Once More Around The Sun

HAPPY NEW YEAR BABY!

Baby Evelyn Rose sends her love on her first trip around! She just celebrated her fourth month on her journey from cradle to greatness. Her smile brightens my world. Every day brings something new as she grows into the wonderful person she will be. Granny Bee (that’s my Rosebud) has been on nanny duty and is in her glory. Her worn out, how did I do this before, can’t wait to see her tomorrow glory, that is. I may be a little jealous.

Let’s see… where do I begin? For the last half of 2020, I was a bus drivin’, bait slingin’, bow sellin’, demolishin’, sheetrockin’, re-constructionist Grampa. My daughter and her fiance bought a house that needed “some work” before they moved in. Between that, work, and work, my time and energy were at a premium. As a result, I let myself get out of the habit of posting to my blog, keeping up with my blog friends (that means you) and being creative in general. I’ll admit, the concurrent s*!# shows we’ve all had to endure put a damper on me. I miss getting together with the local writing group. We socialized more than we wrote, but they helped me keep my eye on the ball(point) in a far more real, human way than getting together via social media.

I’m a terrible social media friend. I’m stubborn about using it, impatient with writing a conversation, waiting on replies and generally getting left behind in the conversation because I can’t type responses as quickly as I can think or speak them. I’m a dinosaur in that respect, my fault, no-one else’s. I miss having live conversations with people and the few people that I am able to talk to regularly receive the brunt of my pent up desire to converse. It’s not like I word vomit on my friends, I’m fine with silence and long periods of quiet when I’m with them. I like to just speak, cuz when I start to type, the internal editor takes control and what could have been said in a few seconds, takes a loooooonnnnggggg time to say and there are too many distractions and I don’t say what I wanted to say and by the time I have the time to say , what I wanted to say is no longer relevant!

perhaps i should just engage in stream of thought speak and not bother with spellng or punctuashun or stuf and then I can say what i want even if its hard to read and understand but im not even good at that cuz I have to try to keep ahhead of the editor that has already meda me go back and corrrect some of the mistakes ive made typing this thought and the sad thing is that what ive spennt time writing is not of much use ecxept as an illustration…… see i had to take abreak to take care of a customer now where was i

Anyway, I’ve been starting to read more of your posts and I can see that you are all still amazing. By the way, does any one know how Rachel, In Mind And Out, is doing? I haven’t seen anything from her in a while. Like I’m one to talk, HA!

My commenting on posts has been limited and I’ve missed many during my self imposed exile. I do, however, plan on being better in this new year. I guess that’s my resolution. I’m not off to the best start, I began working on this post, let’s see, about 12 hours ago. It’s late and I’ll have to finish it tomorrow!

9:00 PM the next night… I just woke up my computer since tucking it in at 11:00 last night. I better finish it up so I can move on. I started writing this post to say Happy New Year to all of you and to show off my grand daughter, Evelyn Rose. I had to leave it for a while and when I came back to the computer, I started reading recent posts. One that struck me was a poem posted by QueridaJ, intotheindigo, called Never Be Me. I could hear it in my head as I read it, and I decided to record it to hear how it sounded to my ear. I told QueridaJ that I liked the poem and recording it so I could hear it. I also said that I thought it would sound better in her voice than it does in mine. She asked me to post the recording so she could hear it, so hear it is. Please go to her blog and read it yourself, aloud, record it and replay it so you can hear how it sounds in a better voice.

‘Never Be Me’ by QueridaJ, intotheindigo.

Thank you, Querida, for helping me get back in the saddle.

https://intotheindigo.wordpress.com/2020/12/28/never-be-me

https://inmindandout.home.blog/

My Perfect Day

Maddy and George before
Supergirl and Kilroy!
Anticipation
good things come to those who wait
the wait is over

NEWS FLASH!

