Month: January 2024

I am working on the material that will be in my 4^thbook. I’m brushing over all of my written essays to add a Haiku to each.

I love Haiku for obvious reasons. My intention is for them to capture the essence and point of the essay.

I admit to enjoying the process of making this so. When I’m finished, it will find its way to Amazon for printing and public purchase.

At this time, I think the title will be “The Kitchen Table.” I love the picture it paints.

As I’ve always maintained, Democracy exists there in its best form, where all who are seated are invited to freely be themselves. This is where participants acquire the tools that build relationships and where, ideally, genuine dialogue occurs. If not at the kitchen table, where else?

–oo0oo–

It is Wednesday, January 24 about 3:20 pm, and I sit at my computer. 

And my cat MEA sits on the desk watching me, nothing could be cuter.

She is my company, and most of the time, she cuddles with me.

She watches over me as Lenette once did a picture to see.

She knows I need her as company.

And I know this is true for both of us.

Although friendly and warm to visitors, it is me she trusts.

When in bed, she stays close to me.

That’s okay it is where I want her to be. 

She was close to Lenette and listened to her.

Not to me in the same way for sure!

–oo0oo–

I am working on my 4^th book and like what I’ve written.

What I am doing is adding Haikus and none are like kittens.

They are, as Haikus should be expressed, lean.

They are naked as can be, and none are mean.

The sun is the sun, and the moon is the moon.

They express in so few notes the most basic tune.

I love its basic form and the lean use of words.

5-7-5 syllables are all that is written and heard.

We want to let you know that no firm dates have been set for this event, so please disregard the previous post in that regard. Merry will email a “reserve the date” notice once a venue has been booked, along with other details that will also be posted here. 

As always, Sy and the organizers welcome any feedback you wish to share.

We’re all looking forward to sharing our memories and love!

–oo0oo–

POETRY, ANOTHER WAY TO COMMUNICATE:

It is one of my favorite ways to communicate what I feel.

Yes, and it’s also one of my ways to be real. 

I don’t use words to be cute or play games.

It is me being me and, when necessary, naming names.

And yes, I do try to write what is meaningful and true.

I write what I hope will have some impact on you.

Often, I stumble, looking for words that I feel are right.

Words that connect, not words and lines that are trite.

Challenge me to write poetry that brings light.  

I spend a lot of time digging into my past, thinking of Lenette and our work together. When we worked together, we never sat in the same chair; she did her thing, and I did mine. In fact, I did my best to stay out of her way and hair.  Except, that is, to kiss her as often as possible.

Now, when I sit at the computer, I thank her for teaching me to type. The computer gives me the freedom and the ability to express my thoughts. It is one of the many immense gifts I received from her.

I have stories to share, and all are true. Today, I’ll write about Heidi at Camp Shasta. The wilderness around Camp Shasta was open range, with Bears, mountain lions, and free-range cattle wandering and living in the thousands of acres surrounding camp. Because of the dogs, most wild animals stayed away from camp, but now and then, cattle would enter the grounds.

Heidi took after the cattle as if she knew they did not belong. It took her mere moments to pick out the lead bull and run at them from all directions. She ran them off until none remained. Then She, the conquering hero, with tail held high, danced back to us.

As I’ve recounted before, Heidi was a hero in the eyes of campers and staff when she made marshmallows of our neighbor’s killer husky.

Heidi loved Kim and spent most of her time with him when he ran the stables. Yet, when Kim became a counselor, Heidi remained in camp.

—oo0oo—

I feel I have something to say.

And the computer helps me do this each day.

It does not speak for me; this is me alone.

I take full responsibility for each word and tone.

Whether a paper seeking dialogue or a poem.

Writing is my challenge, and I do this each day.

My thoughts and the words I seek to write are play.

When I lectured and did workshops, I loved our exchange.

Seeking dialogue between us, the best we could arrange.

Lenette and I visited Yosemite Valley nearly every year. Those trips were always very special for us. On most visits, we camped or lodged in Camp Curry, although we stayed at the Ahwahnee Hotel a couple of times. On many visits, we brought our own bikes and biked and walked the valley floor. 

In the mid-50s, we began to backpack in the high country out of Tuolumne Meadows. These weeklong trips always included boys and girls from summer camp and were always memorable. We climbed mountains, crossed wild rivers, and camped next to clear-water lakes.

Besides food, we only carried a poncho, a sleeping bag, and a change of clothes. The heavy stuff was the food for the week. We got really good at preparing meals morning and night. Lunch was always trail mix and chocolate.  

At least once, we hiked to Glacier Point and watched the rangers prepare and perform the magnificent and unforgettable “Fire Fall” above Camp Curry into the Valley. We were also fortunate to witness this event many times from the valley floor.

When we finished our hike, usually down into the valley, we all showered and enjoyed a restaurant meal in celebration of our trek.  

One time, a camper at our celebration meal ordered a huge amount of food, enough for 3 people. I told him he would have to eat everything he ordered. He told me this was how he got his money’s worth from the trip. It took time, but he ate it all.

Among the other lessons he learned was that he could complete and achieve a difficult hike when he was willing to make the effort.

On one of our trips, it rained one night, and we all got good and wet. Lenette gathered up the shoes that were totally soaked and placed them near the fire that we kept going all night. When we went to get our shoes the next morning, they looked perfect and dry, but they crumbled into dust. Here we were with no shoes and a hike to make!

Lenette immediately asked for jeans, and using a sharp blade, she cut the denim and made sandals out of them. We used leather thongs to tie them on our feet, and we all had sandals to walk on. 

We soon discovered that the sandals wore down quickly. Lenette’s answer? Make them thicker, which she did. It worked! We made it to the valley with lots more memories. 

–oo0oo–

A poem is in me to write.

I think I have it in sight.

The words are there in my mind.

I know me, and I know they are there to find.

It is Lenette I know I want to write of.

It is Lenette I picture and the one I’ve always loved.

So beautiful a person was she.

She filled my life; she made me be.

And now alone, I feel she watches over me.

I have that sense of her being.

I have that sense of her seeing.

Of her watching what I do.

And knowing every word I write is true.