The Play's the Thing (Book) - 9/20/2019 9:45:16 AM
A labor of love. The numerous hours and untold heartache it must have taken the author to finish this publication shows in every word.
This is a comprehensive work diary for any theater affection-ado. The myriad of comments by this professional is a treasure trove. The many facets of theater production are highlighted.
The layout of each play with background, synopsis, challenges, and actors' segments gives the reader an exceptional blueprint for the process of productions. Kathleen showcases the plays with tactful but truthful telling of the difficulties and the joys of working in college and community theater.
Shining through at every turn is the author's love of theater and love for her husband. The collaborations they achieved while working together--are nothing short of amazing. It was captivating to read of the professional and personal harmony this couple enjoyed. Clark and Kathleen certainly brought new concepts to their corner of the world in their productions and their interactions with the theater world.
This book would be a wonderful addition to any school's theater department for reference.
Because I enjoyed the easy format and interesting topic has convinced me I should look for this author's first book to read. Obviously, I might find a completely different type of book than The Play's the Thing but that is okay too--never time wasted when reading.
I received a free copy of this book by the author.
Adolescent Depression: Outside /In (Book) - 11/23/2005 8:49:41 PM
viscerally breath-taking. intense, energetic, clear as a whistle, overpoweringly real, strong strong voice, amazing objective/subjective stance. eye opening. powerful poetry although the terrorist one doesn't seem to fit. powerful line "MS. I'm not going away." Informative, want to be reassured sooner as to how or that the MS is also a teacher, ie very strong hook re the right brain compensating. i'd work that up, or you probably do in the next part. bravo. interesting that the writing is intact. wonder how that works. sounds like the change in life is ripe with new ways of experiencing life, rich and spiritual and colorful. look forward to more magic in the unfolding story. makes me miss you.
The Play's the Thing (Book) - 11/20/2004 2:58:45 PM
Thanks for sharing this, Kathy - you helped me to remember that we should all "live well" with whatever we have. Love you.
Adolescent Depression: Outside /In (Book) - 11/19/2004 8:07:48 AM
Just a few immediate reactions after reading part one: It is interesting to me that this narrative about her experience with MS reveals a defining characteristic of Kathy which I am not sure she is aware that she shares with her mother. Namely, Kathy has spent her life serving others. How? Kathy has certainly done so as a counselor, opening rooms of pain with her clients and methodically showing them the light. She has also served in the theater where, she has helped actors and audiences to understand, to glance in to, to peel back the veils of psyche just a bit. This explains the sometimes painful subjects she has chosen to present. Kathy has done so with the feminist groups she has founded or supported, with the teaching she has done and even as a manager where her style was to admire and respect the talents of her team. Kathy is instantly trusting, accepting and supportive and attentive. This is what makes her a great counselor. Her desire to share her experiences and her skill as a writer combine with these traits to make this an intimate and truthful narrative. And once again, I believe it will help to serve others who take the time to read it. Congratulations, Kathy.
At Five (Short Story) - 7/6/2022 12:25:33 PM
I agree with you. Freedom does not mean that we are free to act on our desires when they are detrimental to the representative democracy that has been challenged so many times. We were split apart before but the Union won the slaves were freed, not by the Congress, but by one man, courageous enough to proclaim free with unalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
I recall reading a shorter version of BF Skinner's bike 71 book, Beyond Freedom and Dignity. it made a lot of sense to me as I read it.
itps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beyond_Freedom_and_Dignity
Ron
At Five (Short Story) - 7/5/2022 6:47:02 AM
Although we obviously have differing outlooks and philosophies in some sectors of thought, we seem to agree that prospects are not auspicious for the smooth and untroubled continuity of the Great American Experiment well into the future. That ventured, inveterate pessimist that I am, I would submit that (and taking your title into account as a mind-hook) that the hour-hand of the National Clock (whatever that might be construed to be) is not at 5 o'clock but is rather nearer the 12 o'clock midnight marker... Sadly enough. -K2
Some Things You Ought to Know (Short Story) - 6/21/2022 3:05:31 AM
I've avoided all of those pitfalls from the get-go. In a well-written, frank way, you've confirmed why I have.