08/31/20 Grandpa Press: At 6:33am, minutes after the sun rose this perfect morning, baby Evelyn Rose made her grand entrance. The attendees were greeted with her cries of consternation at having to leave her cozy abode as they quickly attended to her immediate needs. Little Evelyn Rose weighed in at a healthy 8 pounds, 12 ounces, arriving with a full head of hair and a complete compliment of fingers and toes. She was placed in her mother’s loving embrace moments after her arrival and was soon enjoying her first breakfast. Due to tight security and strict safety protocols, this reporter was unable to attend the momentous event and relied on reports from trusted sources. Photos of the newborn Evelyn were sent to this reporter’s computer and are shared below.

Look at those lips! Just look at them!
“Isn’t she a beaut!” commented her great uncle Randy.
I can’t wait to hold her!
Evelyn Rose first cried today
her voice is music to our ears
she entered the world the usual way
in joy we shed our happy tears

Her voice is music to our ears
her cries will never be ignored
Her parents will love her through the years
by Granny Bee and Me she will be adored

She entered the world the usual way
when she was ready, not a moment before
A treasure at the start of this beautiful day
so great we could not ask for more

In joy we shed our happy tears
for the gift of a baby as the morning sun rose
for the love of new parents that shines so clear
Thank you for gracing our lives sweet Evelyn Rose

I can’t wait to begin my new grandpa duties, I want to do all things baby!

‘The baby is hungry’

Me: Give me Baby!

‘The baby needs a nap’

Me: Give me Baby!

‘the baby’s diaper needs to be changed’

Me; Give me Baby!

‘The baby is a little fussy’

Me: Give me Baby!

‘The baby needs a bath’

Me: Give me Baby!

Grandma and I are so proud of Madison and George, the happy parents of a beautiful baby. They have shown great love for each other and great courage to start their family. We will support them any way we can until the end of our days, may they be many and full of joy.

I’ve been missing all of you this crazy summer. It’s been all work and little play for Rosemary and I. We’ve been fortunate to have just the right kind of business to help people make the best of the poor hand we all were dealt. People rediscovered the simple pleasure of spending time outdoors, fishing, hiking, preparing for this Fall’s hunting season and enjoying nature in their own ways. It left us both with little time or mental energy to write and be creative. I’m not complaining, but I’m looking forward to things slowing down a little bit in a month or so. I miss having time to read and digest the wisdom and beauty you share through your writing. I miss responding to your words and learning different ways of expression.

I feel like...
I've left much undone 
left much unsaid 
I feel the weight of the words
in my head 
and my fingertips
building
waiting 
eager
to be released
I've no one to blame
except myself
for these feelings
it is not a question of whether those feelings
are bad 
or good
they just are
and it's up to me to resolve them
 

Thank you for your time.

Burn

I couldn’t think of a better title, so I went with simple. I don’t usually write about specific current events because I find it difficult to keep up with all the latest news and opinions people have about it. It makes me angry that people have apparently thrown all their problem solving skills down the drain. The conflicting spins that begin about 12 seconds after the news breaks, news usually poorly reported in the first place out of a desire to be first, serving only further confuse the issue and inflame rather than inform.

“A house divided against itself cannot stand”, not my words, Abraham Lincoln’s. He was referring to the choice of this country embracing or rejecting slavery. How shameful, that over a century and a half later, our society is still poisoned by the belief of some, that ‘the color of one’s skin, outweighs the content of one’s character.’ Thank you Dr. King, I hope you don’t mind my paraphrasing.

I read Cold Shoulders, by Rachel, In mind and out, and I strongly recommending that you read it first. I wanted to write a comment on her poem and it morphed into the following poem. I left the first line intact and it may seem out of place if you don’t read hers. As I said, This is not what I intended to say, but here it is. She strongly recommended that I post it.

Burn

Take shelter in the silent cold.
The world shrieks as fires consume
and anger boils,
fanned by insanity
and hot winds of hate.
A spark
without care
without need
took the last breath of a man
and with that breath
fanned to life
flames,
flames that burn
the foundations of righteous anger

and solidarity
reducing all to coals and ash
that will erupt
with the next
needless
selfish
spark

Why can’t people be better?

