Some memories of long ago
They are still here, they come and go
Without them, how could we move on
For sure, the meaning would be gone.
It’s odd, the thoughts that take us back
Remaining on the proper track
Remembering those days we knew
When all were safe and faith was too.
Opportunity winged on by
With no time left for second try
We’ll have to make the best of all
Because there is no curtain call !
There are these photos on the wall
Of folks I barely know at all
There’s a few I had never met
And others that I shan’t forget.
Familiar faces from the past
All precious images that last
As life once was, grateful to see
When all were young and used to be !
Now I have lived quite a long time
In varied places and other clime
And learned that one must try to fit
Into each spot that’s part of it.
When but a child, the horse and cart
Is how our travel had its start
Next came the Ford all black and square
While in the rear its trunk was there.
Those skinny tires were truly sad
I cannot count the flats we had
Oh for those days that are long gone
Sweet memories my heart dwells on !
I can see fireflies they’re all aglow
It’s curtain time for their magic show
Soon the stars up high begin to light
They flicker and dance and shimmer bright.
When I was small and not yet grown tall
I’d play outside by the garden wall
To catch them buzz and flitter about
Quite a happy sight without a doubt.
As I have aged my memory brings
Pictures that pull upon old heartstrings
It’s too late now to remember when
No one can ever go back again !
Have you ever seen a mermaid when you’ve been out to sea
I’m sure that I have not nor anyone that’s known to me
Seems mermaids were a help to men at least a thousand years
There is a place on the Rhine I’ve been told that one appears,
Unlike the Disney creatures who know all the rights from wrongs,
The sailors call them Lorelei they sing enchanted songs.
Like Homer’s Sirens tempted those from Troy who homeward bound
Did flounder on the rocks about on hearing their sweet sound,
I’m sad that I might have to spend another thousand years
To hear a mermaid chant her song into my waiting ears !
My memories are haunted by
Some faces seen with my mind’s eye
These persons from the distant past
True images that ever last
They’re so clear now I want to touch
I’m sad because I’ve missed them much !
How can it be aft all these years
That my heart’s full of unshed tears
What I would give for just once more
Their oldtime step at my front door !
I love to see the curtain’s edge
Lift gently from my window ledge
The breeze outside comes pushing in
As lacy fluff lifts in the wind !
The fabric floats into my space
Creating gauzy veils of lace
While visions seem to spin around
Like Venus in her dressing gown !
This has no place now I’ve been told
These styles I chose are just too old
And no one cares or wants to see
Lace panels here except for me !
The sunshine sneaks into my room
Replacing night time’s eerie gloom
The photos hung upon the wall
Do happy days and times recall.
Familiar faces one by one
Remind me of past summer’s fun
Those thoughts so full of magic sights
And warm and sunny days and nights !
I wish somehow we could return
To memories for which we yearn
But it’s too late for turning back
That train left on another track !
Are we sharing again ? One hot summer day, August 14, 1935, my mother and I were
walking hand in hand on Zabriskie Street in Jersey City. Windows were open everywhere
curtains moving in the slight breeze, some parted, some knotted on the rods. You could
hear the Philco radios blaring static and sound within, suddenly the windows filled with
people yelling, shouting hoorays! In the streets they laughed and danced and sang “Happy
days are here again!” I turned to my mother, she squeezed my hand tightly and said “Mr.
Roosevelt passed the Social Security Act “. “Thank God !” I couldn’t forget that day, it
was like the biggest party I ever saw, no balloons, no ice cream, but a lot of whooping it
up and delirious people. It’s a memory that still lives happily with me but what I most
remember is that tired old house dress my mom was wearing and how joyous she was.
Some memories are worth keeping, don’t you think ?
I miss my mom, I miss my dad
And all the friends that I once had
I miss the way life used to be
When joy and hope and peace were free.
These days are gone just blown away
With lost remains of yesterday
Oh how I pray and often yearn
For oldtime pleasures glad return.
I realise now this won’t be
Seems most of it was not that free
I’ve tried quite hard to be aware
And understand with love and care
Here in this world the future brings
Broad visions of lifes happenings.
