Poetry and Tidying Up

Summer in Florida is like winter in the north, Floridians stay indoors. It’s a time to get organized and tidy up. So, I went through my writing stuff, and discovered some poetry. This one was inspired by social media in November of 2012.

Sharing

By Claudiajustsaying

We publicly post our words

Text, twitter and talk.

Likes keep us playing the game

Comments share a thought.

Then, tease each other about being friends

“Tell me a secret and I’ll tell you mine.”

Social media is a push pull effect . . .

But, what is a friend?

. . . just saying

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Day Eight Back In Florida

At Denver Airport in the morning, there was no transport person!

There was however, one wheel chair inside the door, which I grabbed away from an elderly woman; took outside, put Bob in and brought him indoors; where I could see him while checking in.

Thank God for Betsy and Bill. They waited curbside looking after Bob and our luggage while I’d been inside. We had a tearful goodbye.

Now the attendant assigned to us appeared. However, he had another person in tow. Before I could blink, he took off for security pushing two wheel chairs. I scurried behind.

I had instructed my husband, to lie about his age going through security and say he is 75 years old, this way he wouldn’t have to take off his shoes or stand up.

Praise the Lord, we didn’t wait in line. The second transport, a woman, was late for her flight and checked her Apple watch repeatedly, as I piled her carry on belongings into bins.

Then Homeland Security was about to wand Bob, and I panicked.

“Don’t do that!” I yelled as I raced to Bob’s side. “His arm is broken!” .

“STEP BACK LADY,” he bellowed with his hand on his gun.

 Bob remembered to lie. But said he was 74, not 75 yrs old. He is 73. Men!

The ordeal had me shaken, but not for long because. . . now. . . “transport guy” was racing toward a waiting train. I realized he was getting on and followed, running, but I couldn’t keep up. So, before the doors closed, jumped in any car. . . and started to spill my guts to a stranger I was now face to face with.

I couldn’t even remember the terminal our flight would leave from, although the tickets were in my hand. I was dizzy, although it may have been my vertigo.

When I caught my breath, I saw “transport guy” in the next car. He waved.

I’ll skip the flight and transport ordeal on the arrival side and simply say we were picked up by our daughter, Janine and grandson, Dominic.

We drove directly to the emergency room of our local hospital and waited six hours before Bob had an emergency room bed. Sometime later, he was given morphine for pain. The next day, day nine, Bob was admitted for surgery. The surgery, delayed due to an allergic reaction, was on day twelve, June 26th, our 51st Wedding Anniversary.

Every step along the way had sidesteps and challenges. He now has a nine-inch rod in his arm and three weeks post operation is doing well.

As Betsy, Bill, Bob and I lamented, this was one hell of a Yellowstone trip.   

. . . just saying

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The Day Wasn’t Over

Sun Set Grand Tetons Park 9PM

I would love to tell you we returned to the $400+ dollar night Inn and got a good night’s rest. . . but, the day wasn’t over yet.

Bill and I were helping Bob out of the car, when his face went, “lights out.” I grabbed his chin and looked directly into his eyes. “Talk to me! What’s happening?” Then, he fell to his knees. I think we all screamed.

Fortunately, a nurse and her strong husband had just left their cabin and knew how to support Bob without injuring his fractured shoulder more and moved him to a chair in our cabin. Betsy called 911.

Hotel staff arrived in a flash and determined acute pain caused his near collapse. We got him into bed, double dosed the pain medication, and gave him something for nausea.

My beginning to catch a breath was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was another staff member with paperwork to sign. A kid, probably my grandson’s age.

Understandably the hotel needed to document the incidents. I reassured him it was a simple trip and fall. We weren’t going to solicit a lawyer.

Like Danny on Blue Blood’s, he handed me paper and pen. “In your own words. If you wouldn’t mind.” He expressed his appreciation once the forms where completed and asked . . . emphatically, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Well there was. My concern was getting Bob, weak and under the influence, to the bathroom. How many times does an 73 man void during the night? I’d lost count.

“Do you have a urinal?”

