Jaybird

Jaybird as his closest friends called him was introduced to me as my stepfather, however long before his passing he had simply become my dad. I am visiting my mom this weekend and we were going through some old papers and I came across the two pieces I wrote for his funeral. He passed away twenty-four years ago on June 8, 1987

In the beginning
He was that man
My new father
Who I couldn't understand
He seemed distant
And far away
Sometimes I wished
He would not stay

But as the years went by
I came to understand
Who he was
What kind of man
He was strong
He was proud
He always stood
And spoke out loud
He loved people
In return they loved him
Where ever he traveled
He made friends
He loved to laugh
He loved to dance
With him my mom
Found love and romance
He loved his children
And their kids
He was always brave
Until the end

Through him
I became a man
Now I think
I understand
The laughter and joy
The pain and the sorrow
That we live with today
And can expect tomorrow
I learned to live
Life to the fullest
Though I feel
I can say it best
I loved my dad
He was the best

He was born Jay Ray Hunter on May 23, 1927 in Amarillo, Texas. Jay graduated high school in 1944 and enlisted in the US Navy. He was stationed in the South Pacific where he served through the end of World War II.

Upon his return from the Navy he attended college at West Texas State University. When he left college he worked nine years for the US Postal Service in Amarillo.

He moved to Arcadia, California in the mid 50's where he remained. He worked for Purcell Auto Supply for more than twenty years as a salesman. He was a member of the Arcadia Elks Lodge for more than twenty-years. He also worked for the lodge as a bartender and managed the bar for ten years.

Jay was a devoted family man and a loving husband. He raised three children of his own and then in his mid 40's he remarried and raised his three step-children as his own.

Jay was a man who had many diverse interests. He loved his family and he enjoyed the comradary of his many friends. He loved to travel anytime, anywhere. His favorite pastimes included horse racing, watching football and many other sports both on TV and in person.

Jay had a biting wit and a sarcastic sense of humor. He had a zest for life that touched everyone he came in contact with, friend and stranger alike.

Jay's motto was: "Live life to the fullest and leave behind a beautiful memory."

Song of the Soul

She sits on the rocks above the river. Jet boats and water skiers dance across the current. The hot desert sun slowly roasts the back of her neck. Mosquito dive bombers attack her ankles and bare arms leaving small craters in her skin.

None of these worldly distractions can bring her back from her spiritual quest.

She has spent years searching the highways and byways of many lands for answers to questions she has yet to pose. From the mountains of Tibet to the Ganges river in India. From St. Peter's in Rome to the mosques and temples of the Middle East. From Stonehenge in the land of the Celts to Machu Pichu in the Americas. Each holy shrine she visited seemed to have a small piece of the puzzle. It was as if some ancient race of giants had upended a box of spiritual clues and scattered them to the wind. Lately, however it seemed like the more pieces she collected the more difficult the puzzle had become.

Her journey had at last come full circle and she had returned to her own beginnings. She had always found solace here beside the mighty Colorado. Her first baby steps of her spiritual life had taken place not to far from where she now sat. When a Shaman from a local indian tribe found her meditating beside the river, he had taken her under his wing and planted the seeds that had led to her quest.

His most precious gift had come forth when he taught her how to silence her mind and body and allow the song of her soul to be heard. In doing so she had not only improved her listening skills but had begun the first steps on the long road of meditation. Over the years as her ability to meditate improved the oung of her soul had becomer clearer.

So here she sat attuned to the universe her only desire one of spiritual truth.

In the suns embrace she grew relaxed and in the caress of the river's song she felt cleansed. Her mind withdrew from the here and now and at long last she released her soul to dance with the winds.

Soaring above the clouds she spotted Brother Eagle. She explained to him the purpose of her journey and she asked him if he knew how to recreate the puzzle. He appeared to have an answer but before he could share it he spotted dinner and set off in pursuit of an unsuspecting field mouse.

On the horizon she spotted Brother Wolf and she joined him on the ground. She explained to him the purpose of her journey and asked him if he knew the puzzles solultion. However just as he was about to answer the moon began to rise and he had to join the pack for a group howl.

Soaring again in the twilight sky she spotted Sister Owl just awakening from her days sleep. She explained to her the purspose of her quest and asked if she knew the origin of the puzzle. Sister Owl was sympathetic to her plight but the cries of her hungry owlettes prevented her from providing assistance.

Below her she spotted Sister Coyote pause at the riverbank for a drink of water. She explained to her the quest she had undertook and asked if she had any insight she could share concerning her spiritual puzzle. Sister Coyote though wise appeared to be uninterested in her plight and soon left her behind in her chase of a nocturnal rabbit.

Taking flight she became aware of a glow coming from the cliffside of a nearby mountain. She followed the light and soon found her self in the presence of her friend the shaman. For a moment she paused unsure of her next move. She had received the news on her journey that the shaman had passed away but here he was. Setting aside her fear she joined her friend on the cliff face.

Before she could begin the shaman smiled at her with his wise old eyes glowing and began to speak.

My daughter for one who has put before herself such a great task, you are much to impatient. The spiritual unity of this planet was broken while the earth was still young. You have accomplished much by finding the roots of the various religions. However your quest has just begun. In order to reassemble the pieces one must have the help of many enlightened souls. This is a task you cannot complete on your own. Before you can recreate what once was one must assist other in relearning their own soul songs. When the time is right your sould will guide you to me once again and I will aide you in the first steps of spiritual recreation. Go with love my daughter.

She came back to herself on the rock beside the river. The evening sky was filled with a billion stars and the moon was smiling down at her. For a moment she contemplated giving up her quest and just laying beneath the stars for an eternity and a half. But soon enough she returned her backpack to her shoulders and continued her journey.

Merry-Go-Round Revisited

Many grains of sand passed through the hourglass before he returned to Oak Hill Park. The summers of his youth had been spent in the playground and the pools that made Oak Hill Park such a great place to grow up.

As her walked through the park his memory appeared to be playing tricks on him. The pool was smaller than he remembered. The high dive was shorter. The tennis courts were not as grand. Even the statue that had represented the first settlers in this valley had been taken away. Worst of all, the playground no longer resembled the playground of his youth. Gone were the rocket ship and the merry-go-round replaced by the new wave of "kid friendly" toys, odd shaped bars with small slides and rings with padding covering everything. Even the height of the swings had been reduced, no longer could the boys and girls soar high into the sky pretending to be astronauts and fighter pilots. These new fangled swings have no lift what so ever.

He circled the playground, dismayed at the changes that time had inflicted upon his favorite hang out. Realistically he knew that nothing lasted forever, but recently he had found that many places he remembered from his youth either no longer existed or had changed almost beyond recognition. Wandering through the haunts of his youth was beginning to make him feel old.

Eventually he found himself laying back on the grass and watching the clouds chase each other across the sky. In his minds eye he could still see the rocket ship and his ten-year-old self sitting on the top level reading a worn copy of "Treasure Island". So many years had passed since then, so much water under the bridge. With a sigh he turned towards the bare sand where the merry-go-round used to sit. He remembered spinning for hours watching the leaves passing over head in a blur until dizziness forced him to bail out. He would collapse in the sand, turn on to his back and it was as if he could feel the entire world spinning beneath him.

His thoughts turned to that innocent ten-year-old that he had once been. If right here, right now the stars came into some weird type of cosmic alignment that somehow allowed me to communicate with him what would I say. What nuggets of hard earned wisdom would I share with the past? A very interesting question indeed.