Do you know the story of Mary Hays McCauley nee Ludwig? Born 1754, Trenton, NJ, more commonly known as “Molly Pitcher” the heroine of the Battle of Monmouth Courthouse June 28, 1778. Last time I was there, more than 60 years ago, she was memorialized with a monument, a plaque and the famous cannon she manned when her husband fell ! In the “good old days”, children revered the brave deeds of those who”purchased” our freedom and rights as the youth of today idolize sports figures. That June day was unusually hot, 100°F, it could be called the “World Series of Battles” as it included all the major players, all the stars of both TEAMS ! Washington, von Steuben, Marquis de Lafayette and Gen. Charles Lee ( who really struck OUT ) for the home team. With Clinton and Cornwallis battling for the visitors !! Americans, 12,000 men, British 11,000. The cannon required water to cool down the barrel after each shot and a ramrod swab out ! Water girls were kept busy carrying water throughout each battle , most were wives. Almost half of the casualties were due to heat stroke. In 1822, Molly ( nickname for Mary ) was awarded a lifetime pension for her valor by the Pennsylvania assembly. The victory at Monmouth coming after the crossing at Trenton, ended the larger effort to win in the north and resulted in British retreat to the south, after their escape from Sandy Hook, New Jersey. Molly Pitcher’s Well can still be visited ! How’s that for another homerun for our side ? P.S. General Lee was court martialed as a coward, his “contract” was not renewed, but you guessed that !
Remember the peddlers? Well, I’m still in the 30’s and recalling that bygone era with much affection. Especially the iceman who came once a week the entire year long. We never questioned where the ice came from, much like today’s children who do not query the existence of Wi-Fi. How much we take for granted since Ben Franklin’s experiment with a simple kite in an open field. I think I was about three and we lived on Cambridge Avenue in Jersey City, close to the park on the first floor of a frame building with a wooden porch in front of three large railroad rooms with a shared toilet in the hall! It was just up the steep hill from Hoboken off Congress Street with cheaper rent. It was a very hot summer. If you wonder what “railroad” means think of trains, opening one into another minus wasted hallway space (of course no privacy). Two huge double-hung windows porchside and two in the kitchen, yardside, with wide walls in between, there were large pocketdoors on the front room to save coal in the winter. No bath! Enough said, a huge laundry tub and a folding screen next to the obligatory black iron coal stove with a giant water cauldron over the glowing embers, familiar to anyone? But back to the ice, my dad built a shelf for an oscillating fan and placed an enamel pan with a 10 cent piece of ice on top of the icebox, opened all the windows, and “voila”, old fashioned air conditioning for a dime. No radio, no TV, no online, just the bible, loads of conversation, love, family, neighbors, poverty and ingenuity! Great huh?
Sincerely,
Claire B.
May I share with you? But what shall it be? Big decision, the 30’s, 40’s, 50’s, I’m not sure where to begin as each era is shouting my name! I remember my daddy making “bathtub gin” and the horse and cart peddlers who sold ice by the piece. And stirring a pot as big as myself set on a black iron coal stove with a huge wooden paddle, boiling my baby sister’s diapers, on a homemade stool built just for me. Of course every yard had a huge wooden clothespole that reached for the sky with giant iron hooks where the clotheslines were tied. But the hooks didn’t start close to the ground for security’s sake, you needed a ladder at least ten feet tall. Yes, there were laundry thieves who could shinney hand over fist up that pole to steal sheets off the line. Those wash lines would occasionally fray and it took a juggler to replace them. My daddy taught me how, I was his only “son”, haha, for nine years which is why I am adept at “hammer and nails”. You listened in bed for the squeal of the pulley in case your neighbors were the victims! All pulleys made a noise, no way to silence them, no silicone to spray them. Most stores and homes had little jingle bells suspended on their entrance doors that welcomed all who came. Old habits die hard, I kept those bells on my doors until I moved to Florida to retire. I have a feeling that perhaps a return to the bell system might inhibit some burglars! Do you think it’s worth a try? Keep tuned, there’s more to follow!
Sincerely,
Claire B.
As I scurry about my daily plan
Rapidly rushing as fast as I can
A miraculous thing for one so old
It’s a job to warm my bones in the cold.
And if you don’t think that’s a chore itself
With a grunt and a groan, reach for a shelf
When your body’s progressed to this late stage
Folks give you a seat because of your age.
I laugh when I think that’s where I am at
I recall the days when men tipped their hat
Now they raise their hand ’til you cross the way
And wish you a greeting, ” Have a safe day ! ”
Whoever thought that I’d wind up like this
Just an old lady surviving with bliss?
