My father's hunting passion (guns)


It has been a while since the last time I saw them, but my dad has them all in a safe. From rifles to handguns, my father has had a lot of guns since I was a kid. He became a hunter before my parents got married, 20 years ago. Hunting season lasts from November to January every year and I always remember my mom telling me that my father went hunting even when I got born! My grandfather got so angry at him and scolded him. Since that year, he never goes hunting on my birthday. But after it, he goes every weekend! When the first hunting season weekend comes, he calls his friends to reach an agreement about the car they are going to travel in, he prepares his hunting clothes and, obviously, his beloved guns. Then at 5 am my mom makes him breakfast and he leaves. Sometimes he hunts, sometimes he doesn’t, but he always comes home with a big smile because hunting is his passion. I remember 2010, when traveling at night or very early became dangerous. He missed an entire hunting season. And let me tell you that hunting to my father is like Christmas to a kid! It’s that one thing that he is really looking forward to since February. So, imagine a kid having no Christmas! Although he was sad, he didn’t lose hope. He waited patiently to the next year and he brought a big deer to the house. He used to take us hunting with him too. Well, first he would take us to a shooting range to practice, with handguns and bow and arrow. Then, my sisters and I were there with him just waiting and being quiet in order to not scare the animals, but also very alert in case you see an animal. Then we would help him with the gutting, the storing and the cleaning. But now that we have grown up, we are lazy and we don’t go with him to hunt anymore, but I still like to practice my shooting. I think my father is a really good hunter. Besides his experience and that he always scores in the target, he is very patient and persistent (he waits 4 hours sitting down quietly) Patience is a quality I don’t have but I am trying to learn from him. Actually he is already preparing everything for this year so let’s see how this season turns out.


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(If a field of flowers is all the world knows

We may never realize the beauty of that single rose...)


Deborah and I, I must attest

With 4 wonderful grandchildren we have been blessed.


And it occurred to us some years ago

Although the 4 together set our world aglow


To enjoy each ones uniqueness, we both agree

We had to see them separately.


(If a forest is all our eyes do see

We may never know the beauty of that single tree.)


So once a year we take a grandchild away

To celebrate what we call their birthday day.


It’s a day without family or sibling tension

Where they can receive our full attention.


The plan is simple yet erudite

We pick one up and they spend the night.


We go out to dinner (that’s after much musing)

At a restaurant of the grandchild’s choosing.


(If only in the harmony of a choir we rejoice

We may never know the beauty of that single voice.)


And next day no matter what the weather

The 3 of us spend that day together.


Last night it was Ava’s turn, and looking back I daresay

We had just as much fun as she on her birthday day


In looking back over the years and the all the birthday days we’ve spent

It never seemed to matter what we did or where we went.


It appears when you spend time together no matter the milepost

What you do is secondary...It’s the time that matters most.


So with Ava sleeping soundly as now my whole world slows


I smile as I enjoy the beauty of that single rose...

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Last night Deborah and I we were treated to dinner it was a wonderful night I must assert.

We sat at a table (actually 2) one for dinner and one for dessert!


When we returned home, happy and full, Deborah tossed her purse on the table with ease

After locking the door and hanging up my jacket, I tossed on my wallet and keys.


As I stopped for a moment and looked at our old table I was overcome with tears

For I realized how important that table has been to our family down through the years. 


This is the table where our children grew up, it’s seen their laughter, their tears, felt their screams

It’s not only where we tossed our purse and our keys it’s where we piled our hopes and our dreams.


If I look hard enough I see children doing homework, coloring, or playing a game

Soaked into that table are memories of who they were, and the knowledge of who they became.


If I look again I see grandchildren and hear joy and laughter overhead

Only the voices don’t say Mom and Dad anymore they say Nana and PopPop instead.


It seems this table has been a confluence where our family has sat, laughed and dined

Once we leave we take a little bit of each other with us and leave a little of us behind.


Most days now at our table it’s just Deborah and me, now that our children are grown

But we both know when you eat at the table of never eat alone.


Then I realized everyone has tables where they’ve piled things over the years

Where they’ve shared dinners and parties and laughter and love and blood and sweat and tears.


Yes we often take them for granted, it may take us a lifetime to see

That it’s not just a table we’re sitting’s part of our family.


So the next time you’re looking at photos, before your looking is through

Look closely and you’ll find a table, chances are it is smiling too.




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When Grandpa died we tried to explain 

That he’d never be back with us again


We talked of God and paradise

How his life with us was too concise.


It was a battle with cancer...cancer won

We searched for a good explanation but there wasn’t one.


And so I wondered with his life coming to an end,

How much did my son much did he comprehend?


Until a few months later when Grandma’s life expired.

(She couldn’t live without Grandpa; she was too old...too tired.)


My son awoke late, I think around eleven

And asked if Grandma’s room was net to Grandpa’s in heaven.


At last I knew he understood and his reasoning will suffice 

For it’s lovely to think of Mom and Dad with adjoining rooms in paradise.



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Being a grandparent in so many ways is a real plus.

Did you know there’s a holiday dedicated just to us?


35 years ago Marian McQuade decided to create

Grandparents Day, (which congress recognized in 1978).


26 years later a singer/songwriter came along

And wrote the lyrics and the music to the Grandparents Day song.


We even have our own flower, the forget-me-not, on which we can rely

I think that’s a dig on grandparents...but I can’t remember why.


