Some appear carefully placed side by side, like two
slumbering children. Others are strewn alongside the
long forgotten rail road embankment.
Gnarled thicket bushes cover them… visible only in
these barren winter days.
Railroad ties… seemingly an innocuous creation, tell us
the story of a time gone by.
A faint path crawls along the berm… Come and see if you
want says the earth. A rusted railroad signal, a bit of
rusted track, look closely for history.
We wonder, why was the track laid, who traveled here,
and where did they go?
Telegraph poles stand tall in the trees. Scattered like lost
soldiers. Some with cross beams still in place. Others
with Insulators glimmering in the sun.
A friend of our feathered compatriots has nailed bird
houses on some. If the now absent telegraph lines could
talk – oh what stories to tell?
Standing silently in their midst, we hear a voice
whispering to us –ask me, I’ll gladly share the stories of t
he men and women who made our country great.
A rusting grain elevator secretes another clue… the
echoes of hard working – hard playing
Midwesterners sing through the now barren trees.
The stainless steel silos, once proud holders of grain and
corn, bend and creak as the afternoon breeze saunters
through the now unplowed, dormant plains.
Workplaces for a once proud town the silos stand as a
tombstone, like the town, To a time and grandeur long
since past.
One never knows what surprise waits around the next
curve in the forgotten dike. A memorial to a fallen
friend appears in a small clearing, An American flag,
artificial red flowers, tastefully placed shiny pinwheels:
Two park benches sit beside each other like wisened old
friends. One is home to three bird boxes. The other,
Serves as a respite for the weary traveler. Sit down, and
your back rests against the engraved name and date of
the beloved one who has passed on.
park bench with a name and engraved date. Freshly
cleaned, maintained. A tribute to someone who made a
difference. Seemingly in the middle of nowhere USA.
Always in the hearts of those who love her.
We ponder who were the people who traveled these tracks.
Who talked via the telegraph lines.
Who loaded the train cars full of grain, and sileage .
Who dismantled the tracks and laid aside the wooden planks.
Who fortuitously left this area undisturbed,undefiled, a home for nature.
Nature who has now planted narly bushes and nests for cardinals
Nature who has created a sacred cove for a remembrance memorial.
Gale force, snow laden winds blow in from The Baltic Sea.
Seemingly endless frozen fog with 50mph winds blow in from Lake Michigan.
The damp chill combined with ice covered SEPTA steps smacks one in the face.
All difficult, desperate, life killing situations facing people around the world.
The mumbling, incoherent masses face these monsters all so frequently.
Hidden from view, snuggled against heating grates, leaning against subway walls
They remain almost inconspicuous, unnoticed, present since the middle ages.
Note: AMOST INCONSPICUOUS
Passing their lives in silence, they age, deteriorate and die.
Not a word in the obituaries, not a path traveled to the paupers grave
Unidentified, relatives unknown, they pass like so much fecal matter
Who cares, who shares, who pays attention?
A noted TV Commercial brays :” We can fix it”. The question is – do we care enough?
Is indeed a metric of society as to how we care for the poor, the sick, the lame?
The city influenced by the Baltic Ocean is Warsaw, Poland.
A thriving, recently westernized country where glitz and glitter are common.
Where subway steps and passages ways smell of urine, of decaying bodies
Of poverty and crime.
Where the CEO’s and posh maidens ignore the homeless and helpless.
The city of broad shoulders, The Magnificent Mile, and the winds of Lake Michigan
Is obviously Chicago.
Laptop carrying execs from Barrington Hills, Kenilworth, glimmering condos on Lake Shore Drive
Saunter and drive BMW’s past the underground city of Lower Wacker Drive.
Trading bonds and commodities by day, ignoring the homeless as darkness falls.
A noted TV Commercial brays :” We can fix it”. The question is – do we care enough.
Is indeed a metric of society as to how we care for the poor, the sick, the lame
The Septa Steps lead the knowledgeable business and government movers and shakers
From the MainLine in suburban Philadelphia to downtown Market Street.
The proud city designed by Ben Franklin.
Like their brothers and sisters in Warsaw and Chicago , they remain oblivious .
Unmoved, uncaring.
Let us be clear. Many millions are given to charity. Many CEO’s open their wallets
Wide, often, and with a sincere twinge of their heartstrings.
