Over the Next Hill

Since the beginning of time, humankind has wondered what was beyond the next hill.

That’s why our genetic makeup is so varied. That’s why some are surprised when they use popular sites, such as Ancestry.com and 23 and Me. You could have more German heritage, than your German citizen friend.

My step-daughters allegedly had a Native American great-grandmother on their biological father’s side of the family. His genetic report showed no such DNA evidence. This was a topic of conversation over the Holidays.

My wife, previously a skeptic, had her DNA checked and found a small percentage of Native American ancestry. My two grandsons have known Hispanic heritage. One of them had a much larger percentage, than the other.

What will my DNA reveal? Will it be different from that of my sister? Will the information conflict with what I was told growing up? My curiosity has been aroused.

Pits and Pendulums

Packing peanuts
Pits and pendulums
Sweat rivulets flowed
Droplets from nose to chin
Fifteen-minute fame increments
Expired somewhere, sometime in 1987
Nobody cared much, to remember when
Hat, raked just right, topped his balding head
Cotton twill shirts with sharp, starched creases
Five-point star, company logo, on each upper sleeve
Pointless, to pump up fading careers
John, preferred to stay in the background
Let others think he was hopelessly mired in the past
What he really wanted to convey
More had been done with less
And still could be

 

 

 

 

 

 

What You Don’t Know

Or, what you may not know. Phrases spoken many times over by TV news anchors.

If I didn’t know something, How would I know what it was, that I wasn’t supposed to know?

Furthermore, why would this unknown knowledge, be a concern?

I like making my own decisions about what’s important and suspect there are many others like me.

Tomorrow is the second, state and local, primary election.  There’s the possibility of more run-off elections before November.  Hoping for the best outcome–and no more mudslinging political ads.

Rescue Me

Protesters, watched from afar
On living room flat screens
Days weren’t always sunny
Some jokes weren’t funny
To those with sweat-drenched bodies
When gnats, mosquitoes, swarmed
Above kudzu choked landscapes
Where catfish swam in murky waters
Death and taxes, the only certainties
Yet, no one demanded to be rescued

 

Perfection/Imperfection

Cars without reverse gears
Fronts same as backs
Driven either way
Imitated streetcars, trains
Made quick getaways
95% pure hooey
Reflected in their eyes
Some stared down
The end of their noses
Clucked their tongues
Danced superiority dances
At pot luck dinners
Past imperfect tenses
Filed in fed-up files

Resolution Revolution

A brand new year
Endless 2017 reviews
Are relegated to
Dusty files of history
Normal people
According to the media
Were supposed to make
New Years resolutions
Lose weight the sure-fire way
Can’t-fail investments
Better health care insurance
Health club memberships
Good ideas–usually forgotten by March

 

The Boss

Dexter was the boss. Not because of business acumen, or people skills; certainly not because he ever wanted to be.

He became boss, because handlers and staff, convinced him that was the way things should be.  If things went wrong, there was no one else to blame.

“Wolf fangs” bared when things didn’t go right. The offenders backed down. If they didn’t, staff intervened.

“Dexter, what a good manager you are,” They chorused. Everyone believed it–especially Dexter.

With a sigh, Dexter loosened his collar.  Ego massages were so refreshing.

All the news that wasn’t news.  Wasn’t that pitiful?  Alone again on Saturday night.

Dexter, cared little what others thought of him.  There was nothing left to prove.

He lay on his back, fancied himself running carefree through an open meadow.