Disappointed

 I’m very disappointed

The remaining 3 won’t quit,

Since “60 Minutes” took a real

Below-the-belt type hit.

The correspondents who are left

Gave reasons I found lame,

Because we know that long-lived show

Will never be the same.

Presenting a united front

Would make the message clear,

But who am I to give advice

On somebody’s career?

I’m sure they talked amongst themselves*

Though I could only sputtuh 

When I heard what they’d decided,

Which was very unlike buttuh.

*Couldn’t resist the Linda Richman reference

(Google her on old Saturday Night Lives)

My Skeleton

My skeleton has brittle bones;

That’s what the test reveals,

Another prime example of

What aging often steals.

I could take some injections or

A course of daily pills

To build my bones back, just in case

I suffer any spills.

Though if I manage not to fall,

My bones are working fine.

Still, if I trip and break my hip,

I’ll know the fault is mine.

The quandary I am in is like

A coin toss - tails or heads?

To trust my balance not to fall

Or cave and take the meds?

Right now it’s 50 - 50.

Will my osteoporosis 

Leave my no-meds skeleton in peace

Despite my diagnosis?

The Tree Man

The tree man toured my property,

Which was at my request.

I wanted some dead branches gone 

And figured he knew best.

He put some ribbons ‘round the trunks

Of trees he thought should go,

One big one next to my back door; 

I’ll likely tell him “no.”

That tree’s been here before my house;

It’s sturdy, tall and strong

And where it started growing first 

Is where it does belong.

Yes, twigs and leaves fall on the roof,

But I don’t have the heart

To have it ripped out from the ground

Where life, for it, did start.

My husband disagrees; he says

To trust the tree man’s eye,

But someone else can hire him

To do it, when I die.

 

Buying Something New

I’m sure I have enough to wear

To last until I die,

Yet still, I buy new clothes at times

And you might wonder why.

 

Though it feels good to dress oneself

In something fresh and cool,

It also makes the time ahead,

So tightly wound, unspool.

 

Since no one buys a shirt or pants

Believing it will last

For just a few appearances

Before one’s time has passed.

 

So purchases become a way

To guarantee (or hope)

That life will keep one on its path

And not death’s slippery slope.

What Parents Teach

What parents teach their children

Mostly isn’t what they say,

But the way they live their lives 

Those children witness every day.

If there’s kindness or there’s anger,

Lack of interest or support,

Kids learn quickly how their parents

May excel or come up short.

Offspring emulate behavior

In their folks that they admire

Or reject some ways of being

They’d be glad to see expire.

As they grow, without their knowing,

They absorb or let dissolve

Certain customs that they live with 

As their grown-up selves evolve.

And as they approach adulthood,

They might find, with some surprise,

They’ve become their parents or

The opposite, in their own eyes.

Riding on the Ferry

I am very, very, very

Fond of riding on the ferry.

There’s no traffic on the river,

So it’s easy to deliver

 

All the riders when expected

From the boats they have selected.

Up on top, the ride is breezy,

But in any seat, it’s easy

 

To gaze out at your surroundings

While the vessel’s leaps and boundings

Take you all around the city

For a taste of nitty-gritty.

 

Passengers of all persuasions

Ride for various occasions –

Workers heading to employment,

Tourist seeking pure enjoyment.

 

People-watching is rewarding.

Check out strangers while they’re boarding.

Hear the accents from their nations;

Eavesdrop on some conversations.

 

Ditch the subway, bus or taxi;

Turn your mini journey maxi

And your mood from tense to merry.

Hop on board a New York ferry!

The Final Minute

The final minute’s ticked its last

For “60 Minutes”’ time has passed.

A word of warning should suffice –

Its murderer was Bari Weiss.

 

First Anderson announced he’d leave;

His absence will make many grieve.

Then double axes heaved a chop,

Letting 2 reporters drop.

 

The Sharyn and Cecilia bust

Removed 2 women I did trust

To tell the stories, blow by blow,

The public has a right to know.

 

When Ms. Alfonsi spoke her mind

About a cancelled show, she’d find

The bigwigs didn’t like her nerve;

Her canning she did not deserve.

 

But worst of all was letting go

Scott Pelley, who, as we all know.

Was “60 Minutes”’ heart and soul

And perfect for his starring role.

 

He pulled no punches and did speak

With well-placed anger; his critique

Cost him his job. Ms. Weiss sure botched

A show we eagerly once watched.