Tuesday, August 11, 2015

August 11


  1. The hardest thing I ever had to do
    Was tunnel my way out.

    From ethics driven angst
    Imprisoned Black and white

    Boring sedate companions
    Alienation prone

    Being right, doesn’t matter
    In ego driven hell

    Break out, so elusive
    To know the other side

    Catch knee jerk reactions
    Engage 3rd party view

    Tediously rework
    Super-glued repeats

    Subtle shift sudden
    Tunnel end in sight.

    1. God, that sounds so soul-eroding. I'm glad there are honest and good people doing the work though.

  2. Dear diary,
    Joe's funeral was today. It didn't actually hit me until just a few minutes ago. The Army Sergeant turned retail clerk was so much larger than life. I never imagined that something so cowardly as cancer would take his life.
    Yes. I think cancer is nothing but a dirty coward. It slinks in, then fools you into thinking it's something that it's not. By the time you figure it out, it's too late.
    I went to the funeral, and was moved to tears when the bag pipes began to play. Two young officers came forward and commenced with the folding of the flag. Then another stood and began to play Taps.
    When the priest asked for people to speak, I was the first one to the podium .I was Joe's superviser at the store, but first and foremost, we were friends. I stood before dozens of fellow employees, customers, and military personnel, and paid homage to a good friend and a great patriot. I spoke of his ability to spin a good yarn. I wish he had had the foresight to write them down. I spoke of his work ethic. I wish more people had it. I spoke of his devotion to his disabled wife. I wish more folks had his compassion.
    A bright light has been shuttered in this world. I miss my friend. I miss his advice, the stink of those huge cigars he smoked on breaks, and all those Army-isms he overused.
    Thankfully, I was able to stand strong and professional. I never broke down. Never allowed my lip to quiver or my eyes to tear. Joe was a pillar of strength. Even in death, he encouraged me to stand strong and do my best. He deserved nothing less.
    I would rather have done anything else, than to say goodbyd to the Serg. But in the end, I'm glad I did. Better to say goodbye than to live with saying nothing. Besides, I will see him again.

  3. Understanding

    The most difficult thing,
    Is to be alive.
    Despite the Grand fact,
    That it is one of the most beautiful things,
    To live.

    Every moment, second,
    minute, hour, day,
    week, year, decade and era
    There are trials
    pulling at one's
    Soul and mind,
    Tearing at the conscious brain.

    So the hardest thing
    I've ever had to do was survive.
    Milisecond by milisecond.
    To go on,
    Carry On.
    Despite heartbreak, disappointment, and misfortune.

    Beyond tedious,
    This life
    Is quite possibly

    For the struggle
    Goes on forever
    Without reaching an end
    Always giving birth
    To painful beginnings,
    Never asking permission
    Or allowing for breaks,
    Like the dreadful duties of one day's work.

    1. Great poem! I loved working with you this week!

    2. Why, thank you. Ditto absolutely!

  4. Pete Tilson

    Dad didn’t like to fly
    he missed two of
    his flights from Japan
    when our sister Judy died
    in 46 - only four days old

    those two flights crashed

    Dad worked with Pete Tilson
    at Ray Watt and Pete
    left before Dad did

    Pete was Dad’s boss at the
    Home Builder in Torrance
    a year or so after he lost
    his job a Ray Watt in 64

    the plane Pete was in, flying
    out of Long Beach Airport
    in 74, crashed

    I never got the chance to sit
    with Dad, ask him how he felt
    our relationship was too
    damaged by then

  5. The squeaky wheel

    One patient
    needs me
    Two patients makes
    my time important
    Three patients
    becomes more of
    a bind and four
    puts the pressure on
    Five patients and I have
    to decide high yield priorities
    Six and I am starting to get
    Seven stretches me
    beyond my means and
    Eight makes the job
    seem impossible
    Nine patients creates chaos
    and ten puts me into a panic
    But, I remain calm
    I must be there for them
    even when it means they
    will have to wait
    I always think the patient
    who gets the most and
    the first priority and is
    usually is high maintenance
    because of the old adage
    the squeaky wheel gets the
    most attention
    Then, they call a code blue
    over the intercom
    The priority shifts to the
    My ethical response is to
    go see if I can be of assistance
    Then, it is going back to the job
    arriving true to my word
    with all ten patients
    clean and
    lotion, massage
    range of motion
    feeding and dressing
    getting in their activities
    bed bath, showers, bathroom
    privileges and the most
    important duty
    report all pertinent
    information to the
    charge nurse
    wounds and sores
    always in detail
    with charting
    before, during
    and at the end
    of each shift

    1. The tension of this really comes through the page man. Great poem!