Archive for August 2010

Why America is a Great Country, Mosque in NYC   Leave a comment

From the United States Constitution:

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.” We have freedom of religion! Whether you are Ku Klux Klan, Baptist, Muslim, Catholic, Jewish  or Wicca, you have a right to practice your religion. What a great concept!  And we have separation of church and state and that is another plus in this country. No one has to worry that a teacher will be influencing children in ideas opposed to their parents’ religious beliefs, so many of us agree to forgo praying in the public schools for that reason. Each parent can teach their child that praying is possible wherever they are and does not have to be done with others or aloud.

What is also great about America is that people like Mr. Judea Pearl live in this country and follow what every religion professes, which is to love your neighbor as yourself and practice forgiveness. Yes, Islamic religion believes this, too.  Judaism, Christianity and Islam are three closely related religions that all revere Abraham, and all believe that Jesus was an important prophet.

From the Qur’an or Koran, the holy book of Islam: “Not one of you is a believer until he loves for his brother what he loves for himself.” Fourth Hadith of an-Nawawi 13.

Mr. Pearl is an amazing example of loving one’s brother or neighbor. From an interview in Newsweek:  “When Professor Judea Pearl says that he ‘wants revenge’ and that ‘it’s a natural, primitive feeling’, you can understand why. To lose an only son in the tragic way he did – Daniel, 38, a correspondent for the Wall Street Journal, was abducted and beheaded in 2002 in Pakistan by Islamic extremists who also filmed his murder, would destroy most fathers. But the enlightened ‘revenge’ that Professor Pearl is pursuing is not what you’d expect. ‘Hatred took my son,’ he says, ‘and hatred I shall fight for the rest of my life. Mr. Pearl goes on to say, “When the American consulate phoned us with the devastating news that Danny was dead, my first response was amazement, amazement that the blood still flowed in my veins, that I could still lift an arm. A knife had been plunged through my heart and I was surprised I could still move my fingers. And yet within days, he and his wife, Ruth, had decided to harness the raw energy released by their anger and grief to establish a foundation promoting understanding between Muslims and Jews. ‘We couldn’t cope with the idea that Danny’s service to humanity was terminated and we wanted to create a legacy that embodied his gentle, golden spirit. You see, our son was born with an awful affliction – a belief in the goodness of humanity, and a total absence of malice.”

Perhaps Daniel Pearl had an absence of malice because his father was the example we should all aspire to emulate.

America is great because we have free speech. With freedom comes responsibility and in the case of free speech, it is every citizens’ responsibility to search for the truth. Such as the building of a Mosque in New York City, which is not being built at Ground Zero as is often stated, but two blocks away at the site of the old Burlington Coat Factory. It will be a community center with a library, a gym, an auditorium, a restaurant and a mosque. It will host events that encourage multi-faith dialogue.

And the words from the imam, Faisal Abdul Rauf, who is the religious leader behind the project, “It will establish this community as the place where the moderate Muslim voice condemns terrorism and works for new, peaceful, and harmonious relationships with all New Yorkers.

As Mark Twain said, “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it rhymes.” This is true as we can see from President Kennedy’s opponents who feared or hated Catholics and said that if Kennedy got the presidency, the Pope would be running our country.

The below paragraph comes from the Journal of Church and State, March 27, 1997:

Kennedy’s Catholicism was in fact a key (if diffuse) issue in the campaign: the religious distrust that Kennedy had to address in order to be a viable candidate for the presidency in 1960 spanned the cultural spectrum from a crude prejudice against “micks”–pressed by hooded “patriots” who burned crosses in the night–to highly literate, liberal concerns–voiced by some of the most respected seminary professors in the nation–about the hegemonic designs of a religious institution that had held, for many centuries, that “error has no rights.” The Houston speech was the Kennedy team’s most organized effort to address the entire spectrum of doubters–from “mick-haters” to bureaucrats in the “God Box” on Morningside Heaths–and to, finally and permanently, put the issue to rest.

We are at war with Al-Qaeda, not Islam. Media blasted their entertainment/news to inform Americans that we were in a “War on Terror.” And whatever a citizen’s response is to that, we are not at war with American Muslims who want to practice a legitimate religion.

