You ask what my purpose for life is.

What should I do with this gift?

Have you thought of service?

Not the kind that you sign up for and wear a uniform (although it’s noble), but personal service the kind you give close up, the kind you see a smile after it’s given.

The world is well stocked with needs, some small, some overwhelming in volume and variety.

When someone asks you a question and you know the answer, be of service answer the question.

When someone needs a shoulder to cry on, and you have an unoccupied one, lean in and offer it.

When someone needs a volunteer and you have time to spare, be of service, make a temporal withdrawal with a deposit to follow.

When you’re a leader and you’ve made it your duty to have subordinates tow the line, be of service, adjust your attitude and become a servant leader.

Service lifts us all.

I’m old and blessed…hope you will be too.

God is love, He can be no less.

I can be love, but I’m not there yet.

God is compassion, He can be no less.

I can be compassion, but I’m not there yet.

God is sacrifice; He can be no less.

I can be sacrifice, but I’m not here yet.

God is holy, He can be no less.

I can be holy, but I’m not there yet.

God is truth, He can be no less.

I can be truth, but I’m not there yet.

God is faithful, He can be no less.

I can be faithful, but I’m not there yet.

God is good, He can be no less.

I can be good, but I’m not there yet.

God is righteous, He can be no less.

I can be righteous, but I’m not there yet.

Our duty is to practice all these Godly qualities.

Since He made us in His image, He has granted us the power to do so.

The world would be better if we all did.

How’s the practice going?

I’m old and blessed…hope you will be too.

When things around you seem to be shades of grey,

The people and all that they do each day.

                                           Look up at the sun!

When you retrieve a color from your pallet and splash it about, but you know it will turn grey without doubt.

There’s nothing you can do to alter the landscape.

                                           Look up at the sun!

The sun is always shining even when grey encompasses all.

Look up at the Son, beyond that yellow ball.

I’m old and blessed…hope you will be too.

Smells are powerful, sometimes pungent, sometimes sweet, sour, with the strength to influence our olfactory sensors in ways they would not choose.

I remember the foul smells of my childhood.

I won’t mention them here. It wouldn’t be nice.

Conversely, I remember the sweet and pleasant smells of my younger years, country air after a spring shower, grandma’s kitchen (laden with the smell of cinnamon, and other spices deposited in the air over decades),  

If I lost my sense of sight, I could adjust to navigating the world with touching and hearing.

If I lost my hearing, I would be challenged, no doubt but I think I would be okay. The world is replete with noises not worth hearing.

Ah, but the sense of smell, that preceptor that dogs depend on the most to move about wherever they are.

That preceptor tells me that the scent is pleasant, and safe.

That preceptor warns me of the specter of danger before I see it.

That preceptor that influences taste, it’s not so distant cousin.

Come with me and smell.

When all else fails, come with me and smell.

Through smell, we can tell if Shakespeare was correct: Does a rose by any other name really smell as sweet?

I’m old and blessed…hope you will be too.

I took a nap one afternoon.

I didn’t mean to sleep too long.

But when I arose from my slumber the growth of love, compassion and comradery had subsided.

Society seemed meaner.

No one was exhibiting a loving, kindhearted demeanor.

Politicians were more self-absorbed, giving little attention to the folks back home.

It appeared any vestiges of the oath they took to serve were all gone.

Gun violence was an everyday affair.

Mass murders were committed here, there, everywhere.

Fear of neighbors: next door, down the street, everyone, was common.

It gave reason, along with reports of random shootings, to keep stocks of ammunition.

I couldn’t phantom what had gone wrong.

Then I realized we’re only human for things to go awry doesn’t take too long.

After experiencing this mayhem, this dissipation, I decided returning to my slumber was the best I could do for a vacation.

I’m old and blessed…hope you will be too.

The senseless, hatred and the scapegoating of a group of people for all that’s gone wrong in society, leading to mass murder,

                                              Holocaust                                           

The slaughter of a uniquely minted group of believers in the arena for the emperor’s entertainment,

                                              Holocaust

The beheading of people simply because their god isn’t perceived in the same manner as yours,

                                               Holocaust

The invasion of a peaceful land and cleansing of the Indigenous people who occupy it, in the name of God,

                                                 Holocaust

The justification for such barbaric disregard for human life is immaterial. Life is the force that keeps the universe moving. It’s the divine engine that provides locomotion for everything. To assault it with death is nothing less than,

                                                  Holocaust

Holocaust Remembrance Day January 27,2025

I’m old and blessed…hope you will be too

Some of you might have noticed that I’ve been posting a lot lately. Please don’t get the impression that I’ve been blessed to prolifically produce great verse, prose, etc. Instead, I’ve challenged myself to write as many poems as I can this year. I hope some of them are good, but I dare say many of them won’t be of such quality. Although, I must say that some of you have graciously given positive feedback on some.

Crazy challenge? Of course, it is, however, an old man has got to have something to get him out of bed in the morning.

Look forward and look out…more quickly written poetic productions are coming.

I’m old and blessed…hope you will be too.

History has shown that you’re the wielder of power, often unscrupulous, and blind to the consequences of its application.

You invade peoples around the world.

You redirect the flow of nature for your benefit.

You come in the name of your Most High, even when he hasn’t sent you.

You legislate to suit your desires.

You feel a twinge of guilt occasionally, which leads to a moment of progressive thought.

Those thoughts blended with public opinion brighten the light for those trying to maneuver in the dark that you made.

When you begin to think the pie is being sliced too much in favor of others, you retract, dare to make speeches about fairness, yell to the high heavens about reverse this and reverse that.

Then you confuse everyone by harkening back to a time, a great time, that never was charitable to anyone but you.

This is your way back and forth.

This reoccurring dissonance is not good for all.

What are you afraid of?

Wouldn’t it be divine if my space was viewed by all as sacred and uninvadable?

Mine to transport wherever, whenever, and however I desire.

But there are others who don’t respect my space.

They invaded it and God-forbid relocated it with me in tow.

This was traumatizing, since the weight of my language, food, customs, my centuries-old culture is a part of my space.

They tried to erase my space, my sacred abode.

They moved others into my space, along with their language, food, customs, centuries-old culture.

Those others and I created a new language, a hybrid culture, new ways to survive and thrive, a new way to contribute to the esthetic.

Esthetics that we wouldn’t be privileged to enjoy.

The incalculable value of our uncompensated contribution is yet without restorative recompense.

We did it from the amalgamated space we made home, a space my Creator tells me is divine.

They reduced my space to two-thirds; forced me to suffer Jim Crow, lynchings, red lining and more, indignities no life-carrying vessel should endure.

My space is still my space. Though it has shifted, morphed.

It’s now unrecognized by its place of birth.

I couldn’t have traversed the centuries with my space without protection by the God of Abraham, Issac, and Jacob

My space is my space, a space of the past, present and future, a divine space.

I’m old and blessed…hope you will be too

This is a poem for these times. Max Ehrmann’s Desiderata is a masterpiece. I’m sure some, if not all of you, have heard it before. I thought I would attach a spoken version of it with music. Enjoy.