Some Things You Ought to Know (Short Story) - 6/20/2022 1:59:00 PM
I found your adventures in dating to be quite hilarious at times. But in the end, you got sober and laid out very nicely your advice for those dating like you have.
Coincidently, my cousin, Sandra Lindbergh, posted her book, 51 Shades of Online Dating: A Guide for People Over 50 right here on AD. She's gotten lots of five-star ratings.
https://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewwork.asp?AuthorID=212719&id=78034
Ron
If You Fall, I'll Be There (the floor) (Short Story) - 6/5/2022 10:01:48 AM
I see this playing out quite often. You have struck a thorn in the side of our modern culture that throws away the elderly rather than take care of them.
Within nine months of becoming severely paralyzed in 1963 in my arms and hands. Being able to walk enabled me to go back to college and become independent again without the need for anyone else even while owning houses that I lived in, cooking my own food and dealing with all of the chores required that a couple normally does all myself like mowing a large lawn and doing my laundry with my own washer and dryer.
But in 1990, when I found that the floor was reaching out to find me falling quite often to broken glasses and bloody cuts requiring stitches, a rehab doctor, a very sharp woman, told me, "You need to get off your feet and into a wheelchair for your own safety. And, you need to start getting someone to help you." She gave me the number to the then TRC (Texas Rehabilitation Commission).
Because of my 30 years of independence without even needing my twin brother and living a thousand miles away from my parents, my brothers, and my sister, I struggled on for two more years before I made that call that got me an electric wheelchair supplied free by the state of Texas, and funds to hire help for three months, plus instruction on how to hire.
She went so far as having a complete workup of my spine after trying a supposed cure that a young neurologist using steroids tried for two years that didn't work.
To say that the good Dr. didn't care, would be a lie. She cared so much that she eventually had to leave that practice because caring consumed her so much trying to help people like me.
Ron
Jack Came Back (Short Story) - 6/4/2022 12:49:12 PM
Your story had a few little typo like glitches, but otherwise read like great fiction, if it wasn't real.
Why I think that real stories are far better than fictional stories. I don't know if you got the wording from listening to Jack. Or, whether you are just using your own creative writing juices. But lines like, "…the indescribable smell of death crept under their skin like the sticky syrup filling in each tiny square of a giant waffle for an insatiable war mouth." are sheer brilliance!
I have often thought about what veterans have gone through. But your story added greatly to my knowledge. I half expected Jack to commit suicide at the end of the story like my cousin's son did after a short military career. But perhaps he didn't. I know that arriving at the island may have soothed his raging mind, but that certainly isn't the end of the story for Jack.
Ron
Jack Came Back (Short Story) - 6/4/2022 4:25:37 AM
Your story delivered a wallop without mincing words.
In Memory of Jim Bleckel, my dear friend (Article) - 1/1/2024 11:13:00 AM
A wonderful memorial from a true friend.
A high school friend of mine died recently, while he became a respected citizen in his work and in the community that he and his wife settled in, I am unable to write a memoir for him because I don't really know, except when I saw him at a couple of reunions, all that he has been doing except his love of Chevrolet cars and hunting responsibly.
Ron
Spring 1972 (Article) - 7/23/2022 1:58:52 PM
In the spring of 1972 I was firmly ensconced in a little efficiency on campus with only one window on the parking lot and my grandmother's 17 inch rabbit ear black-and-white TV with only two stations, one in Wheeling and one in Pittsburgh, both a bit grainy but my eye on the larger world.
Walking through the dirty snow I was studying for my doctorate and told to look into educational philosophy. It was my first real introduction to philosophy and I found fascinating the way that philosophers thought, well beyond the range of current events. It was my introduction to a different view of technology than what I had before. Like General Electric, I learned that progress was not our most important product. Human understanding and empathy had to progress to keep up.
