A Walk In The Woods

A Walk In The Woods

In a clearing in the woods

 I saw some colors bright.

Petals blowing in the wind, 

Catching day's last light.

Cut flowers in a field of brown, I know not how nor why.

Perhaps a small remembrance offered God's all seeing sky.

In a clearing in the woods

I saw some colors bright.

Petals blowing in the wind,

Catching day's last light.

Sing a Song of Spring

 Cardinal singing in the tree
I like to hear your song's new key

All winter through you sat and chirped
And told me of your warmth usurped

Through wind and ice and flakes of snow
You warbled "Where'd my sunshine go?"

But now the bright beams warm your verse
No longer do you winter curse

Your notes have changed from ire to glee
And I you answer joyfully

sing a song of spring

United We Stand

  Other kid's parents.

  They are the bane of my existence and have been ever since I became a mother 19 years ago. They are the ones who said nothing to their child about pushing mine out of the way while he was waiting for his turn on the slide at the playground. They are the ones who let my 8 year old son play Grand Theft Auto. They are the ones who let their high schoolers stay out till four in the morning.
 And now they are the ones who don't care if my 19 year old sits at their house and drinks half the night then drives home.
 Now, I understand that it's my son doing the drinking. We have very strict rules about underage drinking in this house and he knows it. He is at fault for breaking our rules and has been punished accordingly. But perhaps if half of his friend's parents didn't facilitate the drinking by allowing it when they hang out at their house, and even occasionally BUYING it for them, my arguments to my son against it might seem more valid to him. As any parent who's heard the phrase "Well, so-and-so's parents don't care" uttered to them can attest, it can be the most frustrating thing when another parent undermines a value you are trying to instill or disregards a rule made for your childs well being.
 In this case, these parents are actually breaking the law.

  We must be a united front in raising our children. Not all of our values will always be the same, but there are core rights and wrongs on which we must stand together. There are rules of law and rules of society on which we all must be firm and help each other guide our children down the right path.

  I will help your child in any way I can. Please help me to help mine.

  

  

  

  

  

  

Happy Thanksgiving

The turkey is cooked

The stuffing is made

The smell of fresh pies

For days, will not fade

The silver is polished

The table is set

As I look around

I'm not finished yet

I have to give thanks

To my Lord up above

For all of my blessings:

Friends, Family and love

As we all gather round 

On this festive day

No matter how many

No matter which way

Let's us all give thanks

As well as we're able

For all we enjoy

as we dine at life's table

A Rose By Any Other Name

  Today I attended a lovely alumni reception at St. Patrick's Church, which is celebrating its centennial. Although the reception was light on actual former St. Patrick's School students, the hall was filled with the bustling, devoted women who have lovingly kept the parish running for more than half of the celebrated centennial.  As I bent over the dessert table to get a homemade piece of chocolate cake to go with my coffee, one of these devotees called out, "Karen!". I instantly raised my head and responded, "No. My name is Kathy". She gave me a perplexed look and then started talking to the woman behind me, whose name actually is Karen.
 I laughed to myself as I walked back to my table, the calling of that name bringing back a flood of memories; Memories of 8 years spent  following my well behaved, studious older sister, Karen, though school.
  Not once, during any of those 8 years, by any teacher, was I ever called by my rightful name, Kathy. In every class, the teacher's eyes would come to rest on me and, with the certainty of the sunrise, that teacher would: 1) call me Karen; 2) be offended when I corrected her; 3) 15 minutes later, call me Karen again.
  One elderly teacher not only couldn't get my name right, she couldn't even get my sisters name right, so I went through 4th grade as Karen Louise. Now, it's bad enough being called the wrong name, but tacking a Louise onto it just added insult to injury.
 To compound this confusion, all through school there was a girl in my class whose actual name was Karen. Karen's older sister was in my older sister Karen's class. Guess what Karen's older sister's name was? You got it- Kathy.
 Let the hilarity ensue.
 Poor Little Sister Karen and I never knew which one of us was being spoken to. The teacher would ask, "Karen, would you please spell PREPOSTEROUS" and when Karen opened her mouth to respond,  she would  invariably be beaten back with whatever weapon the teacher held at the time and told "I was speaking to Karen!"
  If Kathy was asked to come to the board to diagram a sentence, I was meet with equal fury upon rising.
 Throughout the years LSK and I endured endless blows raining down on our heads from countless yardsticks and pointers for the imagined disrespect of not answering to the wrong name.
 I can still hear my comrade's plaintive voice pleading, "But my name is Karen, Sister." in her never ending attempt to rectify the injustice.

 I gave up around 7th grade when I realized it was probably better if they didn't know my actual name.

Karen Louise- identity crisis over and no worse for the wear 

Thoughts on an Autumn Evening

as I settle
by the fire
on a cold
Autumn night,
the leaves
through my window
catch the sun's
final
light

all day it's been raining-
orange
red
gold
and green

colors
cover
the Earth
like the crown
of a queen

some still cling to branches
reluctant
to go

their vibrance
a memory
of Summer's
warm glow

I tend to the fire
then take
one
     last
          look

turn up the lights
and open
a book

A Light in the Darkness

  The city of Bridgeport often gets a bad rap for a variety of things: corrupt politics, unplowed streets, being crime ridden and dangerous, just to name a few.
While much of this disfavor is well earned,  I'd like to offer up a little bit of the good side. Specifically, Ruben Gonzalez, supervisor of The Bridgeport Department of Public Works, who went above and beyond the call of duty to help a little old lady find her purse; That little old lady was my mother and that purse was one which accidentally got taken out with the recycling bin.  
 Labor Day Monday, after fielding a tearful call from my mom, Ruben went to her house, took all her information and a description of the purse and the circumstances, then started making phone calls to see which truck picked up her bin. All the trucks had already unloaded for the day, so he learned the purse was somewhere buried within the city's tons of recycling. The fact the purse was inside a brown paper bag when it was put out with the bin only added to the hopelessness of the situation.
 Undaunted, Ruben reassured my sobbing mother they would find it and asked her to give him 24 hours.

 Mom didn't sleep a wink that night; she cried, she worried, she berated herself for putting her purse in a brown paper bag.

 Well, her sleepless night was in vain. Ruben called first thing in the morning and told her the good news; He and 4 workers sifted through countless pounds of debris and recovered her purse with her wallet and belongings still intact. He even made a special trip to her house to drop it off to her personally. She was ecstatic, to say the least.

 Thank you, Mr Gonzalez. That's what I call Public Works.