Toxic Diapers

Tomorrow would bring more of the stifling summer weather. It was August after all, and it was West Virginia after all, and once the muggy heat settled in it was never in a hurry to leave. The river might have been an option had the disposable diaper plant upstream not reported a toxic spill last week.

You had to wonder what went into disposable diapers that was toxic. It probably had something to do with why so many kids had ADHD these days. Spending the first two years of life with toxic material strapped to your butt had to have some kind of longer term effect. Next toddlers would be glowing in the dark. Not necessarily a bad thing in Ralph's opinion; the rascals were always popping up when least expected.

Old Croc

He was one of those kids who enjoyed spending time with the older generation. His favorite place to pass a lazy summer afternoon was Granddad's den. The den was a place where magic happened, a place where stories reigned supreme. Towering bookshelves leaned precariously under the weight of their contents. A mahogany desk with a leather blotter and a brass counter-balanced lamp took up the center of an oriental carpet. Behind the desk, in facing chairs, he and Grandad created the adventures of larger than life heroes. His favorite was Old Croc, a rescuer of all things fair and valuable who had lost his leg to a crocodile.

Heavenly Moss

I am the moss that grows where grass will not.
My bed is silk to the polyester of grass.
My color is electric to subdued fescues.
My taste is sweet to the harshness of grass.
My stature is sublime to gangly blades.
I grow where I will not be trampled,
content to contemplate the richness of soil
and delicacy of dew drops.
I am the Heaven that is longed for.

When You Her See Her

When you see her ask her about growing up always moving
Ask her about fleeting friendships
Ask her about the glue that binds siblings
Ask her about sausage eating contests
Ask her about corny horror films
Ask her about fathers taken away too young
Ask her about dependency
Ask her about need
Ask her about love discovered
Ask her about giving birth
Ask her about trials of patience
Ask her about tearful separation
Ask her about professional success
Ask her about determination

You Are Loved

Sit my child.
Me, my lord?

A nod. I am pleased.
Of me, my lord?
A nod. You spoke of me.
I did, my lord.
You spoke of truth.
I spoke of you, my lord.
One in the same.
I felt abandoned, my lord.
You were strong.
I am sorry.
I am pleased.
I am yours.
You are loved.

A Life Story

A girl is born
A woman falls in love
A wife is married
A mother gives birth
A mother loves
A grandmother loves
A great grandmother loves
A matriarch dies
A soul is newborn
A God loves.

Missing the Vent

What ever happened to these?





The triangular car window vent was perhaps one of the best car design features ever. There was no need for air conditioning below temperatures of 90 degrees when you could direct a 60 mph wind stream onto your face.  Fogging windshields?  Fagitaboutit!  They just didn't happen when there was the ability to create a strategically directed flow of air.

That triangular window was genius engineering at its best. As a society we should demand it's return.
I want my...I want my... I want my window vent.