I think of my many Thanksgivings.
We talked about the Pilgrims
And their many sacrifices.
We spoke about their Indian friends
Who helped them along the way.
We children sat at our little table,
While the adults all sat at theirs.

Years later, I marched in the High School Band.
We twirlers, twirled at Half-Time
Freezing our ungloved hands.
And when the football game was over,
Came home to a nice warm house.
Everyone was waiting for me,
Including the turkey, who was placed upon the table!

I thought of the many Thanksgiving dinners I cooked.
Of the year when everything was on the table,
Ready to be eaten.
But the turkey wasn’t yet done.
So my Aunty Jo jumped in and took charge!
She put that turkey back in the oven,
And made everything right again!

And of a friend who cooked her first turkey.
Resplendent with gizzards…papers and all,
Still left in the turkey,
Where all the stuffing should go!

But most of all I remember
The wonderful memories of
Little kids and a great big dog.
Of Nanny peeling potatoes and onions.
And Mom coming in with the pies…

I would get up at the crack of dawn
Just to start making the stuffing.
Then Mom and I would fill up a plate
So we could have a “little” bite…
Had to make sure that it was all right!

All of that was many years ago.
Situations change.
Different actors play the roles.
But Tradition marches on,
Keeping step with Time.

Family continues enjoying each other
And being so grateful for what we have.
We are blessed!
I hope that you are, too!

Happy Thanksgiving!
From all of us to you!


Don’t Hang Up!

The “Don’t Hang Up Guy!” called me once again!
I raced to the phone and after a wait,
The “Don’t Hang Up Guy!” begins his spiel.
He behaves as though he is my friend.

Stop calling me!
I do not want to hear your voice
Grating on my ear!
Giving me orders left and right
Is NOT what I want to hear!

Whatever are you talking about
As you interrupt my day?
I’ll hang up if I want to,
No matter what you say!

“Good Bye,” Say I, sweetly,
To the robot on the phone.
Please don’t call me ever again.
Why won’t you leave me alone!


The day that I met Smokey, I was lying in the bed.
As I awoke, I found him, head so near my head!
He stared at me in wonder,
Or was it calculating thought?

He then sat upon the book I read.
I couldn’t turn the page.
He just sat and stared at me
And never turned his head.

He got up. Stretched lazily.
He approached, with grace and stealth,
Darcy, the dog, who was taking a nap.
He slowly reached out and smacked her,
Right across her head.

The dog retaliated.
She snatched up Smokey’s bed.
She began running toward the door with it,
As fast as her dachshund legs would go!

But Smokey just watched her.
He haughtily stood his ground.
He turned around with such disdain,
Ignoring the lot of us!

I quickly discovered that Smokey,
With his fur of grey and his big green eyes,
Was to the Manor Born.
The rest of us inconsequential things…
His staff!

The Sailor

In October 1972, after receiving word that his 58 year old father died suddenly, a young sailor, my cousin Tom Hunt, traveled from his ship in Japan to New York. After a grueling 44 hour trip… including an emergency landing in Seattle, he stepped into the terminal at JFK, still dressed in his tropical whites. He was followed by a Hare Krishna type who kept spitting on him while calling him “Child Killer!” “Murderer!” “War Monger!” and more!

I have always been both outraged and saddened by this display. I thank him, my uncle, my cousins, my brother, and especially my father who was KIA, and never became a Veteran.

Thank you so much! You’ve helped to keep this Beautiful Country safe for us all!


The Sailor

The young sailor got off the plane
On that beautiful October day.
He walked through the Terminal at the busy JFK.
He thought of his father, as he made his way,
And what had transpired while he was gone.

When suddenly, without much warning,
A man approached, shouting,
“Baby killer! Murderer! War Monger!”
And he was spit upon!
And he kept spitting on him as he kept pace.

The sad young sailor was taken by surprise.
As he looked at the anti-war man,
Who had hate filling up his eyes.
Stunned, he continued to walk along,
All alone with his bewildered thoughts.
While the man followed and harassed him,
Continuing to call him names and to spit upon him.

He thought of a time, not too long before,
When he said “Goodbye, Dad, see you later,”
As he walked out the door.
Now, suddenly, his father was dead.
His heart ached as he realized
That he would never see him again.

All right, you arrogant young man.
It is now over 40 years later
From that October day in 1972.
When a heartbroken young sailor arrived into JFK.

I thought of you today…you with your nameless face.
Hiding behind your anonymity,
Enjoying your freedom,
Safe in your little place.

Do you ever think of that moment, in your crazy and impetuous youth?
So many long years ago, when you spit upon that sad, and fatherless man?

You chose this time to spit upon him,
In front of all to see.
What a show-off you turned out to be.
Bravery was not your high note.

You had no way of knowing, nor did you really care,
He was coming home for the funeral of his father,
The pain was almost too much to bear.

You thought only of yourself that day.
And your hatred of the United States uniform
The brave young man did proudly wear.
And did you brag about your deed
To all your anti war friends?
And did you laugh ’til you cried
As the tears ran down your face?

Now you’re an old man.
You can see the end of the road.
What has Life brought you?
And were you able to keep up with the pace?
Were your last 40 years filled with sorrow?
Or happiness 7 fold? Spilling all over the place?

And did you ever have children,
Who loved your heart of gold?
And are your grandchildren proud of you,
And love you with all their little hearts?
Thinking that you would lay down your life for them,
And protect them all the way?

And did you ever tell them of what you did
On that long ago October day?
At the Terminal at the Airport.
The Terminal at JFK.