The Stockpile: Ten Years Later

-based on a poem written in 2002 and "inspired" by Homeland Security

Remember after the Twin Towers crashed?

Remember the panic, the advice

from government leaders

to prepare for anything, everything

by buying

Bottled water, analgesics, thermometers,
Batteries for the flashlights and radios,
And emergency rations, enough to last six weeks or more.

Remember,
Nuclear Power Plants are nearby,

Viruses are everywhere, and
Quarantine is inevitable.

But now --

Osama bin Laden is dead and his organization

weakened.

Our economy is in recession, and cash flow is very tight.

Think about it.
Closets packed with canned food,
Over-the-counter meds,
And cases of bottled water?

No.
Shop, yes. And replenish the woodpile, too.
But I’ll buy a bottle of wine
A good book,
Cheese and crackers.
Seeds and seedlings for my garden,

Not stockpiles of panic.
We’ll cozy up by the fireplace,
In our favorite blankets and quilts,
To enjoy each other,
And take care of our family.

We’ll continue living our lives.
Common sense, love and caring,
and family
Make survival after any disaster
Worthwhile.

Beauty in simplicity

My garden isn't lovely
in the conventional sense.
It is home to vegetables, not flowers.


Shades of green
With an occasional spot of color:
Golden squash blossom, yellow bean, orange and red tomatoes


But the real beauty
Among the deep green of the spinach or the deep rich brown of the composted soil
Is hearing my kids call out, with complete honesty,

"Mom's playing in the dirt again!"

Where I'm From

(inspired by a post at The Little Egg Farm)


I'm from city sidewalks, the kind that need shoveling in winter and grow hot enough to blister bare feet in summer.

I'm from four distinct seasons. I'm from vehicles with heat and air-conditioning, in a climate where both need to be in working order.

I'm from trees of all sizes, giving shade in summer, giving leaves in autumn and if we're lucky, maple sap for sugar and syrup in spring. I'm from climbing thick branches, seeing old behemoths fall in storms to become fuel for the fireplace around which we gather.

I'm from snowmen, snow angels, and dangling icicles, spreading rock salt and litter and sand when walking becomes precarious. I'm from mittens and boots, gloves and scarves, lined jackets thick enough to withstand any wind.

I'm from earth such rich, dark brown it's almost black, grass so very green when it rains, and flowers of every hue; fresh vegetables in August, rhubarb from the freezer in January, and homegrown basil and thyme in pots on the piano all year round.

I'm from chalkboards, pencils, and multi-colored pens. I'm from reusing papers and copying half sheets on the back of old pages. I'm from books to read, stories to write, experiments to explore.

I'm from the arts, music, drama, storytelling, and the multitudes of venues for self-expression.

I'm from song and dance, stage and scenery, prose and poetry. I'm from rhythm and rhyme, andante to allegro, opera to jazz, vocal to orchestral to symphonic brass.

I'm from the land of Green and Gold, a home with at least one headpiece made of "cheese," and Sunday afternoons spent with the big screen TV tuned to Lambeau Leaps at the not-so Frozen Tundra.

I'm from a homeland where hearing, seeing, and neurotypical development are never taken for granted.

I'm from a land where all the women are strong, the men are good-looking, and the children are above average. Wait - strike that, it's one state to the west of mine.

But I am from a changing and evolving local culture, a place where family counts, a neighborhood where neighbors share their cookies and coffee. It's a great place to visit, and I wouldn't want to live anywhere else.

I Eat Pizza (the dreaded IEP)

IEP Season
Fighting for what's right
In education.

Asperger's Syndrome
Doesn't doesn't make
Anything come easily.

Blindness means Braille books
And talking calculators
But Asperger's - What?

Here we go again
On the roller coaster ride
Of an IEP.

Generosity

Loving husband and son

Not wanting to leave me out

Shared their germs; a-choo!

Dreams of a Mother

I dream that differences will be valued, not disdained.
Eye color, hair color, body shapes, and skin shades will be appreciated for their beauty and variety.
Cultural traditions will not disappear, but will thrive and grow together into a rich and fascinating sharing of knowledge and beliefs.
I dream that blindness will be merely a different way of seeing, and deafness impair only the quantity, not the quality of the language 'heard'.
Children will matter because they own the future. Their education, academic and social, will become and remain of utmost importance.
Mediators and the peacemakers will be recognized as the strongest leaders.
Questions will come from curiosity, not ignorance, and the answers will breed respect.
Knowing each other, knowing ourselves, will lead to knowing that fights and conflicts, wars of all kinds, will cease to be of value.

Haiku with apologies to Weird Al

I slaved by the stove
Creating a balanced meal
Eat it, just eat it.

Lean meat and veggies
Put a salad on the side
Don't want Leftovers.

New recipes stink.
If you don't like it today
Eat it tomorrow.

