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I
was planning
on sending you some birthday prose,
filled with clever similes and metaphors.
Complicated rhymes and sugar sweet phrases.
I started like this:
You are like a piece of sunny Key Lime pie.
Excuse me. Food. No.No.No.
Your smile like a cherry atop a hot fudge sundae.
Oh dear. More food. Excuse me. No. No. and NO.
i am shaking and fevered
a case of the chills
and i think i have lost
my superb writing skills
hallucinations and quivers
under layers of clothes
i imagine your birthday
as my eyes slowly close
but as its the flu
i am up up in a flash
and down in a hurry
toss me out with the trash
i would have i would have
written you such a song
a birthday sonata
to sing all day long...,
but instead there's a humming
inside of my head
a beautiful lyric
someone else wrote instead
a song with great vintage
like a finely aged wine
is circling my brain
and chilling my spine
for the words are so simple
so tender and sweet
i've sent then instead
of my own wordy treat
may you always remember
in these words on the page
that you have my heart
any day, any age....
I have included the lyrics to this tune, originally
recorded by the McGuire Sisters, but performed here on the Lawrence
Welk Show in 1958, by the Lennon Sisters. I would post the video here,
but I think Mr. Welk does the intro greater justice than I...so click
the link...give a listen and then blow out your candles...
May you always walk in sunshine
Slumber warm when night winds blow
May you always live in laughter
For a smile becomes you so
May good fortune find your doorway
May the bluebird sing your song
May no trouble travel your way
May no worry stay too long
May your heartaches be forgotten
May no tears be spilled
May old acquaintances be remembered
And your cup of kindness filled
And may you always be a dreamer
May your wildest dream come true
May you find someone to love
As much as I love you.
(May your heartaches be forgotten)
(May no tears be spilled)
May old acquaintances be remembered
And your cup of kindness filled
And may you always be a dreamer
May your wildest dream come true
May you find someone to love
As much as I love you.
And of THAT doesn't cut it...how about one
of my own originals, a blast from the past from one of my better days
that made you smile as you blew out the candles.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
A
Letter
To My Grandchild...
Received
Christmas Eve...
Dear Child,
In celebration of your first Christmas, I wrote you a letter...
You are a part of the universe. Look up into the sky at night, once in
awhile and remind yourself that you are tiny. The smallest piece of an
infinite puzzle just like the ones you will put together as a child. There is
nothing more frustrating than to work long and hard solving the puzzle
only to find the last piece missing. Perhaps, just perhaps, you are the
missing piece, the one that we have all searched for under tables,
behind refrigerators. out in the shed in the yard or deep in the sand on
the beach. Perhaps you, though tiny, are actually the answer. The
solution. The link that makes us all whole. Only time will tell. Only your
time will tell. And before you put the period at the end of your sentence, I
wish you the glory of many question marks, exclamation points, asterisks
and commas in your life story. You are the editor-in-chief and have an
eraser at the end of your pencil.
Forgive yourself mistakes and missteps. Pride yourself on honest effort, a
kindness of heart, an openness to inquiry, and stand tall among your
peers. But never ever look down, stand shoulder to shoulder with the rest
of humanity and share when you have more than enough, work hard
when you have too little, and be grateful when someone lends you a hand
to help you up. Just be sure to return the favor and always always
remember to keep a grin tucked up your sleeve and a smile in your heart.
Love,
Santa Claus
P.S.
...There might be a letter waiting for you....
...if you simply take a moment to…
A
Letter
To My Grandchild...
Received
Christmas Eve...
Dear Child,
In celebration of your first Christmas, I wrote you a letter...
You are a part of the universe. Look up into the sky at night, once in
awhile and remind yourself that you are tiny. The smallest piece of an
infinite puzzle just like the ones you will put together as a child. There is
nothing more frustrating than to work long and hard solving the puzzle
only to find the last piece missing. Perhaps, just perhaps, you are the
missing piece, the one that we have all searched for under tables,
behind refrigerators. out in the shed in the yard or deep in the sand on
the beach. Perhaps you, though tiny, are actually the answer. The
solution. The link that makes us all whole. Only time will tell. Only your
time will tell. And before you put the period at the end of your sentence, I
wish you the glory of many question marks, exclamation points, asterisks
and commas in your life story. You are the editor-in-chief and have an
eraser at the end of your pencil.
