for almost fifty years
the table has held testament
to the celebrations of family
and the love within
the table’s small stature
is disguised as a buffet
and belies it’s enormous heart
much like it’s original owner
mother bought the table
when she downsized to her little home
afraid there may be times that
her little kitchen wouldn’t hold us all
daughters and spouses and grandchildren
one by one
friends and family all welcome
to share the occasions of life
and service the table has given
Christmas’ and Easters
weddings and baby showers
birthdays and funerals
The table throws wide its secrets
to seat twelve
an amazing little piece
and as another Thanksgiving
draws to a close
I applaud the little table
and give thanks
for another great Thanksgiving
and the 3 generations it held
and pray it will hold our
generations to come
Posted in Buds, Prose Buds, Taste Buds | Tagged Children, family, food, life, love, love family generations, prose, Thanksgiving | Leave a Comment »
First Prayer of the Continental Congress, 1774
O Lord our Heavenly Father, high and mighty King of kings,
And Lord of lords, who dost from thy throne behold all the dwellers on earth and
Reignest with power supreme and uncontrolled over all the Kingdoms, Empires and Governments;
Look down in mercy, we beseech Thee, on these our American States,
Who have fled to Thee from the rod of the oppressor and thrown themselves on Thy gracious protection,
Desiring to be henceforth dependent only on Thee.
To Thee have they appealed for the righteousness of their cause;
To Thee do they now look up for that countenance and support, which Thou alone canst give.
Take them, therefore, Heavenly Father, under Thy nurturing care;
Give them wisdom in Council and valor in the field; defeat the malicious designs of our cruel adversaries;
Convince them of the unrighteousness of their Cause and if they persist in their sanguinary purposes,
Of own unerring justice, sounding in their hearts, constrain them to drop the weapons of war from their unnerved hands in the day of battle!
Be Thou present, O God of wisdom, and direct the councils of this honorable assembly;
Enable them to settle things on the best and surest foundation.
That the scene of blood may be speedily closed; that order, harmony and peace may be effectually restored, and
Truth and justice, religion and piety, prevail and flourish amongst the people.
Preserve the health of their bodies and vigor of their minds;
Shower down on them and the millions they here represent,
Such temporal blessings as Thou seest expedient for them in this world and crown them with everlasting glory in the world to come.
All this we ask in the name and through the merits of Jesus Christ, Thy Son and our Savior.
Posted in Prose Buds | Tagged anger, Honor, love, Politics, Prayer, USA | 2 Comments »
I cannot continue
tears fall inside
I have no backbone
I hate conflict
I hate fighting
tears fall inside
I hate hurting any breathing thing
I hate being hurt
I hate seeing anyone in pain
tears fall inside
I was born with extreme sensitivity
I cannot continue to argue
I don’t want to continue to argue
I don’t want to continue
tears fall inside
no-one knows it but I’m at risk
take that how you want
Posted in Prose Buds | Tagged anger, anxiety, Children, depression, family, life, love, melancholy, mental-health, sadness, silence | 2 Comments »
Posted in Prose Buds | Tagged alcoholism, anger, anxiety, Children, depression, family, life, love, mental-health, sadness, silence, writing | 1 Comment »
1900 US Census
I have spent the better part of this summer looking for my grand-father. No, not a living-breathing man, but a man who has turned to dust along with any sign of his beginnings or his middle. All I have is his end. Death by alcoholism in Louisville Kentucky July 29, 1904.
I’ve done a lot of genealogy research over the years, tracing my mothers family back to Maryland in the 1600′s. I’ve followed my paternal grandmother’s folks from England into Pennsylvania and then into Kentucky and Indiana. Always my attempts would uncover just a little more.
Now there’s George. My proverbial brick wall. I have to do this research, but only the Lord knows why. He sticks in my craw, that’s all. My dad never knew his dad. My dad only knew his mom from the age of 16 until she died in 1941. He spent the years after George’s death in an orphanage, because his mom was too ill to care for him. There were family members that could have taken him in, but I guess he was considered tainted because he was born ‘too soon’ My Daddy always wanted to know about his father and the family before him, but even after his reunion with his mother, no words were of him were spoken.
The fact is, there are no facts. Oh, there’s an incomplete marriage record of grandma and grandpa George crossing the state line to get a married quietly, without fanfare, no friends or family in attendance. Quickly too, as grandma was 5 month pregnant with my dad. And there’s death record, short and concise. Oh, and there’s actually a story in the newspaper about his gruesome death by alcohol and a tiny blurb about services being held at his brother-in-laws home.
So, I’m chasing George and I’m becoming familiar with every Campbell family in the mid-west, central-plains that had a George, born between 1861 and 1869, in their family. I’m gaining insight into the lives of these people, the difficulties they faced, how they moved about and why. It’s been such an educational experience. In the end, maybe I’ll catch up with George and know who he was and why. Maybe I’ll have to wait and meet him in heaven, though I wonder if he’s there. In the meantime, I have a spreadsheet over 500 entries long that covers from 1870 to 1940 of a man (or men) named George Campbell. I will share what I know if you will share what I don’t know.
Posted in Prose Buds | Tagged alcoholism, depression, family, genealogy, love | Leave a Comment »
I’m not. I’n not coping well at all. And its not about me. I’m not understanding how cruel life can be even if you deserve it. I’m wondering how anyone can fall from so high up the pole to the hard black ground without breaking. Breaking in a thousand little pieces. My heart is breaking for my little big girl. If she were sick or her house burned down or any thing like that, the world would be surrounding her in kindness, aid would flow like water. What do people do.. Lord, what do they do when they’ve lost their job and are denied any benefits. What do you do when you don’t quite own your car and have a whopping mortgage and you have a 14 yr old little girl about to start high school and bills, bills like everyone else. Electricity and cable and gas and food. How can you do it suddenly on nothing! Yes, she made a mistake, several probably. But now nothing. No-one to help her get out of this hole . My heart is aching because I can’t protect her and fix this for her.
Posted in Prose Buds | 3 Comments »
a knee and a pipe
that smells of bay rum
a mug of beer with white foam
softly spoken words
charcoal pencils and pastels
a funny little whistle
harmonizing with Myron Floren and Joe Feeney
‘good enough for government work’
animal lover, fed the squirrels from his hand
always learning and helping me to learn
the creative gene in my dna
kind, always kind and gentle
and he walked way too fast
especially out of my life
Posted in Prose Buds | Tagged caring, family, father, Father's Day, love, parent | 1 Comment »