“No,” he said, embarrassed.

On the counter behind him was my wide mouth water bottle. I glanced its way, his eyes followed mine.

“Problem solved,” I said.

Shortly after, Betsy brought me dinner. A pork sandwich with homemade cold slaw she’d packed. Remember if the park opened food might be hard to find. Oh yes and a large bottle of wine.

It was around 10PM and the sun had finally set.

. . . just saying

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Day One of Vacation

A chartreuse pillow similar in shape and size to a to a large dog bone sat on a purple couch in the hotel lobby. The clerk was all smiles telling us we were early. So, we sat on the purple sofa and waited, mesmerized by a carpet cleaner. The bubbling steamer was pushed back and forth by a housekeeper determined to suck up its remains. The noise and disinfectant smell quickly drove us outside into the Florida heat and sun, which was worse. So, back inside. . . we stood, as the lobby was now crowded. An audience of turning heads as though attending a tennis match watched silently, and I wondered if they would applaud.

Upstairs, I loved the room and fantasized about living in a Tiny House before we headed out to dinner. The restaurant was with-in walking distance, but we decided not to walk hearing thunder, once downstairs.

So, my husband took the elevator to get his car keys, but returned saying the room key didn’t work. He held out the key to examine and discovered he was using a hotel business card to open the room door.

The sky opened-up with what is called “Big Rain” in Florida, as we drove to the restaurant and although wet, we eventually we had dinner.

Day one of the vacation from hell.

. . . just saying

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Happy Fourth of July

Bob and I have returned from a “vacation” in Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons. It is a long story that I am working on. In the mean time I hope you enjoy my poem, written some time ago. Its a favorite of mine.

The Itsy Bitsy Bug

Red White and Blue

Can an itsy bitsy bug be patriotic?
His red, white, and blue symbolic,
A political view
Understand freedom . . . be equal too

Like a school age kindergartner
Raise his hand to hold the flag
Chosen, glad with honor
Knows to say a prayer

Can an itsy bitsy bug be patriotic?
Puff his chest, recite the pledge
Listen to a voice within
Battle for the helpless, or let the bullies win!

Stand side by side with those who care
Silently and stare
Misty eyed while taps is played for those who dare
Think America is beautiful

Can an itsy bitsy bug be patriotic?

. . . just saying

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What Did You Do Today?

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Nothing

Nothing! I did absolutely nothing. Well, nothing of consequence. That’s retirement.

I didn’t sleep in, although according to my husband, I got up late, 7:30 am.

Late, because he rises at 4am and that makes me three plus hours tardy.

Then my morning routine; coffee and the newspaper and watching CBS Morning. (I’m in love with Tony Dokoupil, Nate Burleson, and Gale King.) Followed by breakfast and exercise; by the time I showered and flossed it’s was 10:30 and my husband was sitting down to lunch.

Usually writing is next on my agenda; however, since my brain was stolen in the middle of the night, my attention was drawn to Easter decorating and the task of disposing of unwanted items.

You know what I’m talking about. Those plastic bins, packed, labeled and stored in your garage or attic. Ceramic eggs and bunnies you’re emotionally attached and refuse to send to a landfill.

It was exhausting and it isn’t time for bed.

. . . just saying

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Good Grief; there are 34 days left in the year!

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It Is. . .What It Is

“Today is Saturday, November 27, the 331st day of 2021. There are 34 days left in the year.” Like other newspapers, our local paper reports this information, and includes significant events from previous years, i.e.; Macy’s first Thanksgiving Day parade took place in 1924 and the release of the Beatles album “Magical Mystery Tour” in 1967.

Only 34 days left in the year! Good grief! Thirty-four days to achieve the goals I committed to 331 days ago.

Oh well, . . . it is what it is.

This expression, one of resignation, is included increasingly in conversations.

Why?

We never catch a break from mayhem.

So, I’ve been watching Lifetime Christmas Romance movies late at night and was thrilled not to see any uniformed police officers during the televised Thanksgiving Parade.

I’m thinking of sending a personal thank you note to Tom Selleck, you know the Police Commissioner of NYPD.

