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.