Thanks for reminding me with your experience.
Ron
High School Years 1968 to 1972 (Article) - 6/1/2022 8:25:25 AM
A great representation of your time in high school with its turbulent ramifications with families split apart, drugs entering the scene, and a failed war bringing shame on the United States that had reveled in victory after World War II.
I graduated in 1961 In central Wisconsin during an idyllic time for youngsters like me to struggle with growing up but not a lot of the other problems that came during your high school years. We had our problems with our parents over our music with Elvis, Little Richard, and Chubby Checker, among others putting action in the music and what our parents thought was too sexual. Even though we had invaders from the South constructing a gas pipeline that we called, the Pipeliners who added spice to our junior and senior years there were no Blacks in our small town and only one student who came in our junior year had any Native American blood. Even though our county had the largest population of Native Americans in the state.
But I welcomed everything that came after and was fortunate to participate in civil rights and the antiwar movement in college. I was also fortunate not to look down on returning veterans. I actually befriended a couple of them who had returned to our college on the G.I. Bill. And worked with some veterans years later who had come back to a better life in spite of the problems they may have had with PTSD and disliked by their high school classmates.
My partner often tells me that she regrets the day in 1975 when she was 17 and about to finish high school and going to pharmacy. Instead, she spent two years with her brothers in the wilderness growing sweet potatoes and chickens that she never killed to eat. And then, trying to escape six times. One time, stranded on a desert island by crooks who dropped them there, having the Vietcong rescue them from dying of thirst. But then putting them in jail for 30 days. Eventually, being sponsored by her brother who escaped by walking to Thailand and had shared that island and jail with her, She arrived here and took 17 years to get her citizenship.
In 1971, I returned on vacation to California. Staying with a friend whose adopted daughter that he thought I might be interested in. We attended her high school graduation. Unfortunately, a neighbor and good friend of hers, also a senior with epilepsy, had died from a seizure while swimming alone in his family swimming pool where she swam with him often. Putting a damper on her graduation. I watched as the senior class passed joints among the first two rows and the valedictorian gave a rousing speech about how their generation was going to change the world for the better.
Ron
Not Home (Poetry) - 9/18/2026 4:57:54 AM
Thoroughly enjoyed this fun capture, Kathleen!
I'm right there with you on the floor!
Lives (Poetry) - 8/29/2026 6:33:25 PM
Love that last line. I'm getting younger every year. Will be a bawling baby before I go.
Ron
If life wasn't so unmanageable (Poetry) - 8/17/2026 1:32:56 PM
Perhaps a man cave would work, to cower, hide, drink, play, I mean work masterfully and craftily creating you work where time stands still - until...
If life wasn't so unmanageable (Poetry) - 7/31/2026 1:37:52 PM
As we age I think we all look back at earlier times, simpler times.
One way that people have been combating it, like my mother and my sister, are to purposely downsize. Clean out the attic and give away or throw away all of those things no longer needed. Move into a smaller place, once or twice, and only have pictures of that dollhouse left behind.
Ron
Measure for Measure (Poetry) - 7/31/2026 12:54:07 PM
Shakespeare still reaches us after all these years.
Ron
Geraniums (Poetry) - 6/27/2026 11:27:12 AM
Gosh, I love this. I plant geraniums every year, and bring at least one pot in to winter and bloom. They remind me of my dad ... who hated them -- weird I know, but this poem really drove that home. I could picture my dad, the engineer (his career, our dad, so he could give us the life he felt we deserved), but as a little boy in a school room, gazing out the window past those "stinking geraniums."
The Living Room of my Life (Poetry) - 6/26/2026 6:35:55 PM
I am right here with you. Well, not in the same room ... because that would be weird. But this resonates ... really, really resonates.
Geraniums (Poetry) - 6/16/2026 2:40:20 PM
You have a better memory than I. But I do remember the desks. The ink well that we did not have to use. The carving and the ancient gum hardened like rock.
