Issues

There aren't PROBLEMS anymore, there are ISSUES.
Hardly also anymore are there concerns, CONCERNS are now issues.
I wonder now if perhaps PAINS will become ISSUES, just as DISAGREEMENTS are now
designated as ISSUES.
Therefore, if we don't subscribe to the program, it's because we have ISSUES.
It seems as if problems, concerns, questions have joined with magazines and other
periodicals where since the beginning have delivered what? You guessed it. ISSUES.
We have been told, "in the beginning", God had issues with Adam, who had issues with Eve,
who had issues with Snake, who had issues with God
All of this before magazines appeared.
There will be no end to the ISSUE issue.

Small Wonders, by Rosemary Rawlins

The man at the sign shop smiled at my purse. “I wish my wife would carry a bag that small,” he said. “My compliments!”
“Don’t let size fool you,” I said. “This bag packs a punch.”
“What on earth do women need to carry around that’s so important?” asked the man.
“Well, the next time you need a penny, cell phone, aspirin, flashlight, mirror, tissue, hand sanitizer, pen, notepad, reading glasses, breath mint, nail file, Chapstick, band aid, coupon, comb, safety pin, Rolaid, credit card, needle, thread, Crazy glue, ring full of value customer cards, or anything a hair band can hold together, you’ll know.”
“Sounds like the hurricane preparedness list,” he says shaking his head.
“It is. But then, life is one long hurricane, isn’t it?”

The Night Migrations by Louise Gluck

This is the moment when you see again
the red berries of the mountain ash
and in the dark sky
the birds' night migrations

It grieves me to think
the dead wont see them
these things we depend on
they disappear

What will the souls do for solace then?
I tell myself maybe it won't need
these pleasures anymore;
maybe just not being is simply enough
hard as that is to imagine.

Georgetown - John Bruns

That first year we had no money most of the time. When we did we’d go with our friends on summer evenings to Chez Odette on M Street, where the Poulet Dijonaise was usually not tough and there was Portuguese wine in round, dark bottles, seven dollars.

In November, cold rains rushed down M Street. We stayed home, ate in, hating the war, dreaming of California. Then came Tet; assassinations; hard work; the moon. People moved away to have their babies. One year, one honeysuckle evening, we returned to M Street, but Chez Odette was gone.

Goldfish - John Bruns

The goldfish, cheap and plentiful, were easy to come by. My brother and I could always talk my mother into a goldfish, in a bowl with colored pebbles on the bottom and a sprig of that bright green weed that looks like manmade dill. The goldfish seemed almost like real pets, but most died off as quickly as they’d arrived, with many recriminations flying back and forth between my brother and me about who had forgotten to feed them, or who had fed them too much. Though we mistreated them, my brother and I always demanded proper funerals for our goldfish. Mom obliged, each time with a solemn “He was a good fish,” followed by a dignified flush of the toilet.

A Day That Ends A Life - Don Warner

Long shadows mark the arc of the late summer sun. Almost imperceptably the signs of autumn appear in the slightest change of color in the tree's foliage. Sounds of whipperwill echo from the edge of the wooded marsh. There are moments when the light hangs about, like a workman waiting to be told that his work is done, then slips away not be seen until the morrow. It was on such a late summer day that young Oliver Hodges fell from the roof of my uncle's house.

Standing by

The hardest part of parenting is witnessing without intervening

Mid-year Resolution

To never presume to know what someone is thinking, but always question what I think.

A Perfect Day by Rosemary Rawlins

Wake up spooned into my favorite warm body. Throw on shorts and walk in the crisp morning air. Linger over a breakfast of buttered rye bread toast with scrambled eggs and coffee, a thick newspaper scattered over the table. Know that everyone I love is cared for and content at the moment. Stretch out on a chaise lounge on the screened-in porch overlooking the Currituck Sound and read something that sparks my curiosity and alerts my senses. Resting the book on my legs, I close my eyes and hear only the breeze and chirping of birds, and no internal voice that chides, "I need to...I should have...I wish I..." Inspiration enters here.

Approaching April - By Don Warner

Much earlier from across Wilde Lake came the irratating whirring of a trimmer or leaf blower.
Now there is quiet.
Evening pushes itself among the sparse hardwoods and conifers. The street and yard is littered
with confetti,the petite white and pink petals from the flowering fruit trees.
The winds of March are creating a wildness of color in the swirling of petals. I have taken a vow
of silence before such glorious frenzy.

AFTER LABOR DAY By John Bruns

From that porch they’d watched their children on the beach in the sweet warm eternal Junes.
“Better pack,” his wife says, “if you want to get on the road before dark.”
“Why don’t we just stay this time,” he says.
On the boardwalk the light has dimmed. Seagulls feast on yesterday’s fries.