When we were younger…we prided ourselves in being what we would call hip!

We were hip by our music, by how we danced, even the clothes that we wore.

and as grandma’s and grandpas we still think we’re hip

but we’re told no-one uses that term anymore….


Back then when it came time to watch the Grammys

we knew the words to every song…

we watched as the performers did their singing and dancing

and we danced 

and we sang along…


But as the years have slipped away from us

though we still have our musical hunger

it seems the people doing the singing 

have gotten younger

and younger 

and younger.


So now when it’s time to watch the Grammys

we don’t always feel we belong…

We often can’t understand what it is they are singing

which makes it impossible to sing along.


And if we try to dance like they dance

we don’t feel like hipsters…at all.

In fact the only hip we are feeling

Is the one that we bruise…when we fall!


So now we sit back and relax watching the Grammys

they still put on a wonderful show

and we listen and try as old hipsters

to pick up and use their argot…


So this year we were dope with the clothes they wore on that stage

and dope with the songs that were sung…

though we’re pretty sure dope doesn’t mean the same thing


as it did back when we hipsters were young.

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Sometimes I think the way we view the world is a little antiquarian

for instance we have words to label everyone…from Capricorn to Sagittarian…


Take Deborah and I…we don’t eat meat…we are proudly vegetarian

though occasionally we will eat fish…which makes us pescatarian.


and since we’ve been known to eat a burger…we are most assuredly hypocritarian.

however we do not care what you eat…because we’re not authoritarian.


And though we believe in eating food that is predominantly agrarian

we know it doesn’t matter what you eat…if you are humanitarian.


It doesn’t matter if you are straight or gay…black, white or Hungarian.

If you’re Democrat, Republican, Independent or Libertarian.


It doesn’t matter…if you’re Catholic, Muslim or Sectarian

If you’re a doctor, or a lawyer…a dentist…a Veterinarian… 


It doesn’t matter the type of music you like…rap, pop or opera that’s Wagnerian

or how you like your donut cream…whipped…butter…or Bavarian.


I think it’s time to apologize and end this poem

for I have shamefully become aware…

I can’t remember where I was going with it…

and, I imagine you…no longer care.


But let me end with these two hopes…

that you are not a strict grammarian…

and that we all may someday live…

in a world…




Last year I thought I’d start something new…a new custom…a new tradition…

It never caught on but I’m bringing it back…this year…with a few revisions…


My idea is to celebrate December 26th! 

like Christmas, it’s filled with joy and love and laughter

but has the disadvantage…of arriving one day after.


If not…I’m afraid December 26 is fated to remain unreckoned…

doomed to stand in relative obscurity with its neighbor…January 2nd.


I think it’s time we celebrate those days…days that could have been so great

if they hadn’t been ill-fated…..to show up one day late.


Do you know the name of the first man on the moon?  

Of course…everybody does?

But do you remember the second…Ed Aldrin…his family called him Buzz.


Buzz Aldrin… the second man to emerge from the Lunar Module….

his history forever destined to be blurred…

Just like the groundhog who quietly emerges from his burrow…on February 3rd


Mt. Everest is the tallest mountain in the world…the second is almost as high…

yet K2 remains an afterthought…kind of like the 5th day of July.


Everyone knows Amelia Earhart, her story is one of courage, strength and devotion.

She was the first female pilot to fly by herself…across the Atlantic Ocean.


The second was Geraldine Mock, and at her even more accolades were hurled

for she kept going after crossing the Atlantic…and flew around the world!


Isn’t it funny how life works, for no one could have foreseen

that Geraldine would be a footnote in history…just like the day after Halloween.


But such is the way the calendar unfolds, be it September, October or December

some days, like people, are destined for greatness, while others we hardly remember.


I think it’s time we change all that…and give these days their due

For I believe ‘days after’ deserve their place in history too.


At the very least ‘days after’…I, for one, think you’re great…

If nothing else you’re four times luckier


than February 28!

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We have found some odd items on our morning walks

some things that surprise, that shock and awe…

We’ve found money.  

We once found a man sleeping on the street.

Hey, one morning…I found a bra!


But a funny thing happened yesterday morning

as we were out enjoying the flora and fauna…

there on the sidewalk…directly in front of us

a small packet…of…marijuana.


Deborah posted our find on her Facebook account

‘this will be funny’…at that time we thought

and it was…but it was also amazing

to see all the responses she got.


Now I’ve been writing a poem every day

I’ve been doing this for a few years…

It is my hope that my words will bring laughter to some

and on occasion, perhaps, bring them tears…


But no matter how elegant my phrasing

it is with great sadness I must concede

There has never been more interest in any of my poems 

than there was in that packet of weed.


We heard from many of our friends…

every one had a fun thought to add…

Why we even heard suggestions and comments 

from friends we didn’t know that we had.


Personally I am over my inferiority complex

I have worked through my suffering and pain…

I understand people are less interested in poetry…

and more interested in Mary Jane.


In fact at this moment I’m feeling quite euphoric

I don’t care that my poetry world’s out of whack…

I feel only peace, love and understanding…


and boy…could I go for a snack!

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There’s this old guy in my photos…is he someone I should know?

I see him standing in the spot I stand and I have to wonder…where’d I go?


He’s usually standing in the back….smiling joyously.

Sometimes he’s standing next to Deborah…and I think…that should be me.


But it can’t be me…this old guy…standing in my place…

His hair is much too grey and he has too many wrinkles on his face.


I’ve seen him next to our children and grandchildren too…

standing…shoulder to shoulder

He certainly looks a little like me…but that man is so much older!


Deborah I ask, I’ve seen this old guy in so many of our photos

you should be taking pictures of me…instead of him…

Deborah looks at me and smiles…

then she chuckles, and says, “Oh, Jim…."