And our second grade teacher, Miss Colburn. They only grade school teacher I remember, because she gave me a D in math. We called her, Miss Cold Burn when she wasn't listening.
Later I got even. Scored in the 98th percentile on the graduate record exam on the quantitative part. Not so good on the verbal. Only the 45th percentile. Why I'm still learning how to write.
Ron
Abducted (Poetry) - 5/26/2026 6:26:08 PM
There is no loss as sad as losing a pet, especially one as brave as yours. I feel your pain.
The Living Room of my Life (Poetry) - 5/26/2026 6:11:04 PM
You stripped away all my defenses, and told me a tale I will not soon forget.
The Living Room of my Life (Poetry) - 5/24/2026 7:54:09 AM
An interesting perspective. I would love to be waiting by the Riverbank in the spring watching the migrating birds come back and create a new brood of little ducklings to follow their mother looking for food.
Lost loved ones would not be on my mind, watching these newcomers enjoying the lessons of their mother.
Ron
Abducted (Poetry) - 5/12/2026 12:07:01 PM
Yours was a kind abduction. So sad to hear that she was so full of disease that it's shortened her life and her time with you.
I took in an orphan, also black as coal and tough as nails. After his first attack by three pitbulls he suffered an occasional seizure, but otherwise, he was very healthy. Just the target of larger dogs who like to pick on smaller dogs like he was.
Ron
Reflections (Poetry) - 4/7/2026 3:00:05 PM
It's easy to reflect on what is poisoning us as we lose one species after another with no coming back. No zoo kept specimens to recuperate and return to the wild.
No, write a book about making wealth without producing anything of any value and it will be a very good seller if not a best seller. People seek out greed, gold dug from the Earth as its price increases. Destruction you subtly describe tearing awa the very fabric of the living ecosystem.
It is certain that the Earth and life, itself, will exist long after our species lies rotting in the sun, never to return.
Ron
She Was (Poetry) - 2/8/2026 6:34:50 AM
Special K, A rather vivid domestic metaphor where the Hoover becomes a quietly powerful stand-in for endurance, duty, and unacknowledged labour.
Superb
To Fly (Poetry) - 1/19/2026 2:11:29 PM
My destiny, too. So glad you got to. I didn't fly until I got my first zero pressure van to drive from my electric wheelchair with just my hands and a head button for miscellaneous actions.
Driving was like flying because the vehicle seemed to magically float in the direction and speed that I wanted it. I suppose if I had enough money I could have gotten a small plane with those kinds of controls in it.
In the meantime, whenever I flew, I tried to get a window seat and spent most of my time looking out the window except went over oceans or clouds.
Ron
To Fly (Poetry) - 1/17/2026 6:08:00 PM
It must be a special feeling to be up there looking down, very well penned, great poem Kathleen
The Land of Opposite ( Revised) (Poetry) - 1/9/2026 10:43:23 AM
Sparky always the sparky gets the blame. :)
This is quite the take on the path more travelled. (Even if un-meant.
The Collective Face of Love (Poetry) - 11/28/2025 9:26:52 AM
You described the days when we would get together with aunts on both sides of the family on Thanksgiving days making for a loud, but not rouchous gathering at a table or two.
When my mother was in charge at our house, she was so organized that everything came off on time and the gravy was one of the best of the many hot dishes on the table.
I'm so glad I had those Thanksgiving days in my youth.
Ron
I Used to Be (Poetry) - 11/16/2025 6:43:26 PM
Everything in life has a season dear Kathleen, it appears you have done much in your life to help others. Now its your time as Reba would say to see and do what you need to do, for your soul, great write ,
I Used to Be (Poetry) - 11/3/2025 3:10:30 PM
Quite an introspective piece that I enjoyed. Yes, there comes a time when it's better to just bow out and let the younger generations take over and have their say in things.
Ron
Sand (Poetry) - 10/28/2025 9:39:13 AM
You make me wish I could walk, barefoot, either on the sandy shore or along a trail littered with ancient leaves. Being close to life that always dies but leaves a nostalgic residue to remember us by.
