Calling all artists, members of the 
club, 
		please bring your art for the juried show, 

(oh no, no pottery or other 3-D pieces),

except if it is not very large, 
		in which case maybe, 

(oh no, actually in which case not any {zero, none} are welcome)

because we have moved to a much 
		bigger and 
				better 
						gallery 
but there are dancers during the week 

			and they may 
			knock over 3-D pieces 
				on kiosks, 

so please wonderful members, 
just keep your art at home; 

we think you will just love 
the new gallery; it’s so much 
nicer than being in the reception 
area, 

                            DON'T YOU THINK? 

Don’t forget to join us for the 
reception and awards presentation

	yummy appetizers and ever so 
	fine wine.
	Sincerely,
	Your art loving planning committee 
                       making art available to all

The blood sucking leaches
leach onto the biggest blood

sucker of all time and suck
the blood out of the system

saying glibly that it is all
for national security. These

are the people who want
smaller government meaning

smaller for everyone of color
and women and more profitable

for them. Instead of looking
to fix a dysfunctional system,

they seek to perpetuate the
blood sucking sick system,

cough and say, “See, we are
allergic to them,” — them

being their brothers and
sisters and all those who

came from the womb of Eve,
children of God and not

blood sucking leaches
except if your name is

Cain, who even unbe-
knownst to them was

loved unconditionally
and, therefore, included

and so too, are all leaches
inspite of themselves which

has something to say about
unconditional love and

gives hope for the justice
that comes from that love

as hard as that grace is
to understand and even

harder to accept.

The September sun beat down
like a fire-breathing dragon
burning the leaves fire-engine
red, leaving bathers burnt worse
than at the end of a four-day
Fourth of July holiday. Forty-
Two North soared past ninety
on its way to an Indian Summer
that didn’t need a killing frost
to scorch the earth. Global Warm-
ing sounded like a sweet, innocuous,
anachronistic euphemism coined
by a doddering, old, sentimental
fool when Global Sweltering And
All Seas Rising might do.

We took down the canopy
	because the meteorologists 
predicted thunderstorms;
	then we entered the travel
trailer for the evening. Dawn
	broke clear as crystal. 
Forecast foiled again. Perhaps
	meteorologists should stick 
to predicting meteors. Or, 
        maybe not. Maybe
I should be more grateful they 
        get the big stuff right
most of the time.

We are expanding “America First”
with fear, fear of anything not familiar
to those who have lived with privilege
coming from Europe. We are going

back to fight or flight with fear
dictating and exceeding our self-
congratulatory sophistication that
we need to posture us vs. them with

us being in power but motivated by
fear and anger and little white boys
and girls wetting their pants and cry-
ing bloody murder for someone to

change the dirty diapers. We haven’t
had scapegoats since Jesus was the
ultimate scapegoat for all of humanity
so all of humanity could live in unity,

justice and peace, but tell that to
the Christian, evangelical working class,
white, privileged (yes, that’s right,
privileged because all whites are

privileged in comparison to all others)
whites who just point at blacks, browns,
yellows and reds and cry bah, bah, bah,
all the way home and look forward

to the white St. Peter to greet them
at the pearly gates and welcome them
in to meet and greet the white god at
which time they will be introduced to

the joke on them and that their white
god actually carries a pitch fork,
wears a black cape and has pointy
ears, ironically someone who they

don’t recognize as anyone they
know but who says, “Oh, my
children, I am your daddy. Well
done thou good and faithful

servants; enter into your reward.”

While camping during the week in
September, they encountered several
fellow, senior citizen campers who
stopped and talked and talked with-
out ever coming up for air and they
wondered if these people were not
allowed to speak on their jobs until
retirement and decided to talk their
heads off with fellow campers such
as themselves who were sitting in-
nocently outside their travel trail-
ers but now were a captive audience
to opinionated blowhards who evident-
ly were getting everything off their
chests, which had been accumulat-
ing for forty or fifty years on the
assembly line or in a cubicle or
wherever. The couple thought that
perhaps it was time just to snarl
instead of smile when the old folks
hobbled by.

They locked the travel
trailer door for the night
feeling snug and safe and
wandered back to their
backpacking days along
distant, deserted trails
and how easily they crawled
into the tent for the night
without fear or fright.

The breeze blew from the west;
the clouds hid below the horizon;
the sun set in a glorious fest;
the devil’s storm blew on the horizon
shaking and rattling all the nests;
calamity came and left destruction,
and desolation for all the rest
on the paradise islands of perdition.

She walked a beautiful dog through
the campground. We said the dog
was beautiful. She came over to our

site to tell us the dog’s story and
I made the mistake of mentioning that
I am a retired minister. We were

planning on kayaking on the glisten-
ing, beckoning lake next to the camp-
ground. After the first hour of relig-

ious tales to knock our socks off
(She actually said that.), we knew
we were in it for the long haul. After

the second hour of incredible stories
of how she fell in love with her hus-
band, who was conspicuously absent,

I needed to relieve myself but felt
awkward excusing myself in the midst
of her “knock your socks off” life

story, so I just crossed my legs and
gritted my teeth. During the third
hour I entered the realm of the gods

suffering two eternal punishments
at once as an eagle picked at my
liver while I pushed a boulder up

a mountain only to have it roll
back smacking me in the head. I
was left with a shredded liver,

a bump on the head and a bulging
bladder. We all smiled, hugged
and as she left, I turned to

my wife and said, “Forget the
kayaking. Bump on the head and
shredded liver or not, I need a

stiff drink, but first a pee,”
as I made a mad dash to the
bathhouse.

*Thanks to Jim Berbiglia for the title.

The day broke sunny
With the prediction of
High 70’s. We put the
Kayaks on the vehicle,
Hitched the vehicle to
The camper and got
Ready to go, but then
The fog rolled in and
I thought I heard it call
My name, beckoning
Me, warning me? We
Waited an hour; the fog
Lifted silently except for
The sound of the breeze
In the trees. Maybe we’ll
Wait a while longer; we
Have the time.