“Look closer at the photos…it’s might be hard to believe but it is true

in every picture that I take…that old guy…he is you.”


People say a camera adds 10 pounds to a person

but it’s more than that, I fear…

for all the cameras we have seem to be adding 20 years.


But I suppose in the right lighting…that person that I see

It’s possible…just maybe…that old guy could be me.


And I guess I should be happy…yes, I believe I should

because this old guy who resembles me…

he’s looking pretty good!

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Yesterday, to celebrate our 30 years together we thought a big celebration we’d forego.

We decided to skip the cake and ice cream…and a camping we would go.


We got up early, packed our camper…and left soon after daybreak

We drove two hours to South Carolina…to a nice spot by a lake…


But we didn’t take into consideration the weather…which had us quickly changing our tune….

Seriously, does anyone in their right mind…camp in South Carolina in the month of June?


The temperature was 93 when we arrived…did I mention it was June?

Still we were optimistic as we set up camp that it would cool off soon.


We turned the AC in our camper to high…we thought that would do the trick…

But the temperature outside was not cooperating…it had risen to 96.


And if that wasn’t enough to show us perhaps this camping trip was never meant to be

as the temperature rose higher and higher…so did the humidity.


The AC was straining to do it’s job…yes, cool air was blowing from the fan

but inside our little metal camper…at 98 degrees…felt like being in a frying pan.


At 8 o’clock the temperature reached 100…I think I heard Deborah’s cries

but it was awful hard to see her with sweat dripping in my eyes.


The temperature topped out at 102…

and we still wanted to celebrate the day that we were wed…

So after 30 years together

we took cold showers…then went to bed.


You might think this anniversary was a failure…

But I think it still endears…

You see, I think it was a great way…to start our next 30 years.


You never know when you begin an adventure…there’s no way to comprehend

what will happen along the way and how that adventure will end.


There are many things we can’t control…like the temperature and the weather

But just as we did 30 years ago…we began this adventure together…


Besides we learned two valuable lessons as we begin another 30 year honeymoon….

The first: We can still smile at life’s little misadventures….

And the second…do not camp in South Carolina when the calendar reads June.



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Today is National Pun Day …which means once again it’s time

to bring together our affection for the pun…with the rhythm of the rhyme….


One ship carrying red paint collided with another carrying purple….

I’m sure their captains were lampooned

because once the ships collided…

both crews were marooned.


Two Eskimos who felt cold in their kayak…

started a fire when they weren’t sure what else to do.

Their craft sank quickly…proving once and for all….

you can’t have your kayak…and heat it too.


A man was hurt when a pile of books fell on top of him.

He felt sore as well as shame

His answer to what happened….

I have only my shelf to blame…


The math teacher didn’t have fun on their date

Her partner did not make a scene….

Because when she said the date was average…

he knew she was just being mean.


Why do I like puns and mushrooms...let me now review

They both can be quite ugly...yet both are good for you.


They spice up any meal …that’s a fact one can’t deny

Besides...any man who likes puns and mushrooms 

must be 

(wait for it)

Did you guess it?

a fun-guy.


Well that does it for the puns this year…no need to thank me…

I need no accolades…no recognition…no wine…

Like the man who digs for gold each day…


The pleasure was all mine!

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While on vacation in Georgia…doing our camping thing

we heard a Medieval tale…of the one they call the Donut King.


This was not a Donut Earl or Duke or Viscount of whom the people sing

no these tales told of donuts made in Alabama…by a King.


They spoke of donuts so delectable …so mouthwatering and light…

that people travel from the 4 corners of the world…just to have a bit.


So we rose early one morning…as curious adventurers are wont to do

and we traveled back in time (1 hour) to Alabama

to see if these tales were true.


We saw the sign and immediately…then we stopped and parked the car.

The Donut King’s castle was old and weathered…as sometimes castles are.


But once inside the aroma engulfed us

and we thought of all the donut places we have roamed…

here in Eufaula, Alabama…our donut lust has found a home.


When the fair maiden behind the counter found out it was our first time

her smile met our gaze

then she handed us a free sample…still warm and dripping with glaze.


Deborah and I looked at each other and together we both knew it….

This was the best donut we ever tasted…

only I forgot to chew it.


We began ordering donuts quickly…now in Medieval donut heaven

and when we finally looked inside the box…we ended up with seven.


We took them to the parking lot and as we ate them we started to sing….

realizing here in Alabama…we were in the presence of the king.




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Remember back in high school math when Algebraic equations filled our minds with strife?

When we wondered how learning Algebra could ever help us in real life?


For instance we learned you can have a ‘NO SOLUTION’

meaning no matter your confidence or conviction 

whatever values you plug in for variables

will always end in a contradiction?


Yep, just another fact we learned in Algebra (some of us had to take it twice)

that has no meaning in a world where addition and subtraction will suffice.


Then you get a little older and pounds start to accumulate

and when you can’t see your whole body in the mirror anymore

you begin to watch your weight.


You count your calories religiously as you make your daily calculations…

and it’s about this time you begin to appreciate your Algebraic education.


Sure you know with just a dash of will power…and cutting back a little every day day

you’ll be able to see yourself in the mirror…as your excess baggage floats away.


But then you pass your favorite cupcake store…and you feel a familiar pull

and you wonder what you’re going to do…since your calorie count is full.


The dieter in you says you’re better than this…tells you to slowly walk away…

But then you remember your high school math…and you smile…as you say:


If these cupcake calories won’t fit into today’s equation…

then what I learned in Algebra must be right…

there is no solution to this problem…

and you eat that cupcake…


every bite.

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