Ron
Murdock 82423 (Poetry) - 10/25/2025 9:46:47 AM
A wonderful childhood romp where I learned a bit about your life in the Oakland Hills.
It wasn't until I got to Junior High School before we had a vice principal – the principal was a nice guy, let us off when he caught us throwing leftover Easter eggs at the school – who was the sadistic disciplinarian. If a young guy got out of line, he would grab him in that shoulder grip that was sure to cause spinal pain and drag him off to detention… maybe, a paddling. I don't know, I never crossed him to find out.
Ron
The Reflection Seen (Poetry) - 10/21/2025 10:11:09 AM
Indeed, the unknown country-ish.
Yet it is there awaiting, hope not too soon, :)
The Reflection Seen (Poetry) - 10/15/2025 9:38:06 AM
Metaphysically, I believe I understand. I am at that border closer every day. Make cross sooner or later. It's not for me to say… but much closer than it ever has been in my life before.
Ron
Phil's River Lethe (Poetry) - 10/15/2025 9:33:39 AM
It's sad when one loses someone one can confide in and learn from.
Ron
Tea Party Anyone? Anyone? (Poetry) - 7/29/2025 12:31:28 PM
You've nailed it with very few words. It's for the 90% of good people in this country to stop following ideologies and start individually doing what is right for the country.
It was about money then and it's about money now. But at least the rich business men and land owners who were our founding fathers were well educated in the arts, sciences and forms of government to come up with the wonderful check and balance government we have. Those checks and balances should never be breached.
During this administration they've been breached many times. The most grievous of which is the loading of the Supreme Court with far right wing oligarchs reversing long-held reforms that need to stay in place.
We have to speak up. We have to vote. We have to throw the money mongers out of the temple.
Ron
Phil (Poetry) - 7/28/2025 12:21:52 PM
Reads like Phil was one of those extraordinary people that come along in this world and light up everything they do.
Your description reminded me of a friend of mine, a World War II submariner and coworker of mine in California. Jack took me into his home like I was his son, while he had three sons, one born, while I was working with him. I wrote a story about him here.
Ron
Lucas (Poetry) - 6/12/2025 2:11:20 PM
He's got the same kind of clever confidence in that look that matches his auntie in her picture alongside. Let's just hope that he keeps that great positive attitude throughout his entire life like you have.
Ron
As Hope Forgives (Poetry) - 6/6/2025 7:23:58 PM
A lover of nature!
So rare yet so effectively pure.
How sweet it is...
This Back Door Life (Poetry) - 6/6/2025 7:04:00 PM
A very nice mood setter, leaving me wanting more.
You are very addictive.
As Hope Forgives (Poetry) - 6/2/2025 5:52:48 AM
Your words touch my heart..
Spring always returns
reminding us of
precious memories of times past…
Rebirth… always brings a fresh
perspective, and new beginnings…
H o p e
Diana…🌿
As Hope Forgives (Poetry) - 5/31/2025 9:45:30 AM
Yes, the rebirth of spring is a wonderful to behold. What was once made barren by the freeze of winter, comes alive in ways you describe. Nature finds away for spring flooding to be basically beneficial and not destructive. So unlike we think of our property as so important, but just temporary in nature's grand scheme of things.
You have briefly told a huge story with few words that let us know precisely what's happening. A real gift.
Ron
This Back Door Life (Poetry) - 5/31/2025 9:38:04 AM
Very haunting and true for those of us aging. I have birds hitting my massive backyard windows almost every day, thinking they are flying with a fellow bird or merging with themselves. Fortunately, most survive the punishing blow.
I do go out in the sun and find that it is evermore blinding and unbearable to my skin on my face. It's the shimmering glint of reflection that probably disorient the birds and bothers me and you, I believe.
Wish I could write poetry like this.
Ron
Sad or Merely True (Poetry) - 8/16/2024 1:45:29 PM
Murmurs of that famous book, Silent Spring. We solve that problem by getting together and dealing with it.