He lay there in the grass and allowed his thoughts to follow the slippery slopes of Mount What If. So much has happened since I was that innocent child. Some of it great, some of it good and of course some of it bad.

Well he thought, I would most definitely tell him to avoid Interstate 70 on March 2, 2001, no reason we shouldn't avoid that accident if we can. I would tell him to hang out at home longer. To give himself enough time to get his act together before fleeing the family nest. I would definitely advise making better choices in room mates and avoiding the whole small claims route. And of course I would let him know that he could save himself a lot of embarrassment by not asking Lisa Ryan to the prom in front of the entire world and being shot down.

Hmm what else is worth passing along he wondered. What should I tell him about the marriage and the divorce? What could I tell him about being a father? I definitely should remind him to spend enough time with his parents and grand parents before time and age take them away. Should I mention career choices and financial lessons?

The more he pondered this scenario the more he realized that in reality he would not pass on any of his original ideas to his past self. If it were possible to pass information back in time it would be simple to warn himself about all of the mistakes he/they had made. It would be simple but it would not be right.

No if I could pass along a message to the past it would be simply to remind my former self to take the time to stop and smell the roses. Each event he/they had lived through were lessons that had been learned. Change the event and just maybe the lesson would be lost and a chance would be wasted. Forget the marriage and lose the joy of the kids. Forget the great prom question and lose the courage to approach someone you would like to know better. No, in reality he would if he could pass along a one word message: ENJOY.

As he turned his back on the playground and walked away he could almost hear the squeaks of the merry-go-round and the joyous laughter of yesterday's children.

Quest

AJ and I met during our freshman year at MHS. We were in the same study hall and our friendship developed through out that first semester. AJ came from a hunting and camping family. He could play guitar and wrote some of his own material. My background was citified with no musical talent what so ever. Our common ground was founded on a love of good books and the joy of a good debate. During lunch hour and after school we would spend hours in friendly arguments that ranged from politics to the environment to finally religion.

AJ it turns out was an atheist. In my short life he was the first person I had met who professed a disbelief in the existence of God. As for myself I was born and raised in the Catholic church. Upon reaching high school I had begun to question some of the tenants of my religion I never questioned the existence of God. Rather than driving a wedge into our newfound friendship our different religious backgrounds allowed us to have many spirited but friendly debates on the subject.

AJ was by his own description somewhat of a Darwinist. He believed in evolution and natural selection. He professed that the only explanation for the existence of the universe was the big bang. His favorite subjects were all scientific in nature. Upon graduation he planned to go on to college and study medicine with the intention of becoming a doctor.

However as often happens on the road of life, the best-laid plans have a way of swerving off course into entirely new directions. For AJ the slow approach of change began in our senior year.

For most of high school AJ had been an all books no nonsense type of guy. His focus had prevented him from becoming seriously involved in any social activities including dating. That was before he met Teri.

AJ and Teri found themselves in the same class first semester of our senior year. They began spending time together at school. Studying in the library, eating lunch under one of the oak trees and saving seats for each other before school events. AJ was smitten and it appeared that love would soon be blooming. That was before fate played its trump card.

Prom season was just around the corner and AJ planned on attending and asking Teri to be his date. One obstacle remained for the hopefully so to be happy couple. Through out the many hours of conversation during our senior year they never once discussed religion. When AJ finally asked Teri to the prom that proved to be the topic that would make our break their relationship.

Teri has it turned out was a Jehovah's Witness and regardless of her personal feelings her parents would not allow her to date outside of her religion. She explained that the prom was to soon for him to be accepted. But if he began to come to church with her they would eventually be able to date.

AJ had always been sure of his beliefs when it came to God. He was also an honest and trustworthy person who would never deceive someone just to go out on a date. So I was sure that her ultimatum would be the end of them. I was wrong. AJ explained to her that he had never believed in God but that he would keep an open mind and attend church with her. True to his word he began attending church, going to bible study and spending time with her family. AJ and Teri eventually began dating and all was right with the world. Their relationship lasted for several months but as often happens with young love they eventually grew apart and went their separate ways.

Surprisingly though his time spent attending Teri's church had not been wasted. AJ developed a spiritual thirst and without conscious thought set out on a personal spiritual quest.

Several months after AJ and Teri broke up he met Samantha. They began dating and he began attending church with her and her family. Sam and her family were Mormon's and they welcomed AJ with open arms. Sam and AJ went to youth group activities together. They studied the Bible and the Book of Mormon. But AJ had just begun his quest and he was not finding all the answers that he thirsted for. Eventually Sam moved on and so did AJ.

Sean who was a mutual friend of ours was Roman Catholic like myself. However while my family had kept their relationship with the church strictly in the pews Sean's family was involved in all aspects of the church. They began inviting AJ to bible studies and to their parish for Sunday mass. Sean and I had begun attending mass with a youth group at our college and AJ was soon tagging along.

After several months of being ministered to AJ with his newly discovered belief in God decided to commit to the Catholic Church and was baptized. Sean's mother and father were his godparent and no one appeared to be happier about this than AJ himself.

However, AJ had not quite reached the end of his journey on the road less traveled. There were still a few surprises in store for our former atheist.

During this period of religious growth AJ was attending the university working towards becoming a doctor. His grades were good and upon graduation he was planning on going to medical school. That was before he met Mary.

With Mary and AJ it was love at first sight. She lived next door to his mother's house and they began spending time together. Mary belonged to a Non-Denominational Christian church and AJ began attending with her whenever he spent the weekend with his mom. Slowly but surely his beliefs once again began to evolve. While his newfound belief in God was solid his roots in the Catholic Church were young and questioning. He began to find himself more at home in Mary's church than his own and soon he became a full time member.

Not to long after AJ joined Mary's church he gave me a call. We met for dinner and had one of our usual debate filled conversations. Before long we slipped into a discussion about religion and the role it had played in our friendship and most importantly in his life. ThatÂ’s when he dropped not one but two bombshells on me. Bombshell number one was that he had asked Mary to be his wife and she had accepted. Bombshell number two was that after much though and prayer he was abandoning his dream of becoming a doctor and going to the seminary to become a minister. After I picked myself off of the floor I congratulated him on his good fortune in finding someone like Mary to share his life with and I told him that I believed he would be a great minister because he had traveled a long and varied road to reach this point in time. And that the experience he had lived through would only increase the empathy he would have for his flock.

That was twenty some odd years ago. AJ is the pastor of a fairly large church in the Midwest. He and Mary are still married and they have four children two of their own and two adopted. To listen to the man today you would never know that once upon a time he was a fourteen-year-old boy who professed to be an atheist. Life is nothing if not full of surprises.

Tears

He walked up the hill, hugging the side of the road. No sidewalks had been grown in this part of town and with all the blind curves one never knew what a car might do. Especially at twilight when the old pines create shadows that can confuse the senses of the commuters making their daily trek home.

He felt a certain serenity come over his soul as the road turned and he caught site of "his" wall. After all these years it still looked the same. Rocks with character had been pulled from a nearby streambed and cemented together to form the northern boundary of someone's property.

As a teenager this wall had been his place of refuge. Perched atop it he could see the valley below a patchwork quilt that stretched for miles. As the sunset he would hold his breath in anticipation of the dazzling display of city lights that would seem to miraculously appear before him.

