Wednesday, September 23, 2020


 Musing about worrying.

I remember a time when I didn’t worry about anything important,

I left that to the grown-ups.

I just worried about having to get my homework done before I could play,

What was going to be on tv,

What annoying thing would one of my brothers do or say to bug me,

Little things.

Now I worry about big things,

About things beyond my control,

About things that feel like a ticking time bomb.

I worry about my health, the safety and future of my children,

And people who have so little,

And so many people who are worrying so much.

Some people say that worrying is wishing for something bad to happen.

I wasn’t sure I agreed with that, so I looked it up.

Worry, the intransitive verb, 

The last definition listed is to feel or experience concern or anxiety, to fret.

Worry also means struggle,

To move, proceed, or progress by unceasing or difficult effort.

Dialectal British (whatever that is),

Strangle, choke.

Worrying causes worry.

Fretting too much can strangle you.

It’s the struggle phase that matters,

The place where we exert effort to work through the thoughts and emotions

So we can move out of worry 

And into a happier place.

Worry, the noun,

Mental distress or agitation from concern usually for something impending or anticipated,


A cause of worry:

Trouble, difficulty.

Worry, the transitive verb, 

There’s a direct object involved, 

Something tangible,

Something real.

Dialectal British: choke, strangle

To harass by tearing, biting, or snapping especially at the throat


To touch or disturb something repeatedly

I remember when worrying was a short term thing

Over things that would disappear from my life

As fast as they appeared.

Even if it felt like it took forever,

It didn’t.

I got over it.

How I long for those innocent days,

When worry was short and quickly become a memory

That I rarely thought of,

Instead of a long-term state permeating my whole life,

And the lives of many around me.

Rational thinking says not to worry, it won’t change anything.

Emotions and daily negative stimuli

Poke and prod my psyche,

Choking, strangling, struggling, fretting,

Recovering just in time to be afflicted again.

Worrying and memory,

Hoping the impending doom won’t happen,

Hoping the anticipated consequences aren’t real.

Worrying, hoping, wishing 

It will all go away,

And I can go back to sweating the small stuff,

And then laugh about worrying about nothing.

Sunday, September 6, 2020

Sunday Musings

 Sunday, lazy Sunday. Not really. I walked 7 1/2 miles before getting a cup of coffee and sitting in a publi c space to people watch and overhear random conversations.

Listening to chatter, breaking into the music soundtrack

Public spaces provide opportunities

To feel like normal,

But it isn’t.

At least, it isn’t what normal used to be.

What was normal?

Hugging friends and sometimes a coworker when they were having a rough time.

Jostling in crowds

Not feeling guilty when you lower your face mask to sip your coffee

Normal was occasional rudeness, occasional reasons to complain about rules

The occasional inconvenience

To the lifestyles to which you were accustomed.

We took it all for granted

And now we can’t 

We will never live that life again.

It’s not like living a new life is something new.

We’ve all done it. 

Transitioned from grade school to middle school to high school\

Some of us to college and beyond.

To work, marriage, being a parent, caring for a parent.

New jobs, losing jobs,

That’s life

And we were okay with it,

Even when things didn’t go our way

We weren’t subservient,

We adapted.

We adjusted.

We made it work.

We did the best we could

And some of us tried to do more.

Sure, we questioned, we complained, we tried to bend the rules

But we didn’t rebel against what life was meant to be.

Now that we are creating a new normal,

We have the chance to be more vocal

To rebel, in the name of freedom

Even though we felt free before and didn’t mind the rules.

So much has changed. 

And so much feels the same.

Our lives have been turned upside down.

Those with means and foresight increased their advantage

Those at the bottom of the pyramid lost ground and gained new burdens.


Why are some people’s voices able to cut through the white noise

And others are just background noise.

Maybe voices are a metaphor for society.

Most of us remain in the background

Even when we speak we are barely heard.

Others stand out and their voices are amplified

Even when the words are nonsense.


Uncle Luke and Uncle John

Talking about girls they had in the basement

That’s what boys do, they tell their neices.

Beware of uncles and men who want to show you the dark.


My mother wasn;’t too happy.

When, [fill in the blank]


So many love songs

So many stories about stealing away, stealing love,

Hiding love, sneaking kisses, losing love, a cheating lover.

Life was more simple when we believed in Cupid

And the power of everlasting love.


Over sixty and single

Strolling the streets alone

Still searching for a soul mate

Seeking a reason to settle down


Verses and rambling

Snippets, phrase, quartets

Sunday afternoon musings

Wish this day could go on for longer

Hoping the words never end.

Thinking, sighing, typing, trying

Watching people with kids, friends, a partner

Wondering how they found their way to this time and place

Wondering how I got here too.


It’s feels sad to look in the mirror

See the lines and blemishes created by time

And then I remember this isn’t the end

And smile at the memories I see in the glass

And life is good.

All that;s missing is a partner on the road.

Solo is fun, but two drivers can go further.

Time to Remodel

 Is this about a house or life?

Time to remodel.

We need our space

We need more light

This house needs to be able to hold us all.

Saturday, September 5, 2020

Home - 2

 Not sure if this is a poem or a song.

Cracks in the ceiling, stains on the floor

There are probably remnants of lead in the layers of paint on the wall

But I like it more than my 80’s house

That never felt like home.

Have a courtyard instead of a lawn

Elevator and stairs, a garbage chute in the hall

But I love the old building with mysterious creaks

And the hidden stories surrounding me

Can watch the sunset while I eat

Hear traffic and sirens and sometimes my neighbors

But I feel safer and more secure

Than in a two story house alone.

Home is a feeling you get

When you walk through the door

A place of comfort with your things on the walls

Home is where you want to return

After work or a long trip

Home is where you want to sit and watch the rain.

Friday, September 4, 2020

2020 Birthday Poem

Carrot cake and a mirror,

Birthdays are a time for celebration and reflection.

The mirror in my bathroom shows an older face than I think it should,

The lines are too deep,

The circles under my eyes are too dark,

When I smile I see a lopsided grin,

When I frown my bottom lip juts out.

My hair is curling in a variety of directions.

So I leave the bathroom,

Sit at my table, 

And dip my index finger into walnut coated frosting.

I savor the taste before picking up a fork,

To eat my two-layer carrot cake.

No need for a mirror,

To reflect while I celebrate,

Surviving another year,

And toast the beginning of next trip around the sun,

With the taste of memories.

Tuesday, September 1, 2020


The prompt for tomorrow's ukulele challenge is a song about home. Seemed like a good prompt for writing.



I’ve lived in a few,

Some were just a place to eat and sleep,

Others were a refuge from the outside world

The only place where I could let my guard down

Play piano, sing, write, read,

Sometimes cry.

Everyone needs shelter.

A house isn’t necessarily a home

Apartment, trailer, a rented room,

Home is where the heart is

According to Pliny the Elder,

A Roman philosopher,

Who died in AD 79 while attempting to rescue a friend and his family

From the lava of Vesuviius,

They say it was probably the wind.

Bring it on home

Sam sang it,

Sonny Boy played it

Led Zeppelin had their own song.

Richard and Linda sang that

A heart needs a home.

And Karla said home sang to her of sweet things.

I sit,

Thinking about home

And not sure where to go.