Why can’t we remove people from positions of power, not for mistakes, but for demonstrated blatant incompetence and the C.Y.A. tactics they hide behind? Not having to wait for the next election, not resorting to violence.

Aaauuugggghh!!!!!! This is why I don’t like to follow current events too closely!

This is why I blog!

Liebster Blog Award

The sun had set and the sky was darkening westward. I sat in the gloaming, fishing pole in hand, waiting. The Hudson River flowed smoothly by, as a torrent of disconnected thoughts and ideas churned in my head.

Finally, a tug.

It did not come from end of my line, which trailed off in the current. It came from the depths of my pocket. A notification from WordPress appeared on the glowing screen, inviting me to touch the icon.

I did.

“I’ve nominated you for the Liebster Blog award, please see my post for details”, read the message from QueridaJ, author of intotheindigo.

“What is a Liebster Blog award?” I asked. The other anglers who were nearby gave no sign of hearing my query as they attended to their own lines. Either that, or they were politely ignoring me.

So…

I went to QueridaJ’s blog and found the answer to my question which is copied and pasted below.

Here are the rules for this award !!

  • Thank the blogger who nominated you, and provide a link to their blog
  • Answer the 11 questions given to you
  • Nominate 11 other bloggers
  • Ask your nominees 11 questions
  • Notify your nominees once you have uploaded your post

Thank you QueridaJ, I am honored by your nomination for this award. Thank you for placing me among the the other incredibly talented bloggers you nominated. A few I know. The rest, I’m looking forward to reading. And, thank you for the tug I needed to organize my thoughts and get me ‘back in the saddle again’ (Not a cowboy, an Aerosmith fan from way back).

Let the answers begin!

If you could travel to a destination you have never been before, what would it be? The world is a beautiful place. I would love to visit so many places that picking one is like choosing which of your children you love the most (luckily, I have only one, so that choice is easy for me). Japan would be the place I would like to visit with my wife, but if the opportunity arose, I would choose to visit the International Space Station so I could see the entire world and the immensity of the universe in which we live.

What is one dish you love to eat but can’t be bothered to cook? I will employ a bit of creative license in my answer to this question. Ice cream is my answer! It is a dish best served cold, though it is sometimes deep fried and therefor can be considered cooked. My current favorite is Coffee Break made by King Brothers Dairy in Schuylerville NY (it’s right around the corner from me!).

What is your favourite/often used phrase? There are many things that I say often, not a few of which are unsuitable to share here. I lift and twist quotes from Shakespeare. The immortal words of Popeye the Sailor Man, “I am what I am, and that’s all I am” (am pronounced yam) come to mind often. “Resistance is futile” from the Borg and “It rubs the lotion on it’s skin” from Silence of the Lambs, roll off the tongue when timing and opportunity converge (the latter always evokes a strong response from my wife so it’s fun to say…sometimes…when I’m feeling a little reckless). “Are ya ready kids?”, by Patchy of SpongeBob Squarepants. But, I will answer the question with the classic couplet… Thank you, and, You’ re welcome.

Who was your favourite teacher and why? This is a real poser. Do I choose one of the many teachers I had throughout my education? How can I ignore the contributions of my parents, my aunts and uncles? Or my wife of 30 years, Rose, who I call Bud? What about friends and colleagues who taught me skills, how to relate to others, how to solve problems? What about all of the people who’s blog posts I’ve read and learned different perspectives from, different ways to write poetry from, who with their kind words and encouragement gave me the confidence to express myself in ways I hadn’t known I was able to before I joined this community? I cannot answer this question with a definitive statement. My answer is in my questions.

