Old spice…
Giovanna studied Hannah for a moment,
taking in the red scarf and the dark hair,
and then said,
“You know as well as I do that it is forbidden,
for Jews to deliver Christian babies…
What if,
God forbid,
the child requires immediate baptism???”
“Then you can provide that service…”
“As I have for all of the other babies born to her,” Giovanna said,
her broad face set in a frown…
For a Jew to have Christian foes was dangerous…
She would have to handle this midwife with care…
Hannah went to the washbasin beside the bed,
wrung out the wet cloth,
and placed it on the Contessa’s forehead…
— in The Midwife of Venice, by Roberta Rich
When you’ve got,
your heart set,
on creating a colony,
it is only wise,
to wear,
kid gloves…
If you throw,
a bunch,
of rabbits,
each with their own,
complex histories,
altogether,
into the same territory,
without some,
forethought,
you risk,
a potential recipe,
for disaster…
Some rabbits,
will bond immediately,
but others need,
a slow,
and gentle,
human hand,
to simulate,
mutual grooming,
which generates,
a feeling,
of well-being,
and relaxation,
when the individuals,
are placed,
side-by-side,
in a neutral zone…
I had a dream,
a few weeks ago,
in which I was being shown,
of the past,
by a neighbour,
who is an agent,
of real estate…
He said something,
about property,
in Australia,
and even though,
I really didn’t want,
to go there,
he urged me into,
this newfangled vehicle,
that is myself,
and told me,
that with so much,
practice,
I could now let go,
of my tendency,
toward worry…
The skills required,
for the steering system,
don’t work,
in a straight line,
but with perseverance,
I finally got,
the hang of it,
and overcame,
my many fears,
of failure…
When I was a girl,
I loved to stop,
at the Stampede and Tack,
in Cloverdale,
on the way,
to visit with,
family friends…
I’d take my time,
running fingers,
over the braille,
of bridles,
saddles,
and boots…
And draw the scent,
of all I knew,
through,
the nostrils,
of my time machine…
And the other place,
I’d high tail it to,
when the family station wagon,
pulled off the gravel,
and into,
the evergreen forest,
was to the mouth,
of a tunnel,
running under East Road…
In the wind,
of that creek,
roaring,
into a pool,
of yesterday,
as I stood,
in the opening,
I felt,
a story,
of tomorrow,
in my pinky toes…
You can tell a lot,
by the instrument,
a person plays,
when they’re rocking out,
at a red light…
But that’s nothing,
compared,
to the hit single,
you get,
when your drum kit,
recognizes,
an air guitar,
in the middle of,
the pouring rain…
Stud finder…
Keith,
Tulsa’s race trainer,
didn’t like steroids…
“I don’t like to run them on that junk…
Makes them feel like champs all the time…
They can’t tell how they really feel —
so I can’t tell how they feel…
What if a horse is hurting and they don’t know it???
That horse might just break down during a race and get in a bad wreck…
I’d rather run a horse that can win on their own…”
— in Beyond the Homestretch by Lynn Reardon
Recently,
as I was shopping,
for work socks,
and overalls,
in the Carhartt boutique,
of Mark’s,
I asked the salesman,
who looked like,
he needed to cry,
a puddle,
of tears,
and run away,
to Kathmandu,
how he was handling,
the Christmas carols,
blasting,
over his head…
He sufficed it,
to say,
It’s so much better,
than the heavy rock,
the rest of the year…
But after eight hours a day,
of canned Christmas,
from the middle,
of November,
onwards,
I have to go home,
and face,
the same music…
And then my wife,
complains,
that I’m not,
in the spirit…
When a man,
prefaces ANYTHING,
by the words,
I love my wife dearly BUT,
the gig,
is pretty much up…
And when you over hear,
a wife,
say,
I should have gotten into shape,
BEFORE I had my bunions removed,
well you know,
you’ve just heard,
only one,
of the many reasons,
dear god,
why some men,
feel the need,
to ask their doctor,
if Cialis,
is right,
for them…
One thing,
I always ask a gelding,
when I see him drop,
when I haven’t even,
touched him yet,
is what did I do???
And they all say,
You don’t need,
to do anything,
except BE there…
I’m super pumped,
about tonight’s game,
against Detroit…
Watching two teams,
about to execute,
a similar system,
of skill,
precision,
and speed,
with solid,
goal tending,
is a treat,
to behold…
And it goes without saying,
that when it comes,
to the locker room,
that Mr. Babcock,
is a class act…
To see Coach B,
and AV,
on a 24/7,
road to the NHL,
Winter Classic,
is something,
I’ve got,
on my Christmas list…
And I know,
that my secret Santa,
has every intention,
of delivering…
King pin…
Paolo di Padovani looked pale in the dim light of the room…
“You are my last hope,” he said in a soft voice…
“They say you have magic in your hands…”
He picked up Hannah’s hands and clasped them…
His own hands felt cold,
the palms soft as kid leather…
Hers were rough from lye soap and hard well water…
“Is that true???”
Embarrassed and shocked,
she pulled her hands away…
— in The Midwife of Venice by Roberta Rich
Sometimes,
when I look,
in a mirror,
it takes me some time,
to re-cognize myself…
I remember a nightmare,
in which I was a child,
on the run…
I was hiding,
and protecting,
other children,
but I didn’t know,
from what,
or whom…
And then,
from out of nowhere,
a van pulled up beside me,
the door rolled open,
and a man,
in a wheelchair,
pointed at me,
yelling,
There SHE is!!!
Someone grabbed me,
as I woke up,
terrified,
with no idea,
what it all meant…
In the Fall,
of 2006,
I swore,
I would stay,
at my school,
for the rest,
of my career,
as a public school,
educator…
And I guess,
now in hindsight,
that swearing,
has proved,
to be true…
Back then,
I couldn’t imagine,
anything better,
as each day,
in my classroom,
was like,
a wicked trip,
of Once Upon,
A TIME,
with five,
and six year olds…
But soon after,
the swearing,
as I like to tell Starshine,
when she asks me,
So Mama,
what did you get up to today???
all of my big plans,
went completely,
sideways…
Giving new meaning,
to BEING,
right off,
the track…
Last night,
when I was laying down,
with Little Gem,
as she was falling asleep,
she asked me,
So Mama,
What do you want for Christmas???
just as I could hear the beginning,
of the third period,
and the sound,
of a hat trick,
floating,
up the stairs,
to her bedroom…
I whispered my first,
second,
and when I got to,
the third wish,
she said,
Mama,
keep your eyes,
on the fourth line,
You just never know,
what Santa,
is going to pull,
out of his sack…
A few weekends ago,
as part of my search,
for a teacher,
I headed east,
on Hastings,
to pay a little visit,
to an Italian gunsmith…
As I was buzzed in,
through,
the double doors,
my dog walked,
by my side,
like it was a regular day,
at the office…
And on Saturday,
after a morning,
at High Point,
watching a hung over,
old cowboy,
date rape,
a sweet thoroughbred,
in a round pen,
I got out of,
my station wagon,
to hear,
an elderly gentleman say,
You just missed them…
I wondered whom,
I’d missed,
as he quietly,
showed me,
his kit,
and filled,
me in,
on what goes on,
out there,
in the field,
of pointing,
flushing,
and retrieving…