It was here that he came to cry when he experienced his first broken heart. Probably the second and third one to if he was honest with himself. When the pressure at home became too much this is where he would hide. Silently cursing parents and siblings alike. Wanting the freedom that came with age but longing to hide once more in his mother's arms while she assured him that there were no monsters under his bed.

And now it was to this wall that he had returned. To find himself somewhere amongst all of the stereotypes he had become. He could not even be sure that his old self was still there buried in a pile of childish memories that had been discarded when adulthood called. He had learned his life's lessons so well. Lately he had begun to feel like one of those false fronts they have at all of the movie studios. From the front they appear to be real buildings but look inside and there is nothing to be found just empty space. That is what his heart and soul had become empty space.

Sitting here on the wall he could almost sense the presence of a specter from his past. His younger self who was not afraid of tears, who could cry while reading a book, or watching a movie or just because he felt like it. The one who wrote poetry and dreamt of fatherhood. The one who still believed in love and happily ever after. If only his younger self could see what they had become. So important, so successful, a life filled with material goods. Yet it was a life that now more than ever was filled with emptiness.

He could not remember the last time he had shed a tear. Or the last time he had read a good book. He thought of movies like "Old Yeller", how he had cried and cried when they had to put Yeller down. What happened to that child of emotion? Where had he gone? Why had he let him go? Good questions all but he had no answers.

Sighing he turned and began his lonely walk down the hill. Listening to the crickets sing and owls begin their nightly sojourn. Out of the darkness he heard the squeal of breaks and than he saw the lights of a car as it came around the corner. He stepped onto someone's driveway to so the driver would have plenty of room. Once the car passed he continued around the corner and stopped. There by the side of the road lay a squirrel that must have just been hit because as he watched the squirrel shuttered as it took its last breath.

He just stood there staring at the poor thing. He removed his t-shirt and used it to gently wrap the squirrels broken body. As he cradle the creature his eyes filled with tears and he began to cry. His shoulders shook with emotion and his breath came in great sobs.

He continued down the hill until he came to a vacant lot. He found an old bucket and began to dig a grave. All the while his tears fell turn the dry dust into mud. When he was finished he gently laid the squirrel in the hole still wrapped in his shirt and quietly recited a small prayer.

Silently he shoveled the dirt over the body and than he placed several rocks on top to prevent the coyotes from digging the squirrel up. Quietly crying he slowly made his way to his car. The tears had been cathartic. He did not know if this was the beginning of a new path or just a slight detour before he returned to the rut he had been trapped in. Either way the emotional release was good for him and he hoped a sign of things to come.

Phoenix

Candlelight danced with the shadows, a waltz to music only the spirits could hear. Victoria sat in her grandmother's rocker wrapped in a quilt draped with one of her favorite books "Rapture in Death" open on her lap.

In the fireplace logs from the maple tree that had come down in the big windstorm cracked and popped with delight. Providing the room with warmth and a sense of home. The comfort that surrounded her was lost on Victoria as tears slipped from her eyes and fell to the unread pages below.

Her heart and soul were still trying to come to grips with the end of her most recent romance. Everything had been going so well. Life with him had been filled with candlelit dinners, walks in the surf and dancing in the moonlight to the crooning sounds of Sinatra. All she had ever dreamed of. Now there was an empty place at the table, cold sand between her toes and a phonograph needle soundlessly spinning.

Victoria had come here to her little hideaway in Vermont to examine her life and attempt to rebuild her broken heart. Introspection was not her forte and she found it difficult to do more than feel sorry for herself. Reviewing the broken battleground of her fractured relationships was a task best suited for an archeologist not a thirty-year-old woman who still believed in fairy tales and the eminent arrival of Prince Charming.

Experience was said to be one of life's great teachers. All she had to show for her dive into the fast lane of love was a heart that had been portioned and broken so many times that it had begun to resemble a geologists guide to fault zones. Apparently she had failed to learn anything from her experience except how to continue to make the same mistake over and over again.

If the past continued to repeat itself she would not even have to live through the relationship the plot points were as apparent as the story line for every teen horror movie ever made. She would return to the city. For a few weeks her and the girls would spend their weekends dining, drinking and clubbing. One day a new pretty boy would rear his handsome head. Her lust would overrule both her mind and a new relationship would spring to life. They would embark on several weeks of whispered passion and midnight rendezvous'. Before long her mind would brainwash her heart into believing that her latest boy toy was the one. Mr. Boy Toy would have other ideas however and as soon as she became serious he would find a reason to move on.

Suddenly Victoria slammed the cover of her book shut. She threw the quilt to the floor and began to roam the room snuffing the flame on each and every candle. In her mind she began repeating a new mantra, "no more, no more, no more." She went to the closet and removed several shoe boxes filled with dusty memories of yesterdays broken hearts. Sitting on the floor near the fire Victoria began to systematically open the boxes, remove the trinkets, photographs, and letters tossing them one by one into the fire. As each box was emptied her soul began to feel just a bit lighter. Her phonebook was the next to feel the heat of her hearts fury. Phone numbers and email addresses sacrificed to the goddess of lost dreams.
Turning from the fire Victoria went to the hallway grabbed a sweater and ventured out into the moonlit night. Head down she began walking one foot in front of the other; mile after mile, until she reached the maple trees that marked the end of her property. She sat with her back against an old boulder still warm from the day's sun. The night sky called and her mind responded soaring amongst the stars searching for truth.

In her soul however the truth was there for the taking. In the darkness Victoria began to see the light. Forgiveness was the first step on the road she hoped to travel. Her heart was heavy with the bitterness she felt towards her past lovers. That bitterness must be discarded. Her heart was scarred with self inflicted wounds not the fault of those who left but the fault of the one who made choices out of fear rather than love. As awareness of her own culpability came to the surface the scars on her heart softened and began the slow healing process.

Out of the ashes of Victoria's damaged heart a phoenix began to rise. Shedding the wounds of yesterday and embracing the hope of tomorrow. In the silence of a winter's night she was finally beginning to understand the melody to her souls song. She and only she was responsible for her string of broken hearts. By allowing the "it" factor of society to define for her the meaning of love and beauty she had abdicated the free will she had received from her creator. She had surrendered to fear and accepted loneliness.

Looking up at the full moon Victoria shouted her new mantra for the world to hear "no more." From this moment forward I will live with love and cast aside fear. My heart, mind and soul will walk in solidarity together as one awash in the light of my newfound understanding. And God willing somewhere along this road I will find a pilgrim who like me is on a quest for a soul who's melody will blend seamlessly with theirs. Until that day though I will be content to lose myself in the rhythms of the universes song.

Tony Randall

The recent passing of Tony Randall dropped me into a sea of memories.

In the early seventies my Friday nights were always spent with my grandparents. Nana would fix dinner than she would take a nap before heading off to work. My grandfather would do the dishes and sit in the kitchen with a cigarette, a cup of coffee and a magazine, usually the Readers Digest.

I could be found curled up on the couch lost in a good book. About eight o'clock my grandfather would join me in the living room, turn the TV to ABC (his preferred network) and sit back in his avocado green recliner. We never talked much. I would continue reading occasionally glancing at whatever happened to be on.

About nine fifteen he would return to the kitchen and fix us both a good-sized bowl of vanilla ice cream swimming in caramel. He would return with our dessert and together we would satisfy our sweet tooth while he laughed his way through his favorite show "The Odd Couple".

I really do not remember the show all that well. However, anytime I hear the theme song or catch a glimpse of one of the episodes it is like being thrown into a time machine and being sent back to 1971.