I know. . . I know, he’s not really the police commissioner in New York City. But you may agree, he should be.

. . . just saying

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What’s New?

Very Cool

Shipping Container House

Are you tired of the same conversation or afraid to have any conversation about vaccines, politics or the wacko world we live in?

Me too! Here’s something of interest. The article appeared in The Daytona Beach News Journal about this art collector, turned house designer.

“Stepping foot into Rob DePiazza’s house is like winding back the clock to the height of the 1960s’ pop art revolution. 

All Andy Warhol- and Keith Haring-style prints, bold patterns, primary colors and mid-century mod design, the structure DePiazza has designed looks and feels like a museum exhibit dedicated to all of those cultural influences.

Oh, and then there’s the fact that it’s all housed in nine shipping containers — proudly rusted out, mind you, as far as DePiazza is concerned. The display certainly stands out in this sedate residential neighborhood populated mostly by modest old Florida stuccos or split-level ranches off U.S. 1 in St. Augustine.”

. . . just saying

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What Are You Reading?

Just Do Something

Famed naturalist Jane Goodall has dedicated her life to protecting wildlife and the environment, and at age 87, she continues to reach out to as many people as possible to advocate for a more sustainable future. She talked with correspondent Seth Doane about her new book, “The Book of Hope: A Survival Guide for Trying Times,” and about how everyone can contribute to reversing mankind’s destruction of our only home.

I am sure it is a great read for those inclined, however, her simple plea; JUST DO SOMETHING, has stayed in my mind. I thought my recycling helped but recent local reports suggest otherwise. China no longer wants our garbage and it is more than likely the recycling is floating on barges somewhere between here and there. There is talk that clothing donations are so abundant designer jeans are washing up on third world countries shores.

We need to rethink things. But Ms. Goodall’s request is simple. So, what can we do? These are my two favorites;

  1. Delete old emails. A server needs electoral power to save data, emails are data. Think of it as storing junk mail in a storage unit you pay for.
  • Don’t run the water in the sink, (especially when brushing your teeth) Clean water empties into dirty water and needs to be cleaned all over again with whatever chemicals your municipality uses.

                                                         . . . just saying

laurenstaton.com/what-really-happens-to-our-donated-clothes/

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Eighty-Three Days Remaining in 2021

Photo by Designecologist on Pexels.com

Why?

I still read the newspaper and watch a morning news show . . . More accurately, I tape the news program, then fast forward the segments causing me anxiety, and skim the newspaper for stories that interest me. There are a few.

The number of days remaining in the year is always mentioned.

There are eighty-three days left in 2021.

The days are flying by, and highlights another news alert; the short supply of basic items and more importantly items on peoples’ Christmas list. . .  Not holiday, Christmas!

I will be curious to see this news-story’s trickle-down affect over the next two months. The supply shortage will more than likely go away. But what is not going away is vaccination resistance and many are asking; why?

Alan Alda’s interview on his podcast, Clear & Vivid, with author Lee McIntyre addressed the issue.

McIntyre attended the Flat Earther convention in Denver, Colorado, hoping to understand the thinking of those who believe strongly that the earth is flat. Perhaps, like myself, you might think the convention a joke or spoof; possibly a metaphor for a comedy show.

No! It was a serious convention.

McIntyre attended the convention to gather information he hoped would combat disbelievers of global warming and change, his real passion and topic of most recent book.

The experience was eye opening for the author. Attendees attempted to convert him to their belief that the world is flat.

McIntryre was unscathed and determined attendees shared five traits;th

  1. Cherry picked facts, believing only some, i.e., The Santa Marie never returned.
  2. Believe in conspiracy theories, i.e., Queen Isabella wanted revenge.
  3. Quoted fake experts (people who lack legitimate credential’s) and denigrated real experts, i.e., Christopher Columbus needed glasses.
  4. Express illogical reasoning, i.e., the world is flat because you don’t fall off.
  5. Want Science to be perfect,.i.e., Lemons can’t cure scurvy.

. . . just saying

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