Adolph Hitler professed to be a Christian and stated: “Hence today I believe that I am acting in accordance with the will of the Almighty Creator: by defending myself against the Jew, I am fighting for the work of the Lord.” Every religion has fanatics who do not represent the faithful followers of  that religion, as Christians would not identify themselves with Hitler or Timothy McVeigh.

America is great because its constitution gives each person the right to practice their religion without harassment from others, and America is great because a synagogue, church, or Mosque can be built anywhere in this country, or can it?


Posted August 31, 2010 by strongjacksonpoet54 in Essays

Day 4 -10   Leave a comment

After Dad’s Day 4 in the Nursing Home:

I type into the search engine:

“81 year old man with untreated non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma”

or life expectancy of 81-year-old man with dementia and untreated non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma

or average length of stay by nursing home residents

or life expectancy of 81-year-old man who sees dead relatives

or life expectancy of 81-year-old man with untreated non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma

and dementia and is in a nursing home and has ungodly long toenails and sees dead relatives like his mother and the brother he liked better than the other also dead brother and who asks his daughter to wheel him around the nursing home to find his brother and his mother. He worries that she is not being taken care of.

The Internet gives no answer

Dad said, “I don’t know how I got in this jam. There were religious people in here visiting and they seemed like they would do anything for you, but I didn’t have the nerve to ask if I could borrow their pickup.” “Can you put me in your car and take me home?”

“I’m in this jam, and I’m confused.”

I said, “It’s a new place, and you haven’t been here before so it’s not surprising that you feel confused.”

“You don’t understand. I’ve always been able to get myself out of anywhere.”

The above two lines feel like the most real conversation that I’ve ever had with my father.

I filled out the social history paperwork that the nursing home asked me for, and I checked nothing under hobbies but added he likes to watch old movies, old Westerns, but not anymore.

No religious affiliation (he’s must be Catholic by immersion with marriage to the best Catholic woman ever), he never attended mass, he doesn’t follow sports, does not like to read. My sister said you should have put down that he likes to drink, dance, and get in bar fights, but even that was 25 years ago.

Day 5 in the Nursing Home

Life is great, never asked to go home, all the people are nice and call him by his first name. He looks better than he has for a long time. He’s eating dinner with a lady resident.

The sweetest faced young man pours his water and coffee and smiles an equally sweet smile and calls dad by his first name.  The lady eating at his table tells him to eat his food and says he didn’t eat the first couple of days he was there. She’s looking out for him.

He’s not alone for hours at a time.

Staff made an appointment to see the foot doctor. Yeah!

Daughters both exhale deeply. Maybe this IS best.

Day 7 in the Nursing Home

No crazy talk today other than he said that he plowed 145 acres the day before., but maybe he was trying to understand/explain his exhaustion after physical therapy.

I told him that mom’s sister fell and broke her hip in four places and had surgery the day before. I didn’t tell him that they put her in a nursing home before the fall and she became combatant and tore things off the walls in other’s rooms and struck out trying to hit people.

I didn’t say, “It’s crazy, dad, the nice aunt who would never hurt a fly is combative and, you, the bar room brawler, sits quietly in your wheelchair when just a two weeks ago you drove the riding lawn mower a few blocks to see a friend.

A lady named Nellie watches dad get his wheelchair made more comfortable. My daughter and I wondered how old Nellie is. I wrote this poem the next day.

How Old are you Nursing Home Nellie?

The aide cuts strips of cloth

puffy and white like lambs wool

and wraps dad’s wheelchair where he rests his legs

where he rests his legs

Nellie sits by in her chair

In her wheelchair, Nellie sits by,

watches, and reaches for the scissors

How old are you Nellie?

Down syndrome baby with wrinkled old face

How old are you Nellie who reaches for scissors

and says, “Get out of here fly.”

I watch Dad’s face watch Nellie

he tells me he can’t talk much when he’s tired

he can’t talk when he’s tired

just smile at Nellie’s old baby face

Day 8

My sister calls and says she stopped to see Dad and he does not look good, very tired, color not good, one lower leg swollen and inflamed. He was okay with her leaving, just too tired. I reconsider the form that I was asked to complete and thought about my checking the box that said “no antibiotics” as well as “do not resuscitate” only comfort and pain relief. What is my right?