Though I never met him I would like to take this opportunity to thank Tony Randall and of course Jack Klugman for the Friday nights I shared in quiet companionship with my grandfather. They are memories that will remain with me always.

Nobody

Ghostlike he roams the hallways. Ignored by the living, the popular, the jocks and even the nerds. He is a clique of one. School is both his greatest joy and his most bitter curse. He thrives in the academic environment but he is being torn apart by his loneliness. There are no friends for him to turn to. No clubs that want him as a member. Even teachers overlook him in the classroom and fail to notice him in the halls.

In the classroom, he sits in the front row. Pencil in hand taking notes and absorbing all of the knowledge his teachers have to share. Though he is a straight A student he has never possessed the confidence needed to raise his hand in class. Though he knows all of the answers is voice is never heard.

In gym class he prowls the sidelines. Watching as the other boys bond and grow together. His mind aches with the desire to belong, but he lacks the courage to stand up and demand his place in the game.

During lunch while the others join in various circles of gossip and jocularity he finds a quiet corner. Back against a tree he is soon lost in the worlds of Asimov, Bradbury, Clarke and Heinlen. In his minds eye he imagines himself the hero of one of their grand space operas. Slaying the hideous aliens and rescuing the beautiful princess. All to soon however the lunch bell rings and returns him to his bitter reality.

All of the solitude has begun to take a toll on him. Most days at some point he will find himself in a graffiti filled stall quietly sobbing tears of despair. He has become so desperate for attention that he has begun to wish that the bullies would pay atleast notice him. Give him a wedgey. Tape a "kick me" sign to his back. Trip him in the hallway. Though he knew that it was a wasted wish for some reason he was not even worth the contempt of the bullies.

Being a realist he knows that many teenagers, who found themselves outcast, broke and fell into drinking, drugs and even suicide. Others broke and brought a gun to school ensuring that everyone would soon be paying attention. He was more fortunate than either group. He may be a nobody at school but he has a very good reason for living.

Each afternoon when he returned from he would find her looking out the front window watching for him. She was his older sister whose body had been so ravaged by disease that she could no longer even communicate. Tossing his books aside he would give her a kiss and sit at the foot of her wheel chair. Her still bright eyes would light up as he filled her with tales of his scholastic adventures. Not the truth of course. Outside the house he may have been a nobody but to her he was and always would be somebody.

Last Flight

Spring 1969: After my parents divorce the one thing my father and I continued to share was our love of baseball. Several times each season he would pick me up and take me to Dodger Stadium. We would sit in the bleachers eat our Dodger dogs. My dad had taught how to keep score so we always purchased a program and I would sit there and concentrate on every pitch ensuring that each moment of the game was duly noted. Dad would mostly watch the game and sip his beer. Though an alcoholic he kept his drinking under control when we were at the games.

One Saturday he showed up at the house and told me we were going to the ballgame. It dawn on me until we were already on the road but I realized the Dodger's were out of town and I told him so. He just chuckled and said with a smile if the Dodgers aren't at the ravine we will have to find them.

Before long we arrived at Burbank Airport, now I was really confused. Without a word my dad led me to the boarding area for a flight to San Diego. He explained that since the Padres were now part of the National League he figured we should hop down the coast and check out the new stadium. We boarded the plane and for the first time my young eyes took in Los Angeles from the air. I was speechless. I felt like John Glenn as we took to the skies. I pointed out Dodger Stadium and the freeways and ocean and I am sure before long my dad was tired of my running monologue but he never said a word.

Just as I was getting used to the excitement of being in the air we arrived in San Diego. We caught a cab and arrived at the stadium just in time for the national anthem. We had field box seats on the third base side and our section was pretty deserted. Of course the dogs weren't as good as the ones served at Dodger stadium but they never are. I didn't care I was in baseball heaven.

I was so excited by all of the day's activities that I even forgot to keep score. I sat in my seat and savored each and every moment of the game. I even came close to catching a foul ball however about twenty of kids dived for it at the same time and I did not manage to be the one to come up with it. I didn't mind though I was at the ballpark with my dad and all was right with the world.

All to soon the game ended and we were in the taxi on our way back to the airport. Neither of us said much we just sat in comfortable silence. We boarded the plane and I was lost in the city lights spread out below us on the flight home.

Before I knew we were back at the house and my dad was walking me to the door. I thanked him for the great time and gave him a big hug. He gave my head a rub and walked back to the car.

I did not know it then but that would be the last ball game my dad and I would share. Before that summer came to a close he moved out of Southern California. He passed away in 1980 and I never had a chance to say good by.

Angels

I looked up into the clear blue sky and I saw an angel looking down
He had golden wings and silver hair but on his face he wore a frown
So I looked up at my guardian angel and I asked him why are you so sad
He just looked at me with tear filled eyes, I never knew angels could feel so bad
Than in a sorrowful voice he said it’s the way things are today
So much is going wrong people believe that God's gone away
There is crime in the city, hate in the schools, fathers who won't stay
There are children in the street, without a chance, using drugs to chase the pain away
There are worms in the water, smog in the air, the Amazons begun to disappear
There are holes in the ozone, no violence free zones, humanity is living in fear
He said, heavens no longer a happy place, we are filled with such despair
Our hearts are heavy, our songs are sad, you see we angels truly care

With that he turned as if to go and I knew I had to speak
I couldn't let him fly away without the answers he seemed to seek
So I spoke to him with a hope filled voice and he stopped to hear me out

I know our worlds not the perfect place you in heaven wished it would be
But in the beginning when the planets were young God he set our will free
He said go out and explore the world discover what's wrong and right
All I ask in return is that you seek out heavens light
Now I know sometime we all forget about heaven and its glory
I know there are those who no longer believe, they say God is just a story
Still there is so much good on earth don't let the bad bring you down
There are plenty of people filled with love just have a look around
When a natural disaster strikes a country down anywhere on this earth
It does not matter what they believe they find out what a man is worth
Money, food, clothes or shelter, sometimes just a prayer
All flow into that battered country showing that we truly care
There are everyday moments that we all believe are signs of all that's good
Sunsets and rainbows, rainstorms and snow or the smell of freshly cut wood
There are bird songs, love songs and silly songs for fun
There is a baby at birth, a baby's first words or a child learning to run
There is love at first sight, falling in love and a walk down the marriage road
There are horses and cows, puppies and kittens and even a horned back toad
There is the first flower of spring, the last leaf of fall and moonlit winter nights
There is help for the homeless, hope for the afflicted and those who protect human rights
There is baseball, basketball, football and more, so much to keep our bodies strong
There is algebra, chemistry, astronomy and more, designed to help the mind along
There is life, death and everything that helps make this world go 'round

And then I seemed to lose my breath my voice stopped without a sound
I looked up at my guardian angel and I saw that his tears no longer hit the ground
He said, I guess in heaven we just have dismissed all of the little things
We have forgotten how to appreciate the joy that life can bring
I guess there truly is hope for this world and God's creations

And then he turned and flew away with a smile that made my heart sing
I guess now even angels understand the joy that life can bring

The Lighthouse Keeper

As of late, Jacob had found himself looking forward to retirement. After fifty years he had begun to wonder whether or not the path he had chosen in life was the right one. Not that he ever really had a choice. His father, grandfather and great-grandfather before him had all been lighthouse keepers and from his birth it had always been expected that he would follow in his families footsteps.

