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Showing posts from January, 2009

Thoughts on Momma

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Whether you are five or fifty-five, the death of your mother has a profound affect on you. Whether you had a close, intimate relationship with her or had the relationship from hell, when your mother dies, something in your heart/soul cries out, "No!"

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Momma loved to shock. Just a few months ago, as we were leaving the nursing home after a visit, she patted the male nurse on the bottom as I wheeled her to the elevator.

"Momma!" I cried.

She giggled and said, "He didn't even turn around!"

I looked back at the nurse and he was simply smiling and shaking his head.

As the elevator doors began to close, I said, "Behave, OK?"

She gave her most mischievous smile and said, "Not if I can help it!"

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I must have been about three because Barry was an infant and Momma was pregnant with Timmy. It was one of those summer days that happen every once in a while when the air, the temperature and the weather are perfect.

Momma took us for a walk…

Inauguaral Poets

As a poet and writer, I read and listen to the poetry of others as often as I can. This enables me to hone my skills as a poet. Often, I am touched by the words of others. Elizabeth Alexander, who read her poem, "Praise song for the day" touch my heart and soul on Tuesday. Here is a video of that recitation.



Equally as beautiful and as pertinent today as they were in 1993, are the words of Maya Angelou.



Let us "study war no more" and "praise song for the day!" Amen!

A Twinkle in her eye

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Mom and Dad on a good day


Momma was one of those people who was ahead of her time, yet never quite got the recognition she deserved. She was a peace activist, civil rights activist, feminist, LGBT ally and staunch supporter of education for all children, long before women voiced their opinions of such things. She raised me to go through life with my heart and eyes open, giving everyone the same opportunity to share the path.

Last night, after a long, long battle with more disease and pain than any human should have to live with, she died. My brothers and I are now orphans of the Universe. Strangely, I am not sad.

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When I was ten years old, Momma was diagnosed with Myasthenia Gravis a debilitating neuro-muscular disease that threatened to take her life. At that time, I was told that I should "prepare for" my mother's death. It was a horrible burden to put on a child.

For the next several years, she was in and out of the hospital; each time potentially being her last. …