Tuesday, December 19, 2017

Tomorrow is too late

Stan Sullivan was a friend of mine. We were stationed in the UK together during the Gulf War. After he retired from the Air Force in 1992 and I moved back to Texas, we eventually lost touch with each other. For the past couple of years I've been looking for Stan, wanting to re-connect, to get back together, share a few puns (he loved coming up with new ones), but he hated computers and technology, which made him hard to find.

Until it was too late.

I found out today that Stanton A. Sullivan died in 2007. I don't know how it happened -- car accident, health issues -- but he was only 54, and I was 10 years too late to renew a friendship that once meant a lot to me.

If you have an old friend you haven't spoken to in years, today would be a great time to get back in touch. Maybe you can call them, write, or meet each other at Whataburger and enjoy a bit of catch up with your fries.

Saturday, December 16, 2017

All I want for Christmas is a tumbleweed

I wrote this little verse several years ago with the hope of convincing my wife we needed a tumbleweed for a Christmas Tree.
I'm still hoping.

O Tumbleweed, O Tumbleweed,
your dried-up twigs are okie-doke.
O Tumbleweed, O Tumbleweed,
your dried-up twigs are okie-doke.

We rolled you in without a doubt,
When Christmas's done, 
we'll roll you out.

O Tumbleweed, O Tumbleweed,
your dried-up twigs are okie-doke.

Thursday, December 14, 2017

If you can't smile, fake it

I'm sure historians will look back at our time and ask,
"What they hell were they thinking?
Were they all fast asleep, or stoned out on crack,
or maybe passed out from their drinking

five shots and three beers every night wouldn't do it,
they'd have to drink gallons and gallons.
Or maybe a plague of good old fashion stupid
made all of them just throw the towel in."

Not all of us, sir, of that you can take
to the bank, if you get my expression.
For some of us fought back with knuckles and words,
and how dare you even bring up the question

of our integrity, our honor, our love for our brothers,
our knowing what's good from what's evil.
But I will admit it looks bad on the face of it;
barkeep, set us up with more refills

while I bury my face in my hands at the thought
of our progeny questioning our marbles.
"Did they have some? Who cares, they're all dead. How 'bout pizza?"
And the world moves on. It's a marvel.


Thursday, December 7, 2017

New haiku

Harvest moon
The moon is lovely
super or just old Clark Kent
wearing suit and tie.

*   *   *

Another Sunday
morning run to sponge away
Saturday's buffet.

*   *   *

I spend my daylight
not saving time but using
the hell out of it.

*   *   *

Only an hour?
I say we set back our clocks
to Obama time.

*   *   *

Out Harvest-mooning
like a little child, giddy
to see miracles.