He loved the sea and never really gave serious thought to straying from his plotted course. After serving two years in the Coast Guard he returned home to replace his father has keeper of the Cambria Lighthouse. In the fifties when he began, lighthouse keeping was still a career that offered challenges. He could remember many nights when his light and foghorn had been all that separated the ships sailing California's Central Coast from disaster. After spending the night monitoring the radio he would go to sleep in the morning with the feeling of a job well done.

Like many careers lighthouse keeping had changed over the years. With the advent of computer and satellite navigation the service he provided had become somewhat redundant. At night he would still turn on the light and if the weather called for it the foghorn. However this was done more out of tradition than need. He had no children so once he retired he was not even sure whom, if anyone would replace him. Cambria Lighthouse may just become a museum reflecting the lifestyles of an era gone by. The bottom line was that he did not feel needed. Like his lighthouse he had become an antique.

Jacob shook his head, what am I accomplishing by sitting here and feeling sorry for myself. He got up from his old rocker and climbed down the stairs to get the mail. There was a small pile waiting for him inside the door. He gathered it up and took it outside to sit in the sun while he sorted through the junk. Bills, bills, more bills and one letter. He could not remember the last time he had received a personal letter. He looked at the envelope it was addressed simply to:

Lighthouse Keeper
Cambria Lighthouse
Cambria, California

His curiosity piqued he opened the letter, it was written in pencil and by a youngster's hand. He began to read.

Dear Lighthouse Keeper,

My name is Kevin and I am thirteen years old. I just wanted to thank you for saving my father and me. About three months ago we were sailing from San Francisco to San Diego. When we reached the Central Coast it was night and very foggy. The ocean was silent except for the sound of the waves lapping against our boat. Visibility was limited to about three feet in any direction. My father was considering waiting out the fog when he had a mild heart attack. I had no choice I had to take over and get him to shore as soon as possible. I attempted to radio for help but our radio would not work. At that moment I felt more alone than I ever had before. I began to panic. I was sure my father was going to die. Just than out of the darkness I heard the low moan of a foghorn. I turned my head just in time to catch the light from your lighthouse. I took down the sails like my father had taught me. I then started our little outboard motor and navigated toward the shore using the foghorn and light to stay on course. Once I could hear the surf I turned parallel to the coast and maintained that course until I came to a marina. My father was taken to the hospital. We are both alive today because of your dedication in maintaining the Cambria Lighthouse. Thank you very much.

Kevin Ross

Jacob sat on the bench for quite awhile. Eyes closed and the sun warming his bones. He thought about young Kevin's letter and the more he thought about it the better he felt. Maybe lighthouse keeping was not as exciting as it once was but if every once in awhile he could still save a life than it was as exciting as it needed to be.

Nana Flashback

Before my grandmother became tangled in the web of Alzheimer's there were various incidents that were either early signs of the disease or the normal changes that come with age. As with all seniors citizens there came a time when her driving skills began to erode and we as a family were left with deciding when the keys should be taken away.

We were luckier than a lot of the families who have been in the news over the last several years. We waited to long to take away the keys but fortunately God or fate was smiling on my grandmother because when the unavoidable happened no one was hurt.

One morning she got into her car intending to drive to her Senior Citizens club. Now her garage was attached to the house and the back wall of the garage faced the street. In order to leave her property she had to back out of the garage and loop around the house to reach the road.

She started the car as she normally would and allowed the engine to warm up. Her car had a manual transmission and when went to put in gear she missed reverse and put it into neutral. She depressed the accelerator and of course nothing happened. At that point she must have panicked because when she shifted gears again she put it into drive with the engine fully revved. She left skid marks on the floor of her garage and went right thru the wall.

In the front yard just outside the rear wall of the garage were three trees. Somehow she missed all of the trees and continued across the lawn. Separating the lawn from the sidewalk was a low brick and wrought iron wall. She went through that like a hot knife through warm butter and into the street.

The street she lived on was fairly busy but fortunately no one was coming in either direction. As she crossed the street she managed to regain some control over the car and turned the steering wheel hard to the right. She made a u-turn jumped the curb and flipped the car onto the passenger side door coming to rest right in the middle of her own driveway.

When the police arrived she was sitting on the passenger door calmly asking for someone to help her out of the car. She walked away without a scratch. The only casualty: her driver's license.

Fifteen Minutes

The body lay on the floor. Threatening even in death.

His living room resembled the aftermath of a 6.2 earthquake. All of the lamps had been knocked over, bulbs shattered leaving sparkling trails that followed the path of destruction. Photographs and paintings that had been knocked from the wall were scattered about the room. The stereo lay on its side while only a low hum could be heard from the speakers. Plants that had once stood on the windowsill embracing the sunlight were overturned with soil, roots and leaves ground into the carpet.

He sat in his rocking chair near the window. His face was red and his shirt was soaked thru with sweat. His chest was heaving as he fought to gain control over his breathing. He looked about the room surveying the damage and reliving the past fifteen minutes of his life.

After several weeks of stress filled overtime he was taking a day off to recharge his batteries. He had slept in, taken a leisurely walk and planned on spending the afternoon on the couch napping and listening to music. He had just begun to slip off into dreamland when there was a knock on the door.

Answering the knock he found someone from Fed-Ex with a package for him. Perfect timing he thought to himself as he signed for the envelope, he couldn't have knocked five minutes ago he had to wait until I was almost asleep. Thanking the driver he tossed the envelope on the table and lay back down.

As he attempted to find his way back into nap land he found himself tossing and turning on the couch he just could not find his comfort zone. In frustration he threw his pillow across the room. That’s when he heard the sound, not very loud, but very clear. Nervously he looked around the room. There it was again. A trickle of fear ran down his spine. He was no longer alone. Somewhere in his house was an intruder.

Silently, he rose from the couch, removed the shovel from a set of fireplace tools and began his search. He stood quietly and was rewarded with that sound again, still not very loud but still clear.

He began his search in the kitchen. Everything was as it should be. He checked the downstairs bathroom. Nothing. He turned back into the living room and out of the corner of his eye he thought he detected movement. He swung the shovel and connected with nothing but a lamp that shattered on the floor. Spinning he swung again and swept a slew of family pictures off of the wall.

Calm down he thought to himself, keep your wits and you will survive, panic and who knows what the outcome will be.

He crept about the living room eyes darting to the corners looking for any movement. Again he thought he heard something behind him and in swinging the shovel he knocked over the stereo dislodging the cd he had been listening to. The sound was growing louder he could sense the intruder was near. Pretending indifference he neared the front window and let loose with a wild swing knocking all of his plants off the windowsill.

He twisted to his left and tripped over a footstool, knocking two more lamps over as he fell to the ground. He lay there on his back red in the face and fighting for air. He could hear the sound clearer now. Just over his shoulder and to his right. Gripping the shovel, he turned on to his stomach and swung with all his might. Smack! He connected killing his trespasser instantly.

He struggled to his feet and sat in his chair with sigh. Victory was his and a disaster was averted.

The body of the bee lay on the floor. Threatening even in death. Especially to him, he had a deadly allergy to bee stings and no bee sting kit in the house.

Footprints

He strode the sandy beach barefoot and lost in thought, oblivious to the sounds of the crashing surf and the beauty of the setting sun. Around him children built sand castles and young lovers whispered promises soon forgotten in the heat of a summer evening.

