The custom in his family is to celebrate
birthday anniversaries for a month or

thirty-days or thirty-one or twenty-eight
or twenty-nine depending on the month

in which a family member was born. So
he read this really nice meditation about

the importance of birthdays and thought
that he would forward it to his daughter

who was two weeks into a twenty-nine
day celebration because she was born

in a leap year. Shortly after forwarding it,
he got this response: I really love this!

Love – “Thank you for being born and
being among us.” He sent it; she got it;

both felt really good about it fourteen
days into a twenty-nine-day celebration.

Oh, what the heck, he thought, the kid
should have thirty-one days.

The man watched the episode
and heard the bishop tell the
rector that he needed to pray

to God and the rector said he
did and God didn’t answer.
The man was taken back in

time to a time when he was
told that the pastor told the
man’s dad to pray to God

and the man’s dad said that
he did but God didn’t answer.
As the episode ended the

rector removed his clerical
collar and walked away. The
man’s father took his life.

For years afterward the man
looked for his father to walk
down the street toward home

but, unlike the rector, he never
walked down the street again,
despite the man’s yearnings.

Using compass and map
he learned to orienteer.
He learned magnetic from true
so to the destination, he could steer.

However, without a map
he couldn’t orienteer.
He was stuck without true;
the destination, he could only come near.

And so life is like a life lived without a map.
Through life, he couldn’t orienteer.
He is pulled by desire but not necessarily what is true;
Mostly, he misses the mark but does come near.

However, with both compass and map,
he has the fundamentals to orienteer;
Unlike with a failed GPS, he can follow the true.
Sometimes technology leaves him lost with just fear.

And so it is best to learn the fundamentals
to follow that which is true
instead of being lost again in the forest
experiencing deja vu.

Water rushed off roofs.
The Lab wanted out and in.
The soil swam backstroke.

We had him dead to rights
and all his countless wrongs.
If the Republicans had a backbone,
the enfant terrible would now be gone.

But embolden,
he multiplies exponentially his tantrums,
in spite of Senator Collins’ naive predictions,
and the nation is left with stress contractions.

When will we all have had enough
and Republican legislators show that they
have the right stuff?
Hopefully, we will harvest that political hay
before election day
and save this still adolescent nation
to grow old, wise and gray.

I’m sorry. Those who read this site,
ask incredulously, “You really think
the Republicans will see the light?
They can’t see the light

because they only fly by the dead of night.”
Unfortunately, I think you, wise readers,
are so, so right.
Does anyone have a wooden spike?

in spite of all his neuroses
or maybe because of them
he proclaimed self-apotheosis
far beyond a stable genius
even with his inability to focus
which you would think
would be an essential of apotheosis.
maybe the whole thing is a scam
and just a matter of hocus-pocus
from the attention-deficit derangement
of the flam-flam man.

Everybody wants to play by the rules,
it’s nice, neat, simple — rules. What is
not to like? What is not to live by? What

is not right? What is not so boring? And
then along comes Evil and it isn’t nice,
neat, simple. There are no rules except

find out the weakness of the other and
play it, play it, play it, make it sound
nice, neat, simple except it is any-

thing but nice, neat, simple. It is fascin-
ating; it is the forbidden fruit, the naughty
image, it is the place you want to go but

don’t want anyone else to know. And
then Evil knows and tells you and ruins
the whole damn thing and then we

are what we never, ever thought we
would be — prisoners in hell. And the
Devil shouts, “Gottcha!!!” No, no, no.

So, go tell it on the mountain; shout
it from the rooftop; uncover the coverup;
show the lie for what it is; don’t sell

your soul; live life and don’t leave
a trace; live a life of grace — it’s
a gift so nice, neat and simple.

Othello, Desdemona, Falstaff,
Henry V, Lear, Macbeth, Juliet,
Puck, Ophelia, Rembrandt, Fra’
Filippo Lippi, Botticelli — names,
just names, strange names that
came alive in wonder and glory,
beauty, comedy and tragedy for
a junior college freshman like
when he was just a little boy
and his mother took him, for
the first time, to the neighbor-
hood candy store with enor-
mous, glass jars filled to the
brim.

So, she just said, “He’s such a nice guy,”
in response to his reading aloud
a friend’s encouraging note.
To which he responded,
“Hey, what about the notes that I wrote?
And by the way, you know
you greet the dog with more enthusiasm
than you greet me.”
To which she responded,
“Not over the pity party yet, I see.”
“That’s cold and you are about to
be unfriended.”
“But I’m not on Facebook.”
“And our friendship has just ended,
even though I’ll love you
till we meet in heaven.”
“Oh, you’re so sweet.
Shall we take the Chocolate Lab
for a walk together up and
down the street?”
“Let me put my shoes on.”

He sends out e-mails that he
thinks will be of interest to
friends and family, some

about trending topics, some
pithy poems, some political
punditry, some things he has

gotten in the mail to which
he responds with a thanks
and passes on. His return

on the mail? Nada. It would
be easier to get out of jail
on bail for a murder charge

than to get a simple response.
And then he recalls the sage
advice, “If you have no

expectations, you won’t be
disappointed,” and he thinks
of the title of a blogger’s

blog, “Blogging so I don’t
drive e-mail friends crazy.”
He thinks of the title of

a travel/food show by a now-
deceased show host and how
the show was introduced,

with an elongated, drawn-out
announcement: “No-o-o-o Reser-
vations,” and he thinks he will

recommend a change of title to
the blogger who doesn’t want to
upset e-mail friends, “No-o-o-o

Expectations,” but he doesn’t
know how to get the baritone
voice to go with it.