Friday, April 17, 2015

Prompts: Poetry tells us what cannot be said

more poems
than penned
absent oneself
a poet.
for what of
if undocumented
less with words
let them open
me,my self
If for no other
reason than
to be
~ adele

Friday, April 10, 2015

Trust & lying connection ...

Some days invoke Charlie (Papa):  
He drew very black & white lines which ultimately cost him relationships. Trust & lying were intricately entwined in his philosophy on life. Some rules he put before relationships. 

I am grateful knowing that when he died he trusted me. 

He had thought I broke his trust when we moved him from Florida to CT. He was certain that I had lied to him about some aspect of cleaning his place because he could not find a small bag of valuables after he was relocated. 
More than 5 years later he found that bag. It was a few days before he died. It included medical grade gold that was once his tooth filling. He became eager to turn these missing valuables into cash. I prioritized getting it done with him. The tooth gold yielded $70. 

I asked what he wanted to do with this windfall and he said "I want you to have it, to use it for you". Here is where my recall fails me. I probably said in a snarky tone "Sure Charlie, I will do something special, got any suggestions." I can recall driving thru town toward home but can not remember doing something special with the $70. 

Maybe it is more important that I remember what he said next "I am sorry that I thought you lied to me about carefully cleaning out the trailer, it was happening so fast." I do remember my two part response to that: Fast, that was Curt's doing. I was careful as I could be and I learned not to lie to you a very long time ago, Dad because I never wanted to lose you. I am so much like you that is impossible to do now, right." 

And he snarkily replied, 'sometime you are right.' We both smiled with the fullness of love.

Sunday, April 5, 2015

88 ~

Maybe a stretch, horizon, or illusion
My head no longer calculates without aid, the years implied, 27 btw, at this gestational arc of an idea

When she said it, I too wanted to own it. Before 
that moment 
I was busily hapless or hopelessly busy, yet inert.

This suddenly seemed infinitely better.
Ah, to what end the will.

Monday, February 16, 2015

I swear I posted at least once in 2015 .... but nothing is here.

I have always worked in CT. Since 1969 the Connecticut minimum wage rate automatically increased to 1/2 of 1 percent above the rate set in the
Fair Labor Standards Act when the federal minimum wage rate became equal or higher than the State minimum; so I guess I was fortunate to live in CT. In 1969 the Federal minimum non-farm wage was $1.60 an hour; it is now $9.10.

So far I have worked 46 years but not always for pay. I started working at 14; summers in the Tobacco Farm Industry. I do not remember working less than 24 hours a week since age 16. It was the max I could manage while in school. In various iterations of work, family and school the weeks were long. At age 50 I added school back to the balancing act to catch up with the world my kids experienced each day; it was a technology related degree. It is not second nature but it is part of what I do every day working in my community.

How much one gets paid does not lessen the work, eliminate the deadlines, nor accountability; in fact, you really need to believe in it or need it very badly to do it under such circumstances.

You need 35 good years for working to work for you to get the full benefit of Social Security. I did nearly 2 years as a VISTA volunteer for a stipend in 1978-79. For the past four years my work has been uncompensated; my average even with all the hustle and promotions will not be the best but I decided to stop being corporate anyway.

There are times in life when work should come with hustle and time it should come with meaning.

Today however there is an additional complexity:  

I need to ask myself; does enabling others to forgo hustle or the challenges of working more than 24 hours - make me stupid or just used.