Haiku

Most of us grew up learning about and writing haiku in around the third grade.  However,  I discovered the seniors in our community, although they memorized poems in grade school, we're not familiar with haiku.  So we discussed that a traditional Japanese haiku is a three-line poem with seventeen syllables, written in a 5/7/5 syllable count  focusing on images from nature.  Haiku emphasizes simplicity, intensity, and directness of expression. Then we wrote a haiku together in the pub, which has become our meeting place of choice.  

Here are some of the haikus from the writers.

BRIGHT STARS 

Early spring morning 

Oldest and youngest sons shine

Service above self. 

Bob Moore

Early winter morn

New England buried in snow 

Red Sox in sunshine. 

Bob Moore

Forsythia bloom

Bright yellow in their color

Mustard in a jar.

Joan Clelan

The brown speckled trout

Rushing water over rocks,

Now it is dinner.

Joan Clelan

Practice playing scales

Fingers getting stronger

Clean the house it's time.

Joan Clelan

Hearing aids whistle

It is distracting to me 

So are my dentures

Joan Clelan

My tree is golden

Then winter comes, branches wave

"Good bye, until spring."

Ken Wright

     Paris13 Nov15

They came and killed,

And again, again, again,

But joie de vivre lives.

Ken Wright

             ISLAND IN THE SUN

Majestic, peaceful,

Volcanic ashes spewing,

Mermaid beckoning.

Eleanor Bongiorno

          

We Shall Overcome

Writers were asked to choose from various topics related to racism in America from their own experiences or those depicted in the media.  Some wrote essays about how things were in the 50s and 60s and the changes that have taken place since then.  In our discussion the writers agreed that as a nation there is still work to be done and discrimination still exists in many forms.  As senior citizens they lived through a time when there were signs forbidding blacks from eating, drinking, and sleeping in the same place as whites.  They also saw the the marches and sit ins on the nightly news and witnessed history first hand.  They did not shy away or sugar coat the discussions or examples they gave.  I have been involved in a number of diversity dialogues with mixed race groups, and found the candor and honesty of these seniors to be most enlightening  as they were not oppressed by "political correctness" my generation was taught.  The following is a poem written by Joann Cleland.

There was a time when discriminatin was part of our everyday lives.  We began to learn. That black or white, we are all the same - no matter what color.

We Are All the Same

"Get outta here nigger

This is for the whites only

You may be thirsty 

But you have your own drinking place."

"There is a special place in the city

Where them black people live

Don't go down there when you're in town

You don't know what might happen

If a black man stares you down."

"Went to the restroom where the whites had a place,

The blacks were not allowed there,

They had their own space."

"Bus came down the street to pick up people

Black and white were going the same direction

But blacks sat in the back

Up front was the whites

As was their right."

"Man came walking down the street

Looking kinda happy and whistling too.

Woman turns around with much disgust

Tells him to get going to his own part of town."

"Flip those pancakes, mama

Till they're just light brown

Turn them over easy

Cause those whites are coming down."

"One day this may change

And black and white will work together,

Live in the same place with no bother,

Come to church like any other

What could be better than all living together."

Sunday afternoon

Here it is, a beautiful Sunday afternoon in January.  The sun has come out after the snowstorm from yesterday.  The sun is shining over the hillside beside my apartment at 308. Plush Millls.  The sky is a pretty light shade of blue with white clouds. The remaining sunlight shows off the pretty scenery itself at 3:30 in the afternoon.

The hillside is all white with snow which shows off a few evergreen trees and there are tall hardwoods in the background.  Their bare branches reach upward towards the sky. It is truly a beautiful picture to behold, the lord certainly made us a beautiful world to enjoy.

I have a small patio right outside the window next to where I am sitting.  Now and then a small bird or two flies down the patio.  They are little brown sparrows, or maybe a couple of fat little snow birds with white bellies or gray and brown feathers.  They come in the morning or afternoon these days.

In front of me on the table is the little tree with ornaments red and gold.  It is truly a reminder of the good times we had at my brother's house in Wallingford.  My Guideposts book is also on the table and says, "Rejoice! The King is born!"  There is a picture of the manger scene where the Christ child is born.

I hope you have enjoyed the little story I have written you, the people of Plush Mills.