Day 9

I called the nursing home and was told that Dad was doing all right. He had eaten breakfast, and seemed to be feeling okay. I wonder what feeling okay means as a nursing home patient. Does it mean, “I know I’m old and this is where I’ll live until I die, or does it mean I’m not yelling or falling out of bed, or does it mean I’m willing to sit in my chair and doze and then talk with the nurse when she or he comes in to check my blood pressure.”

My niece stopped to see Dad. He did not recognize her at first, and this shook her a bit. This was the first time this had happened. But he was then able to talk with her, but not all of it made sense.

Day 10

I visited dad around I saw him after I entered the sitting area. He was asleep in a recliner. There were  about a half dozen other residents in recliners  in a sort of circle. The large screen TV was showing a  “Little House on the Prairie” episode.  No one appeared to be watching. The picture was fuzzy and the closed caption wasn’t showing the words correctly. It had the @ sign instead of some letters and some letters were missing. I woke dad up and it took him a minute to focus and recognize me. He had on his overalls and looked clean and shaven as usual.

“Did you have a nice nap”?

“Yes, I think I did.”

“How is your day going?”

“Okay, did you find some work for me.”

Some of his questions take me by surprise. I answer,  “Well, Ted and Andy have been busy driving the trucks.”

“Have they?”

“Did you have a whirlpool bath today.”

“No, I had one yesterday.”

“How about physical therapy?”

“No, none today.”

“You know that lady over there wants to marry me.”

“Really, that one.”

“Yes, she a good lady. Can you help her get up? I hate to see her that way.”

“They might not want her up, because she may fall.” The lady was struggling to get up from her recliner and I let a nurse know, and they came to help.”

Dad continued, “Yes, and see that girl putting ice in the cups. She wanted to marry me yesterday, but I told her that I was too old and she had a lot of fun left in her.”

“You’ve got lots of ladies wanting to marry you.”

The lady sitting on the other side of me, who seemed so functioning and conversational that I wondered why she was in the nursing home, continued to ask me questions. I realized quickly that she seemed to have no short term memory as she repeated several of the same questions and sentences that she has said moments before. She was interesting and told me how they used to have raisins and pecans for a snack when they played cards at her home in New Orleans. She loved the French Quarter and loved to dance there. She said that New Orleans is a romantic city with great food and friendly people. She asked if I like to play Scrabble and invited me to a game sometime.

“Do you think it will ever be the same since Katrina?”

“Oh yes, they are an industrious people.”

She nodded towards Dad after he said that two women wanted to marry him, “All the women are after him. There are too few men here.”

I said, “Dad, she said that all the woman are after you.”

Dad chuckled.

“Did you see Mariah yesterday?”

“Yes I did.”

“Did she have her kids with her.”

“No, but she brought me pictures of Gunnar’s kids. They are very cute.”

“All those little ones are cute, aren’t they?”

“What did you have for lunch?”

“I don’t know. Nothing tastes right. They eat rabbits here.”

“They eat rabbits here?”

“Yes, they have a big pen the size of this room.”

“Where is the pen?”

“It’s in Scottsbluff.”

“I guess rabbits would taste okay. You’ve eaten a rabbit before, haven’t you?”


“How about a squirrel?” I wouldn’t want to eat a squirrel?”


“People shouldn’t get old” Dad said.

“It seems to happen kind of fast, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, you reach that middle line and then you might as well give it up.”

He changed subjects, “ There were people banging pots and pans, and I took them away and put an end to that.”

A large man walked by and dad said, “He threw me against the wall.”

“He threw you against the wall. Is he mean to you?”

“He can be. He can be nice, too.”

“Becky is coming to see you tomorrow.”

“What time?”

“She won’t leave work until after 5 pm, so it will be after you eat tomorrow evening.”

“I’m going to leave and go home now, but Becky will see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Bye dad.”


He’s letting us leave without asking us to stay longer and he’s not asking us to take him home either. I guess that’s a good thing, or at least, easier for us, but is he just resigned now to this fate.

It feels odd that this man who was always physically strong is not strong. And everything that mattered in the past does not matter at all now. To me, and as it also seems to be for him, a letting go. Such a different experience than I had with my mom. I wrote this poem in July. In August he moved to the nursing home.

