Archive for May, 2014

no TV

May 22, 2014

We’ve been without TV for 2 months, since we moved. It’s amazing, no CNN & I’ve survived. I kind of know what’s going on in the world because I listen to radio when I’m in the car, but not as much as before. It’s more peaceful. I don’t hear the flippant, 30-second news reports that cover the same stories OVER & OVER & over.

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Tree Frogs Sing Their Memories

May 21, 2014

The tree frogs sing their memories

when kids ran freely in the street,

rode their bike to the nearest tree,

climbed up as far as they could see,

and went to Boy Scout meetings.

There were no gangs or gunshot wounds,

where kids are running from police,

riding bikes to the nearest tree

to hide behind it, or to flee,

so they won’t go to jail.

The tree frogs sing their memories

for you and I to clearly see,

and create something better.

              cfblack 5-21-2014



My Dutch grandma

May 12, 2014

My Dutch grandma,

who I dearly loved,

had bow-legged-legs

that curved outward,

a giggly laughter

that filled our days,

a love for my grandpa

that never stopped,

and a fear of brown-skinned people.

When I was a little girl of 3,

while tightly holding onto me,

she spoke to a neighbor

in a whispered voice,

“Be careful who she sold the house to.”

The neighbor nodded, she understood,

Their biggest fear being

a brown-skinned family

moving onto their street,

because that would mean

we’re all the same,

and take away the little bit of gain

that a poor, working-class immigrant family had.

My Dutch grandma

served me 7-Up,

and cookies shaped like windmills,

My grandpa sipped coffee from the saucer,

which came from the pot that perked on the stove,

and put ketchup on his potatoes.

During the Depression,

he built sidewalks downtown,

while Grandma ripped out seams

of hand-me-downs,

put them together again

to make clothes anew,

and somehow they made it through.

After all those years,

they couldn’t bear to see

people move in next door

to bring them down again,

Sometimes those closest to one another

are the farthest of all apart,

Afraid to look in the mirror and see

the face of her neighbor,

a tapestry,

the interwoven stories and lives

of all humanity.

cfblack  05-12-14

My Mother and I

May 10, 2014

I always want to write something

for Mother’s Day,

some anecdote, or memory,

a bit of wisdom

gleaned through many years

of trial and error,

that was our relationship,

and I remember your smile

and your welcoming ways,

and so many other

kinds of days,

so in the end,

it cannot be expressed

or explained,

but I am thankful again

for you.


May 8, 2014

Trains whistle in the night,

Creating a longing

to go somewhere,

to be traveling from here

to there,

to anywhere ~~

Their whistle announces

their going by,

leaving us to wonder where,

and why,

My grandfather

had a Railroad job,

The bookkeeper,

he was keeping track

of expenses and paychecks,

things like that,

His notes on paper, with pencil were kept,

before the days of computers,

Generations later, we hear the call,

A train goes by

from here to there,

from the magic land of history,

to a future yet to come.

cfblack 05-07-2014








a quote from Carl Sagan

May 4, 2014

I have always had great respect for scientists, and oftentimes compared the vastness of never-ending space, to a belief in God. I have asked people who do not believe in a God, “Where does space end?” Not everything can be explained. Not everything can be contained by the human mind, and yet we believe. We believe in our existence, in finding our place, in finding our calling, in a world that is in actuality a speck of dust “suspended in a sunbeam”. We are humbled at our insignificance in pondering the stars and the heavens, whether literal or figurative. It shows us our absolute miniscule reality, and yet, our total joy at having consciousness and life. I wonder how my father, a scientist and agnostic, pondered this universe and its meaning. Below is a quote I stole from a page on Carl Sagan.

“From this distant vantage point, the Earth might not seem of any particular interest. But for us, it’s different. Consider again that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every ‘superstar,’ every ‘supreme leader,’ every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there — on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity — in all this vastness — there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. The Earth is the only world known, so far, to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment, the Earth is where we make our stand. It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.” — Carl Sagan.

The truth is…

May 3, 2014

The truth is,

no one is perfect.

If we dissected every piece

of anyone’s life,

there would be discrepancies,

things they are not so good at,

areas where they do not excel.

And in that same person

there are areas where

no one comes close to what they do,

These are the areas in which they shine,

where they are superior, to you.

and if we go about


those places where they are not their best,

then we shouldn’t be surprised

next time we turn around,

that someone

is doing that

to us.

cfblack  05-03-2014