked. My response, "HELL YEAH!" Because there were so many local eateries that were offering free food to vets, I thought it would be a great idea if we hit as many as we could! I mean, just start eating at every location until . . . well, until we couldn't eat no more. But on second thought . . . that would sort of be like cheating, you know?

But where to go for lunch and get the best "free" deal we could. David had his heart set on attacking Zoe's Kitchen . . . but we couldn't find it! What to do? David got on his cell phone while he was driving. He dialed the number to Red Robin's (Yum!) and tried to hand me the phone. "What the hell you want me to do with that?" "Talk to the person at RR's and ask what they are giving the vets to eat!" "Don't hand me that damn phone! You know I don't know how to use it." With a sigh, David pressed send and talked to RR's. Nope, no good. All Red Robin's (Yum!) was offering was one kind of burger! What the hell, man? One kind of burger?! What? Am I in Russia? Much better was the selection at Applebee's. Four different meals you could choose from! David got a steak and I got some shrimp!

The cool thing was that there were so many vets at Applebee's, and most of them were old (like me and David)Vietnam guys. There was, however, one really old, old guy who I'm guessing was WWII, and there was at least one guy who looked more like an Iraq vet. The manager, the wait-people were all very nice to us and . . . hell, it was just a fun thing, you know? But more than that, it was time to say thanks to the men and women who sacrificed a lot for their country.

I don't usually put poetry on this blog. However, I did write this poem about my Vietnam experience that seems appropriate:

My Cream Colored Psychedelic Flashback

tumble dried in memories

flashing back to
acid coated tracers
tracking jungle-booted steps
across a stoned-hinge reality...

                                                *"It's getting near dawn..."

Cream's psychedelic shadow

crackling over a portable radio...
blue stained skies draped
in a white cloud cloaks...
rumbling thunder spouting
black diesel smoke...

                                              "When lights close their tired eyes..."

faces green with camouflage,

burnt suntan brown beneath
flak jackets, stale breath
and bubblegum...
way, way back
when we were young,
dumb and full of
deadly dreams...

                                              "I'll soon be with you my love..."

rolling along Highway Nine

adrenaline rush bouncing
up and down my fragile spine
in the bed of a Marine green 12X...
Big Daddy G behind me
with his salty slight of hand
magically fires-up his dovetailed joint
against a sandpaper wind...
suck it down, brother, pass it around...
hitting on heaven in my cupped hand
and... it's one small toke for man,
two giant tokes for mankind and...
suddenly...

                                              "To give you my dawn surprise..."

48 hours earlier

stranded at LAX,
tongue-tied to each other,
my fingers tangled deep
in your blond hair,
the soft flesh of your arms
surrounds me...
a second skin...
never wanting to let go...
your kiss tattooed
upon my lips,
your gentle whisper
in my ear,
"I love you... forever...!"

                                              "I'll be with you darling soon..."

lock and load!

click, click, click!
every swinging Rickie pops
a fresh clip into his M-16,
feeling lean, feeling mean...
the sun drilling tiny holes
through the top of my helmet,
the dust thicker
as the convoy slithers
out of Saigon
like a metal python...

                                              " I'll be with you when the stars start falling..."

as the city gives way

the jungle green and dark
blossoms before us like
an open wound...
the convoy picks up speed
didi mauing like a mother...
lush rice paddies,
napalm skittish mama sans
knee high in mud
nothing but a black pajama blur...
old grunts in ratty utilities,
head tripping glances
over their shoulders
listening with their dead eyes
scrutinizing every tree,
every movement, every sound...
and all us gung-ho
bastard sons of John Wayne,
all us boot camp Jolly Green Giants...
gearing up for war...
ho, ho, ho! rock and roll
screaming in my head, that
pounding rhythm frees my soul
as we disappear into a cold,
gray-hearted darkness...

                                              "I've been waiting so long..."

13 months after...I

waltz out of the jungle...

                                              " I've been waiting so long..."

back in the world

dragging a sea bag of dying
thought behind me...

                                               "I've been waiting so long..."

back at the airport

where I left her,
listening...
to the suffocated echo
of those last words
she ever said to me,
"I love you... forever...!"

                                              "To be where I'm going..."

knowing all the time...

I'll never see her...
never hear her...
say those words...
again...

                                              "In the sunshine of your love.”

                          

 

 

*Sunshine of Your Love

written by Jack Bruce, Pete Brown, and Eric Clapton

Wednesday, November 12, 2o14

It's getting even colder outside. The temperature dropping like a meteor. It's 2:16 AM and I can't sleep. Got a doctor's appointment at 9 AM which means I have to be up by 7:30 AM to call David on the phone and wake him up so he can drive me  there. It's going to be one of those long, slow, cold days tomorrow. But I've been told if you can't go to sleep you might as well do something until you can close your eyes. I don't know who said that.

Thursday, November 13, 2o14

Well, I did get three hours of sleep before I had to go to the doctor's office yesterday for my "checkup." You know, I have no qualms about going to the doctors when I'm sick. But going to the doctors for a routine examination . . . I don't know . . . makes me suspicious? I mean every movie I have ever seen where a guy goes to the doctor's for a health evaluation always winds up with some exotic disease and 6 months to live. So, that kind of visit worries me more than going to the doctors with the flue or something. AND after you take all the "routine" tests (EKG, Chest x-ray, lung power test {where you have to blow into a tube real hard and if you don't do it right some damn computer gizmo makes you do it over and over}, and TWO tubes of blood for analyzing I don't know what) you gotta wait at least another week to find out if you're gonna die!  What the hell? Why can't they have a damn lab there at the doctor's office?

   
 I finally talked David into going to The Diner for breakfast. He doesn't like to go there. The smell of eggs makes him sick to his stomach. So, I ordered a patty melt and fries instead of breakfast . . .  and an ice tea. We ran into an old friend of ours there, Stephen Overfield, and we asked him to come sit at our booth and finish is breakfast. He happily did so. Stephen is a real gregarious type, he really likes to talk and smile and laugh. He likes talking baseball, which I don't have much interest in. In fact, I don't talk much sports at all mainly cause I don't know much about any of it.

But Stephen knows just  about everything about baseball, statistics, scores, history, who played on this team or that team. He just got back from a trip to Ireland and told us all about that too. That I was interested in. I've always wanted to go to Ireland. And if my lab reports don't have me dead in six months, I might just take a tip over there . . . to Ireland.

12:38 PM
Well, must have gotten plenty of sleep early this glorious morning! Been awhile since I've naturally woke up at 8 AM! Yeah, I have gotten up early in the day when I really, really needed to do so . . .  but up at eight because my body had enough sleep and decided it wanted to play with my mind? Unheard of in modern times {SMILE}.

As I said, Yesterday I talked David into going to The Diner on Main St. for breakfast. The Diner is my favorite place to eat breakfast. Old fashioned little place filled with the lively sound of plates clattering, the mumble of conversations between business folk . . . cowboys and cowboy hats mingling with hipster types, policemen, grandparents with their grandchildren . . . a regular UN The Diner is. And the smells? Bacon and hash browns cooking on an open grill . . . eggs over easy in a separate, small frying pan . . . and coffee! Warm and dark  in a white porcelain cup. Breakfast at The Diner. A wonderful way to wake up in the morning.