He Brought her Firewood

a girl-child of six years

holds her father’s hand

they cross the railroad tracks

ten more years

she’ll be sullen and angry at his imperfections

the way he parts his hair

and sits at the table in his underwear

bossing     expecting her to take him seriously

her eyes  so quick to roll   she  hardly knows she does it

at 18

she’ll wonder at her mother’s choice

and yearn for the time she won’t see him

this man who talks with his mouth full

yells at all of them    her mother works, works more,

and  then works more

the girl wants him to die

at 36 she’ll forgive

all his real and perceived sins

and cut his hair and  take him to the doctor

still he does not know her

she cannot remember her hand ever in his


there is a safe place

with fathers like this

somewhere long ago

where men are musky mountains

who keep you safe

even if you’re afraid of them

I cannot remember

my father’s hand in mine

will the little girl’s father

let her ride one summer night atop the rack meant for hay

above the cab of his truck          Ten is a good age

to learn how tight a grip must be

Schlitz was my father’s drink

the ride was wild

some days he let her do what mother never would

other days    better not ask for anything

“Quit crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.”

Maybe the man walking with his daughter

will bring her firewood in the fall of his 78th year

and they will unload it together and stack it neatly in a pile.

Mary Strong Jackson

July 5, 2010

Posted August 31, 2010 by strongjacksonpoet54 in Have a Chair, Uncategorized

Soldier Trees   Leave a comment

We must bomb the orchards

and kill the trees

for they have the apples

we’ll crate the broken limbs

and burned trunks home

in coffins made of bone and flesh

Posted August 26, 2010 by strongjacksonpoet54 in Poetry of Mary Strong Jackson

The possession of power unavoidably spoils the free use of reason. Immanuel Kant   Leave a comment

Some days a person just wants a rainbow, a unicorn, cupcakes with smiley faces, or if feeling more grown-up maybe a cabin by a lake with a little red canoe, a place where ladybugs abound, and dragonflies alight with such grace it causes one to wonder, and in this place there is time to wonder.

But there are no unicorns, and not many of us have cabin getaways, so our wonder is  focused too often on what is not calm, gentle, and kind. That is not to say that Americans take for granted all that they have to be grateful for, and one of the best qualities of  Americans is our ability to take charge and make changes. We have brave examples like Rosa Parks who decided one day that she was more than tired of the way things were. and she sat down for what was “right” on that bus in 1955 when she refused to give up her seat to a white man. Her action resulted in a bus boycott and the desegregation of  Montgomery, Alabama and elsewhere in the United States.

In Psychology 101, most students are taught  the concepts of  Abraham Mazlow, and his theory called Mazlow’s Hierarchy, which is most often displayed as a pyramid. The lowest levels of the pyramid are made up of the most basic needs, while the more complex needs are located at the top of the pyramid. Needs at the bottom of the pyramid are basic physical requirements including the need for food, water, sleep and warmth. Once these lower level needs have been met, people can move on to the next level of needs, which are for safety and security. As people progress up the pyramid, needs become increasingly psychological and social. Soon, the need for love, friendship and intimacy become important. Further up the pyramid, the need for personal esteem and feelings of accomplishment take priority. Maslow emphasized the importance of self-actualization, which is a process of growing and developing as a person to achieve individual potential. If a person does not have food or shelter, dragonflies, or ladybugs would be of little importance. Did you know that a ladybug beats its wings 85 times a second when it flies? And that a ladybug’s spots fade as the ladybug ages. There are too many children and families who will not be focusing on beauty, grace or wonder because of the facts below found on the website                                                                                                                                             * Over 50 million US citizens are living in poverty.

* The US now has the HIGHEST poverty rate in the industrialized world.

* 50% of American children will need to use a food stamp during their childhood.          

* 30 million Americans are in need of employment, with 20% of Americans either unemployed, underemployed or without hope of finding work.

* In the past two years, Americans have lost $5 trillion from their pensions and savings. They have also lost $13 trillion in the value of their homes.

* The US now has the HIGHEST inequality of wealth in our nation’s history. The economic top 1% controls an all-time record 70% of all financial assets.

* The average CEO salary, including stock options and incentives, has skyrocketed and is now 500 times more than the average workers.

* While CEO salaries have been soaring and corporate profits are breaking all-time records, average worker pay is declining and incentives are being cut.

