Saturday, April 27, 2019

Black Knight Rising



It's not so much we would engage in conversation. It's the way the perp would look me up and down. I could feel his predatory gaze any time I entered a room. He would put his hands on me not in a polite,  respectful manner but more provocatively. He would make comments about my body: he told me I had "a nice ass."

I finally asked a good friend for advice. She thought his actions were deplorable but not surprising. The perp had made inappropriate comments to other women, too. My friend encouraged me to tell the Black Knight.

He was not amused. So we devised a plan of attack. When the hour of confrontation arrived, the tall, imposing figure dressed in black confidently approached, his near waist length hair tied-back and temporarily tamed. I said, "This is the guy I was telling you about."

At that very moment, all three of us knew. The Black Knight stared down the enemy and replied, "Nice to meet you, sir, " in that deep, quiet, calm voice of his. The perp nervously responded, "Nice to meet you, too," skulking then scurrying away in a hurry.

Because the perp was still out there somewhere lurking and lusting, I decided to tell one of the women "in charge." She said something like, "I'm glad you two handled it privately. No need to make a big deal of it."

So much for feminism in practice. We all need to do better. Black Knights shouldn't have to rise to save us damsels in distress.

Sunday, April 14, 2019

Little Southern Girl



Good Christian Soldier, 
In her best Sunday dress
Long blonde curls
Arranged in a
Pretty bow,
A Daughter of God. 

Jesus loves us
The Bible says
Unconditionally
We pray
The Lord will
Take and Keep
Our Souls.

Until the day
Innocence is lost
On the wrong side
Not clean and shiny
Not good enough
Not enough

For Jesus' love--
Compassion,
Forgiveness,
Tolerance--
A liturgical
"Song and Dance."

Little Southern girl,
Sunday-dressed and
Blonde hair flowing,
She leaves
Never to return
Except when
Bought and paid.


"Because I was born in a Christian culture,
I never considered myself to be totally 
free human being," James Baldwin.

"Bloodline,"
Matt Morris

Friday, April 12, 2019

"The Dark Day," William Carlos Williams



A three-day-long conference back east—
an interminable talking, talking
of no consequence — patter, patter, patter.
Off topic audience questions
inundate each speaker.
Bathroom. Hiding. Seclusion.
A few passers-by, stop outside the stall,
and still try to chat.
Lunch and dinner meetings! there is no escape! —
An interminable talking, talking,
talking… it has happened before.
And it will happen again.
William Carlos Williams


"Sabotage"
Beastie Boys


Fragility




Weakness in
Strength; 

Fear in
Courage;

Poverty in
Prosperity;

Desire in 
Temperance; 

Doubt in 
Certainty;

Ignorance in 
Wisdom; 

Deed in 
Thought; 

Lie in
Truth;

War in
Peace;

Wrong in
Right; 

Guilt in 
Innocence; 

Evil in 
Good; 

Hate in 
Love; 

Death in 
Life; 

Man in 
God.

Saturday, April 6, 2019

Benign


I’ve had a stressful near 24 hours.

Right before turning-in last night, Brisket jumped up on the bed, her usual sleeping spot, burrowing a groove right next to me. As I was rubbing her belly, I felt this small bump. At first I thought it was a “nipple,” then I realized that it was more pronounced and toward the right of her lower abdomen. Sure enough the small, raised growth looked a little like a bug-bite but more mobile and squishy just under the skin.

Trying not to over-react, I was going to wait until after the weekend to have it evaluated. Of course, I could barely sleep all night. At least I wasn’t crying uncontrollably, anticipating the worst. Still I was worried,  Staffies /Pit bulls/ mixes being prone to Mast Cell Tumors regardless of age. Brisket hadn't even turned five, after all. Her young age didn't really matter though as I learned the hard way with the late, great Diva Joplin, passing far too soon. 

I managed to get a few hours of sleep before waking up to a sort of epiphany. Call me crazy, but it wasn’t the first time I had the feeling that George had talked to me in my dreams, calming my fears like he'd always done. Other than His influence, there was no reason for me to have awoken less stressed. In fact, my entire self-talk had change.

The advice was framed as a much needed lesson in "tough love." For some reason, I finally realized that George’s death would not protect me from other bad things happening. Life would go on—for better or worse. So rather than freaking-out, I needed to do the best thing for Brisket and me. Although waiting a few days was reasonable, I knew the lump wasn’t going anywhere after decades of experience with a variety of companion animals. 

Early the next morning, I dropped-off Brisket at Lake Travis Animal Hospital to have her evaluated and to avoid ruminating over the unknown.  A few hours later, Dr. Foster called me at home to say that the bump was a small cyst. Brisket needed a teeth cleaning, too, never having  had one before. So Dr. Foster advised to remove the cyst during that procedure. 

This story's moral is "all’s well that ends well," trite but true nonetheless. A random incident has taught me that there are indeed many things beyond our control. Life isn’t going to give me a break because George isn’t here anymore. I won't get an automatic pass for a “happily ever after." None of us will. 

Thank you, God, for the good, the bad, and the ugly!
"I'll Follow You Into The Dark,"
Death Cab For Cutie