There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about and miss my father. Perhaps it was the kindness that was so much his hallmark… perhaps it was his endless patience and his willingness to drop whatever he was doing to listen, to care, to act.
“Want to read me a book, Papa?” I would ask eagerly.
“Want to play catch?”
“Want to hear me recite the poem I just memorized?”
You name it, tired or not, busy or not, preoccupied or not, the answer was always a smile and a yes. It isn’t until you’re a parent yourself that you realize just how much love and patience and unselfishness it takes for that gift to be given. Continue reading “Happy Father’s Day” »
Posted on June 7th 2014 in Family
I’d like to offer you a profound and provocative poem, with which to start this portentous New Year … this one is shaping up to be a year of both spiritual and political drama far beyond the norm. The world is more volatile than ever now…as if there’s an energy explosion in progress, bubbling up from some deep, hidden place in our unconscious, demanding to be set free to change, change, change the way we see our world and the way we act in it, too. There’s a revolutionary air about it all, reminiscent of the ’60s…a sense of urgency to end injustice, to rescue the planet from the greedy pillagers, and to give more of humanity the even break it deserves. It feels like an ending and a beginning, of some cosmic proportion we can’t yet comprehend… a time when we must be up to the challenge of the whirlwind and use all our resources to embody, in Gandhi’s words, the change we wish to see in the world. Continue reading “A Thought for the New Year” »
Posted on December 31st 2013 in Life
People don’t look to the long-ago poetry of Edgar Guest for soaring metaphors or complex pentameter. He was often called the People’s Poet because of his commonsense-able thoughts about life, rendered in the form of simple verse that was full of homespun wisdom and spiritual decency. When I was writing the What Would Jesus Do blog I remembered this poem from childhood about “the men who live their creeds.” Continue reading “Maybe This Says it Pretty Well” »
Posted on February 8th 2013 in Poetry
I intended to write this for Memorial Day but got sidetracked by the hoopla around the joy of Dakota’s graduation, so I’m offering it instead as a tribute on the 4th of July.
In these politically troubled times, it’s easy enough to forget that we can hate the carnage and waste of war, but still love and honor the courageous men and women who’ve served and sacrificed themselves in the name of a country they love and the freedoms they mean to defend and uphold.
I ran across this poem recently quite by accident and was so touched by it, I’d like to pass it on to you. It reminded me of a family incident a few years ago, that showed me how easy it is to overlook the true heroes around us, or perhaps, simply not know their stories, so we can honor them appropriately. Continue reading “The 4th of July Meets Memorial Day” »
You can’t grow up to be a writer of love stories, if you aren’t an incurable romantic.
Despite my own history of picking lemons in the Garden of Love – and oxytocin notwithstanding – I’ve found that I need to believe in true love. I have seen it – not often – but enough to believe it possible. My Apache friends say you only need to see one white crow to know all crows are not black.
In the darker days when heartbreak threatened to teeter me into cynicism about true love, and I almost succumbed to a disbelief in its very existence, it comforted me to remember that much of the world’s greatest love poetry had been penned by men – ergo, somewhere, sometime there have been men who loved-deeply, truly and forever. So it isn’t an impossible dream (at least that’s what I told myself.) One White Crow, is all you need.
So I offer you just a few of my favorite love poems for your heart’s delight:
Continue reading “Loving Love Poetry” »
Posted on January 13th 2012 in Love
, The Philosopher’s Teacup
My parents read to me and to each other — poetry for the most part — and I never went to bed a night without memorizing a poem, or a group of verses. If it were something lengthy like The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, I’d memorize a stanza a night, my hands-down favorite, this:
“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: Nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line
Nor all thy Tears wash out a word of it.”
Continue reading “Were You Lucky Enough to Have Parents Who Read to You?” »
Posted on December 4th 2010 in Family