CEOs seem to have little regard for workers, much less if they have opportunities to become self-actualized.  A study was done recently with pregnant rats. Nesting boxes were built for the rats to have their litters. Nesting material was placed in the boxes, but not quite enough nesting material was given to the mama rats. They tried to prepare for the birth anyway and placed the nesting material in one corner, but it was not right, so they tried another corner and another until they were feeling a bit frantic. They gave birth and tried again to build a nest for their babies, but again they felt anxious because they did not have what they needed for their children. They began neglecting the infant rats, then became abusive as they tried to make nests without adequate resources. The study reinforces Mazlow’s Hierarchy of Needs as the mother rat’s basic needs were not met, they could not focus on nurturing their young.

How do Americans who value individualism, independence, and progress, balance those ideals with moral obligation, and belief in the Declaration of Independence that states that every man is created equal? School children recite the Pledge of Allegiance and many people desire that the words “One nation under God” be left in the passage, but few would agree with  the following from Leviticus. Every 50 years, God said, he wanted all land to return to the original owners — without compensation. Physical handicaps, death of a breadwinner, or less natural ability might bring some people to become poorer than others. But God did not want such disadvantages to lead to greater and greater extremes of wealth and poverty among his people. Hence a means was prescribed to equalize land ownership every 50 years (Lev. 24:10-24).

Landowners would not be in favor of  returning their land to the original owner.  Today, corporations have the same rights as citizens. In an article by Joel Bleifss in “These Times Magazine,” February 1998, Bleifuss writes: Corporations can’t cast a ballot, but they do vote with their wallets. In the 1995-96-election cycle, corporations and corporate PACs contributed $147 million to candidates running for federal office. The United States is one of the few democracies where such donations are legal. The Supreme Court affirmed the right of corporations to pay for electoral campaigns in the 1978 case First National Bank v. Bellotti. Writing for the majority, Justice Lewis Powell explained that giving cash to influence the outcome of an election “is the type of speech indispensable to decision making in a democracy, and this is no less true because the speech comes from a corporation rather than an individual.” Although courts now permit government regulation of business, corporations have managed to retain the First Amendment rights they were granted. Few, if any, mainstream voices consider the question: Should corporations have the same rights as people have? Corporations based in the United States wield vast economic and political power. They can live forever. They feel no pain. They do not need clean air to breathe, potable water to drink or healthy food to eat. Their only goal is to grow bigger and more powerful. Rather than treating these institutions as if they were flesh and blood, the political and legal system should acknowledge the fact that corporations are merely one way that people organize themselves to do business. They are not “endowed by the creator with unalienable rights” but rather are human-made creatures that can just as easily be unmade if they cease to serve a worthwhile public function.

Philosopher Immanuel Kant had much to say about morality and freedom. Kant describes morality as the limiting of oneself from engaging in certain behaviors because they are “immoral,” and believes doing this is the highest expression of the concept of freedom.

Being wealthy does not mean a person is immoral and being poor certainly does not ensure morality, but being poor due to injustice does create fertile ground for anger, depression, hopelessness and according to Mazlow little chance of self-actualization, and would we not want all of our citizens to have the right to life, liberty, self-actualization and the pursuit of happiness, with time and place to wonder about the lives of ladybugs and dragonflies?

Posted August 26, 2010 by strongjacksonpoet54 in Essays

Dad poem/All is past   4 comments

I wrote poems about my father

until there was no more to say

like repeating a word over an over

they lost their meaning they lost their fire

and became the past

not the past that was present in my head

but the past that need not present itself in my head

1000 Journals   Leave a comment

Two things struck me when I first heard of a project called “1000 Journals.”  One was that the conceptual idea of a San Franciscan who goes by the name of Someguy was something that he could not stop thinking about and felt compelled to see to fruition. How many plans or ideas do we conceive that cannot be deterred? What causes them to be forgotten, sidetracked, given up on? Are they not worthy of our time, or do we let that creative part of us disappear with demands of adulthood?

Creating excites, it makes us lose track of time, keeps us engrossed in something because it fascinates, entices, and gives joy. We have an idea, and cannot get it out of our minds and then do it. This might be a business venture or a new way to landscape the yard, or a crazy notion like moving to another country that suddenly becomes something that you must do.

