"BROTHER CAN YOU SPARE A DIME?"

BROTHER CAN YOU SPARE A DIME?*
We elected a man
who told us
all things
would be better
and he could do it alone.

BROTHER CAN YOU SPARE A DIME?
He wore a red cap
and used a helicopter
and fleet of cars
to wherever he went
and there was great excitement.

BROTHER CAN YOU SPARE A DIME?
Before he came
we worked hard
on our jobs
and loved our land.

BROTHER CAN YOU SPARE A DIME?
We helped keep
our waters clean
our skies free of pollution
our wetlands free of development
and our streets and roads
trash free.

BROTHER CAN YOU SPARE A DIME?
We worked
side by side
with all people
studied with all children
cared for those with disabilities
and tried to reverse long-held injustices
even when he told us some of us were unworthy
he refused to tell us his worth.

BROTHER CAN YOU SPARE A DIME?
We survived
floods, storms and intolerance
and he came to console us
but took away the laws
that would have helped us.

BROTHER CAN YOU SPARE A DIME?
He shows affection
for people, children and families
murdered by guns
but will not encourage Congressional
Representatives to sign laws
to reduce and register
the number of weapons
available in states and the nation.

BROTHER CAN YOU SPARE A DIME?
Now our children, parents and grandparents
sing out in a chorus of anguish
he "tweets" his reply
he leaves a trail of
state, national and international documents
that took years of study, planning and negotiations
he claims to have no merit and wipes them away.


For all this
BROTHER CAN YOU SPARE A DIME?

_____________________________

"BROTHER CAN YOU SPARE A DIME?"
Was a song of World War II written in 1930
it asked why have we squandered our nation?
With apology to Lyricist E.Y."YIP" Harburg
and Composer Jay Gormey.

FINDING INSPIRATION IN CHANGING TIMES

After dinner last night, Don and I walked out into the dark night.  The sky was clear of clouds except for the brightly shinning half-moon over head. We followed a path to a small group of people who were huddled about telescopes.* They were untroubled by our presence and invited us to join them.  We peered through a number of different telescopes and learned in detail what we saw. Next to me there was an elderly women seated in her walker waiting for her turn at the telescope.  People of all ages milled about and spoke in hushed voices.

When my turn came at the telescope I was excited and awed.  I was able to see the craters on the moon.  The colorful bands surrounding Saturn were visual.  Venuses small surrounding planets were visible and were explained to me as creating a picture similar to what our astronauts saw when they looked back at Planet Earth from the moon.

Each day people around the world live with similar issues.  Issues like gun control, human and creature migration, pollution and the abuse we perpetrate upon each other and the environment.  Often our patience and tolerance for others is short and we begin to forget the significance of law in our personal behavior when our leaders represent greed and corruption.  As hard as it maybe, there is a great need to begin to deal with honesty and justice in States across this country and to try to understand the changes we may need to make for our own life style.

It is in this spirit and with great humility that I extend good wishes to my readers and their families for the New Year and the holidays which follow in 2019.

Beverly

*This custom is often offered by Astronomical and Science Centers
in States across the Country.

AUGUST 2019 ENDS HALTINGLY

We say "Goodbye" to the enjoyment of loose fitting clothes and sitting on the ground to picnic.  We listen to the soft hum of the cicadas as sun sets amid a lingering summer breeze. We realize Fall is upon us.  Once again, we don sweaters and walk on paths with fast-changing colorful leaves and wild shrubbery.  We sit outside before controlled fire and tell stories.

In spite of turmoil created by human failings or nature's unprecedented furor. We know we shall prevail.  We have been given the responsibility of preserving kindness, trust and the ability to make changes under law.  We will use our votes to do so.  We will open our hearts and hands to help each other and the stranger in our midst.

Have a good Labor Day Weekend.

GETTING TO 90

There are speed limits for all motorized vehicles. From automobiles to rocket ships to ships at sea, when the meter reads 90 it means slow down!  Not so for people.  In retrospect, ninety year old people are vibrant and enjoying life albeit differently from earlier years.

When I reached my fiftieth birthday I held my own celebration because I had reached the half-century mark.  I did so in a small, screened porch in my home in suburban Philadelphia. I could not envision going from 1929 to 2019 but here I am! I am not much for giving clinical or "how to" advice but I share with you now those events and people who have nurtured me all this time.

 I was about one year old when my mother told me she was going to have a baby. Then mother disappeared. The most vivid memory I have was when my father told me he would take me to see mother, and my baby sister. We were not allowed in the hospital, but my father lifted me up on his shoulder and pointed to a corner window.  When I looked up I saw my mother holding my sister and waving at me.  My sister and I are just 16 months apart.  To this day, when I pass the site of the hospital, I remember the excitement of that day.  Then 10 years later my brother was born. Mother told us we now have a little baby of our own.  Since then my siblings and I have been close regardless of where life has taken us.