Now is the time for us to mount a war. Not a war against any other people or country on the planet, but a war against the cause of why our global atmosphere is beating to the point where it may be already too far for anyone to stop it.
Ron
Finite Time (Poetry) - 6/5/2024 3:22:10 PM
Time is infinite, although we try to capture it based on the 24 hour day. I agree that there's nothing more delightful than opening the window or the door to the outside and letting it in.
Ron
My nephew, Johnny (Poetry) - 2/6/2024 2:19:07 PM
You made Johnny feel special.
Ron
My nephew, Johnny (Poetry) - 2/4/2024 7:31:15 AM
Lovely tribute to a loved one.
Like Flowers Pressed (Poetry) - 2/3/2024 10:09:36 AM
I think you are writing about fossilized thoughts. Whereas, we put flowers and leaves we like between the pages of books so that we can observe them later, so too, are our words that are held between the pages of books we have published. Beautiful words we want to keep.
At least that's the way I see the poem is communicating to me.
Ron
Christmas Past (Poetry) - 2/2/2024 12:32:03 PM
Some great memories. And some parallels…
My dad and my uncle in mortal combat at the card table. My younger twin brothers showing off walking on their hands or doing dual gymnastics for our entertainment in the middle of the living room floor. And there was that Christmas morning when they looked out the window and saw the new snowmobile sitting in the new snow, eager to put on their boots and coats, forgetting about breakfast to get outside and try it.
Ron
Underground Tunnel (Poetry) - 2/1/2024 12:05:39 PM
Really sounds frightful.
Strange, I have no PTSD of waking up in the hospital after elective surgery find that I was paralyzed from the neck down. I have fairly good memory of it, but it never has come back to haunt me.
Ron
Mars Reigns (Poetry) - 12/14/2023 1:34:49 PM
Beautifully, succinctly, and poignantly expressed. What horrid must be like to be in a war zone with buildings collapsing all around you. Bad water and no food. Cold at night and a hot sun during the day. No place to run to.
I wouldn't wish it on anyone. But like you wrote, Mars rules that has for very long time. To the victor go the spoils and to hell with the victims. The murderers of war are only doing their righteous duty and cannot be held accountable for those they murder--yet.
Ron
Rip the Sky (Poetry) - 12/14/2023 1:28:07 PM
Such a sad state of affairs when we can't get our world together in the twenty-first century when it is needed more than ever to stop fighting each other and save ourselves from what is worse than war.
Ron
Disaster (Poetry) - 10/28/2023 10:40:21 AM
Human memory spans generations and revenge is one of the strongest emotions. The two major wars, and probably all of the wars continuing go back thousands of years where some initial travesty led to hatred that never goes away and gets worse as the centuries continue and schisms increase with leadership rhetoric driving us apart and angry.
When oppression becomes too great, there is a natural backlash that takes place. The only way I see to end it is for the world to realize what is happening and everyone get together to solve major problems we face with overcrowding, famine, lack of clean water and healthy food, and evermore prevalent disease. We have to stop ruling with money and power and change it to ruling for good.
Ron
The Drugstore (Poetry) - 9/8/2023 1:59:15 PM
Thank you for the description of what a budding drugstore manager does. It goes far beyond dealing with drugs. That's what the stores have pharmacists for.
Whew! That's a lot of work for the pay.
Ron
Fifty Years Later (Poetry) - 3/19/2023 8:39:47 AM
At the 50th there are so many missing. Enjoyed, Kathleen.
Fifty Years Later (Poetry) - 9/23/2022 7:43:00 AM
You're right, the 50th certainly defines what we have become from those heady days of high school ambitions. I like that word individuate.
Made me recall my 50th where I surprised everyone by being there. Everybody pretty well stuck to their high school groups, but afterward a lot of people came around asking me about my books.
My twin brother went to our 60th last year only to find that half of the class is already gone. Not sure how many more reunions will be.