So with men on the moon, ultra speed ipods, heart transplant technology
The mind is mystified by why can’t we resolve the homeless issue.?
The reason my dear friends is : because we, as a society don’t care enough.
Get mad at me! Shut down your computer! Send a nasty tweet or face book message.
Feel guilty as you read this while in front of your fireplace with a glass of sherry?
Look around you when you go to church or mosque or synagogue this weekend.
Mink coats, Ferragamo shoes, Nordstrom herringbone coats:
Buttons that start your car so you can sit on a heated seat after the service is completed .
Do you see yourself in the face of those hidden in the shadows?
Saying “ There but for the grace of God goes I”?
.
We don’t ask the homeless about ………
The point is.. we don’t talk to them at all.
Thousands of sports fans “worry”.
Sales of anti stress medications had to skyrocket during the recent NFL Playoffs
Of course, over the counter mind solvents such as Johnny Walker and Miller Draft
Also took the place of 20th century pharma pain killers.
The stomach churning continued even though the results were beyond the control of fans
In the event your team was victorious, celebrations were exponentially greater than
Civilized societies can expect from the citizenry… Go Packers Go is the new state motto.
On a more serious note, worrying is a matter of avoidance.
It is an attempt to avoid anticipated potential threats.
The dour, pessimistic, bomb throwing nay sayers are expert worriers.
Hunched shoulders, furrowed brows, shuffling feet are all body language signals.
Some adults see themselves as carrying the weight of the world.
No problem, issue, circumstance is too small to be added to the list of life’s troubles.
Like beasts of burden, they carry their load wherever they go:
Dromedaries in the desert traveling from Al-Khobar to Riyadh, have a purpose,
a destination, an ending which relieves them of pain and discomfiture.
Malignant worriers carry their burdens without an off loading destination on the horizon.
Feel like the Scrooge of your generation? Overburdened, underappreciated?
Alone and adrift in a sea of confusion: Fearful of what tragedy may be next?
Sayeth the Raven “ Nevermore”.
Snow covers the frozen surface of Lake Geneva with a perfect palette of white frosty snow
Quiet, slumbering, reflecting God’s patience.
The crunch of isolated snow boots on the tundra faintly breaks the silence.
Want a conversation with our Maker, this is as close as it gets.
Silence makes us intent listeners. Listening for what?
Undefined, mystical, supernatural, the unexplained symphony of silence
Envelopes and surrounds us as we walk further into nature’s living room.
A solitary velvet black crow perches on the limb atop a leafless oak .
Facing the shrouded sun, the bird and tree have a life long relationship.
The crow calls, then listens, calls then listens.
Lift off ! He accelerates over the lake: a speck of black on a frozen white canvas.
This ancient bird had delivered a message – was it received?
Or did it’s dolcent sounds fall to the frozen earth, unheard, not translated?
Nature has opened the door into its living room of silence.
Filled with nothing and yet everything.
Perhaps Native Americans have it right – there is a message about each rock, river, tree.
Did we listen in silence for the soul of God while its just Him and us at the lake?
How adept are we at unburdening ourselves and letting Him take our troubles?
Resolving them in His time, in His way? Do we trust ?
Or do we egotistically depend on our own smarts to solve our perceived worries?
Like the crow, we are not alone.. unless we choose to be.
She is 60ish, face wrinked, hands gnarled from years of manual work
Her face creased talks of years stationed behind a punch press machine.
Slowly shifting weight from one foot to the other – her lower leg pain is obvious.
Wintry blasts of -25 degrees punish her arthritic knees.
Each and every time the auto doors open.
No time to grumble, or put on gloves or a jacket
This, after all, is the customer friendly grocery store.
Lifting cans of soup, bags of oranges, containers of ice cream.
Plastic or paper she intones?
Up scale suburbanites diz her – politely of course, without making eye contact.
“ Double Plastic “ grumbles the BMW driving matron ( the words please are out of fashion).
Heaving the bags into the grocery cart, Barbara returns to the moving belt.
Plastic or paper – and so the nighttime hours grudgingly creep buy.
A former nurse caught in the recession: supporter of two grandchildren.
A widower of many years with the voice of an angel and a heart of gold.
She is the modern day version of the farmer behind the ox and plow.
