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Thursday, July 19, 2012

Inspiration from the words of others

From the very first Poetic Bloomings prompt, and from the sensitive work of Marie Elena Good, entitled “Of Dandelions and Manicures””



"One scatters dandelion seeds,
Who understands a daydream’s needs."

MEG

I think of her often,
living in a smallish place,
a friend to so many,
living vastly flung.
I choose to think of her
with a broad smile,
sometimes a loud laugh,
at all times huggable.
I never consider
the possibility of frowns
or headaches,
or any other form of discontent.
It’s my daydream,
and I’ll have in it what I want.

Also from the initial Poetic Bloomings prompt, and from the passionate work of Walt Wojtanik,
entitled “A Touch”:



"It is desire of the highest power.
It has been left to burn unattended"

Maestro

There can be no turning back,
bridges blown asunder,
boats all sunk,
there is only forward in our plans.
It is not that we are brave,
simply that there is no choice,
courage not at issue,
as the fire rages at our backs.
We can cure the ills of the world.
We can. We will. We must.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Natalie Calls

Natalie woke just as she had every day. She sat up and smiled at Alex, her friend and
husband of 25 years. Then her breath caught in her throat and she died.

Natalie’s son was to graduate from Duke in a few months, and she had so wanted to attend the ceremony. She knew she had a heart valve in need of repair, but feared post-surgical recuperation would prevent a trip from Marin County, California to North Carolina. Besides, her doctors felt it wasn’t an emergency. It was. This is not a story about maladroit medical professionals, however, even though it wouldn’t be unreasonable to think that the doctors should have advised Natalie to schedule herself earlier. But, she was still in her 40’s. There was no reason for her – or us – to fear or suspect sudden death. She had plenty of time. That we were all wrong is the real lesson to be learned. A few weeks shy of AARP qualification, Natalie always seemed to be smiling. Unusual for a real estate agent in a cutthroat market, she was loved by her colleagues. At her funeral services, many mourners stood outside in the late December rain, for lack of room in the pews. Natalie and Alex had purchased an identical, adjoining house, 18 months before she died. My wife and I had lived in ours for 7 years, and the renovations were long completed. Barbara worked as a real estate appraiser, and the two of them hit it off immediately. Both of them viewed several houses each week, and their remodeling urges were constantly stimulated. While our makeover budget was mostly spent, Natalie was just tapping into hers. Frequently she’d call to report a new idea, or she came calling with her contractor in tow.  Although my interest in remodeling had disappeared when the two-week upgrade of our master bedroom turned into a two-month disaster, I loved it when Natalie called. She was so energetic and enthusiastic and optimistic. More importantly, it wasn’t our money at work, and both of us enjoyed her company. We saw a lot of Natalie and Alex. Only once, however, did we actually sit down in a semi-formal situation. Early on, we simultaneously extended dinner invitations, and we settled on a movable feast, including some other neighbors as well. In the succeeding year, we attempted many times to get together again. It never worked out. We were both always too busy with other things. We never sat down again for an evening devoted to just being friends. Of course, we would see each other and chat. It was always a pleasure to see them, especially Natalie, with her smiles and effervescence. We always left those encounters with the promise to “get together soon.” Well, “soon” never happened. And then she died. On the morning of Natalie’s death, I’d said to Barbara, “That’s it. We’re getting together with Alex and Natalie tonight. No excuses. If they’re busy, we’ll take the wine next door.” I even wrote myself a note - ALEX & NATALIE!!!! – and taped it to my computer monitor, so I’d remember to call them as soon as I got home from work. I didn’t see any reason to call at 6:00 AM, so I let it go for later. I learned that “later” wouldn’t be soon enough. Our neighborhood gossip ran across the street when I pulled into the driveway to yell that “Natalie died this morning”, before I could get out of the car. My first reaction was disbelief. He told me what little he knew. I walked away without excusing myself. Sadness and emptiness overcame my sense of manners. By the time I was in the house, I recalled my morning plans. In case I’d forgotten, the note on the monitor shouted out a reminder. Sadness gave way to anger and regret. We’d waited too long. We’d wasted our opportunities. We’d thought we had all the time in the world, and we didn’t even have tonight. I promised myself to never let this happen again. I’ve memorialized Natalie in a very personal manner. I vowed to never let friendship slide, to never let love go unspoken, not for a day, not even for an hour. Life today is filled with means of instant communication – cell phones, the Internet, faxes – excuses need not apply. Soon after Natalie’s death, I found the perfect way to act on my promise to myself. Talking to a friend about a cousin in Wisconsin who’d made a huge difference in my life, I realized I was telling the wrong person. I immediately called my cousin and told her how important she was to me, how much I loved her and how she’d contributed to my happiness. It was wonderful on both ends of the call. She had things to tell me as well. Had it not been for Natalie, the call might never have been made.
Since, I have made hundreds of such connections. Sometimes it’s to old friends. Often, it’s to people currently in my life, living at a distance. Occasionally, it’s a famous person I want to acknowledge.
I’ve written sports heroes and actors. I’ve connected with high school classmates. A few years ago, I contacted Ken, my algebra teacher and basketball coach at age 14. “I’m a better person for knowing you”, I said. He was thrilled to hear from me. That’s the best part of what I’ve come to refer to as my “Natalie Calls.” The people that I’ve connected with are all happy I did so. Many times, they’ve been in distress. The contact with someone who appreciates them is the perfect medicine. Often, the person I’ve called tells me they were just thinking about me. Funny how that works. Nearly every celebrity I’ve written has responded with humility and gratitude.
Ken and I have maintained our initial re-connection, and we were recently able to spend time together, after nearly 40 years of separation. It was a simple day, just lunch and conversation. It was also an extraordinary day, one of the best in my experience. We are in regular communication now. We share our lives. What a gift. My most important Natalie Calls are the ones I make every day, to friends and relatives. Maybe I saw them only yesterday, or spoke to them last week. But, if I miss someone, I tell them. If I love someone, I let them know. Now.

Natalie taught me we only have this moment. We don’t even have tonight.

Thank you, Natalie.

Monday, July 2, 2012

Conscious

One may rest easy, knowing that this moment is perfect,
just like the one before it,
and the one before that.