Ron
The Empty Mall (Poetry) - 8/17/2022 8:59:35 AM
I have to guess that this was a true experience for you and your family. And it certainly was sad.
I don't know about malls. But my partner tells me that, while marginal businesses have failed, business is back and booming here in Houston. Like diseases remove the weak people like me (I just survived a week of Omicron), their economic affects have and can show us the weakness in our economy, like our dependence on foreign production of goods rather than producing locally. Single source producers shut down for various reasons unrelated to demand.
Your our description matches something that has been happening here in Houston for a long time based on white flight and upward mobility. Suburban sprawl has resulted in top malls turning into what you describe. For example, Sharpstown Mall was the first mall in the United States to be air-conditioned in 1961. Mr. Sharp even gave homes to Apollo astronauts in his planned community. When I arrived in 1981, Sharpstown was thriving. But by 2000 it was as you described. Morphed a couple of times by redevelopment, it is still there. But like several other malls, not for shopping and entertainment anymore.
Ron
The Empty Mall (Poetry) - 8/16/2022 6:20:59 PM
ooh your piece took me back. i remember when this was all starting, but i'm glad people are no longer fearing it as much. it was nice to take a walk on the streets without much noise on the first weeks though. thank you for writing this.
Space Dog (Poetry) - 7/6/2022 8:19:07 PM
this is so sweet. makes me wanna come home to my dogs and spend the whole day with them. thank you.
Space Dog (Poetry) - 7/6/2022 11:12:25 AM
A wonder dog!!! I enjoyed your choice of words to describe her. So precious!
Sandie :)
Space Dog (Poetry) - 7/5/2022 11:26:17 AM
Dogs are remarkable athletes. They certainly seem to defy gravity at times.
Ron
Space Dog (Poetry) - 7/5/2022 6:38:36 AM
GREATLY enjoyed this one, Kathleen. As someone who has been a keen dog person all of my life (I live for my huskies), but also as an aerospace professional (retired) and someone particularly interested in the mid-50s Soviet 'space dog' program, this one resonates with me. As I write this, my 14 year old husky bitch cradles my toes in her thick fur and listens suavely to the tippity-tappety of my keyboard strokes, obviously trying to determine where exactly the potential for a doggie treat fits into the equation... Stormy weather, dogs and enjoyable poems...what more can one ask out of life? -K2
Summer Gardens (Poetry) - 7/5/2022 6:30:48 AM
Very thoughtfully composed and metaphorically 'on pulse', speaking as one flower to another. Enjoyed this one. -K2
The Announcement (Poetry) - 6/8/2022 9:29:14 AM
Cracked me up with that last line! But I could see it coming. You signaled mighty. If everyone had a good sense of humor like you and I, instead of worrying about the inevitable that never comes, this world would be a wonderful place to live in. Good for you, kudos!
Ron
The Announcement (Poetry) - 6/7/2022 4:23:58 PM
goodness, all through out i was at the edge of my seat and cannot take another bite of my meal. ahahahaha i enjoyed the thrill in your poetry. thank you
Day of Memorials (Poetry) - 5/30/2022 9:43:16 AM
A stunning reminder that so many survivors of war, who never forget their comrades who they lost in battle, end up being forgotten. Very poignant.
Until they couldn't anymore, my mother and father always attended Memorial Day services in the early morning at Riverside Cemetery on the Black River where they both were born, lost friends during World War II that they never mentioned. I probably would've attended those ceremonies that my uncle participated in until he disappeared in 1962, a PTSD casualty of World War II like another uncle of mine.
Ron
Day of Memorials (Poetry) - 5/29/2022 3:34:56 PM
Thank you Kathleen for this memorial day poem. It's a time of reflection tomorrow with many deep emotions. I am the wife of a very disabled American Indian Army veteran who proudly served his nation and we honor those beloved sacrifice of American soldiers . My prayers are that we can keep freedom here so those that died did not die in vien
The Secret Eye (Poetry) - 5/27/2022 9:56:12 AM
Reads like a mystery novel.
Ron
