Her favorite color is wild

Random thoughts flit through her mind,  color's spiraling like a kaleidoscope 

Spinning and changing with her mood

greens, blues, calming, and reds, brilliant like her life... Yellows, creams, peaceful, but rarely. 

She's always been a wanderer, in love with life,.... free. Unfettered. Even in the midst of commitments.......

Always tempered by exspectatons, society, grounded by roots. 


Her spirit roam's as free as horses, across the plains and praires. Folloing the sun and stars. 

Chasing butterflys in summer,  catching one.... she smiles.  Her favorite color is wild. 

Who can take sorrow

Who can take sorrow, to use as a crutch

 to have all you need,  and never know it as such

 to have the warmth of fire, rather than the burn of his touch

I think about you so much; I think about you so much


The devil has my secret, he says he'd never tell

I leave it for safe keeping, He places it in hell


A match is struck once, a thought more than twice

honesty's a virtue, that waver's on the ice

It screams in all directions, it slices like a knife

I'll think about you, all of my life


The devil has my secret, he says he will not tell

I leave it for safekeeping, He places it  in hell


I should choose the one in waiting, my life has gone on.

My lifes not broken, my homes not gone

I will choose the other, so sweet and loving

no?  I'll think about you, then continue on


The devil has my secret, he says he'll never tell

I leave it for safekeeping, and leave it in hell;

and let it burn in hell. The devil has my secret


When you died before I did, and heaven sent for you,

I know you stopped by and looked for me, to say goodbye again.

I'm movng on in life, it seems to be my lot

I know you know who, and that I give all I've got.


My life is given over to the one you chose for me,

I feel it in my daily life, it's how its suppose to be.

I think of you often, with all the love in my heart,

knowing that you're happy, with what I had to start.


The devil has my secret, I let it burn in hell,

and followed you to heaven,

with the man who has my heart.

30 year difference (feeling old yet?)

Going to start this with a caveat; I didn't write it, although it is in my journals from years ago, and I do not know who did 

1972 long hair
2002 longing for hair 

1972 The perfect high
2002 The perfect high yield mutual fund 

1972 The keg 
2002 The EKG

1972 Acid rock
2002 Acid reflux

1972 moving to California because its "cool" 
2002 moving to California because it's "warm" 

1972 Growing pot
2002 Growing pot belly 

1972 Trying to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor
2002 Trying not to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor 

1972 Killer weed
2002 Weed killer 

1972 Hoping for a BMW
2002 Hoping for a BM

1972 The Greatful dead
2002 Dr. Kavorkian 

1972 Going to a new hip joint
2002 Getting a new hip joint 

1972 Rolling Stones
2002 Kidney stones 

1972 Being called to the principals office
2002 Calling the principals office 

1972 Screw the system
2002 Upgrade the system 

1972 Disco
2002 Costco

1972 Parents begging you to get a haircut
2002 Children begging you to cut their hair

1972 whatever
2002 depends 

Just in case you were not feeling old enough yet, this next bit of information will change things. 

Each year the staff at Beliot college in Wisconsin puts together a list to try to give the faculty a sense of the mindset of that particular years incoming Freshman students. 

Here is this years list (caveat. I believe this was 2003) 

The students who are starting this fall across the nation were born in 1983. They are to young to remember the space shuttle blowing up. Their lifetime has always included AIDS. Bottle caps have always been screw off or plastic. 

The CD was introduced the year they were born. They have always had an answering machine. They have always had cable. They cannot fathom not having a remote control. Jay Leno has always been on the tonight show. Popcorn has always been cooked in the microwave oven. 

They never took a swim and thought about Jaws. They cannot imagine what hard contacts are. They do not know who Mork or where he was from. They never heard "where's the beef", "Id walk a mile for a camel"  or, "de plane boss" de plane..... 

Love

"love"

Anger

Dark, blood red, black...

Anger

rage

Let it go

love 

hate

anger

let it go

Love

  

 

The keeper

I grew up with practical parents, 

A mother, god love her, who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in it, then re used it. She was the original recycle queen before they had a name for it. 

A father who was happier getting old shoes fixed then getting new ones. 

Their marriage was a good one. Their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a walk away. 

I can see them now, dad in his trousers, mom in her house dress. Lawn mower in his hand, dish towel in her's. 

It was a time for fixing things, a curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we keep. 

It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. 

There is no wealth but life.
~John Ruskin

All that re-fixing,  re- heating, renewing. I wanted, just once, to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence, throwing things away meant you knew there would be more. 

But then my mother died. and on that clear spring evening, in the warmth of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of knowing that sometimes there isn't anymore. 

Sometimes, what we care about most, gets all used up and goes away...never to return.  So, while we have it, it's best we love it, care for it, and fix it when it's broken, and heal it when it's sick. 

This is true, for marriage and old cars; children with bad report cards, dog's with bad hips, ageing parents and grandparents. 

We keep them because they are worth it, like a best friend who moved away, or friends you grew up with. They are people and things that make life important, like people we know are special. 

 We keep them close. The keepers 

poetry in motion

Time 

My kids, my life....

Shades, time phases; 

years, numbers, spaces....

my life...

Sun, wind, rain.......

Time

My life. 

K. Surdyk