Category Archives: Love
Big Bands and Crooners
Trombone sliding around trumpets
Ole blue eyes and Crosby balladering
Loudly enough on the hi-fi to be heard in the kitchen
Cinnamon and nutmeg joined in chorus
Butter whipped with rich brown sugar
Sunshine egg yolks breaking out of their shell
Clouds of flour rising with surprised impudence
and vanilla competing with cocoa
(depending on the recipe)
Blended, folded, mixed, stirred
always in time to the metranome of music
Oven preheated, we hand our offerings into its maw
Patience.
All dishes are washed. All surfaces cleaned.
Attend to the hopeful gifts being transformed
Dusting, vacuuming, beds long made
Wait while the trumpet solo reaches cresendo
Patience.
With the ring of the timer, we engage our success
while Big Bands and Crooners celebrate with us
Groundhog Day
The atmosphere is filled with fear
While the scythe swings deathly near
Labored breathing, barely there
Scars of battles warn: Beware!
The flies swarm round like vultures keening
Recycled life of profound meaning
The Otherwhere claims the tiny soul
Regret is mine for the life I stole
Soul Pool
Soul Pool
I have existed for eons before I was born
As a descendant of my womenfolk
Who have cradled me within their wombs
Nurturing my spirit they have always known
Just as I know them in my aging, dusty carcass
Animated by their tribal songs that lent me their breath
Extending their pneuma into my mortality
Anointing me with collective wisdom as my inheritance
Courage emblazoned like a scarlet letter;
ushered in with fiercest loyalty
Resilience bestowed as an endowment of hope
Strength of a champion intrinsically passed down
I am born again and again, basking in the immortality
Reveling in the joyful victories of lives well lived
Lamenting the horrors and pains that are birthed;
And rebirthed, and again
I am my mother’s eyes, my grandmother’s faith,
My great-grandmother’s charm,
my great-great-grandmother’s muscle memory
I am because of their willingness to grant me
This Soul Pool in which I float and swim
An Exception
We are taught all our lives that there are norms.
Ways to behave and how to perform
We’re punished if we color outside of the lines
cinching our spirits to fit the confines
removing authenticity, forcing conformity
but we’ve done a disservice in all its enormity
Take exception from those “laws”
Run around naked with all your flaws
Be who you are without any doubts
Experience the joy! Scream and shout!
You’re validly beautiful when you’re true to yourself
You weren’t made to be perfect, stored on a shelf.
You were meant to experience life at full throttle
To demonstrate to others, to be a role model
Life is too precious to indulge what society thinks
Be the exception to the world, not a lip-sync
TAMP: Sharon “Shern” Crane
A long, long time ago, I watched colored lights pass my studio window. Every night, they paraded across the parking lot of the apartment complex I lived in with my family. I decided I wanted to meet this alien.
A few evenings later, I had the great fortune to meet Miss Shern. (Her accent is very Tennessee which causes her to say my name like MAY-ore.) She and I got to talking about life, the universe, and everything becoming fast friends. She wore the battery operated Christmas lights so that people could see her as she walked her dog, Candy. Candy was a fat beagle who was well loved; sweet as could be.
As time passed, Miss Shern and I would commonly seek out each other’s company. She would come solve the problems of the world at my kitchen table with a good pot of coffee and sometimes some sweets.
A different friend of mine gifted me a feathery charm to hang over my doorway to keep evil spirits out.
After spending several hours with Miss Shern, she was heading out my door when the feather adornment caught her eye.
“What’s that for?” She asked.
“It’s to keep assholes out.” I replied without missing a beat.
“Does it work?” She prodded.
I looked her dead in the eye, “Apparently not.”
We laughed about that harder than we should have. We still tell that story.
She is the kind of person you could ask anything of, talk about anything with, and she has a clunky sort of grace that is truly sincere. She gives selflessly to various causes having served 30 years with the Red Cross (I think it’s more, but I’m pretty sure that’s the number), decades at The Holiday Bureau which supplements families with holiday decorations, gifts, and other such things. She raises money for gifting snacks and drinks for the Police, Fire, and EMS. She volunteers at warming centers in the winter time. She serves on the Oak Ridge Housing Authority Board.
She is quick to laugh. She explores the world with the wonder of a child and the wisdom of living. She’s an avid reader. She’s taken up caving and hiking. She goes to classes at The Oak Ridge Senior Center to expand her vast knowledge. She is impressive as a human.
I have a lot of favorite people, typically it’s for one reason or another, but she…she’s the whole enchilada. I adore her, her heart, her passions, her compassion, her emotional bumpy-bits, and her laugh. This world is a better place with her in it.
