JACK

Memories of my youthful past came rushing forward today when I spoke with an old high school friend I hadn't heard from in years. Our chatter back and forth was at once familiar and knowing; Easy. Comfortable. Confiding. Ours a remembrance, a connection tightly wound of moments shared (clandestine, and otherwise) with another, we both held dear.

"How is she", he asked. "Just fine", I said.

In that second we were teenagers again, reliving the first time he asked me that question, and all it implied. Young love. First love. Secret love.

Recalling our long ago comraderie and Robbers Roost after school, we laughed at our revelry way back then and smiled kindly, remembering
who we were
what we were
where we were
thinking the world was ours to hold and mold; Seeing ourselves as hip and cool.

With his white hair and my wrinkled skin we're no longer young, but growing old. More mellow. Mature (though hopefully, still hip and cool). Grateful for our past, more grateful for what we've become, recognizing
who we are now
what we are now
where we are now
was all in God's plan.

GROWTH

Love
laughter
joy
care;
hurt
anger
sorrow
dispair
Changing emotions
twisted round
bring you up
then tear you down;
Stages of growth
out of chaos comes
like the planting
of seed; Then spring
colorful tulips and mums.

WHAT TO WRITE

The yellow lined paper
and ballpoint pen
are waiting
and waiting
for a flow of
words to begin;
At my desk
i pause
and ponder
for what seems
forever
without a thought
in my head

what to write
what to write
what to write

My mind is blank
like an empty tank
ready to be filled
with something useful
to share

what to write
what to write
what to write

Stories of nature
or friendship old ?
Love and family
wealth untold.
Something lively
something bright
A Harrier hawk
taking flight, or
the soaring high
of a long tailed
kite; The cold
dark sky of
a starry, starry night ?

what to write
what to write
what to write

COFFEE TASTE TEST

Saturday morning. I'm sitting at the PC with my cup of decaf - freshly brewed. A mixture of Kirkland's Dark Roast and Peet's Major Dickason's. A combination my husband, Gary came up with. A pretty good one, too. Not only is the full bodied flavor good , but by combining Kirkland and Major Dickason's , we save on the cost of coffee as it lasts much longer.

For years we were strictly Starbuck's coffee drinkers, but Gary never cared for what he called, "the bitter aftertaste" of Starbucks , so we finally agreed to find a specialty coffee we both could savor. Because we drink decaf, our choices were somewhat limited as most blends are caffineated. None the less, we pursued our coffee hunt , and for months partook in our own private 'coffee of the week' taste test. We drank cup after cup of varied coffee's , including Kona, Craven's , Tully's; Ultimately it was Peet's that met our criteria, "bold, but not bitter".

The irony in our choice of Peet's, is Peet's and Starbucks have a shared hisory. Alfred Peet introduced specialty coffee to Seattle; The founders of Starbucks worked at Peet's so they could learn all they could about how to roast, buy and sell specialty coffee, and Jerry Baldwin, an original founder of Starbucks is still director of Pete's.

According to the "Passion for Coffee" web site, Pete's coffee tends to be a little darker than Starbucks House Blend because it is roasted longer.

" That's okay", my husband would say, " I still choose Pete's. Roasted longer is fine. It's the bitter after taste (of Starbucks) that I don't like".

I'm reminded of the famous Coke vs Pepsi taste test and conclude taste, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder (or in this case, mouth of the partaker of drink).

PATSY AND LINDA

Earlier this week while out taking my afternoon walk with Sam E. Beagle and Missy dog, I thought about a recent email from my childhood friend, Linda. She told me of her New Year's Eve trip to the neighborhood we grew up in ; A quiet, quaint cul de sac in the plain Jane suburb city of Bell. Hers was a bittersweet path to the past, not only because she revisited long gone days of youth, where we spent day after day roller skating, riding matching pink and white Schwinn bikes and playing with baby dolls, paper dolls and Barbie dolls , but because two days later it would mark the 21st anniversary of her mother's death.

We have a long history, Linda and me; Only 4 years old when we met, becoming instant play pals and life long friends.

From the start, our mothers were the very best of friends. In fact, I learned about the meaning of friendship from observing my mom and Patsy - their joy in being together, their faithfulness and fidelity one to the other: Good times and bad times, no matter what - they stuck like glue .

In her email Linda wrote about turning onto Southhall Court and Southhall Lane , and for just a moment envisioned her mom standing at the fence like she did so many years ago. I recall a similar image of Patsy. It was the late 1950's and my family didn't have a phone, so if someone needed to reach my parents they'd dial Patsy's number. I can still hear Patsy hollering from her driveway, " Lenore , the phone's for you". To some , it may seem quirky and unsophisticated, but in truth it was friendly and familar. Endearing and sweet.

It was sitting in Linda's driveway that her mom taught us how to play " Jacks", and the first time I ate a taco was at Linda's when her mom made homemade tacos - long before Taco Bell, Del Taco and a hundrend other taco stands on every southern California corner. To this day, Patsy's taco's are the best I've ever had.

Patsy also  taught me to crochet.  And my brother, Walt remembers she and her husband Lawrance bought him his first pair of cowboy boots when he was only six years old.  In later years Patsy  hosted my wedding shower and baby shower. It would be impossible to think about the highlights of my life without including Patsy. She loved us, and we loved her. It was heartbreaking, and seemed unreal when Patsy died at the young age of 55. Younger than Linda and I are now.

As I walked along the wooded trail , I continued to think about Linda and Patsy , wishing Linda was nearby so I could give her a hug . I wanted to tell her how special I think her mother was, and how proud I am of her for carrying on through the challenges of her own life in such a strong, positive way; knowing her mother would be proud of her, too.

No loss ever compares to the loss of a loved one. While it's true the sun will continue to rise each and every morning , just as its done for hundreds of years, nothing is never, ever quite the same after the death of one we loved so dear; A small part of us dies, too. It's only in the remembering we keep them near.

Something Good

January first , the sentiment "Out with the old, in with the new" repeats itself over and over again, as folks from all corners of the earth resolve to be
steady
steadfast
dauntless
daring;
Uncompromising
courageous
unflinching
unfailing
in the promise they've made to faithfully follow through with their
New Year's Day resolution
To retire
relinquish
and dispose
of bad habits, bad manners, bad food, bad relationships
To reshape
reform
restore
something good to better themselves, their family and the world.