A major store in our area has a turntable for sale for sixty-nine dollars this black Friday. Oh how I want to ask my grown kids for this for Christmas.But it is too much.They are new families,one with a baby.That is just too much to ask. But looking at that turntable filled me with tears. I have stacks of my old LP’s. From 1976 to about the time tapes came out.
But I don’t have a turntable,there is this machine that does it all,turntable,plays tapes,Cd’s.Burns lP’S, etc. That is almost two hundred dollars. The thing is when I was young,a LP was more than the music. I would pull every inch of the album apart. I would re-draw the covers,read the thank you notes in the cover.Who wrote the songs,who played the instruments.
When “THE WALL” came out by Pink Floyd,I did my version on a huge piece of plywood,winning art awards in high school. I discovered great songs on side B,just as much as the tracks you heard played,over and over on radio stations. The youth of this generation and the kids ten maybe more years back,that only open themselves to I tunes,and such are missing out on so so much.
Every album I would get as a gift,and I only got one a year.I had to earn money for all my others.Was like winning the lottery. I cried when my dad bought Kiss double platinum,as I knew it was big buy. I grew up in a very low-income development, and we had little. My first job at 14 was cleaning senior citizen apartments,for twenty dollars an apartment once a month.I had ten apartments I had earned trust to clean. Now in 1978 this was a lot of money,thing was as room and board to live at home.My mother took all but $20. I paid room and board till I left home. At 17 I was paying $85.00 a week,and I bought all my own clothes,personal products. I could eat free,but a lot of times I chose not.
So,writing,music and poetry was great source of comfort. I graduated from high school almost seventeen.I doubled up on credits to get out,sure it was a great accomplishment,but it meant if I was going to live at home.Full time job immediately and hand over my entire check. She would then give back what she felt I deserved.Nine times out of ten,I was lucky if I received thirty dollars.
When I moved out it was for a lot of reasons,most people didn’t know what home life was for me.People didn’t air their stories. But those LP’s represent so much to me,I guess that is why I still have them,and all my tapes,Cd’s and now iPod. Music is my center,as is writing. But when you’re in pain,and you can sing to the top of your lungs a song you love,nothing like it.
I know the thing that made my dad so proud was when I worked my way up from answering phones for a company that did civilian work for the D.O.D. To sales and then helping design time systems for bases all over the world,along with huge companies and Hollywood.He sat in my office one day,in tears. My dad tried,he was my everything for along time. And he loved KISS,AEROSMITH and all my music as much as I did,because he knew.
How I miss the album covers,and the sleeve maybe having something written on it. Who knows,maybe in January I’ll treat myself to a turntable,and hit the lottery all over again.
Hair parted down the middle,wings on both sides.
Age sixteen,clueless to how the world could be so mean.
In the middle of repainting my room.
I hear a television announcement break through.
But the screen can’t be seen.
The eighth of December,a cold winter day.
John Lennon was shot and in a cop car drove away.
I fell to my knees and began to pray.
It was also my sister’s twentieth birthday.
Sitting on the floor listening with pain.
The announcer came back on to talk again.
John was gone,and so was peace.
I no longer was naive.
How,why the questions flew.
But in the end of what we knew.
It didn’t matter the How’s and why’s.
The world had to find a way to say goodbye.
How do you say goodbye to a genius of life.
Who left a son and a wife.
Taken in such a brutal way.
This how I started writing songs that day.
Lined my walkway with candles bright.
Stood,singing “Imagine” on that cold winters night.
The song felt hollow,pain and rage.
Didn’t know how to handle at that age.
Some years later.
As time went by.
To this very day I’ll think back and cry.
What would he have done,or gave more to this world?.
Never knowing is the cruelest of all.
But,still I can listen to his songs again.
I feel like, I’m that age my friend.
Thank you for the gifts you gave this globe.
You will never be forgotten.
You will never be old.
We sit in chairs
Or in a bed.
Some dressed,or curlers on our head.
Others coffee, Tea,Soda
Maybe water or some Rum.
The object is to get at least
A paragraph or two hopefully done.
We all have the same objective
To get our words in print.
Built up in our minds.
The only thing is the pain
In our backs and behinds.
We can be competitive
And that’s a good thing.
Could you imagine the alternative.
Stories maybe coming out,every other spring.
Friendships have been built.
and having each others back.
When one of us has a bad experience,
Their well being comes first.
And that is our common pact.
So even though with each stroke
Of the written word.
In the end,our compassion shows.
And that’s what should be heard.
I’m good at poems.
Your great at books.
Some at education.
WE write with hope
Our written word.
Will cross all nations.
The food is across the table.
The dog lies on the floor.
Waiting for a scrap or two.
Maybe a little more.
The day is of thanks.
Love and gratitude.
So,why do we make it,
About bowls and bowls of food?.
I always thank our Lord.
I made another year.
With my medical conditions.
It is a fear.
Why not thank for a job.
In this economy,
So, as you loosen your belt.
Thank God for the source of money.
You may not have one next time
So make sure your words are kind.
Thank you for your loved ones.
Even those you might not like.
Tomorrow,there just might be no cousin Mike.
Be happy and reflect.
On all you have and own.
It really is the nastiest spending this day alone.
Take some cookies to a friend.
A pie or cake to mom.
Kiss your lover when you wake.
And hold them in your arms.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING ((HUGS)) AND lOVE.
Turning 50 as a widow was not expected. I thought when I married my second husband we would rock the sunset together. NO! He passed away almost 5 years ago. A lot of people are in my face time to socialize and date. UGHH, It is a virtual nightmare.First guy I went on a blind date with,was a heavy drinker ,STRIKE OUT. Second lived to far,an hour by the express way. OUT! The third, guy I showed interest in,lied that his “roommate” was just a roommate,no it was his current girlfriend. Would like to still kick his A##.
I gave up then met a man,lives about 45 min away.a lot older.I thought we might have a chance,he don’t know what he’s doing.What he wants or anything…done.! Oh, how I wish for the old-fashioned ways of dating nad meeting people. But it jut don’t seem to happen that way. All the different lies,ways people have “relationships”.
I had to look up a lot of what things stood for. NSA: No strings attached..why not just write I want a piece and nothing else to do with you. Discreet meeting: I’m married,lying cheating ass. And so on. I decided to continue to work on me. My writing,poetry,songs,miniatures and remodeling my house.
If god sends me someone who is completely free and a good person. I’ll try again. Till then.
I’m going to be more careful of whom I socialize or date. I don’t have a heart big enough for cracks this huge.
Will you know me? A lot of time has gone by.
Have you seen the tears i’ve cried?
I think about you everyday.
And why You had to go away.
I know it was such a crime.
You where never given a chance.
I still have the little,silk baseball jacket.
And the matching pants.
You would be a grown man now
around the age of twenty-six.
I like to think my dad is with you.
And our black lab Joey playing tricks.
One day I hope to be at the gate.
And you will meet me there.
Little baby Boy of mine.
Who in spirit is with me everywhere.
(My heart aches for you R.J.,one day mommy will be there)