Oh, still and peaceful starlit night,
With not a whispered breeze in sight,
Those rustic arms that reach too bare,
Oblique, into the sky now stare,
And seeming wait, for some small gift
Falling from space and earthward drift.
Now stark and graceless awkward tree
Like autumn wind reminding me
Years fall one upon another,
Swiftly reason to discover,
These arms that long to grasp and lift
Embrace the wind cast time adrift.
Thus ageless trees with patience stand
Their vast retinue in command,
Through darkest night or brightest morn,
This faceless wonder earth adorn.
I am an empty seashell that waits beside the sea
To catch each impatient wave that washes over me,
Within the deeper crevice which is my inner part
There swells all the emptiness that drowns a heavy heart.
I am a frigid winter that never sees the sun
Yet dreams to hold one sunbeam before its light is done.
I am a hollow nighttime wind crying out aloud
Embracing every vacant space stretching wide and proud,
Sheltering a burden while seeking that final cave
To echo trust and recapture all the love I gave.
I am deserted memory living in the past
Wherein all wind and waves and snow are forgotten fast.
I am a lonely stranger, timid, pale and lost, how sad,
Who for the sake of liberty committed all I had.
Yesterday, a leaf fell from my favorite tree,
In silence, all alone, I watched it slip and slide,
Turning somersaults, drifting, so melodically,
Graceful, with nought other passage than downward glide.
For one fleet second, thoughts of revolution grew
And cast themselves across the windows of my mind,
Where fragments of one’s journey weigh for times,untrue,
Inciting spasms of questing doubt, life doth blind.
We are, each soul of us, mediocre in our way,
Endowed with talents born long ago, yesterday.
Skills that we erringly believe to be unique
Consume other needs, while that special praise we seek.
Observed through private mirrors which the mind collects.
And colored by the ego that our pride reflects,
Images, much gilded by vision clouded, seen,
And silvered by the hope that we are as we dream.
Mankind, foolish, now wanting, thinking what will be,
Wastes his days midst effort veiled by futility.
That cycle, which in youth, had its first beginning,
Will end in age, with neither losing or winning.
Look up, look up, into the misting sky
And wistful, dreaming of the years gone by
For truth, and seeming as they never were
Provoking thoughts that heart and mind concur.
In life not even flowers linger long
And to the wind both stem and leaf belong
While bird and nest, too soon part company,
And thus with many leave only memory.
Unholy din to clamor in this sphere
Mark man and beast with recollection clear,
Like bookmarks in a span of life concern
Within orb, lasting memory discern.
Dusting shelves laden with rejected dreams,
A thankless task wasted as it now seems
That memory which has been tucked away
Till such a time perhaps as is this day.
Like one’s closed book of golden memory
Which only grasps the edge of destiny,
So thumb again the pages stained and worn,
Oft empty sheets both tired and torn.
A little knowledge with self-reflected view
Consuming hopes, for time that rings untrue,
Reason spurn Herculean endeavor
In assuming nothing lasts forever.
Leave wanting for the final recompense
And wishful hoping as the last defense,
At best that memory, if so inclined
Will flicker once or twice, across the mind.
Why did you take my dreams and brush them all away,
Like scattered ashes of some forgotten yesterday,
Blown with the biting dust of winds that swiftly glide,
Just drifters on life’s road, unwanted, cast aside?
I’ll mend the twisted fragments that have not been lost,
Time will veil some pieces and never count the cost,
A feckless sort of action, yet task worth knowing,
By simply standing tall, find endurance growing.
Wisdom laced with caution that loneliness will marry,
Gull’s nest on seaweed, though set adrift, may tarry,
A titmouse, in the thornbush, emerges, wings intact,
While dreams that died of neglect, often seem abstract.
I look upon a leafy bed
And wonder why the leaves are dead,
I look upon a stormy sky
And wonder why the birds won’t fly,
I see a tired human face
And wonder if he takes up space,
I question whether time grows old
And why the length of love must mold,
Why flowers turn to face the sun
Then disappear when growing’s done.
The simple ways still seem the best
They supercede the foolish rest,
Perhaps with years we’ve come to know
That fortune follows as we sow.