A documentary resulted from Someguy’s idea. And in the introduction to the film something else caught my attention. The narrator states that if you ask kindergarteners how many of them are artists, they will all raise their hands. If you ask sixth graders, a third might raise their hands. If you ask seniors, you might get a hand or two. What happens to our creativity? Often people will say, “I can’t even draw stick figures.” Well, some of us cannot carry a tune, but it doesn’t stop most from singing, maybe not in public, but it is an instinctual response to move your body to music, to sing in the car, so is there not the same joy of every kind of pre-school activity that remains in our senses, bodies, souls that needs to be re-awakened? Throwing paint on paper because color is cool, stomping in mud puddles, rolling down a hill, singing, beating a drum because it makes a wonderful sound, rhyming silly words because it excites a part of the brain and makes us laugh.

The artist called Someguy explains his idea and project this way,

“I’ve always been fascinated by what people scrawl on bathroom walls and in public spaces. I had been taking photographs of this writing for years, and wanted to put together a book. It seemed appropriate to encourage readers to become contributors, and join the conversation by writing in the actual book. From there, I decided that a blank book might be more fun… especially one that traveled around, to gather a variety of thoughts and opinions. And then, why not 1000 of them? It’s such an absurd number.”

“The project officially launched in August of 2000, with the release of the first 100 journals in San Francisco. I gave them to friends, and left them at bars, cafes, and on park benches. Shortly thereafter, people began emailing me, asking if they could participate. So I started sending journals to folks, allowing them to share with friends, or strangers. It’s been a roller coaster ever since.”

Word spread about the project and a filmmaker wanted to document this story. When Andrea Kreuzhage heard about the project and that only journal No. 526 had returned, she set out to find them. The journals were sent out or placed in various places in the year 2000 and the first journal to return was 3 years later in 2003.

The documentary depicts some of the people who received a journal and what they decided to contribute, and it is a fascinating journey for viewers. The journals do not just contain writing from various people, they come back much thicker with additional pages that have been painted, attached, added to with every conceivable type of artwork, writing, expression and creativity. Hearing people describe what they chose to add to the journal, and how long some of them kept the books shows the desire and the importance that they gave to their contributions. Some kept the journals a very long time. One woman kept it a year before sending it on.  As with many artists, the blank page is intimidating and it takes a leap of faith to start and then dive into your creation. Some were filmed adding or re-creating what they had done, and they looked like intense, busy children absorbed in their work.

Some of the journals were sent to other countries, and Someguy posted the names of those people and email addresses. People who were interested in getting a journal could send their names and addresses to the people who had them. One man from England used the names of the people from the list of those requesting the journal he had, and he put their names on the cartoon characters he created. Some he added messages based on where they lived. One woman who received the journal after him was deeply hurt by the cartoons he drew using her name. It affected her greatly and she took it personally even though she knew he did not know her and so did not create his cartoon based on her, but he used her name and she said it was as if he did know her. There was little negativity overall, but much self-analysis, thought-provoking introspection, wonder about others who had the journals and the things that were created inside of each. Decisions on what to enter and where to leave the journals or send them or when to send them also exhibited interesting characteristics of those who received the books.

The books took on lives of their own and people had trouble parting with them.

A man’s simple idea becomes a study in human nature and our innate desire to create, and how much of that seems to be stomped, stifled, lost in the push to be number one in your class, your track meet, your job, and as consumers instead of citizens.  Admiring the individual attributes that make us unique gives children and adults a freedom to explore as opposed to performing.  Creating, and the joy in that involvement, results in less destruction of all kinds.  So splash some color for the fun of it and rhyme some silly words because you can!

Posted August 24, 2010 by strongjacksonpoet54 in Essays

The nursing home van arrives   2 comments

The van arrives and drives my dad to his new home. While I pack his things and wander through the house that he and my mother have lived in for nearly 30 years, I did not expect that packing my father’s belongings would cause me to feel that my mother was even more gone, if an already dead person can seem more gone, she did. Packing his things and knowing what clothes she wanted me to send and which shirts were not in good enough shape, and seeing their years in the house in the pictures of their grandchildren, in the stick pins stuck all over the big United States map showing all the places my dad had hauled farm machinery from East Coast to West Coast made the end of their lives together, the end of an era all the more visible and painful to me. This is like dropping your child off for kindergarten, but instead of the beginning of a new adventure, the nursing home is the beginning of an end.  Change is the one thing that can be counted on always.

Posted August 24, 2010 by strongjacksonpoet54 in Have a Chair

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