For him though there were just his footprints in the sand stretching out behind him. He walked with a purpose but without direction. His walking was an exercise of frustration. If his mind had been his own he would have spent today anywhere but here. Browsing the used bookstores in North Hollywood or watching the horses at Santa Anita the possibilities were endless and closed to him. His mind was not his own and fate had ensured that he would spend today of all days walking the sands of Laguna Beach.

One year ago today on this very beach she had walked out of his life never to be heard from again. Ahead of him he could see the cliffs where they had sat together on what he had assumed would be one of the happiest days of his life.

He had arrived before her spreading out a blanket for the two of them to share while they watched the sunset. Gourmet sandwiches had been prepared and placed in a picnic basked along with a bottle of cider since neither one of us drank. The surf was soothing and she was beautiful walking across the sand, shoes in her hand and blonde hair dancing in the summer breeze.

She had sat with him nibbling at her sandwich and sipping cider, for him the excitement had been too much and his appetite had fled. As the sun disappeared from the sky they huddled together and watched as a sky filled with diamonds appeared. Taking that as his cue he removed a ring from his pocket and asked her to be his forever.

She had taken his hand and with tear filled eyes she had whispered words that his ears were not ready to hear.

"I love you, but no I cannot marry you. If only life were that simple I would run off to Vegas with you tonight and if only words could explain my reasons I would save you from so much pain. Maybe someday you will understand. Until than hate me if you must but believe that my heart will always be yours."

He was stunned. He had been so sure of her answer that when she said no he had no response no words, no argument. He had stood up, dusted the sand from his clothes and walked away leaving her, the blanket, the food and the ring behind. That night he had driven up and down Pacific Coast Highway for hours. No music on the radio just him and his thoughts. Dawn brought him no closer to peace. So he went home and tried to move on. Sure he worked hard and hung out with the guys on the weekend, but she never wondered far from his thoughts. As much as he hated to admit it his heart and soul still belonged to her.

He came back to himself and found he was passing the cliff where they had sat last year. A few couples sat nearby in the sand and he silently wished them better luck than his. He reached the tide pools and climbed up on one of the rocks just in time to catch the end of the sunset. He closed his eyes and felt the damp ocean breeze caress his face but fail to ease the turmoil of his soul.
With a sigh he lay back on the rock and watched as the night gave birth to sky filled with stars. He must have dozed off because the crashing surf foretelling the incoming tide jolted him awake.

He sensed her presence before she spoke.

"Do you mind if I sit down?"

He did not trust himself to speak so he indicated his consent with a nod. She was still just as beautiful and it tore at his soul to know that she was lost to him forever. His mind whirled in confusion why was she here, then looking down he saw his ring in her hand and he knew she was just returning his ring. His last shreds of hope crumbled and his eyes filled with silent tears.

She turned the ring over and over in her hand and quietly she began to speak. "I almost turned around and walked away when I saw you sitting on this rock. I did not know if I had the courage to face you. I couldn't though; I couldn't walk away again without at least speaking to you and explaining my actions. I loved you then and when tonight when I saw you sitting in the moonlight on that rock I knew I loved you still."

My heart leapt and I began to speak but she put a finger to my lips and asked me to allow her to finish.

"You have to realize we had only known each other two months and there was a lot you did not know about me. Just before we met I spent two months in rehab. I am an alcoholic and I had spent exactly two weeks clean and sober before you walked into my life. Over our time together I found it very easy to stay away from the bottle but that was with you. I needed to know if I could live a sober life on my own. No crutches, no excuses just me against Jack Daniels. I am sorry I had to be so harsh but it was the only way I could test myself. You are a good man and I know you would have attempted to convince me to stay. I couldn't. I had to know if the war was over or if it was just a temporary cease-fire. That’s it. That’s my big secret. I am now and will always be an alcoholic but for one year and two and a half months I have been a sober one. I know now I can stand on my own."

She held up my ring and the diamond sparkled in the moonlight. She looked at him with soft, tear filled eyes. "I loved you yesterday, I love you today and if you will have me I want to love you tomorrow and forever more."

I opened my arms and she stepped into them. Without a word I kissed her and placed my ring on her finger where it belonged. Arm in arm we walked back along the beach where a few hours before I had walked alone. My footprints had been washed away by the incoming tide but behind us in the glittering sand were the first footprints we had created in our new life together.

Mom

She was a mother of three before her twenty-sixth birthday. Before her twenty-eighth birthday she had sent her alcoholic husband packing and was supporting her children on her own.

She worked night's car hopping and waitressing. By day she changed diapers, dried tears and did her best to be the best mom and dad she could be. Before long she landed a job as a teller, which without much planning led to a banking career for her.

She was den mother and a little league booster. She sewed costumes. She taught phonics. Without much assistance she was able to purchase her own house.

She dated but if the man she was seeing had no interest in her children than he was soon sent packing. One night while at the lodge with her boyfriend she saw that a trip was coming up to Palm Springs. She asked him to take her and the kids, he said I will take you but we will leave the kids at home. The man sitting to her right spoke up and said he would love to take her and the kids. She said agreed and that how she met her one true love.

They married and they moved to a bigger house. She worked hard to make her new life work and it did. Her children grew and developed into responsible young adults. At the bank she found herself in management and began taking classes to facilitate her climb up the corporate ladder.

Just when the future seemed set in stone health problems developed. She developed breast cancer. After a mastectomy she went back to work and began chemo treatments. After six months the cancer was in remission and after five years she was cancer free. He had a heart attack.

The children moved out and life began to mellow. Now that it was just the two of them they began to travel. Cruises and cross-country drives. They had a pool and a Jacuzzi put in at the house so they could entertain all of their friends.

They began to look forward to retirement but before any firm plans could be considered he developed lung cancer and before she knew it she found herself a widow at forty-eight. She continued to work and move up through the bank. She spent time with her children and her grandchildren. She bought herself a place near Laughlin, Nevada on the Colorado river where she could go relax on the weekends.

As the corporate world changed she took early retirement, sold her house and moved to the river full time. Before she became too comfortable in her new life of leisure she had a major heart attack and a second mastectomy when the breast cancer returned.

Today her health is good and she spends her free time visiting her grandchildren and playing video poker. She is a wonderful person and I am proud to call her mom.

Rain

With the late spring rain
Came the final scene
Where the woman he loved
Broke his heart
It was a Tuesday
In May
At a little hotel
In Santa Barbara
Where the roar of the surf
Couldn't cover the sound
Of his breaking heart

Without an intro, she began
There's another man she said
They had been sharing a bed
For the past year or two

And he felt like such a fool
Watching her sit there, looking so cool
While he fell apart, like a little boy
Who had just lost his favorite toy

With tear filled eyes he asked her why
With heart wrenching sobs he begged please don't lie
He needed the truth, no matter how it hurt

She closed her eyes for quite awhile
Before she whispered
Once upon a time I loved you
I would have sworn that love was true
But as the years passed by
I won't lie, that love faded away
Than he came into my life
He made everything seem all right
He gave me his love, and he set my heart free
I am sorry and I never meant to hurt you
But now the time has come for me to leave
With that, she turned her back
And without a good by she was gone

He sat in quiet solitude
His soul like a ship on a stormy sea
Being tossed and turned
By the waves her words produced
He cried, he screamed, he considered suicide
No not that he thought
I want to live
With her or without her
I will survive
A better person for loving her
A stronger person for losing her
Though no matter how I fight it
I will love her
Until the end of time

Premonitions

On at least three separate occasions in my life I have experienced something akin to a premonition. Now I am not claiming to have ESP or anything like that. However two of the three "premonitions" mentioned above did actually prove to have some validity to them. Instinctually I believe the third one was also accurate but since I cannot prove it I count it as a miss.

