Cat Sitting Bower

Our neighbors, Thomas and Keri, are moving. We've watched their family grow for the past 8 years or so and they'll be taking 2 sons with them that didn't come with the house - Hudson, aged 5, and his brother Owen, aged 3, soon to be 4. Bower, the cat, will also be moving with them.

But, there's about 3 months between closings and Bower will be homeless. So, he'll be living on our porch where Midnight, Baby Cat and Goldie all used to squat.

Bower has a real cool history. He's about 8 and has had shots and all the other things which housecats get to help them live longer than any of my strays could have ever hoped for. And, he's no stranger to the outdoors.

He was born on  a farm and though he knows how to kill, he also knows when to run away, split, scram, be invisible and all the other tricks associated with having 9 lives and making them last!

He's also no stranger to our porch, as he has been coming over daily for about 5 years at this point for treats. He's even walked through our house looking for Goldie after he'd been gone several days and Bower became convinced that Goldie was our secret pet cat and not a real stray at all!

Oh, and did I mention that, like most cats, he's a bit paranoid.

After Goldie passed away I vowed not to care for any more strays. Due to my allergies they need more than I can give them; like a permanent home.

So, this will be like having the best of both worlds for about 3 weeks. Then, just like the rest, he'll move on. The big difference is that this time the story ends well....

Flavia - A Sketch From the Past

This drawing was done by my friend Flavia in Taromino on Sicily in the early 1980's. She did this on a sketch pad sitting on the wall by the beach. Being a raven haired, dark eyed, young woman, to me she was the epitome of the artist, capturing the light while at the same time capturing my heart.

Flavia was just 17, you know what I mean? I was almost 10 years her senior,  so we weren't lovers or anything like that. We were just two people trying to talk in different languages, never really getting past looking into one another's eyes and the pages of the dictionary. And that was fine with me. Now, Platonic love can either break your heart or inspire a poem, a song, or just a memory. In this case I got lucky - I got the memory.

Her family was very courteous and nice to me, insisting that I eat with them while in port. This was their family vacation, a month which they spent at the beach after slaving away in Palmero all year. I was there for a week on the Mississinewa, an oil tanker of about 30, 000 tons displacement, and was their guest nightly at the hotel they were quartered in. I had become a friend of their daughter and that was reference enough for them.

Neither my lack of Italian, nor the limited English they possessed, kept the conversation from flowing with the wine over dinner. With the aid of the by now venerated dictionary, there was much to talk about. Through that we spoke of politics, the American President, my travels, the fathers work as a banker and Flavia's ambitions to become a successful commercial artist. Mama just smiled and indicated that I should eat more. I would bring some small gifts each night as a token of appreciation for their hospitality.

Flavia had never been to America, or NYC, and did the drawing from her head. She asked me if it was fairly accurate.  I told her it was perfect. And then, as if it were nothing at all she gave it to me.... and I still have it. From her head to my heart.... and I can still feel the warmth of the Sicilian sun and the breeze as we sat on the wall about 40 years ago....

Transitions

Art is like the wheel; revolving.
As with life; it's all evolving.
Too much trouble, trying to solve
the mysteries that surround me.

And if for a moment, stuck in time,
my views were yours, and your views mine,
would we still search for the signs
of who we were meant to be?

So, continue on and on, we must
repeat mistakes, shake off the dust.
Then get back up, before we rust
as ships sunk in the sea.

With all the things dividing us
It may be hard to focus,
but, try remembering what once was
the world we'd hoped to see....

The Memories Behind Me

I used to work right here.
Or at the plot table in the rear.
It was a feeling held so dear,
which I somehow still recall....

In the recesses of my mind,
there are places where you'll find-
the memories left behind,
are not that far at all...

Pictures in the Rain

Some painters use oil on canvas,
And then they rise to fame.
But I can't paint to save my ass,
So, I take pictures in the rain.....

Nature's Daughter

She's still there
When the birds come for water.
Standing tall and proud
I call her Natures Daughter...

Or.....

She's stood there for some years,
since the day when Sue first bought her.
And though she's never had a name before,
I call her Natures Daughter.

"Waiting" by me

She's waiting
on the pier - there
by the shore.

She's waiting,
like so many
times before.

And when the night falls
she'll hide her pain -
indoors.

But, tomorrow
she'll be back again
once more.

 Wondering,
"What the hell am
I here for?"