Forgive yourself mistakes and missteps. Pride yourself on honest effort, a
kindness of heart, an openness to inquiry, and stand tall among your
peers. But never ever look down, stand shoulder to shoulder with the rest
of humanity and share when you have more than enough, work hard
when you have too little, and be grateful when someone lends you a hand
to help you up. Just be sure to return the favor and always always
remember to keep a grin tucked up your sleeve and a smile in your heart.
Love,
Santa Claus
P.S.
...There might be a letter waiting for you....
...if you simply take a moment to…
Friday, January 10, 2014
The
Mother
Of
Invention
Why
That
Would
Be
Me...
I read an article this morning that made me laugh out loud.
Like this...HaHaHaHaHa!
In the interview, the subject stated that aliens
walk amongst us and that they are responsible for all of our advances in
technology.
Again...HaHaHaHaHaHa...Ha!
Well, SOMEONE had to do it. Someone had to be
responsible for all those amazing technological advances, inventions and
inexplicable break throughs. Though I am mostly humble by nature, I
think it is TIME for me to finally take credit for:
the phonograph
television
TV trays
mass production
cell phone towers
the automobile
disposable diapers
remote controls
the lunar module
deep fat fryers
robotics
tin foil
baby wipes
corn removal pads
microphones
vinyl records
girdles
and on and on and on and on...
I should be in the Inventor's Hall of Fame.
Oh, I forgot to mention...
knee high panty hose and press on nails.
Yeah, yeah yeah I see you out there rolling your eyes in disbelief.
What you may not see, but I do, are all the mothers all over the planet nodding their heads and making fist bumps in the air.
Right, ladies, am I right or am I RIGHT?
Take the lunar module, for example. Over the ten to
fifteen years my boys entered the yearly Science Fair at their
respective schools, I crafted bridges to nowhere made out of popsicle
sticks, grew plants in light and in dark, taught graphs and pie charts,
and measured the strength of 1 ply v.s. 2 ply toilet paper when
subjected to the gravitational pull of a variety of common kitchen
gadgets. I wrapped tin foil over cardboard and built electric circuits
strong enough to power a flashlight bulb.
Now, multiply my efforts by other mothers across
the continent and you can hear the rocket's red Saturn roar. You think
that some man taught a poor little monkey to sit strapped and
still in his car seat while orbiting the earth? Then you haven't met the
mothers I know who have permanent dents in their shoulders from toting a
proverbial suitcase of tricks and treats for a simple trip to the local
supermarket.
We, the Mothers Of Invention, croon in tune,
lullabies in the middle of the night, while holding hands in the doc's
office, when walking down the hallway on the first day of school. We tap
out tunes on wooden xylophones, make zoom zoom crash kaboom sound
effects and tap out encouragement on the top of the dining room table
while we line up the hated and detested peas on a fork and land an
airplane all with a flourish. Songs. Tunes. The music of life starts on
the tip of your Mother's tongue. The desire to play, record, to strum,
to hum, to digitize, to harmonize, to make beautiful music begins with
the
Mmmmmm....Mmmmmm...Mmmmmm...M as in Momma
Remote controls. Yeah. An extra pair of hands during flu season.
Yup. A maternal idea for sure.
Radar. Sonar. Cell towers. Tracking devices. Tell
the truth now. You know it in your heart. You guys have always been
jealous of those invisible Mama's eyes in the back of our heads. The
first time you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar, or rolling
the car down the driveway without turning on the ignition, followed by
the sound of a voice catching you in the act or about ten seconds before you even thought the evil thought...well?
Oh and all of you smart aleck architects and
designers of skyscrapers, shopping malls, intricate innards of tunnels
and rapid transit, with your hooks and pulleys, your cranes and hard hat
construction zones . Not. Hand any mother a box of Legos, a
set of Construx, Lincoln Logs, and tell Bob the Builder to take a seat.
Not only can we build, but we teach by example, wrench in one hand,
power tools in the other. Who taught you the phrase...pass me the
screwdriver, no, not that one, the Phillips...please?
Your Mom did.
And as for creativity. Artistic expression.? I'll
let you in on a well kept secret. Michaelangelo's Mama Mia taught me her
trick of finger painting with chocolate pudding and the importance of
lining the floor with paper towels when you are painting on the ceiling.
Those first words of yours, your first expression of self, appeared on
the refrigerator door with a set of primary colored magnets along with
the Crayola print of your dog Floppy.
So, the next time you hear someone imply that alien
life forms are responisble for all the mathematically impossible
inventions and innovations known to man, just remember who taught you
how to count to ten on your fingers and toes, because that's what each
member of the Mother Hood knows...
Mothers plant the seed,
then cross our hands over our hearts and let you take the credit.