Though oft I’d sought another place
And sometimes thought I’d lost the race,
Faint melody soon pricked my ears
And cast aside my hidden fears.
Now lately, as my life turns round
And echoes with its closing sound,
One grateful thought does fill my mind,
With age, my passion waxes kind.
I’ve spent this life as best I knew
And lived my hopes as dreamers do,
I’ve known the world the wishful see
And bless my fate that now I’m free.
Sifting through the ashes of a
bitter burning ember
Of forgotten days that time is
dying to remember
Where winter thoughts demand their
silence softly to be heard
Like some feint storm that rages on
appearing now absurd,
To leave one faithful moment here
that truth can realize
There bearing in its icy grip
lost dreams of paradise,
An everlasting steadfast ghost
of hope that went astray
To carry on its battered wings
past thoughts of yesterday.
When a flower drops its petals
and its seeds are blown away
And its dry stalks tremble, break
to drop and lie amidst decay,
When a tall tree bends its wide limbs
and its leaves are swept away
Seeking safe and sheltered haven
hence await another day,
When a dream still waits unbidden
as the years have caused delay
And the hopes that fill a young mind
through the years have gone astray
When a heart that’s old and mellow
beats its last and sad farewell
Searching for the final hospice
where the soul at peace may dwell,
When the aims of every lifetime
falter, tarry and dispel
Knowing soon the battle’s over
and its goals have too short fell,
There among these winter feelings
where the hurt will rise and swell,
Face that fleeting day of anger,
sally forth and chance rebel.
Poor old teddy bear, waiting tired and time-worn
Reminding me of many nights spent too forlorn,
We have seen better days when your soft coat was new
And all the dreams we dared to dream seemed overdue.
I put away my childhood toys as I grew old
Because I’d sought the happiness that futures hold.
While childish hopes are based upon small simple things
They fade into the lonely past that growing brings.
Sometimes I wish, with all my heart, I could recall
That yesteryear, so long ago, when I was small.
There’s a precious amount of brief security
In loving a teddy bear who loves only me.
Lemon balm and lavender, amaryllis green
All the scents a garden holds, vibrant though unseen
Tansy tall and spearmint bright spend their perfumes gay
While violets and lilies white do their incense spray
Midst this tangled rooting mass lies a seed unborn
That may blossom forth one day into times forlorn.
Tiny mums, petunias bold nestle side by side
Laughing bells with nodding heads do their mirth confide,
Watch the painted daisy bow with a grace serene,
Spreads the creeping myrtle discreetly in-between,
How this sight does profit me as I chance intrude
Like some stranger in a trance, arrogant and rude.
In a field of thornbush one lonely primrose grew
Pledging soon that I’d forget that long wait I knew,
I trace again those times that quickly flew too fast
While roses by a fence remind me of the past,
Alas my life slips by too soon its season ends
And I am left behind to grieve the loss of friends.
A flower ends its life in quiet simple ways
Enriched by nature’s cool and passionless displays,
The years may come and go as petals fade and die
But in the life of man this fading means goodbye,
Reaching the final circumstance wherein resides
The blending of that time when none but truth presides.
Sunlight in a garden though seeming ever bright
Fades into a sunset where flowers sleep at night
Fulfillment of happenings that I dare not know,
Like shadows of sentiment those I scarce can show
Reminds me that a man though born of God’s intent
Fades into the darkness before his life is spent.
I’ve walked among the shadows, whistled in the rain
Faced the bloody mountain and shivered with the pain
I’ve questioned valid reason and read books untold
Searching for an answer about what life might hold,
Yet always in my mind that field of flowers glows
Can I trust one promise beyond what nature grows?
I choose to remember when I was a child
That the streams fell o’er rocks running free and wild
And trickled neath the garden wall
Through crevices that time installed.
The spattering rain bore a scent of pleasure
That’s stored in my mind like a hidden treasure,
These simple joys which I once knew
With passing years much fonder grew.
Some mornings I’d lie on the side of the hill
While the wind whistled tunes that sent me a chill,
With quick’ning pace fleet life had lent
I wondered where that springtime went.
Small prickly green spikes rushed to cover the ground
Bold to herald new seasons the year had found,
Those terms I’d based my life upon
Too soon before my youth had gone.
Each brook seemed to flow as though thought were inane
While crooning a song with a wistful refrain,
I tread beach sand so clean and white
And sadly kissed each day goodnight.
