Holiday Wrap Up 2017

The same post-Holiday concerns–extra pounds packed on, the long drive home, bad weather.

An hour-long traffic jam due to a horrendous car wreck. How could that BMW have gotten wedged under bridge supports in that manner? Could anyone have survived?

It was quite a contrast in weather conditions, between yesterday morning and today. Yesterday, with snow and ice–four degrees Fahrenheit, with a wind chill of minus seven. Today, cloudy, with drizzle and forty degrees.

Nothing in the house to eat for breakfast. Off, to a nearby comfort food restaurant. Mountains of dirty laundry await.

All-in-all a good Christmas. Everyone in good health and good spirits. The good outweighed the bad.

Yesterday was filled with explanations, exclamations at bad drivers,  and stories that took way too long. Ploys to keep drivers awake on an 800 mile journey.


Happy Soupsgiving

No one needs to be reminded of the countdown to Christmas.  It seems to me that after Halloween ends, the Holiday season is upon us.

Our family tradition–a holiday before the Holidays.  No gifts exchanged–except for homemade beef vegetable soup, simmered all day. Homemade chicken noodle soup for those that prefer.

Estranged family members still crave it and are never turned away.  They are obliged with a quart of home-made soup to take home.  Leftovers are enjoyed for days.

Just a few more days till “Soupsgiving.” I can’t wait.  There will be plenty for everyone.  Happy Soupsgiving everyone.

Sticks and Stones

Away from home

While missing home

Tropical uncertainties traded

For low humidity, blue skies

Family traditions

Free room and board

Minor discomforts

Boring road food

Some of it was acting

Acting, for the benefit

Of those in attendance

Buddy Holly tribute eyewear

In fashion–without thought

Given to rockabilly legends

Some left to make room

for those, yet to come

Modern-day prophets

Rested, never knowing

Their promised lands

Mere words unimportant

Sticks and stones


2017 Father’s Day Thoughts

What did I remember most about my father, twenty-two years after his passing?

Like other men of his generation, he wore hats. His favorite was a gray fedora. Fathers, back then dressed up more, than fathers do today.

Most in the community thought him to be extremely patient and even-tempered. They never got on his bad side–like I did, on occasion.

He was a man of faith. His relationship to his maker was most important. We read the Bible aloud, from cover-to-cover, in family devotionals–down to every begat, whereas, and wherefore.

His lame jokes, that made everyone cringe, notwithstanding; if it were possible, on this Father’s Day, I would tell him that his example made a difference.

The Kid’s Table

Let’s see a show of hands. How many of you remember the kid’s table? …At Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, and family gatherings.

Adults sat in the dining room, discussed the usual.  Was it pass to the left or right?  Nobody ever gave an answer–because, from that point they would be regarded as the family etiquette expert.

“Where did you get all that energy?  My how you’ve grown.  What grade were you in school?  Did you like school this year?”  Questions answered with poker faces, shoulder shrugs, and “I don’t knows.”

Older kids served themselves.  Younger ones had plates fixed by moms, grandmas, aunts, older brothers, and sisters.  “Eat something else besides mashed potatoes.  Take some of these green beans.  No dessert till you’re finished.”  Lots of laughter prevailed, subdued, so, as to not draw attention from the adult table.

Everybody had a cousin Ralphie–or, someone like him.  Cousin Ralphie balanced green peas on his knife, ate disgusting food mixtures–pickled beets, mashed potatoes, and milk.

“Cousin Ralphies” turned their eyelids inside out, to disgusted “ewws” and “ahs” at the kid’s table.  “What did he need ketchup for?”  A self-appointed gastronomic virtuoso, Ralphie shared his secrets on holidays.  Ketchup made everything more palatable.  It was rumored, Ralphie subsisted on ketchup sandwiches at home.

Mid-afternoon, after dishes were cleared, washed, and put away, the oldest adults were first to leave.  Early evening, tears flowed from the eyes of younger ones, that wanted to stay longer.  Moms, sisters, aunts comforted.  Dads weren’t as patient.