Times

Once upon a time, settlers came to this land.

They drove out the occupants that were there.

They hacked out an existence and an economy.

They started operations like fish hatcheries,

shoe stores, butchers shops, and the like..

They tamed a new world for their kids.

Their kids struggled to cope in this world,

Pulled together from ancient religions,

A mishmash of beliefs under twin banners,

Capitalism and Freedom forever.

The kids went to war, and some made it back.

They raised up a generation used to modernity;

Electricity and automobiles and telephones;

But they had to endure, too.

A depression and a war later, their kids were born.

These kids had a new playground:

The entire civilized world.

This generation made colorful patterns ,

Started unique boutiques, challenged status quo.

The world changed again.

Their kids are mostly wedded to technology.

All except the ones who want to tear everything

Down and start over.  Why?

There is no accounting for human nature.

At our heart we are still stupid apes,

playing with shiny objects,

until we get hungry and start fighting.

Some things just never change.

Vacation time is coming

Ah, the delicious sensation of anticipation!

All the things I can do with two weeks:

Fish

Swim

Travel

Party

Work on the house and yard

Repair the car…

Perhaps find a partner,

Get lucky,

Once,

Or many times!

Anticipation alone has been a

Supercharged rocket fuel,

Sending my mind to

Dizzying heights –

I travel to outer space on hope.

Then the day arrives.

I am officially on vacation.

Where are the brass bands? 

The screaming fans?

All my grandiose plans

Must be individually set in motion,

One by one,

By myself.

There is no one else that can do this.

I am responsible for my own fun.

Time to stop typing and get on with it then!

 

Farewell, Dad – we will miss you.

     He lived from October of 1923 to May of  2011.  He went through some of the most difficult years in world history, and came through, not wholly unscathed or unscarred.   He managed to raise a family while working two jobs most of the time.  Although not perfect, he was a very honorable man.  He stood by his kids no matter what, or so it seems to the author.   To the very end, he was supportive of my projects, my hopes and dreams.  He used to say,  “I’m in your corner -  I want to see you win.”   He always wanted our happiness and prosperity, no matter what. 

     He will be often thought of, and often missed.  He is in all of us offspring.  It is hoped that he can rejoin all of his friends, and his first wife, in a better place.  

     In recent years, his health had declined.   The last time I saw him was last fall, around September 2010.  He looked tired, and his arms were bothering him.  But he was eager to discuss family genealogy information, and helped me find a few new ancestors.  He also helped correct some errors in a family poetry booklet I made – it could be said, that book was co-authored by Dad.   It was still a shock to me that he left us on this day, a Monday in May, when the outdoors is exploding with beauty.   I planted some tomatoes in his honor, and I am hopeful that I can help sponsor some kind of greater memorial to Dad.  He certainly deserves it.

In Fond Memory   - Lewis B. Wilson, Jr.    1923-2011

Sunday life

I eat, talk with friends, laugh and enjoy myself.

Inside, that impish character jumps up and down;

During the course of the meal, it peeks out…

After the fourth cup of tea, the imp escapes.

I grin, smirk, crack coarse comments over

My fellow diners heads like dirty walnuts.

But they are kind and clever today –

They just defer and steer the conversation away.

Later, I take a magnificent bikeride.

It is May 1^st, sunny and a bit cool – perfect.

I enter trailspace and reflect on my wayward

Imp, the one that escapes and wreaks havoc

In my relationships with others.

I can chain the imp, but it requires tranquilizers…

No caffeine, sleepiness help calm the beast –

So does vigorous exercise.

I pedal myself through brilliant sunbeams,

Shooting through sprouting trees.

The shafts of light punctuate my regrets and resolutions.

The wind blows away my guilt,

Infuses my lungs and body with new possibilities.

Wild phlox, violets and dandelions color my sight.

Soon, the baby rabbits and squirrels will try

To cross the trail in front of speeding tires.

What an explosion of May life to enjoy, absorb, and dodge…

Time to cage the imp, shed the regrets, breathe and achieve anew!

-end

OBL Wondered What Happened

     The Imam surveyed his terrain, pleased.  The wives were helping children with their studies, or tucking in the infants.  Soon, his favorite would be coming into his bedchambers.  She was his latest acquisition -   so talented under the covers, a true gift from Allah.   He sat back in a meditative state, and began reciting his evening prayers.

     “Do your justice to mine enemies, Oh great one, as you will.”

     “Smite down the great Satan and all of their followers”

      “Remove the source of evil from our planet”

     “Bless my family and I as you see fit, oh Allah.”

     The Imam opened his eyes, and sat meditating in the quiet of the evening, listening to the murmurs of his household preparing for bed.  They all knew what to do – he had trained them well.  Discipline was important, and apparently they had learned their harsh but necessary lessons.  Spare the hand and fist, and lose the household.  Not this Imam.

     His ruminations were interrupted by the appearance of his latest wife, dressed scantily but with a silk veil.  She undulated and sang as she moved over to him.

     “Allah be praised!  You are so beautiful, it melts my heart.   I do not deserve such good fortune.”

     She just put her finger to her lips, and moved over to where he sat on the bed.  She sidled up to him, running her hands over his tunic, and then under it.  He responded, and soon they were removing each others garments. 

     Suddenly they heard the whup-whup-whup of helicopter blades.  The Pakistani army did overflights, so this was not so unusual.  They resumed their vigorous foreplay.  The helicopter sound did not fade, but remained, even getting closer.  A scowl crossed the Imam’s face. 

     Those infidels would get an angry message the next time I send the courier.

     He had positioned his wife just so, and was thrusting his way to happiness, when he heard a staccato of shots.  Quickly, he jumped off of her, and threw on a tunic to see what was happening.  

     Pounding footsteps!  More shots, cries of surprise.  What was this?  Some disgruntled faction?  He had everyone paid or threatened.  Who could it be attacking?  His wife hugged him from behind, murmuring questioningly.

      His reflections were interrupted when some men in dark clothing burst into his room.  All he could do was back away towards the bed and stare. 

     “Who are you?  Why do you dare this?  Why…”

     One of the men said,  “If you want to live, you come with us.”

     The Imam turned to the bed and grabbed a knife sitting on the bedstand.  Then, he warned the man,

     “I am a trained muhajadeen.  I will not hesitate to kill you if you do not leave this room!”

     The men looked at each other, several strong.  A few raised automatic weapons and pointed them at him.

     “That knife won’t do you any good here…”

    

     He rushed at the nearest man, knife upraised, hoping to get one of them at least.

     The intruders did not hesitate to fire, hitting the Imam in the face and chest.

As the light faded from his eyes, and he felt himself sinkng, sinkng ever downward, the Imam realized the cruel twist that Allah had played:

    “Smite down the great Satan and their followers….”

    “Remove the source of evil…”

     “Bless my family as you see fit…”

The Imam realized that Allah, in his infinite wisdom, had answered his earlier prayer. 

The End