Things to neglect while ill

Cleaning house -- as long as no one visits.
Laundry -- at least until someone runs out of underwear.
Redoing the fireplace mantle. It's not green and gold any more, it's hard to care.
Schedules -- it's 3:00, I suppose I'd better eat lunch before I think about supper, eh?
Cooking. That's what Lean Cuisine is for, isn't it?
Changing litter in bunny cage -- until I can't stand it any more
Opening mail -- if the pile isn't so high it falls over.
Socializing -- I don't feel social, no one wants my germs, we're even.
Quality time with teenager -- he'd rather surf YouTube anyway.
Discuss politics -- thought takes energy, one thing that really lacking in me right now.
Whining -- who wants to hear this anyway?

Chill. Just drink water, take a nap, and all will be well with the world. Eventually.

Six Word Stories

Six words. I found the idea through a link at Autismvox. Kristina shared the Smith site with its Six Word Stories and created one of her own. These Six Word Stories remind me of Haiku or Lune poems in their clarity and directness, although they're even shorter. Sometimes, a picture is worth exactly six words.

Small bunny, big love, our Peanut.

Shy bunny, but sweet, our Sadie.

Big bunny, spotted cowlike, that's Buttercup!

Free Fall

A ribbon in the wind
The lace curtains blow
Serene in their motion
The waves softly flow.

Dancing so slightly
The cool ocean breeze
Gently caresses
The leaves on the trees.

Pale purple dreams
With shades of cool blue
I'm drifting, free falling
But safely -- with you.

Happy Valentine's Day, dear.

Countdown - or - Drink a Toast to Life

Contemplation of a New Year
Fill in the blanks.

Five Significant Memories: Look back
1
2
3
4
5

Four predictable events to come: Look forward
1
2
3
4
5

Three Highlights of the Year that's Ending: Reminisce
1
2
3

Two Good Habits to Continue and Enjoy: Look ahead while looking back.
1
2

One -- just one!
One Goal for the year to come

Think it over.
Declare the goal real. Relevant. Possible.
Now drink a toast,
Whether champagne or grape juice
Promise yourself it'll happen.
Then make it so.

A Teacher's Lament in Haiku

Labor Day has passed.

Back to school we go again.

Where did summer go?

Snow White's Response

Really, stepmother, I understand.
In this youth-centered culture,
Just like Hollywood, younger is better
Regardless of talent.

I'll get the same reaction
In twenty years
When a new, lovelier princess
Emerges from puberty
and charms the masses with her
innocence and fresh beauty.

Let's leave together.
There must be a society
That values women more than this one.
Leave that apple -- and that blasted mirror! -- behind.

Straight Talk from Kids

...actual statements and questions from children, ages 11 through 16, in the days immediately preceding and immediately after the start of Operation Iraqi Freedom. The poem is a few years old: the feelings expressed are not.

What if war breaks out

While we're at school?

Kids should know

What's going on.

While we're in school

Watch the TV in the commons

What's going on?

Try CNN.

Watch TV in the commons

You'll stay informed.

Try CNN

Every channel's exactly the same.

You'll stay informed.

Did you hear about the war?

Every channel's exactly the same

What's the latest?

Did you hear about the war?

Kids should know

What's the latest.

What if war breaks out?

Naming the Daughter

Naming the daughter
In the Ugandan tradition, children are named not just at birth, but throughout their lives according to their characteristics and significant events. This poem was written four years ago, and very little has changed.

My firstborn
She of deep, thoughtful eyes and a full head of thick dark hair.
She of the contagious giggle.
The one who climbed before she could walk.
The toddler who cried when she fell, but remained calm for the stitches, and
She who years later handled a fractured wrist without tears.
Ruffle socks and buckle shoes daughter
Wear a dress no matter what the weather daughter.
The child who listened to Beethoven and Raffi.
The child who learned to ride a bike in the Lambeau Field parking lot.
The young genius with crayons, markers, scissors, and glue.
So painfully shy at 6 she rarely spoke --
So social at 16 she rarely stopped.

The eldest. The big sister.
She of expressive eyes and long, thick hair.
The master of irony and sardonic humor.
She who doesn't do morning.
A rainbow of Converse tennis shoes daughter.
Blue jeans, capris, and tank-tops daughter.
The teen who listens to Pachelbel, Frank Sinatra, and Queen.
The one who left the bike behind in favor of Dad's silver Saturn.
The young genius with pencil and charcoal.
The young genius with a camera and Adobe Photo Shop.
Creator of a multitude of unique and colorful scrapbooks.

The one whose presence can brighten a room
Truly the joy of my life.

I like to read

I like to read –
Short books and long,
Books full of stories,
And poems, and songs
They’re big and they’re small
And I love them all
Yes, I like to read every day.

I like to read –
About children like me,
Who play in a sandbox
And climb up a tree.
We play and we run
We have lots of fun;
Yes, I like to read every day.

I like to read –
Books about bugs
Books about holidays,
Books about hugs.
About queens and kings
About most anything
Yes, I like to read every day.

I like to read –
About fantasy, too,
Books of adventures
For me and for you;
From people who’ve told
Stories brave, stories bold
Oh, I like to read every day.

I like to read –
Special books I can touch
With words made in Braille
I like them so much:
To touch and to feel
The pictures so read;
Yes, I like to read every day.

I like to read –
With my teachers at school
Books from the library,
Awesome and cool,
Or books of my own
That I keep right at home
Yes, I like to read every day.