Growing Myself
My ancestral wisdom is tangible in my sunburnt skin, tasted on my compassionate tongue, washed in glorious joy, baptized in horrific sorrow. I am spirit ever expanding, heated with a desire to be loved, buried in the beaches of hourglass sands using a cracked red plastic bucket and a too small yellow shovel. I’m thirsty for knowledge, recumbent in peace. I am decayed by grief with only a mildly offensive odor. I have rebuilt myself, my life, my dreams with non-stock aftermarket replacement parts out of every past me I’ve ever been.
Healing Hugs
I hugged shame
I loved disgrace
I encouraged peace
To the weeping face
I heard confession
I felt mercy
I held his hand
Told him he’s worthy
Removed the prison
Of spoken word
Showed him value
By actions served
He sobbed for relief
From a god he doubted
Regret his badge
His sight; sin clouded
Visible pain
ached his soul
But his words dictated
Desperate control
Will he surrender?
Forgive his heart?
Remember his humanity,
That is tearing him apart?
I can’t fix him
Or make things better,
Just let him feel loved
Releasing the debtor
For Us All
When I say I pray,
I pray for us.
I take my knowing of your Spirit as it has met mine
Reminded that we are of one heart; one people
Faith turned inside out as a beacon of compassion;
kindness gifted a mortal coil
Our lives are bountiful with profound joy and excruciating sorrow
Both, in their own way, unspoiled sweetness like honey
Both archaic and newly birthed
My tears are as salty as yours,
my blood as red
Our grief shatters our hearts wide open
but so does the ecstasy of awareness
of abiding love; ever expanding
A welcomed blessing imprisoned in prosaic words
An offering of obedient relationship with one another;
with the interactive chaos of the world
Let us be a harbor for one another
in the turbulent, roiling depths of uncertainty
So when I say I pray,
I truly pray for us.
Who knew?
I have a client whom I’ve been with for over 8 months. I companion care he and his wife three times a week. He is extroverted, claims he hates people while socializing, laughs with his entire body, and is charmingly impish. She is quiet, speaks when spoken to, defers to her husband, but is sweet and expressive when she feels it.
I was doing a normal Thursday visit. He was in rare form. He declared himself indomitable then laughed when myself and his other visitor cheered his word choice. It was a grand celebration of friendship and excellent conversation.
The following morning I received a text that said things had taken a turn for the worse and he was in dire straits. Could I go visit? Absolutely.
Dire straits is an understatement. Although no fever, he was having a health crisis not experienced before. The secondary visitor of Thursday was informed of the situation and they also arrived. It was crushing to know that what we experienced the day before had done a 180. His stats were critically low, but being on hospice, comfort was key.
We prayed.
Okay, I confess, I thought prayer, like funerals, were for the comfort of the person attending to their love. Positive vibes and all that. I prayed to the Universe that peace would prevail, that the highest good would be met, and that his children would arrive in time to attend the final hours. He was put on several prayer chains, of which, I’ve also been skeptical.
For four days he knocked on death’s door. He wasn’t eating or drinking. He couldn’t swallow. He was doing a version of Cheyne-Stokes breathing (It’s kind of like a fish out of water. Because they can’t swallow, the mucus that normally goes down remains in the throat causing a “rattling” sound) He knocked hard, but…nobody was home?
Tuesday he was awake and aware of visitors; even speaking.
By Thursday he was sitting up in his chair, conversing, demanding, agitated that he couldn’t exercise “to stay fit.” He ate more than he had all week. He drank hot tea. He was cranky, but alert and responding to input.
Okay, so let me explain why this struck me as unusual. I honestly believed, as did the nursing staff, that he was going to die. His body showed all the signs of that coming up quickly. The children (my age and better), were told to prepare. But, what changed?
I’m sure there is a scientific reason for his sudden turn-around. I’ve seen and experienced people doing a “rally” (That’s when the dying person suddenly has a burst of energy that can make them seem competely “normal” again. They may want to eat their favorite foods, or drink, or talk with their loved ones. It happens surprisingly often.) Four days of awareness is unusual.
This particular set of events has really forced me to confront my views on prayer, on my own experience, and honestly, I feel like a bit of imposter. However, I’ll take the guidance of my fellow guest and roll with the grace that has been granted with this incredible occurance. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to be wrong, yet I want so badly to understand.
The next few days, other family members will be attending to him in conjunction with his children.
I will continue to pray. I am baffled, feel awkward in my Unitarian Universalist faith, curious as all get out, and willing to laugh at myself for thinking I knew enough. Do we ever?






