Memoirous

Since March I’ve been thrown into all kinds of Covid havoc. All the things we used to say such as you are not the product of your productivity or your identity is not your job might have worked at one time—like when I had a job, before the pandemic lay waste to my routine. People who still have a routine or are kept busy with Zoom meetings seem to have no idea of how it feels to flounder, to be unmoored without time structure. It was a big reason by I simply took off at the end of May when things opened up to do my cross-country bike trip to Seaside, OR. On my bike ride I experienced structure—albeit one I had no control over. I never knew what the day’s weather or roads might bring. You can have a map, but that only goes so far in telling us how the journey will transpire. I’d awake everyday before dawn and as a sliver of yolk was breaking on the horizon was ready to set out. I’d eat and rest as needed (or not, again as the road allowed). By evening I was READY to stop. I’d shower...

We used to have a resident foot doctor called Mr. Fung--an unfortunate name. I'm not sure why it took three years--my feet have been killing me--to make an appointment to see the foot doctor. My quality of foot life has gone way downhill. I went from running 5 miles to 3 to 1 to none. I haven't run for months now because of my feet. Today I walked over to the Foot Clinic. After checking in I sat and waited. There were some sorry characters there. People who had had toes amputated, who sat in wheelchairs, who limped in on crutches. I wanted to run out of there--except I couldn't. Finally my name was called. I was shown to an office where I kicked off my shoes and socks and prayed. Not to say there hasn't been moments when I wanted to lop off the undesirable bumps now crowding the bottom of my feet--I just didn't want it to happen now. Or without numbing. The doctor came in and said her name. I didn't catch it because she was busy studying my feet. A...

A maple tree flames, catches fire As the sun slowly slips over the horizon The cross-country runners lap the track The world continues to glow Shooting golden rays over the frosted blades I am reminded of the movie, Dead Poet’s Society Autumn leaves trigger scenes of prep school boys Crossing manicured lawns, school books under their arms Captain, Oh Captain, Robin Williams, the blue twinkle in your eyes Knox Overstreet, Richard Cameron, Steven Meeks, Pitts and Dalton Puck, Ariel, The Tempest , Midsummer’s Night Dream Make your lives extraordinary There will come a time when you must choose Which way will you go, who will you follow? Plotted on the horizontal and the vertical —or to some other drummer Will you disappoint the status quo, Lead a revolt, stand against power Run you own race? Pay tribute to the ethereal gods of nature Of poetry and dance— Oh, Captain, my Captain! Follow your heart! In this one second of standing stil...