In This Place

I wander still

After all the games,

The sweet affairs of society,

I walk alone,

In wonder

If this were all so very real.


I began early as a child

To understand the haunt

Of a naked horizon,

That little felt, shared ideal,

Causes a stir,

The desire to run, run again.


Yet, wrapped in this surreal

Shroud of decency I discovered

A need to question, to curious

Know there are other manners.

People might be afraid,

Beyond the integrity of a norm.


I cry sometimes when I am

This way,

The place I belong yet find a mystery,

I search and crawl and hope, I pray, I might discover …

Some way to accept the now,

With every past response to love.


So it is again, I am in this place, today, tonight, to –


Mirages and My Father

Pouring over concrete at around 70 miles an hour, down some country road passing corn and wheat throughout central Wisconsin, on a hot summer day, I remember my fascination with the short spreads of an illusion of water in the middle of the highway. We’d roll over a hill and just at the crest in what seemed the valley of the next dip, the water appeared though it was gone again, like seconds on a clock, a transparency.


I asked my dad why that happened. He called the phenomena an illusion, or better stated a mirage, that when it was so hot out, the atmosphere played tricks with our minds and left us with an image of hope.


I remember always being fascinated with my dad. There he was, his good smile, a little raised lip to suggest he liked to speculate, and he was happy to have my company along on a road trip. See my dad, was a salesman, he handled beer accounts throughout Wisconsin for the G. Heileman Brewing Co. I would tag along and when most of his accounts were in bars on the highway, he’d have a beer with his account managers, the owners of the bar, and I would with a few quarters either play pinball or if they were empty, the pool tables. I played a lot of games by myself, and then my dad would join me depending upon whether the sale had gone well. If it didn’t play out to his satisfaction, we’d sometimes have to leave right in the middle of a game. But at twelve years old my dad would never let on to being upset, at least not until we got back in the car. Then the drive would be silent for a few miles, until my dad returned, and began another story for his fascinated listener.


My dad and I had some rituals that were very special in my life. He was on the road a lot so these rare occasions were times I could never take for granted. I learned a lifestyle from my father without even realizing it that years later I would practice on my own, and indirectly pass on to my son. That lifestyle was to be good to people, no matter the circumstance, always look for the pleasure of knowing a person could feel happiness rather than hurt. My dad said a smile could make a person’s day, and also sell an account. He was a helluva salesman, my dad; of course at twelve, I was an easy sell.


Sunday nights were my favorite times to spend with my dad. This was probably his busiest day out of the workweek. During the week he’d be on the road, sometimes gone for the entire week, but usually at least three or four days. I learned to look forward to the weekend, when he’d be home, and he’d make dinner, hamburgers on Saturday nights, and finish the weekend with a couple of porterhouse steaks, and American fries and the FBI, or Mannix, or later Kojak. We’d watch the shows together with our massive steaks, he’d have a couple of beers, and me a Nesbitt pop, usually an orange soda. Just being with my dad would leave me feeling complete. He really didn’t have to do anything except include me in his life. That was always so important to me, and it would be years later that I would realize why.


(to be continued)

Writing Backgrounds

While the generations speak to the future,

the voices, in all of their theatrical manner,

give us pause,

to hold true our postures in peace and fulfillment.


In the background listening to Bleecker street,

Simon & Garfunkel seemed to be here at the same time,

life hasn’t really changed in 2016,

50 years ago we all really did want the same.


Our unique lives, in a country of freedom,

I know I will always wonder how it affects me,

in the manner that other people, worlds away,

yet right next door, aren’t allowed to feel the same.


I know that love is real, love is a something we feel,

together we might understand that love is Grace.



Hillary Gets My Vote

I know we all have our bias, and I do try to respect everyone’s opinion. I watched parts of Cleveland last week, and focused mostly on the commentators. I found it difficult to listen to the speeches, thematically they seemed angry and fed into a fear-mongering mindset that left me feeling nervous and afraid. But fortunately, I have learned how to process through those feelings before I make rash decisions. So I left it at that knowing well, I had no affinity with this year’s Republican candidate for the Presidency.

I would consider myself a moderate, not the liberal many of my friends and family would suggest, but I do try to listen to both sides. Only rarely in my conscious life of paying attention to politics has a third party intrigued me, and that is not the case this year. I am faced with looking at a two party Presidency so my choices are limited. I do want to vote for the right candidate.

Eight years ago, I thought Hillary was running too early in her career, and that she needed more seasoning in the political arena before going after our most prestigious seat in our government. Turns out, she lost to a candidate who took the country by a storm, and changed our routine way of life, simply by the color of his skin. Though there are detractors (unfriend me now if you like) I have watched a POTUS of absolute integrity fight the good fight, and stand up every time he was knocked to the ground this last eight years. Last night, I listened to his wife speak with such eloquence and regard, I could not reflect upon any aspect of their tenure where they demonstrated anything but the highest integrity for our American values and family ideals.

Perfect? No. I think it is relatively impossible to be the perfect POTUS no matter the party affinity. I couldn’t imagine the pressure to mediate through a society of extremes.

So today, I’m listening to the Democratic convention. Yes, I would suggest I am a democrat, and while the majority of people that are close to me supported the Bernie ticket, I did too, but in the end I felt compelled to remain with the democratic ticket. So tonight, I’m listening to the 2nd day of a thematic process. The themes I’m listening to are about hope and love and compassion. Tonight and last night the speakers have focused upon moving forward, not backward.

I choose to move forward and let our country continue on a progressive road that will speak to the people. I’m with her.

Without News

I chose to leave the news left off today,

the tube that tells me the world’s dismay.

Instead I took solace in a little music

that might take me somewhere less frantic.


I am confident the world still does exist,

Rather the leaves in sunlight I can’t resist.

Is it possible to recognize our need to center

our lives, to inform our souls quiet love rather.


Sometimes in the break of day when I can see

my world around me is so simple and free

I have to wish I stay sheltered only here today

walk away from the realities of society’s dismay.


I left the news off for the remainder of this day

I feel a genuine happiness inside my mind today.