Premonition First: one afternoon during our junior year of high school my friend J. and I decided to take a drive. Like most sixteen year olds we wanted to test the boundaries of our newfound freedom.

Not to far from our high school was Santa Anita canyon. The road to the canyon was several miles of twists and turns, which ended at a parking lot with a spectacular view of the San Gabriel Valley. The canyon was popular with teenagers for three basic reasons, the thrill of the drive, partying and of course it was a perfect place to bring your girlfriend on a Friday night or any other night for that matter.

On this particular day I was driving and J. was just enjoying the scenery. About halfway up the mountain my entire being was suddenly in the clutches of the worst fear I had ever experienced. For no logical reason I knew I had to pull the car over as close to the edge of the road as possible and stop. Something like this had never happened to me before but I did not question the feeling. I pulled over till my right tires were almost kissing the clouds and stopped the car. My hands were shaking and J. was looking at me like I had lost my mind but my throat was so dry that I could not even explain what I was doing I just sat there.

My fear grew steadily until off in the distance we both heard the screeching of car tires. Not two hundred yards away from where we were stopped a speeding car came around the corner in our lane. If we had continued forward my car would have probably been pushed over a cliff and fell a thousand feet to the rocks below. The other car sped past us, missed the next turn and went over the edge.

I quickly turned my car around and headed back down the mountain for help. We found a pay phone and J. called the police. As it turns out that there were four guys in the car who had all been smoking pot and drinking. Three of the four survived the accident the one who didn't was not wearing is seatbelt and was thrown from the car smashing his skull on a boulder.

Premonition Second: another friend and another canyon. I was not driving my friend S. was. We had gone out to dinner and since his car was new he wanted to see how it handled on some mountain roads. So we drove up into Azusa canyon, which was not far from where we lived. It was a beautiful night, the windows were down the stereo was blasting and all was right with the world. Suddenly for no reason at all there was a cold shiver running up and down my spine. My mind was filled once again with stark terror. I managed to yell at S. to stop the car. He did and looked at me like I was nuts. In a shaky voice I explained to him that I knew if we drove much further up the mountain something horrible would happen.

At first he laughed at me because he thought I was pulling his leg. Than he saw the look in my eyes and realized I was serious. I told him I know it sounds crazy and you don't have to believe me but just turn around for me. It took a few minutes but S. finally listened to me and headed back down the mountain.

Nothing happened and S. would kid me about it every once in a while but somewhere deep inside there is a part of me that still believes if we had continued up that mountain something would have gone wrong.

Premonition Third: in 1982 my girlfriend at the time and I were moving into a new apartment. I had taken the day off from work to move our stuff. Our new place was about a block from Foothill Blvd., which is a very busy street especially during rush hour.

Two of my friends had come over to help move the heavy stuff and after a long day we were sitting around the table shooting the breeze. Again for no explainable reason I knew something was wrong. Without a word I jumped up from the table and ran for the door. A chorus of what's wrongs followed me and as I hit the landing I shouted over my shoulder that L.(my girlfriend) was going to be in an accident. As I ran down the stairs I heard my somewhat confused friends following me and in the distance the unmistakable sound of a metal on metal collision.

When I reached the corner I found my girlfriends car with the passenger side door caved in. She had been attempting a left hand turn and never saw the car that hit her. Fortunately both her and the other driver were banged up but otherwise they were fine.

So there you have it my three experiences with premonitions. I must have only been allotted a trio of premonitions because I have not had one for over twenty years.

To Tip or not To Tip

Everyone has one, from your neighbor to your mother; everyone has his or her very own restaurant horror story. Most of us have more than one.

Several years ago a group of us were dining out at one of the chain restaurants. We had all eaten at this particular location before and never encountered a single problem. So our expectations were that we would be sharing an enjoyable evening amongst friends.

Right from the start clouds of doom began forming on our dining horizon. What was presented to us, as a twenty-five minute wait somehow became a seventy-five minute wait. No problem we thought, its Friday night these things happen. We were in the bar having a few cocktails before dinner so we accepted the delay without complaint.

We were finally seated after close to a ninety-minute wait, which in reality is not bad for Los Angeles on a Friday night.

Our next sign of impending doom appeared when we arrived at our table. Though someone had apparently attempted to bus the table there were still a few soiled napkins and used silverware scattered about. The table was filthy and the previous diners either had a child with them or they had been raised by wolves because the floor beneath the table held the scattered remain of at least one meal.

Without batting an eye our hostess, with a straight face, told us to take a seat and she would send someone over to finish cleaning the table. This is the point where we should have headed to the nearest In & Out for Double-Doubles and fries but no we must have been feeling rather masochistic that evening so we stayed for the floorshow. A busboy finally showed up, wiped down the table and brought us utensils and water. He even remembered to bring a sweeper to clean the buffet out from under the table.

We perused the menus, made our choices and looked about us expecting that some member of the wait staff would swoop down on our table pad in hand ready to take our orders. Of course that was entirely too ask. There was not even a restaurant employee within shouting distance of our table. Finally, just about the time we had begun to second-guess our asking the busboy to remove the floor level buffet our server arrived.

Talk about a waitress with a chip on her shoulder this woman was hauling one of the Giant Sequoias around behind her. Surly, snotty, snobbish I mean if you had seen her on the street you would have crossed to the other side just to avoid her. By this point in time we were really not concerned with whom our server was we just wanted to eat.

It was a simple order really. Everyone ordered ribs and baked potatoes easy to prepare easy to deliver right. Wrong. When she finally returned with our food instead of six orders of ribs there were three. Instead of the other three ribs we had received grilled chicken breasts. We attempted to explain to our lovely server what our actual order was but having to think seemed to confuse her so we finally asked for a manager to come to the table. He corrected the problem and replaced the chicken plates with rib plates.

It was not until we began eating that we discovered that all of our potatoes were undercooked and two of them were not cooked at all. We did not even bother to mention this latest development to the restaurants obvious choice for employee of the month as she was busy whispering sweet nothings to one of the busboys. Not once during the meal did miss sunshine surprise us with a visit to ask if we needed anything else.

Finally we managed to gnaw our way through the last of the rib bones and we decided it was time to head for home. The atmosphere was just too heady for our taste. We were finally able to get the personality queens attention and managed to convey our need for a check so we could leave.

Once we divided the tab a small debate ensued, to tip or not to tip, that was the question. Most of the table was on the anti-tipping side. Two were for leaving a moderate tip as they felt that it was proper to leave something. My vote was for leaving a dollar tip. I felt that leaving no tip was too obvious and leaving a moderate tip was undeserved. My point was a one-dollar tip for a seventy-five dollar tab was just subtle enough to be insulting. I was able to sway my fellow diners with my convoluted logic and we left one dollar.

Now for the punch line: as we headed for the parking lot we heard someone shouting for us to wait. We stopped figuring maybe one of us had left something behind. Turning we saw our waitress running toward us waving our one dollar tip. Upon reaching us she started ranting about how it was customary to leave at least a fifteen percent tip and that one-dollar did not cut it for a seventy-five dollar tab. I in turn informed her that it was customary to provide service worthy of a fifteen percent tip and since she hadn't she received the tip she deserved. At that point I reached out and removed our dollar from her hand and informed her that chasing a customer out to the parking lot was such a classless act that she no longer deserved even that tip.

