Open to the public,
There
are paintings to peruse,
Plus
some sketches and some sculpture
For
the connoisseur to choose.
On
the days before an auction
I
will wander through the space,
Wond’ring
if there’s a Picasso
Or
Monet I can embrace.
Just
today I saw Pissarros,
Norman
Rockwells and Matisse.
There
were quite a few Chagalls
All
hanging, waiting for release.
Though
I’m lucky to be able
To
see art that so enthralls,
Think
how privileged are the buyers
Who’ll
hang some on their own walls!
My daughter met her boyfriend
At
a camp for “special needs.”
Their
story started years ago
And
this is where it leads –
To
her birthday celebration,
Which
was perfect, yesterday,
Near
at and that boyfriend’s home,
A
distance two-plus hours away.
We
met early at a diner
For
a yummy breakfast meal;
Next
came bowling and some mini-golf,
Which
both have much appeal.
And
the day kept getting better,
For
the boyfriend had prepared
The most
festive birthday venue,
Showing
just how much he cared.
In
his yard there were balloons and signs
And
music for the mood,
Plus
a slide show of their years together
And some
special food.
With
his chef’s hat and his apron,
Brett
cooked burgers on the grill
And
his mom provided sides and drinks
Of which we
had our fill.
There
were candles on a lovely cake
And
presents to unwrap,
Plus,
we got to hang with Leo
And
meet Ezra (‘fore her nap).
As
we all sang “Happy Birthday” –
Brett,
his bro-in-law and sis
And
his mom and niece and nephew,
Me
& Mel, I thought of this –
That
each one of us, in different ways,
Has
“special needs” and yet,
With
resolve and love, the day can be
As
good as it can get.
The pizza trucks were parked outside
With bakers rolling dough
And spreading it to fit the pans,
The toppings set to go.
The crusts were thin and crispy;
The veggies, sauce and cheese
Were baked to such perfection
That they couldn’t help but please.
Attendees lined up patiently
And generously plated
While just outside, the pizza people
Prepped for those who waited.
How cool and modern, this approach
To feeding all the crowd.
No fuss, no muss for those who host,
Yet all who eat are wowed.
My father’s death was from his heart,
My mother’s from her brain
And so I wonder which, for me,
Might just be on the wane.
Of course, there is no guarantee
That I will follow suit,
For in the future, we all know
There is no absolute.
So far, my heart is ticking fine
And even with some quirks,
My brain, despite some CRS,*
Apparently still works.
*Can’t remember spit (or its rhyming improvement)
Lawyers have a lingo
That’s
like gibberish to me.
The
same is true for those who have
A
medical degree.
I
guess with any specialty,
The
lingo is unique
And
understood by colleagues,
Yet
to others sounds like Greek.
When
language is exclusive,
It’s
a pathway to connect
But
to those without the lingo,
There’s
the opposite effect.
I am not artistic, but
I
signed up for a class
To
learn to make mosaics
Out
of little bits of glass.
We
studied some examples
From
a long-past ancient date
Then
received our own materials
With
which we could create.
I
watched my classmates jump right in,
Ideas
at their command,
While
staring blankly at the tiles
And
glue I had at hand.
With
paper and a pencil,
I
can quickly craft a rhyme.
My
talents don’t extend to places
Where
the words aren’t prime.
Yet
I’ll complete my project
And
will proudly bring it home,
Knowing
it will never equal
Even
my worst-written poem.
It’s hard to get from A to B
If
you are in a car,
Although
I guess it could depend,
Of
course, on where you are.
In
New York’s metro area,
The
traffic’s so much worse
Than
just a few short years ago;
It’s
really quite perverse.
The
GPS diverts us
To
some roads we do not know
And
even then, construction makes
The
going very slow.
So
trips are twice as long (or more!)
As
they’re supposed to be.
The
lesson to be learned from this
Is
very clear to me:
Leave
extra time for traveling
Whenever
you may roam,
But
even better, park your car
And
just stay close to home.