Share a scenic photo/landscape artwork (one you have taken/created or one you have seen on the net) that made you feel happy, thoughtful or amazed. I’m amazed by nature in all its forms. I’m able to think more clearly when I’m in it. I often find the simple scene more amazing than majestic landscapes. In that spirit, I will share the following photo that I took of Venus at sunset. It is simple in composition and broad in scope.

Venus at sunset

I would like to nominate the following for the Liebster Blog Award…

…and ask the following questions.

  1. What is your favorite Star Trek episode? All spin offs, generations and films count.
  2. What line from a song makes you say, “I wish I had written that!”, every time you hear it?
  3. If words could only be written a finite number of times, would you write them not knowing if it they could be written again?
  4. If you could walk a mile in someone else’s shoes, who’s shoes and why? (any person, any time, any reason)
  5. If you find yourself standing at the intersection of ‘Right’ and ‘Legal’, which path would you choose?
  6. Dogs… or cats?
  7. Is is okay to benefit from knowledge, technology or skills that were gained by morally questionable means?
  8. How much better, or worse, is your singing voice than you believe it is?
  9. Where do you think all the lost socks went?
  10. “I think, therefor, I am”. I feel, therefor, I _______?
  11. You have a magic wand, you waved it. What happened?

Please take your time if you choose to participate. I know that some people don’t take part in these things, so I won’t take offense if you don’t. I would have nominated more people if the rules allowed.

The old man

The old man walks slowly down the path,
his knees are worn from a lifetime of miles,
his aching hips creak with every halting step,
he leans on his cane, his back is bent.
Still, he walks

His clear blue eyes water in the cold air,
he raises a handkerchief to his nose once again,
as he searches the horizon for a sign,
a sign he'll know only once he's seen it.
Still, he walks.

Miles that he once easily strode
are measured now by the familiar pain.
His wills his reluctant feet to continue
though no sign is seen, and the horizon recedes.
Still, he walks.

The solid ground 'neath his worn boots,
long acquainted with his weary stride,
a partner for all his many years,
waits patiently to enfold him in its cool embrace.
Still, he walks.

On the horizon, the old man saw
the sign that only he would know.
He straightened his back, and lengthened his stride.
Gone was the pain, so long his companion.
Ahead a companion, so long departed.

The horizon was not so far after all.
Near the end of the path, he turned to look
back upon the many miles he'd walked.
He raised his handkerchief one last time,
and took the last few steps. 

The old man walks no more.

(C) Tim Blodgett   begun 10/19, completed 04/17/20

 

I wrote the first four stanzas of this poem October 2019 after my Uncle Charles stopped by my store. He was returning from an apple orchard in Easton, where they had the best Northern Spies. He couldn’t stay long, it was getting late in the day, and he wanted to be home before it started to get dark. He was having trouble with his night vision, I suppose at 87, that’s to be expected. We talked about fishing, he loved to fish. We talked about hunting, he loved that too, but he said he was getting too old to get out anymore. I told him that I would go with him if he wanted get out into the woods for a little while. He said he would like that, but he couldn’t walk very far on account of his hips, and the cold really got to him nowadays. We talked about apples, apple pies, and grafting apple trees. I remembered learning about that from my grandfather in his small orchard back in the early ’70s. We talked the small garden he kept. He was wearing a beat up old hat we had made for our store years ago, he wanted to get a new one next time we had them made.

His voice was strong, his mind and sense of humor were sharp. His eyes were blue and clear. They watered, like his nose, but the ever-present handkerchief was at the ready when needed. (That’s a Blodgett thing, I remember my father and grandfather also exhibited this trait. I have not yet reached the age where that has become a concern for me. Yet.) I looked closely at him. His skin was getting more transparent and spotted with age. He had become more stooped and crooked over the years. He was 87 after all. Still, I thought he had a few years left in him.

I was wrong.

His journey ended April 16, 2020, a little after 6:00 am. It wasn’t Covid that sent him to the hospital for his last few days. He was tired, at peace, and ready to join with Aunt Bev.