With that we turned and walked away leaving one stunned waitress in the parking lot.

Bedtime Stories

Friday nights my siblings and I would stay at our Grandmothers. Sometimes until one or two in the morning when my mom and step-dad would return from their night on the town. My brother and sister were always in bed by nine but by virtual of being the oldest I was allowed to stay up until eleven or eleven thirty.

I can still smell the sheets of the bed I would sleep in. Nana had a washing machine but she never would use her dryer. Her sheets were always hung on the clothesline to dry. The scents they absorbed were nothing like the artificial scents of today. Oranges, lemons, tangerines, fresh cut grass all of natures ingredients would mix into wonderful new perfumes that became with the linens I slept on.

Nana was a nurse and always worked the graveyard shift. On Friday nights she would tuck me and listen to my prayers while she was fixing her hair and preparing to leave for work. If I close my eyes I can still see her wearing one of those starchy all white uniforms of old and a matching nurses hat clipped to her hair with several bobby pins.

Once my prayers were finished she would sit on the end of my bed and share a few stories with me. Most children my age would be tucked into bed with tales of knights and dragons, princesses and rogues while all the while my grandmother was sharing with me the latest news and gossip from the ward she worked on. Nana worked at the City of Hope and she spent most of her career there on what she called "the terminal ward". In the late sixties and early seventies most cancer treatments were not very successful so her job was primarily to reduce the suffering of and provide comfort to those in the final stages of their battle. So her "stories" primarily consisted of which patients might not make it through the night, what families were handling things well and which ones weren't.

So as my peers floated off to dreamland on white feathery clouds, riding mighty steeds and saving the fair damsel in distress. While my dreams were dominated by the angel of death and visions of souls taken to soon wandering the wards unable to accept the fact that their time on earth was through.

Now that I think about it I would not have had it any other way.

Yesterday's Lovers

Yesterday, wisps of fog could be found swirling amongst the ancient oaks, ghosts from another time. Today the oaks are without chaperones. Lonely sentinels left to guard the memories of those who are no longer gravities prisoners. The ground beneath their limbs is bare but for granite stones, cold and impersonal, scattered upon the earth. A sober acceptance of the passing seasons entwined with the denial of times never ending march. Visitors are few to these somber acres. Hidden from view behind rusted, wrought iron fences fighting a losing battle with the encroaching vines. The few who still make the journey are barely discernible from those who have already moved beyond this realm. Old beyond their years they still fight for the memory of those who have passed before them. Feeble attempts are made to clear the weeds from around the stone that marks the passing of one they loved. Silent prayers are shared as tears from still grieving eyes soak through the earth to the bones below. Each visit made is a solemn reminder that soon there will be not one but two names etched in stone.

From the top of the old hill where teenagers still park a mournful fog once again winds its way through the stones. In the silent darkness the living will drink their beer and dare each other to slip through the fence and touch one of the stones. While in the fog bound darkness yesterday's lovers, rise from the dust and dance to the rhythm of the stars.

Tears in the Sand

She stood at the cities border her back to all she had ever known or loved. Before her lay a journey of unspeakable hardship and pain, a journey that would either break her or like Moses before her she would emerge from the harsh desert cleansed by God's furnace.

She thought about the life she was leaving behind. A small flat, where on warm nights her parents would often find her stretched out on a blanket. A smile on her face as she lost herself in the wonders of the universe and the many gifts of God's creation.

Her parents were gone now. No ones fault. She found herself avoiding the roof. In her eyes the universe held no more wonders. A god who could randomly remove her parents from her life was not a god she chose to believe in. After the funeral she boxed all of the holy books and religious artifacts and placed them in the back of the storeroom.

Many months passed but for her time had stopped. Books lay scattered about her room unread. Knocks on the door went unanswered. When she did leave the flat it was for the bare necessities: bread, fruit, canned goods and tea.

Old friends and new attempted to pass through the doorway into her inner sanctum but they were turned away one and all. Without realizing it she had begun to confuse independence with pride. Even the most independent of souls needs to lean on someone sometime. However, her pride would not allow her to see her need for friends as a virtue but clung to the belief that to lean on someone was to show weakness.

So now she stood with her back to the city she once loved and began a journey into desolation in search of salvation.

Her plan was simple her against the scorching sands of the desert. The heat and sandstorms would either kill her or heal her. On her back she carried to water skins, dates and hard bread. She had a rough map that purported to show the locations of several oasis's but who knew anything of its accuracy.

She set out at dusk figuring she could walk further with less water if she traveled by night and slept by day. Before long the walls of her small city were lost to the horizon and she found herself truly alone for the first time. For miles in every direction was empty desert, behind her barely visible in the darkness were her footprints. Glistening in the moonlight from the many tears that escaped as she roamed the desolate wilderness. Before her lay empty sand smooth and flat awaiting her footsteps.

By the third day she began to lose track of how many days she had been walking. The calendar of her old world lost its importance as she began to rely on the sun and moon as her timepieces.

Every other day or so she would stumble across a small oasis, little more than a mud hole with a few date palms taking advantage of what moisture there was. Here she would wash the desert sand from her feet and allow herself a few extra hours of rest before continuing her journey.

No matter how far she traveled she found she still had tears to cry. She cried for her parents, for forgotten friends and for lost opportunities. She found herself crying in her sleep for worlds she had never known and beings she had never seen.

Finally there came a day where she could cry no more. The bitterness, the sadness, the anger, the envy all of it had been washed from her soul.

Just before sunrise she came across a true oasis. Beautiful trees, a large pool of fresh water everything a weary traveler could want. She dropped her pack and jumped in the water soaking the grime from her skin and the last bits of darkness from her soul.

When she emerged she lie down in the tall grass and fell asleep.

She awoke to the sound of goats rustling in the grass and drinking from the pool. Nearby sitting on a large flat rock sat an old man. He had a small fire going. He looked up and spotted her.

"Come join me young one," his lips barely moved when he spoke but his voice was crisp and clear.

He began asking her questions about her travels where she had been and where she planned to go. He told her things about herself that she did not even know. His gentle eyes looked into her heart and soul and her spirit was naked before him.

He began to softly speak: "Young one you have learned and accomplished much on your journey. In the beginning you looked deep into yourself and found yourself wanting. So you set out on your own to find what was missing. You traveled across a desert that strikes fear in grown men and yet you survived. Along the way you discarded that which was needed no more: anger, selfishness, bitterness, sorrow, aloofness and stubbornness. Each tear you cried washed these traits from your soul. However my daughter you made this journey harder on yourself than necessary. Your friends and family would have held you as you cried and your tears washed these traits from your soul. Look back my daughter look at the footprints you have left behind. Each tear has brought to life a solitary rose. Roses are beautiful alone but in a bouquet their beauty knows no boundaries. You belong in a bouquet of friends and family my daughter each rose is important to the bouquet and now it is time for you to rejoin your bouquet."

She sat in silence for many hours pondering the words of the goat herder. She drifted off into a dreamless sleep. She awoke feeling refreshed, she stretched and…..

Opened her eyes finding herself not in the desert but in her own bed. On her bedside table was a bouquet of the most exquisite roses she had ever seen. She slowly sat up and looked around her something was different. What she wasn't sure but something. She stood up from her bed just as the door to her room opened….

without thinking she flew into the arms of her parents crying tears of joy.