I marveled at clouds that decided to play
In the midst of a hot sultry August day,
First they were blue then rose then pink,
Plum in time for that sun to sink.
The fields wore a garland of flowers in bloom
With cascades of blossoms to sweeten the gloom,
I touched the frost that capped the sea
As the summer’s length swept past me.
I awoke with mixed chatter of migrant birds
To witness God’s errand that needed no words,
I laughed with glee when autumn came
Cause I’d heard of October’s fame.
The perfume of burning leaves since done away
Was the smouldering ash of another day,
Now I’ve grown old I still recall
Those umber leaves that echoed fall.
On overhead boughs naked and shivering
Lay remnants of nests in the wind quivering,
While logs and twigs were known to sleep
All winter long in snow knee-deep.
Soon white flakes that grandeur knew obscured the sky
While I with quick breath did watch the last bird fly,
The years are gone but not the thrill
Forget that time, I cannot still.
There was heart to smell and feel and taste and see
Perhaps question what life was offering me,
Why must truth hide behind a mask
To yield unwon its precious task?
Above the roof and chimney rise
I tend my garden in the skies,
I sleep with stars and wake with sun
Until my way in life is done.
I weep with mist and cry with rain
And live with hope that mellows pain.
I pay my way and now have learned
To value all the friends I’ve earned.
Build me no castle, sing no song
Carry no ill though hurt is strong.
When I’m old and youth’s spark is gone
Walk close beside me here and yon.
Leave me no paths that I must choose
Will me no fortune I may lose.
Unkempt and fledgling is my cure
That wanders oft with faith secure.
I’ve shaped my goals that they may fit
Into a mold with pride on it.
I’m bound to earth by God’s own will
With courage breathing hushed and still.
When to the trembling brink I’m tossed
And wisdom flees, appearing lost
I thank my God on bended knee
That love thus far has sheltered me.
Sometimes when I am at my ease
A simple odor treads the breeze
And from the past some mem’ry brought
Across my mind in homely thought
That waits upon those childhood days
Where knowledge grows and friendship strays.
I’m not so sure that as I’ve grown
My youthful fears have all but flown,
However names I can’t recall
Will ever plague my portrait wall
And recollections I connote
May brim my eye or catch my throat.
And if I choose to chance forget
Some dream that’s had no ending yet,
One face that lingers on may cling
To fragile moments spread with spring,
Now bearing neither ache nor rage
Becomes the privilege of age.
There’s a special place that I now recall
Both secret and safe in a garden wall,
Far my favorite space when I was small
Was that wooden gate in the garden wall.
And there beneath that garden way
One million tears were washed away
And drained themselves into the ground
To gain the solace I have found.
When I’ve spied a spot with a hidden door
That may lead to the rest I’m reaching for,
The sight of a hedge by a garden gate
Is the knowledge that mellows oft too late.
One entrance in a crumbling wall
Was childhood’s fancy to recall
While shadows cast upon the ground
Did guard the peace that patience found.
The permanence I ‘d felt inside that gate
Where no words alone could ever relate
In the simple fare of my life would be
Like an endless rope of eternity.
I’ve often thought as I recalled
The lonely times when I was small,
I’d lift my wings and follow play
And swing my early cares away.
Ten thousand timeless heads bobbed in the breeze
And shook in the wind and laughed in the trees,
Amidst delphiniums all blue and pink
I’d wait for that sun to just rise or sink
To seek what hides past that garden wall
Where hollyhocks grew so bright and tall,
There beyond the pulse of nature’s lush
Life slumbered deep in a twilight’s hush.
There’s many a gate in many a wall
That has been childhood’s option to recall
When time’s swift shadow played hide and seek
My simple fears had some courage to speak.
Full many a turn has come about
Since those youthful years pursued by doubt
Where the wishing days of life would be
Bound to each one’s goal with piety.
Now much time has flown and it’s far too late
To play in the yard and swing on the gate,
For the wall is gone and there in its place
Structures of brick with no smiles on their face.
Portals of magic beckon still
With aspirations dreams fulfill,
The useful aim of one’s end should be
Some gate that waits for posterity.
| M | T | W | T | F | S | S |
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| 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |
| 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 |
| 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 |
| 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 |
Claire V. Bogdanos 