At any rate this morning Aden and Ava’s elementary school

To celebrate Grandparents Day did something really cool.


They set aside some time for us to be together..and I must say.

It was a wonderful way to start any day.


On the tables in their cafeteria they provided books to read

And we dined on bagels, O.J. and lemon muffins with poppy seeds.


While Deborah and I sat there basking in our grandparental glow

Aden and Ava’s other grandparents soon began to show.


Then Ava and Aden’s cousins joined our growing little crew

(We love that both of them usually call us Nana and Pop Pop too)


Before we knew it we had 4 grandchildren and 6 grandparents in that room

That’s alot of love to go around...and alot of muffins to consume.


As we sent the grandkids off to class and were walking to our cars

We, the grandparents, realized just how lucky we all are.


And as we smiled and hugged and bid each other adieu

I realized our grandchildren are pretty lucky too.


For they’ll have so many grandparents however old they grow

To help them celebrate each and every day wherever they may go.


I hope every grandparent out there had a Grandparent’s Day as great

But I have to wonder...what did grandparents do before 1978?


Another smile crossed my face as Deborah and I drove away 

You see Deborah only took the morning off... I took the entire day.



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If I was to listen to my TV, I might be obsessed with perfection

I might want a beautiful body or a silky smooth complexion.


I might lust for two enormous houses on a mountain top and shore

Each decorated by the finest designers in luxurious decors.


I’d want my pools to go on forever with waterfalls and a great views

With spas and underwater lights, and outdoor kitchens too


I’d drive a red Ferrari or any car that would astound

Wait, who needs a Ferrari, my chauffeur can drive me around.


I’d most likely be a famous athlete or perhaps a movie star

I might own an island in the Pacific and smoke Cuban cigars...


But when I look in the mirror if I take the time to pause

At my body and seems I have some flaws.


My body, although adequate, seems to droop in the wrong place

And God knows what those spots are that have appeared upon my face.


The house Deborah and I inhabit is quite small, not to complain

But the laundry room’s unfinished and the street floods in the rain.


Deborah and I both drive Honda’s and although Honda’s never corrode

In our least expensive Hondas you can’t help but feel the road.


The money we make being teachers by the end of summer fades

Because teachers, believe it or not, during summers don’t get paid.


Then yesterday our family came for a visit (Bryan we Skyped on the phone)

And I have to smile when I stop and think how splendid my life has grown.


You see I’ve realized something about perfection as I have gotten older

Perfection, like beauty, it seems to me lies in the eye of the beholder.


As we sat together--on the walls of our house laughter was adorning

Now the kids are gone yet I still hear their laughter echoing this morning.


Deborah and I have each other and our children have happiness and health

From my perspective this morning I have to marvel at my wealth.


On television my life might not seem perfect...but I have to admit


In the real world I have a perfect least from where I sit.

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In the blink of an eye

In the blink of an eye from the time I was born and I first started to drool

I was dressed up and heading out the door on my first day of school.


In the blink of an eye I was married and Oh my God! Heaven forbid!

Before I knew it, before I turned round I had a wife, a job and two kids.


In the blink of an eye from the time they were born and they first started to drool

My children were dressed up and out the door on their first day of school.


In the blink of an eye there was a divorce and remarriage and another child makes three

How quickly we turned from two awkward groups into one blended family.


In the blink of an eye like so many I didn’t know where the time had flown

For our children were now independent, and Deborah and I were alone.


In the blink of an eye there were grandchildren and soon after they started to drool

They were dressed up and heading out the door on their first day of school.


Isn’t it funny when we look back on our lives, we smile or we cry or we sigh


Because all of our moments, whether happy or sad, take place in the blink of an eye.

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A daughter's plea


A daughter's plea.

Let me speak to the manager,
So I can give my plea.
My mum has spent all her time,
Please, take it from me.
Give her a year, 
a decade would be ideal.
She can have a year of mine,
Please let's make a deal.
I have yet to have any children
My kids will never know,
That warmth a grandma brings,
With her embrace, and wonderful glow.
It may sound very selfish, 
it may make me sound insane.
But thinking of a world 
without  her, 
Gives me lots of pain.
I know this is all futile,
I know what eventually will be.
But she is a lovely woman,
Just you wait and see.
Author's Notes/Comments: 

First attempt at a poem that rhymes. Very difficult.


all feedback and potential tweaks welcomed.

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Party Pinata





Mexican Pinata

(image from





Hung low 

upon the strongest branch

of your oak tree,

I allowed my own slaughter,

our blindfolded children

you and that other woman

so kindly raised to master 

use of your verbal machetes, 

you spun them

'round and 'round with twisted truths,

cunningly directed them for many years,

by your pathetic, hopeless fears,

with skillful cowardice,

weilding their innocence

to carve the gashes just so,

slicing me open,

like a party pinata 

at a reunion,



and your sick family,

you always used to say

how much you hated being 

outnumbered by women 

growing up,

i hang lifeless now

in their eyes,

from the butchering,

the tree branches curved,

and the leaves withered,

and as my blood drips down 

to feed your roots,

 the only scintilla 

of honesty you seem to 

be able to muster from all those years,

 --that you have not changed at all,

and for myself, 

my once empty hand is full of

what is left,

--only compassion for you,

feeling what it must be like 

to be you,

and who i was 

long ago.


2:34 AM 8/13/2013 ©



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