Sally and the Million Mom March

Sally went to the Million Mom March for Gun Control.

Mother’s Day, May 14^th, 2000.

She drove a little blue Chevy S-10 truck from Rochester, NY to Washington, D.C.

Supporters of the march expected an estimated attendance of 750,000 people at the

D.C. location with 150,000 to 200,000 people holding sympathy marches in separate

locations across the country.

Sally stayed at The Monarch Hotel which is hard to find at night and in the rain.  It is also rather swanky.

Speakers were to include:  Rosie O'Donnell, Courtney Love, Susan Sarandon, Melissa Etheridge, Emmylou Harris, Kerry Kennedy Cuomo, Senator Dick Durbin, Representative Carolyn McCarthy, writer Anna Quindlen, Surgeon General Antonia Novello, Victims, ER Doctors, Faith Leaders, Veterans, and Moms.

The day before the event Sally walked to the Mall to get the lay of the land.  It was vacant ad hot.  Sally saw crowd control fencing.  That was it.  Sally want to the National Portrait gallery.

They were there to speak against the pervading gun violence in our communities and the shortcomings of our gun laws that allow dangerous people to easily acquire dangerous guns.

Sally thought she was going to have heat stroke walking back and was very scared she would die there.

On the big day, Rosie spoke out against the NRA and the powerful gun lobby.  She said they were concerned about money and everyone at the march was concerned about the lives of citizens.

Sally was most impressed by how many moms (and daughters) came together in groups.  They looked like grown up hippies.  Hadn’t Sally done all this before?

The Million (750,000 plus 150,000-200,000 in other locations) Moms were for:  extensive background checks, licensing and registering guns, child safety locks for all guns, limiting the number of guns purchased per month, no-nonsense enforcement of laws and enlisting help from corporate America.

Sally was also awestruck by the press pool.  They were ensconced in an elaborately staged platform – right up front.  Sally could not stop watching them.

It was argued later that the whole thing was a media event encouraged behind the scenes by Hillary and Bill Clinton.

That is really all Sally remembered…

besides how comfortable the truck seats were.

The Super Ball

Giant Super Ball of lava,

layered in sheath upon sheath

of rock and mineral

encased in a surface

of moveable textures

and wrapped in wonder,

rectify yourself.

Swing your orbit

crashing through the stars

at light speed -

as a pendulum would;

and bounce back against

the toxicity we have rendered,

the poison we have delivered,

and the raping of the land.

Like a rocket

you are almost alive;

you zig and zag

and we can’t catch you.

The energized Super Ball.

The most amazing ball:

every move more magical.

Strange and weird.

I am confident you will

rectify yourself.

Moments before the wedding

The dress hangs silent and lovely

from the hook on a once papered plaster wall.

White lace with a ribbon at the waist,

it begs to gently sway in a slight breeze.

This dress is but the legend

on a map of crisscrossed journeys

ticking off moments, days, years.--

leading here to The Headlands.

Voices can be heard nearby—

giggling girls all a-flutter

will soon gather and the dress put on,

all at the ready for these moments

to be launched into that giddy presence

that is a celebratory day.  It is good that

this joining which hides a parting

is so festive else, your heart would break.

Remembering is irrelevant

little blue photo album

holding pictures of two

little girls in dresses

fragile cellophane sleeves

storing moments and places

she doesn’t remember

the milestones of her life

are merely fluttering tableaus

trapped in a still life

shuffled in time like windblown leaves

and collaged in the imperfect memory

of her brain

I wonder what is in that brain—

the mathematician she once was,

the young tennis player, the lazy golfer,

the pack-a-day smoker, the social butterfly

and the college professor--all wrapped into one;

all gone

now, wrapped in a Ralph Lauren quilt

with her name ironed on the hem

with pictures anchored to the walls--

sound muffled, eyes clouded, ever sleepy

yet… she is…

happy to see me.

Charleston Summer 2013

Where is the sky

that fills the happy heart

that makes us sigh?

Where is the blue

that cleans the sorry soul

that we pursue?

Where is the sun

that flickers on the waves

that we can not outrun?

Captured in long wet streaks 

on window panes?

Or as stars pinned to screens?

Or cupped on pink hosta leaves?

Oh rain! Stop not, the sun.

Our boots are full.

Our hair is wet.

We huddle indoors like fools.

Open our darkened eyes

with her buzzy brightness.

Restore hot breath to our lungs
Give us warm hugs of the sun.

TP experiment

I am single, free as a bird.

I have a new lease on life.

In lieu of skydiving, I decide

to investigate toilet paper.

It turns out Great Northern

IS softer than Scott.

It also turns out that

after years of being a Scott TP user,

I seem to create an oven mitt size

wad of TP.  Change is hard.

The dark red pine wood chips

The dark red pine wood chips pour ever so slowly into to a black a tub.

one giant shovelful after another tipped in to fill the tub to overflowing.

a paisley of burnt sienna, raw umber, of ochre and van dyke brown,

some bits of straw and dirt round out each heft and turn and the tub fills

mounded in constant motion, a cascade mesermerizing the eyes.

Seen from above the sifting transplacement is a perfect half circle back and forth,

a parabola of function and focus, the surroundings blurred, the voices dulled,

the senses at one, as in prayer, or near to sleep or death, the emotions dissolved

in action, soft floaty cloud feelings vaporizing into whispery breezes

all encompassed by the light and weight of the sun, somewhere else is the world.

No need to ask, no need to look, no need for anything.  Can it just stop here?

life as Rube Goldberg?   faith as Mother Tereasa?  hope as anything in precision?