"Neptune's Surveillance" by George Asdel
The Seeing Eye plant
Keeps watch on fish in the sea
Looks for strange movement,
"Unfishlike activities"
Then reports to King Neptune
Naked On 9/11 by Elizabeth Buckner
Early that Thursday morning
as I step out of the shower
to listen to the weather report
to know what to wear
to work at the prison
I stand naked and awed
struck by the thought:
"The inmates wear their insides
on their outsides!"
In other words, they know
that any staff can read their file
at any time to learn
about their life and crimes.
Then, aghast, I hear
Bob Edwards, radio host of
NPR's Morning Edition
announce:
"An airplane has just flown
into one of the Twin Towers
in New York City!"
I run, towel in hand, turn on the TV
watch in horror turning to terror
as the plane plows into the tower.
In less than an hour
two more aircraft are diverted to death
with a fourth one in the air somewhere
as I drive to work on Highway 101
over and down the Cuesta Grade
with the other morning commuters
I am struck by another thought:
"We float along
in our respective auto bubbles
connected by a web of fear
anxiously listen to the radio
unconsciously hold our breath
wait for the fourth plane to fall
wonder where; here?"
These abominable acts
rip open the soft underbelly
of the American dream.
We are exposed
naked to the world
then Lady Liberty
the soul of America
our goddess of mercy
and compassion
steps through this hole
in our collective soul
and says:
"Let the healing begin again."
"In the Building" by Curt Hinkle
In Kevlar and Nomex
Bunker coat and heavy boots
Climbing
Past people
Escaping
Six pound pick-head axe
Clutched in gloved fingers
Climbing
Past fear
Rushing down
Bullard dome hat
Tanks and mask
Climbing
Toward
Heaven
Letter to Roxie: "Icon" by Betty Finocchiaro
Hey Roxie,
Last night at Vina Robles Winery, I thought I was dreaming. Tony Bennett was crooning in my ear. I awoke to find he was really standing before me, on stage. Today, I'm on that famous cloud, number nine. I know you'll believe me when I tell you I was 16 years old again, screaming with the pack of them at Frankie's concert. All of the giddiness and excitement of the Sinatra days rushed over me and I was as elated as in my bobby sox days. Roxie, it almost felt the same with Frank Sinatra and a young Tony Bennett, just getting started. I'm still on another plane.
Imagine to have had a similar experience like in the days of "Frankie!" But, this time it was "Tony!" You couldn't help but realize that this possibly was the beginning of the end for a fabulous career, and it was poignant. We started out together. We, the adoring fans already in love with them at the dawn of their careers. They, the iconic entertainers they were destined to become.
But this was Tony's night. And at the age of 87, few, with the passage of so much time, could belt out a song like he did last evening. His notes almost reached the stars! Roxie, It was such a nostalgic evening for me. Flashes of warm memories filled my heart almost making me forget that, that era had been a rough time too. Why is that? Why do we always look at the past through a rose - colored veil that hides all imperfections.
It was the time of our generation, children all, who watched our parents' struggle to make, as Tony notes in his memoir, "The Good Life, The Autobiography of Tony Bennett," a better world for their kids. I really believe too, that because of so much sacrifice, Tom Brokaw knew what he was saying when he branded that time as "The Greatest Generation." With so much self-sacrifice, so many became successful. With exceptional talent, one had it all.
I vainly felt I had an advantage over some in the audience, because you know how close each town in the Boroughs of New York City are to each other. I know too that you're aware he comes from Astoria, and that I grew up in Corona, New York, both in the Borough of Queens. We came from the same ethnic background, with parents who suffered the odds to help give us the opportunities that life in this country offered. With not too many years between us, we could have walked the same streets, shopped at the same shops. What better credentials than that?!
He was the Man last night. A beautiful dreamer of songs, like "Boulevard of Broken Dreams ," "The Good Life" and his lovely rendition of "I Left my Heart in San Francisco." I was, and still am high on Dopamine… What a trip.
We've aged, he and I, but why worry? It's been a good life, despite all. Tony Bennett, also known as Anthony Benedetto, never met Betty Maio, who cheered him on every opportunity she could, loving this icon, his talent, for all the joy he has given the world.
If you're wondering why I keep mentioning Frank Sinatra, Tony is to blame. His entrance was announced by none other than "The Voice," a recording of course, which gave homage to Sinatra. Some of us screamed again.
I wish you could have been here last night, Roxie. My girls were with me and they got a glimpse into who their mother was so many years ago. For a brief time, I returned to that place as a young girl I was desperately trying to get away from. I wanted to be a woman, push time forward, now wishing I could go back to where I was yesterday. With all of the wisdom I gathered along the way, of course.
I loved seeing Tony Bennett again. He may be of another generation, but his songs are timeless and his spirit is forever young.
Take care, dear friend and know that I love you,
Betty |
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Strange Lights in the Night by Connie Shepard
"There it is again!" Eleven-year-old Jerry Robertson peered out his upstairs bedroom window. For three nights in a row a mysterious light had floated around in the vacant house next door. He burst into his parents' room the first night he saw the light and he shook his father's shoulder to wake him, Jerry waved his arms around as he told him what he saw in the Reynolds's old house.
Parent fashion, they greeted his news bulletin with, "Jerry, it's four a.m. You're dreaming. Go back to bed." His protests were met with a firm "Now. Jerry to bed."
Jerry went back to his room and stared out the window again watching the light bob around. This time he saw a figure pass in front of the beam of light. He was so excited he almost ran to tell his parents. He didn't because he knew what they'd say.