I wrote the last three stanzas April 17, 2020, after I wrapped my head around him being gone.

His death caught me by surprise. My sister told me and I told my brother, we were all caught by surprise. I guess we all thought that he would be there, old and unchanging for ever. How childish we can be.

He was a good man, we will miss him.

Whenever I hear the song ‘Band on the run’ by Paul McCartney and Wings, I remember when He and Aunt Bev took me camping and fishing on a lake in the Adirondacks about ’74. I remember hearing that song, it was raining and grey and I was fishing. I went camping with them at the Boreas River also, they had a pop-up camper, I didn’t catch any trout, but I caught a smallmouth bass. The first time I ever drove a car, (13 or 14) I drove his old Jeep Wagoneer. It was standard shift and I had to drive it up a narrow, steep logging road up to a cabin that he helped his father build years before. The steep stretch of the road dropped into a deep ravine a couple feet from the edge of the road. I was terrified, but I did it. He had a revolver, I think Smith & Wesson, chambered in .41 Magnum, that he used to carry when hunting and camping. He taught me how to shoot it when I was much younger than anyone would think prudent nowadays. I remember asking him if it kicked much.

“It kicks like an elephant”, he replied.

I’ll never forget that. I learned about firearms, how to handle them, to respect them and to be responsible with them at a young age. Those were valuable lessons that extend far beyond their original intent. They guide me still in the way I handle any tool, machine, or device that can do harm when mishandled. More people should learn those lessons.

Moonrise (do over!)

I added a screen shot of how the poem was supposed to look! I used center alignment but it posted the way it wanted to anyway. Bad computer, bad!

I didn’t know that it was the ‘Pink Super Moon’ rising in the east last Tuesday. I was just lucky that I was in a location that offered this view. I was luckier still to have turned my attention from my fishing pole and notice the moon peeking from behind the hill on the opposite side of South Bay on Lake Champlain. The top arc of the moon was barely visible through the breaks in the trees and I wasn’t even sure what I was seeing at first. Three seconds later I knew what it was and I scrambled to dig my phone from my pocket. Precious seconds were wasted in that struggle! By the time I turned the camera on, this is how far the moon rose.

Peek-a-boo

Funny how motionless the moon seems in the night sky, but put it on the horizon, or behind a hill, and we see it move with surprising speed.

Hello Moon

The moon always draws my eye. No matter her phase, or her color She is always super.

This is how I intended it to appear!
My Muse  

Oh, bright
goddess of the night, sailing 
'cross the firmament, cast your lunar light
our way. Illuminate the darkened earth, chase the 
the inky shadows westward, give the monsters no place 
to hide, bestow courage on fearful hearts. Where blackness 
reigned and blinded our eyes, your cool nocturnal glow gives
us comfort. We gaze upon your shining face, dreamers, lovers,
artists, human in our imperfections, perfect because of them.
You transport us to a higher plane, you inflame the passion
in our breasts, you enlighten us, inspire us, quicken our 
minds, fuel our creativity, you bring wonder to our
jaded lives. Promise me you will return.
 Guide us through another 
dark night.


(C) Tim Blodgett   04/09/20   

I never tire of her.

Look, but don’t touch!

Bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis)
Virgin white petals
Bloodroot's brief bloom graces spring
Look, but do not touch!

I spotted these flowers growing by the roadside while on a bike ride yesterday. As I sped by, I thought to myself;

“Stop and get a picture of those flowers, they are really pretty, and would be nice to share in my next blog.”

I didn’t. I had a good head of steam going and I was just starting up a hill, so I kept pedaling. This morning, I opened an email from The Dept. of Environmental Conservation and there it was, a picture of the flowers I had seen. I learned that they were Bloodroot flowers. DEC described it as follows;

“As a spring ephemeral, the flower of the plant is visible for just a few days before it withers away.”.

