Ginny, born in 1924, so she's 91, had an almost eidetic memory of her life and little-known facts. As I said during the group when I used the word "peripatetic" to describe a Ferris Wheel that makes a circuit around the world, the only way I get to use these big words is at our Writers' Group.
I am not a graduate of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, as is the great T Correghessan Boyle!
She'd bury her head in the soft warm flanks as she squirted the milk in the pail. If the cat came by, she'd squirt some his way.
What a feeling of contentment, she said.
She's always loved trees. In the Gloria Bee, the newsletter of the facility, she's had numerous poems published about trees.
When she was quite young, her teacher read the class Joyce Kilmer's poem,
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
From that time forward she wrote her own poetry about Trees. Allan Heller said he liked her rhyming stanzas.
Ginny recited a lovely tree poem she wrote at age 13.
She explained why she loves trees so much... They have different ways of bending, swaying, and what they're saying to one another. She feels like squeezing them. At home, she has favorite trees she watches.
I'll tell you.. I should drive her to Hatboro and show her some of the beautiful trees there, as well as huge ones in the parking lot at Pennypack Trust.
I'm not talking about the trees at Village Green Apartments, where I used to live. You must read this Inquirer story about it. Guess who's quoted and is still, by the grace of God, still alive!
HAPPY TREES was the title of Ginny's poem.
Ginny married a Navy man and they traveled all over the country, every single state.
Come again, we urged her.
Am listening now to Jerry Blavit's Golden Oldies on XPN.
Sha-bom-sha-bom is on now by the Flamingos from the Second City (the first Chicago burned down so the second city was rebuilt on the rubble).
Her poem "The Viking Butts In" recounted a new character - the sexy well-muscled Viking - who appeared as a character in her head.
Her other people, like Lily and Bear, were not at all eager to share time with him, as they were conversing among themselves. Marf let him go for an entire hour.
He got a head-start on November is Novel-Writing Month from NaNo.
This fantasy novel was influenced by playing Dungeons and Dragons as a kid. My kids used to play back in the apartments. Allan invented the most marvelous names for his characters, all recognizable as either male or female.
Very entertaining, as our absent Floyd would say.
David Gilmour is touring. He's the dude on the bottom.
THE BRIDE OF TRAHYLEE takes place in the year 1200. Main character is Maeve. Maeve Binchy? I've never read Maeve Binchy have you? After I die and am relaxing in heaven, I'll read her oevre.
As usual, Barrett's story is highly detailed and imaginative.
May I quote from Rem Murphy's poem AGENDA FOR THE NEXT MEETING ?
We'll meet next week
Near Zeta Reticuli
Fifth planet from the sun ...
They'll give you aspirin for your jet lag
A bar of soap and a tooth brush
A souvenir key chain.
OH! We loved that poem.
Aliens from space. From Zeta Reticuli.
Rem took a cross-country trip and visited the outskirts of Roswell, N M, where he took these pix.
Read what a skeptic has to say about it.
The late flight surgeon Jesse Marcel, Jr., said he handled debris from an otherworldly object that crash-landed near Roswell. Read all about it ladies and gentlemen.
It's a shame but the Earth is gonna come to an end some day. Murphy recommended this poem about it by Archibald MacLeish.
Takes place in our town of Hatboro, PA at the well-appointed Hatboro Dish restaurant.
Look! I've eaten there. The date was February 14, 2014.
Turns out it was Carly's b'day and her family was waiting for her. They opened the presents. She got a round-trip plane ticket to Chicago to see her best friend who she hadn't seen in 40 years.
Ohio, I will never forget its shape, just don't ask me to draw it.
Hey, let's do a little Rorschach.
What does it look like to you?
I've got my answer. A profile of a little Dutch girl in a cap.
What? You crazy girl?
SO LONG, JOE was a tribute to very nice guy, a bank robber and forger.... oh, sorry, that's another Joe, "we will save your soul and put it in our pocket" - "he lit up the Christmas tree"
Trending Now on FB needs work so I'll publish it later. Yes, I know your great disappointment. Oh, cheer up, for godssakes, it's not the end of the world.
If I get home, I will
never drive in the
blinding rain again,
I told myself, just as
my friend Dave Moyer
told himself he’d never
go on another patrol
A straight road would
have been fine, but
this was as up and down
as a heart patient heading
toward flat line.
I flipped my wipers onto
highest speed, hoping they
wouldn’t fly away. There was
the same runover ground hog
in the middle of the road, his
family mourning underground,
as, in tune with the rhythmic
wipers, I saw my car tumbling
over onto Raytharn’s Horse
Farm, my lifeless body lifted
out. Take my new kidney, I
would cry if I could. My wallet
would be waterlogged but they’d
notify the next of kin.
Strangers will handle my
body. Perhaps I should get
a tattoo “Handle with Care.”
My belly looks slender in
the lying-down position. Would
I mind a necrophiliac at the
mortuary? Polka-dots line
my arms, belly, and thighs.
Heat pours through the vents
of my car. I’m sweating, too hot,
but can’t “Braille” my way
to levers. Without warning, a
silver car passes my turtlesome
driving. Silver, shooting like
a meteor past me. I am
mortified! How dare he.
The streets are calm and tranquil
unlike my own grim self,
gripping the wheel
as if it would screw off.
Finally, Cowbell Road,
After pulling in the drive,
I sit and finish listening
to “The Troubled Man,"
by Henning Mankell.His cancer has been
arrested by modern medicine
and for certain, though it gets
closer every day, I no longer
listen for the alarm bell.