The For Sale sign was still in front of the Reynolds' old house, so he knew the house wasn't sold. "I bet someone is plotting a crime over there, or maybe someone is being held hostage. He got in bed, pulled the covers up to his chin and said aloud, "I'm not dreaming!"
At school, Jerry told Hal, his best friend, about the lights and the figure he saw. "Wow, that's cool. Maybe it's ghosts Can I come help you investigate?"
"Sure. See if you can come over Saturday. No one at home listens to me. They say I have an Active imagination, said Jerry. I think they mean I'm lying. but I don't believe in ghosts." At least he didn't think he did. Right now he wasn't so sure. He finally got his mother to look out his window that night and, wouldn't you know, the light was gone.
"Jerry, there's nothing there. Please go to bed so we all can get some sleep. Tomorrow is a big day for for you, remember? Good night."
He sighed, flopped on his bed and thought about the next day. He had volunteered to videotape the class play with his parents' camera. They actually agreed to trust him with it for the day. Dad gave him the usual warnings about dropping, loaning, or worse, losing it.
The next day after school Jerry decided to investigate the house next door as soon as he got home. He couldn't wait for Hal. It would only take a minute, he told himself. Cautiously, he pushed through the high bushes surrounding the house. The thorny branches tore at his clothes as he reached the window. It was covered by a closed blind. I can't see anything with that stupid blind there, he muttered. He circled the house. All the windows were the same.
Jerry went up the back steps. He tried to see in the glass-paned door that was covered by a lace curtain. As he pressed his face against the glass, the door opened a crack. It wasn't latched! Cautiously he looked into the darkened room and entered. He stumbled over a tipped-over wastebasket and sprawled on the kitchen floor. He found himself face to face with a small pair of sneaker-clad feet. As he struggled to his feet a small figure scampered out of sight in the dimness. Jerry fought the impulse to run, took the video camera out of his backpack and started shooting.
He got shots of the counter with a plate containing the remains of a meal on it and started into the darkened dining room when a loud voice shouted, "Hey kid, git outta' here. And don't come back if you know what's good for you."
Jerry nearly dropped the video camera. He backed rapidly toward the door recording as he went. With shaking hands he fumbled with the now closed door. The knob spun in his sweaty hand, then finally caught. He clawed the door open, sprinted down the steps and reached home in what he was sure was a new world's record time.
Polly, the teenager who stays with Jerry while his parents are at work, saw his pale perspiring face exclaimed, "Jerry, are you o.k.?"
"They ... they're there. I saw them."
"Who? Where?
Gasping for breath, Jerry related the story of the strange lights he saw and of his recent encounter in the vacant house. "Come see for yourself."
"Scary! I'm not going, and you shouldn't have either."
"But, they might be kidnappers or killers. We've got to find out."
"Forget it. Especially if they're kidnappers or killers! It's probably just ghosts."
‘Ghosts don't eat food."
"Just kidding, she said.
"Let's call the police then."
"And tell them what? That you were trespassing? Maybe it was people checking their new house. You don't know."
"But why don't they ever come outside? Why's there no furniture?"
"I don't know. And I'm not going to find out. Period."
"Aw, Polly you could just stay outside and look," Jerry said. He dropped his backpack and the video camera on the floor and slouched in a chair, clutching the camera. Pleeese, Polly. We'll just peek in the door."
"No way, and that's final.
"Aw gee. Then can I have a snack?"
When the Robertsons came home he and Polly told them about his afternoon adventure. "I didn't go look, but Jeff looked scared enough to convince me that someone must be there."
"I have the video tape. Let me show you."
After they all looked at the shadowy video they looked grim. "Jeff, I think you know what I'm going to say."
"I guess I shouldn't be trespassing."
"No," said his father. "It was a dangerous thing to do. You could have been hurt or worse. Promise you will not ever take a foolish chance like that again." Mr. Robertson called the police and told them of the trespassers and of the video tape.
It wasn't long before a police car with two officers arrived. They split up and walked around the house. A young boy burst out of the back door and ran to one of them. The policeman picked him up and placed him in the squad car. They entered the house with guns drawn and soon escorted a shabbily dressed, unshaven man in handcuffs. He was put in the back seat.
As he watched, Jerry was dying of curiosity. He could tell his parents were also. The officer who had carried the small boy to the car knocked on their door. "Would you mind if Noel and I waited here for social services to come for him."
"Of course not," said Mrs. Robertson. Come in and have a seat. Noel looked around the room and stuck his thumb in his mouth. "Would you like to sit on my lap Noel?" He shyly nodded and sidled up to her.
Officer Miller called social services. "I understand you have a tape, young man. I need to take it with me."
"Yes, sir," said Jerry. His father removed the tape from the camera and handed it over.
Soon, a kindly looking gray -haired woman rang the doorbell. She bent down and told Noel her name. "I bet you'd like to go see your mommie, wouldn't you? Noel stared at her as if it may be a trick like his father pulled last week. He had told him they were going to Disney Land but they had stayed in the dark, spooky house instead.
The policeman picked Noel up. "It's OK fella'. I'll go with you."
The woman stayed behind long enough to tell them that Noel's father didn't have custody, but took him without the mother's knowledge. She has been frantic ever since.
After she left, Mr. Robertson looked at Jeff. "Well, Jeff I don't know whether to scold you or praise you for helping a scared little boy back to his mother. I'll have to think about it."
The next day the newspaper said, "Neighbor Youngster Discovers Missing Boy." The TV ran his footage of inside the darkened house. Jeff noticed the pictures looked rather shaky.
Jeff touched his head to feel if it was swollen. His grandpa had warned him not to get a swelled head from all the publicity. "Nope, it feels the same as always. He smiled.
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