I went back today and took these photos, I didn’t want to miss my chance. Originally, I was going to build a haiku around the phrase, ‘here today, gone tomorrow” because of their fleeting appearance. After researching a little, I learned that these beauties can be quite dangerous if carelessly handled. They were used by Native Americans medicinally, but primarily as a source of red dye. The sap is caustic to and if left on the skin, it will destroy tissue and leave a scar. The sap has been used in salves as a topical treatment for skin lesions, cancers and warts. Use of this salve, commonly known as ‘Black salve’, is a dangerous, ineffective remedy and can have severely disfiguring consequences. Check it out on Wikipedia if you’re curious.

Keep your eyes open for patches of these flowers in the next few weeks if you live in the eastern US and Canada. Depending on your location, you can expect to see them from March to May. Enjoy them with your eyes only!

The other side of fire: Inspired by Ebony and Crows

I missed a lot of notices of new posts by bloggers that I follow several weeks ago. There was a local crisis that diverted my attention for a few days, but that’s another story. One of the notices I missed was for ‘Fiddling While Rome Burns’, by Ebony and Crows.

Please, before you read on, visit the link highlighted above and read Larisa’s post!

I’ve enjoyed reading her posts and poetry and getting to know her a little through them. She is a thoughtful woman who has made me laugh, think and bristle in her defense. She has also made this newbie feel welcome, and through her, I’ve discovered many other incredible writers.

Thank you Larisa

Her poem was written in the time just before our present reality and was an expression of her own thoughts and struggles. I was drawn in by its darkness and the bold defiance and power of its final words. Reading it a month and a half later, through the current lens, inspired a different response from me than it would have back then. I think we all wonder what comes after.

The other side of fire

Revel now, the city is burning!
And hope!
May what rises from the ashes
carry us on wings
purified by flame
stained by sorrow
strengthened by courage
tempered by loss
to a place
where we that passed through fear
can rest and find comfort
in the embrace
of those we love

(C) Tim Blodgett 04/20

I enjoy responding to posts with poetry in the comments. This is what I wrote as a comment to Larisa. It wasn’t the first, nor will it be the last!

I also want to thank all the others that liked, and gave me encouragement for the Fan Fic category. I hope you enjoy it.

Man, am I out of shape!

Translation: Holy cow! How did I get so fat!

Answer: YER GETTIN LAZY! (and old and you eat too much)

Yup, I’m calling myself out.

Mirrors lie. Pants and cameras don’t. Scales, charts and recommendations are debatable but pants and cameras are brutally honest.

About 13 years ago, I was rapidly approaching 230 pounds. I didn’t feel bad and I was relatively active. I knew I was carrying a ‘few’ extra pounds but then I saw two images that hit me like a cast iron frying pan. The first was a photo taken while I was instructing an archery course. I looked like a frog. The second time, I was assaulted by Jabba the Hut staring back at me from dressing mirrors in a hotel bathroom. When I got home, I started walking. Then I jogged, hating every mile I put behind me. Jogging is not my thing, I pound, get shin splints and I’m just a hair faster than molasses. Then I remembered my bike.

My bike was a Sterling Sportlight SIS that I purchased in 1987 (still have it). I rode it for a couple of years, then I got married, moved, started a fishing tackle shop with my new and current bride and worked while my bike collected dust in the shed. I pumped up the tires and oiled the chain and took it for a spin now and again, but I was busy and I didn’t have time to ride regularly. That’s my story, and I’m stickin’ to it!

Anyhoo…I ressurected it once again and started riding. I used to live on my bike when I was a kid, right up through college, and then, well, you know. The more I rode, the more I wanted to ride, This was my thing. I started riding with groups and got better quickly. A friend I used to ride with in high school lent me his Motobecan racing bike that he had owned since then. It was a few years older than mine, but it rode so much better, it made my bike look like a booger. I rode that for a couple seasons and then I bought a used Specialized Roubaix. No way I could have afforded it new!