Chained to her station, faking compliance and obligation to duty.
Barbara wears a name patch? Why? The suburbanites treat her like Orwells non-person.
She exists only to serve, in the shadows , behind closed doors,
A fellow child of God? Wonder what happened to that concept.
The overweight, pampered, peach fuzzed college student watched Barbara struggle.
He had selected oversized bottles of Coke, bags of nachos, blocks of cheese.
This was Super Bowl Sunday and he was getting ready to host his buddies.
The line at each of the checkout counters was long and continuous
Only ½ hour until kickoff.. like other Wisconsinites he was nervous about his
Gods of the gridiron.. Rodgers, Driver, Kuhn, His stomach was literally churning..
Barbara had been struggling for 5 hours, but she wouldn’t quit.
The Store Manager chomped loudly on his gum>
A 30 something on the way up the career ladder.
He is determined to keep customers smiling…no matter the price to be paid by
Aged, underpaid, underappreciated staff.
The young man proudly attired in his new Green Bay Packer Jacket ( with the Super G)
sweatshirt, and wool cap
Observed silently as Barbara loaded three monster paper bags into his shopping cart.
30 pounds each –what the hell, that’s not much .
She turned, with a silent groan: back aching, knowing she had made it through
One more challenge, one small victory for her grim determination to survive.
To feed the grandkids, to get them an education.
Both arms extended, he lovingly grasped Barbara’s shaking, weakend hands.
Gently looking into her dark, tired eyes, he quietly said “ Thank you Barbara”..
Disappearing through the auto doors into the darkness of the parking lot.
Barbara stiffened: looked out the door: then crumpled In tears. The store manager
Helped her to a bench near the customer service desk.
What’s wrong? What happened? Are you ok? He guiltily pleaded. His best
employee in a heap.. on Super Bowl Sunday – he was in deep deep trouble.
So rare was a thank you. So seldom had anyone taken the time to recognize her as a person
So absent for years had there been a sense that anyone appreciated her.
Her defenses, like the walls of Jericho, came tumbling down.
A simple THANK YOU was a dagger to her oft protected heart.
And how do you treat the grocery store baggers, the blank staring gas station cashiers at 11 PM,?
The single moms at the dry cleaners: the smiling on the outside, churning on the
Inside barmaids?
THANK YOU – two syllables of gentleness, caring AND respect.
It was the creping crud, then the flu
Along came wintertime coughs
All the same, a scratchy throat, hoarse voice
They remind us that winter has arrived
And germs are more powerful than Johnny Walker
There is an upside to this day of two of discomfort
Look ahead: Look forward a friend told me yesterday
In a day or two the cold will be gone and the sun shines again
Is the cold ending, or healthy times beginning?
Are friendships ending or new relationships beginning?
Is the new person you meet this afternoon a stranger or a potential friend?
What did you learn about yourself today that is worth sharing?
Yes, sharing the goodness and talents of yourself.
Where will you learn about yourself? Look into the eyes of the person next to you
They will tell you if you are sharing or listening or caring.
Take care of yourself and others… life is magnificent when we give ourselves and others a chance.
WINTERTIME FOG – CRUNCH,CRUNCH,CRUNCH
Crunch, crunch crunch , my snow shoes tap on the drifts
Tucked between the rows of the green guardians of the hillside
Coal bucket size puffs of snow fall from the evergreens
Keeping us alert to the directions of the winds and
The forest floor underneath our winterized boots
The woods are quiet except for the crunch crunch crunch
Over a hillside on the Ice Age Trail, visibility suddenly changes
Like window blinds that were open – now closing in an instant
Clearly visible trails disappear … where are they now?
Fallen timbers become an obstacle- no longer just a pain
It’s one of nature’s unexpected, clever tactics
Disguising, hiding, shadowing her jewels from human kind
She paints the woods with the now you see me –now you don’t
Palete of wintertime fog
Ah but so revealing is this gift of mist, clouds, and shadowy snow
Another subtle message from the Creator of all that is before us
Fog is an element to be endured: deciphered: to walk through
Fog hides the obvious, challenges complexity,
And provides us with an AHA moment when we hike out the other side
Another natural metaphor for conquering our personal struggles
Crunch crunch crunch .. let us keep on walking and enjoying the adventure of life.
rlhassociates 