The Mothers of Invention...Invented You....
All we ask is that you play nicely in the sandbox, clean up your toys when finished, and respect your elders.
Love,
Your Momma
The
Mother
Of
Invention
Why
That
Would
Be
Me...
I read an article this morning that made me laugh out loud.
Like this...HaHaHaHaHa!
In the interview, the subject stated that aliens
walk amongst us and that they are responsible for all of our advances in
technology.
Again...HaHaHaHaHaHa...Ha!
Well, SOMEONE had to do it. Someone had to be
responsible for all those amazing technological advances, inventions and
inexplicable break throughs. Though I am mostly humble by nature, I
think it is TIME for me to finally take credit for:
the phonograph
television
TV trays
mass production
cell phone towers
the automobile
disposable diapers
remote controls
the lunar module
deep fat fryers
robotics
tin foil
baby wipes
corn removal pads
microphones
vinyl records
girdles
and on and on and on and on...
I should be in the Inventor's Hall of Fame.
Oh, I forgot to mention...
knee high panty hose and press on nails.
Yeah, yeah yeah I see you out there rolling your eyes in disbelief.
What you may not see, but I do, are all the mothers all over the planet nodding their heads and making fist bumps in the air.
Right, ladies, am I right or am I RIGHT?
Take the lunar module, for example. Over the ten to
fifteen years my boys entered the yearly Science Fair at their
respective schools, I crafted bridges to nowhere made out of popsicle
sticks, grew plants in light and in dark, taught graphs and pie charts,
and measured the strength of 1 ply v.s. 2 ply toilet paper when
subjected to the gravitational pull of a variety of common kitchen
gadgets. I wrapped tin foil over cardboard and built electric circuits
strong enough to power a flashlight bulb.
Now, multiply my efforts by other mothers across
the continent and you can hear the rocket's red Saturn roar. You think
that some man taught a poor little monkey to sit strapped and
still in his car seat while orbiting the earth? Then you haven't met the
mothers I know who have permanent dents in their shoulders from toting a
proverbial suitcase of tricks and treats for a simple trip to the local
supermarket.
We, the Mothers Of Invention, croon in tune,
lullabies in the middle of the night, while holding hands in the doc's
office, when walking down the hallway on the first day of school. We tap
out tunes on wooden xylophones, make zoom zoom crash kaboom sound
effects and tap out encouragement on the top of the dining room table
while we line up the hated and detested peas on a fork and land an
airplane all with a flourish. Songs. Tunes. The music of life starts on
the tip of your Mother's tongue. The desire to play, record, to strum,
to hum, to digitize, to harmonize, to make beautiful music begins with
the
Mmmmmm....Mmmmmm...Mmmmmm...M as in Momma
Remote controls. Yeah. An extra pair of hands during flu season.
Yup. A maternal idea for sure.
Radar. Sonar. Cell towers. Tracking devices. Tell
the truth now. You know it in your heart. You guys have always been
jealous of those invisible Mama's eyes in the back of our heads. The
first time you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar, or rolling
the car down the driveway without turning on the ignition, followed by
the sound of a voice catching you in the act or about ten seconds before you even thought the evil thought...well?
Oh and all of you smart aleck architects and
designers of skyscrapers, shopping malls, intricate innards of tunnels
and rapid transit, with your hooks and pulleys, your cranes and hard hat
construction zones . Not. Hand any mother a box of Legos, a
set of Construx, Lincoln Logs, and tell Bob the Builder to take a seat.
Not only can we build, but we teach by example, wrench in one hand,
power tools in the other. Who taught you the phrase...pass me the
screwdriver, no, not that one, the Phillips...please?
Your Mom did.
And as for creativity. Artistic expression.? I'll
let you in on a well kept secret. Michaelangelo's Mama Mia taught me her
trick of finger painting with chocolate pudding and the importance of
lining the floor with paper towels when you are painting on the ceiling.
Those first words of yours, your first expression of self, appeared on
the refrigerator door with a set of primary colored magnets along with
the Crayola print of your dog Floppy.
So, the next time you hear someone imply that alien
life forms are responisble for all the mathematically impossible
inventions and innovations known to man, just remember who taught you
how to count to ten on your fingers and toes, because that's what each
member of the Mother Hood knows...
Mothers plant the seed,
then cross our hands over our hearts and let you take the credit.
The Mothers of Invention...Invented You....
All we ask is that you play nicely in the sandbox, clean up your toys when finished, and respect your elders.
Love,
Your Momma
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