My steed, my friend

I went from the Flintstones to the Jetsons in two jumps. My riding improved, my weight dipped close to 190. Another ten and holy cow, I’d be back to my high school weight. Alas, that was not to be. Life changes and new work demands siphoned away my time and I rode less and less.

So here I am, a few years older, rapidly approaching 210 pounds, and tired of straining my waistbands. I had my bike serviced last week and road it yesterday for almost ten miles on it’s first journey of 2020. My performance was what I expected, poor to fair, but that’s okay. It was only my first ride of the year.

Now, come ride with me.

Get the lead out

Kit up
hop in the saddle
and take me for a spin
remember how you used to love 
the wind in your hair
the miles rolling 'neath my wheels
the purr of the chain on my gears
ride me like it's the last time we'll be together
rocket down a hill
feel the thrill
of speed
of danger
of trusting me
race along the flat roads
lean into the turns
not too much, your close to the edge
and gaining speed
power up the hills
I have gears enough
feel the power in your legs
you're starting to flag
draw strength from your core
you're almost there
almost there
almost
there
you can do anything for fifteen more seconds
you're burning
you're numb
you're gasping...
for...
breath...
aaaahhhhhh...
it's all down hill from here

(c) Tim Blodgett 4/3/20

I hear my bike calling.

Threading the needle

Picture I took near my home, Fall 2019

This is a post-script disguised as a preface. Originally, I was going to title this post ‘Wurdz n stuf’. It was going to be very different from what this is. Except for the title, I’m leaving the post as written. I’ll write ‘Wurdz n stuf’ another day. I guess my head wanted to go in a different direction, so I let it. It’s my mind so…look, squirrel!

Words have great power
never underestimate
the effect they have

I have achieved two goals so far:

The first – I have written my first poem of NaPoWriMo. 29 to go.

The second – I have stated the blatantly obvious! Call me…Captain!

My optimistic, and make the best of a sub-optimal (I love that word, thanks Adam) situation, self has been stressed, not to the breaking point but tattered on the edges. We have all been jammed into the uncomfortable position of trying to do what’s right and trying to do what’s right. Uh oh…now were going sideways!

Fence sitting

how do i decide what's right  
when this right 
and that right
are both right
and neither right
is more right 
than the other right
is it right to knowingly do harm to my family
while potentially doing right for my community
is it right to calculate the risks
or is it right to do as I'm told 
i must choose which right 
is the right right
knowing that neither right 
is right 
or wrong    
                                                                                                                  

Well, that’s #2. It just happened without my internal editor’s input. It’s close enough to midnight that I may just count that as a day 2 poem if my brain quits on me tomorrow.

I don’t like being told what to do, never have, never will. That’s my nature. It’s not that I won’t, it’s just that I prefer to arrive at the decision myself. Am I stubborn and/or selfish? Yes to both. They’re not my favorite traits, but they are traits that make me (and you) human. I try to minimize their influence on my decision making, but they can be hard to shake at times. They also serve as a distant early warning system when I recognize their influence. I’m battling them now.

Do I heed the warnings and hide in my home, only venturing out to visit the places where EVERYBODY is going and the risk is greatest? Do I let my exemption applied for, nonessential business remain closed for who knows for how long, as the expenses grow and the cash register remains silent? Will the government help me or offer a slow death with more debt and low interest loans? Will I recover or go bankrupt? Will my sacrifice help everyone, or just hurt me and mine?

Do I fight for myself and my family, get the exemption, use safe practices and conduct business to generate enough income to pay my creditors and survive to fight in the next uncertain year? Will doing this expose me and mine to a greater threat of getting ill? Will I recover or die? Will my fight help anyone, or just hurt me and mine?

I’m trying to thread the needle because both choices suck. I’m trying to stay optimistic because the alternative sucks. I want to do the right thing and be part of the solution but I can’t give up without a fight because, you guessed it, that sucks.

I will do the right thing, even if it’s hard.