Thursday, January 29, 2009

Carboard Boxes, Sand Pits

I started this post, then realized my wife had a brief blog on using the carboard box. But I don't care I am the one that brought the box home anyways. Do you remember the day Dad brought home a new fridge, new washer or dryer, or other large appliance? The first thing I went for was the box and my Dad always made sure not cut the box up to much or he gave me the roll of duct tape. (Yes it is duct tape not duck tape). Another time my Dad wanted to aerate the lawn and sand it so he bought at least a yard or two of sand from the local landscaping and concrete company. The dump truck dumped the load right on the driveway. All my neighborhood friends showed up and we played all afternoon. The next day my Dad used about half of it spreading it onto the lawn. But that left at least a 3 foot pile of sand. For about a month it became our own volcano, ski resort, tunnel mine system and lastly a jump pit (from the roof). My Dad let all the pile of sand sit for at least a month until he came home from work and saw us in mid air off the roof. The rest of the pile went to the back yard and garden the next day. Also my friends and I made up a game of tag called Fisherman that was so complex I don't think I am allowed enough words on this blog to explain nor can I really remember all the rules. We started using old hoola hoops and golf clubs for equipment. I asked my Dad for what we could use as a base in the game of tag. He started to go all out with building something out of plywood and sanding off the corners so we wouldn't get hurt. Funny how my parent's never allowed us a video game system and we only had one TV in the house up until I was in high school. But they always went out of their way with the simple fun.

Sunday, January 18, 2009


My sister somehow has a friend of a friend of a friend with free inauguration tickets. So she is currently trekking across country to see this inauguration or formal beginning.

I envy her freedom of taking off but that comes with not having a job right now. Like Jack Kerouac but with a purpose. (Sorry I hated "On the Road", but that is another blog) I also envy her excitement for going to see a historical event. Every inaguration is a historical event. The party before the rebirth. At least every 8 years, this country can hoot and holler and then reboot itself. I wonder if that is what the founding fathers were thinking about when they set this system up. Reboot, Restart, Oops maybe that wasn't the right way to go let's change it up.

This isn't about George W. Bush and I don't want to go into politics too much because I am a liberal in Texas and a Conservative in Boston or Chicago and it doesn't fit into my point about rebirth. Sports teams get to start over every season. School year's start a fresh every year except for that cumulative GPA. Hope springs from this rebirth. People need hope otherwise you are like Kerouac wandering aimlessly without purpose. To tie this up a little better look up what the purpose of Jesus was on this earth.

Because I might have borrowed some lines
Read "Jesus for President" Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw

Friday, January 16, 2009

Closet Monsters

Approach yee closet monsters
Child swinging flashlight sword
And blanket shield of tomorrow's morning sun
Fighting off the dragons of the dark until sleep comes
The work for the knight of the house is finally done
But when does the middling gray become so everyday
That transparent fair and injust lines go astray
Trying to keep track of the decreasing black and white
Is more challenging than convincing a child that there is no closet monster to fight

Father the Sick

Mother's night out
Chugging yucky syrup
Rocking one to sleep with free foot
Searching for the perfect emotional button song
Coughing up more phelgm
Bed time yawns around for all
One feed and down for the night
Number two still looking for the right jammies
Bache aches from hacking and holding
Blanket, Book, Bed and Bedlam averted once again
To begin again in the morning
This time with less phelgm

Half Glass Empty

Glass half empty
Prepared for the inevitable
Hate the wreck without knowing who was hurt
Can't stand the pause before the slam of the door
Skip to the end and rewind for the drama
Bottom is not as brutal if you can make a crash landing
Or just surprised by the udder joy
When my glass is in fact full