I had the good fortune of being born into a warm extended family of  grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins by the dozens. Mine is a family whose members are both ordinary and extraordinary.  My clan includes high achievers and some who have not met with success.  As a family we are well educated.  Some have opted for a life of labor and study, while others have become recognized nationally and internationally for their work in the arts, music and medicine.  Some of us have stood in unemployment lines as we sought work, and some have been denied work for reasons of hatred and bigotry.

All of this is recounted now, dear reader, as I mark a very big birthday.  The attempt  to put together a list of people who have influenced me over the years is worthy of a book.  Each person from food servers to cooks, to maintenance people, to considerate care givers all have enriched my life by the way in which they have shared their own with me. From my two sons and their families and to my two grandchildren and their friends and my own.  And to my companion and his family,  I thank you
for becoming a part of my life.  May each of you know the joy of kindness and respect as you reach the age of 90.

Keep well and keep in touch.  Beverly

MEMORIAL DAY 2019

A few weeks before Memorial Day, Don and I visited Jefferson Barracks, one of the country's largest veterans' cemeteries. We were there to honor a man who served as Chief Petty Officer in the United State Navy more than 20 years ago. Before going to the cemetery we went to a sectarian funeral parlor where eulogies were provided by children, grandchildren, friends and colleagues. People told stories about the man's humility, kindness and his love of art and woodworking. The parlor was filled with people sitting and standing. Almost all got into the long funeral cortege to go to the cemetery.

When we came there the day was warm with a breeze that rustled the trees and shrubbery. The family gathered under a sheltered, open air pavilion at the top of a hill. Below us a small group of sailors came forward. Some peeled off from the others to fire a nine-gun salute. Two others, a man and woman, came forward and stood directly in front of the family. They began to fold the flag, turned and joined the other sailors. Taps was played by a veteran who had a Service Dog on the grass beside him. As we heard the wail of Taps, two sailors walked up and placed the American Flag and the empty shells used to fire the nine-gun salute into the hands of family members.

As we left many people continued to emerge from their parked cars to greet the family, and I saw the stark whiteness of the more than 350,000 grave stones of men and women of all ages and beliefs who often give and gave their lives to this country. They and we believed it was for a "Just Cause."

That was and is what Memorial Day 2019 means to me.

AS THE RIVER RISES SO DO OUR HOPES AND ASPIRATIONS

My companion and I drove down to St. Louis' waterfront to watch the Mississippi River rising to record-breaking levels.  Streets and roads were blocked and we were unable to get through.  We drove on until we came to Carondelet Park which provided a spectacular view.  We could see the river as it carried heavily-loaded barges, some covered by water. All sorts of wooden items like gates and fences were hurtling past with the speed of the churning river.

As we looked around the park we found small historically significant buildings with old soiled signs advertising a summer concert held more than 100 years ago. The river continued to rise.  It seemed to mock us as it flowed past.  Homes and apartment buildings were close by.  Picnic tables,  swings and and rest rooms once in use are now in disrepair. Public parks are places for all of us  to enjoy if they are not neglected by users and government.(*)  It is in them we can watch the moon rise and the sun set, where children can learn to ride a bicycle where older people can meet friends and teenagers play basketball. As we stood in Carondelet Park the rain began once again. The river seemed to increase its flow taking with it our hopes and aspirations for the future of public parks and land.


(*) The St. Louis Post-Dispatch article, "St. Louis Parks Show Signs of Neglect," by  Janelle O'dea

TIME TO COME TOGETHER

In the past few months, a number of events happened that have strengthened my belief that we will live and respect each other as we enter this Springtime.

The first event was on a trip I took with my companion Don Snyder, on which we crossed the flooded Mississippi.  Water was rising and the banks held trees so distorted I ached for their inability
to stand upright, and the wetlands were so submerged I had to strain to see them.

The second was the toppling of the Notre-Dame Cathedral Spire Tower.  It may seem strange that two such unrelated events seem bound together much less produce hope for the future.

I believe Mother Nature has the ability not only to inspire poetic words and art work but to tame human ambition if it brings harm.  As many times as natural buffers and engineering devices try
to shore up coast lines, the river defends what is rightfully its own path.

When the Notre-Dame fire broke out I felt the anguish of losing so much history representing human creative ability and the horror we do to each other by closing down our ability to think.

So it is that I believe we can come  together if we use the ability we have to think.