Happy New Years 2017

With Love,

JoAnn Petrovitch

Poet as a muse

On the last Wednesday of the month at 3pm a dedicated group of Plush Mills residents meet to discuss and read poetry out loud.  Last month they chose Emily Dickinson as the featured poet.  Jerry Murphy was so inspired he wrote a poem about her.

Emily

Why haven't I found you before today?

I've avoided contact with the poetic way

Instead, my literary path led me to interstellar frays.

Today your words on masculine remarks 

Rang true as I recalled the women's March

In Washington - when I described in harsh terms

"A protest on women's foot ware"

Where did that come from?  An insensitive burst

At my masculine worst

Like "Powder exists in charcoal 

Before it exists in fire."

Emily, you may have had something there when you wrote,

"...A remark...a quiet thing that may furnish the fuse unto a spark

In dormant nature lay."

Regrets, I've had a few, but then again too few to mention.

This was one for which I had no intention.

Emily, I'll look for you again,

When next I pick up my pen.

Jerry Murphy

A life in Photos

Eleanor Bongiorno choose the assignment that asked writers to look at an old photograph and  describe it and any memories or associations it brought up.  Below are photos from her wedding and 50 year anniversary, such a treasure.

At critical times in their lives, people often utter the statement, "My life flashed before me."  I can produce this phenomenon instantly with just a click of my computer​.

     My oldest grandchild, Sarah, produced for me a slide show set to "Amazing Grace."  It's a travelogue of photos of my husband's and my lives from our childhood

until several years ago.  It's six years old and I have never, nor will I ever, delete it from my emails.     

     When the desire enters my brain, I simply bring it up and "take a stroll down memory lane" through our early years, our wedding, three children, college graduations, their weddings and most of my grandchildren.

     I can truly rank this slide show at the top of any gift I have received.  

A vignette regarding the color blue

Many residents chose  to write about a Christmas memory, Eleanor took the other option and choose to write about a color.  

​On a peaceful summer day, gazing at a cloudless blue sky, I am struck by the serenity of my surroundings.  I remember Gainsborough's beautiful artwork, "Blue Boy."  Bluebirds infiltrate the trees.  Images of forget-me-nots, cornflowers and hyacinths penetrate my brain.  A sense of security settles on the earth protected by the Navy (Navy blue).  I observe a young mother  cuddling  her infant boy, dressed in powder blue.  The world's adversities seem distant while experiencing the cool  and tranquil emotions of a blue environment. 

                                Eleanor Bongiorno

Christmas as a time for Memories

For this weeks assignments our writers were asked to either write about a Christmas memory or a vignette based on a color.   We met in the theater so everyone could view this blog on the large screen.  I also played a version of "A Christmas Memory" written and narrated by Truman Capote.

 

 

Christmas Past

by Joan Clelan

 

It is not December 25th but it's getting close.  Mother, Dad, my brother, Bob and I are getting bundled up to go out and pick out a Christmas tree, whhich we did, brought it home, hurried into the house to get warm and have our hot chocolate.  Dad is outside taking care of the tree, which will not come into the house until Christmas eve.  Picture is snowing heavily and think of the wonderful smell of the Christmas tree.  And now I am really getting excited!  Our winters now are not like they had been.  Then there was lots of snow, it was very cold, and the snow was deep with a layer of ice on top on which you could walk.  This was the 1930s and there was great sledding

 

The big day is getting closer and the smell of cookies baking, everone was busy and excitement filled the air.  Finally it was Christmas Eve!  We were told it was time to go to bed because when Santa came we had better be asleep.  Milk and cookies were placed on a plate for Satna and up the stairs we went.  Saying our prayers and thinking of Christmas and the birth of Christ.  In the morning when we awoke, we sate at the top of the stairs waiting until Mom and Dad said, "Okay you can come down now."  It didn't tak long for my brother and I to go down the steps and what a Christmas Wonderland we saw!  A blazing fire was burning in the fireplace, the Christmas tree was all aglow, and the train yard was up with the train running, passing all the houses, under the tunnel, the post office, the church, garage, firehouse, and people standing outside.  It was spectacular!  And across the living room was my Shirley Temple doll with a complete new wardroble of clothers that my mother made for her.  There were evening gowns, a black satin cloak with silver lining, and my mother had cut down my outgrown snowsuit and madeone for the doll complete with fur around the hat and coat.  I could hardly believe it!  I was more excited that I can ever remember!

 

I turned back to the train yard where my brother was opening his gifts - a chemistry set, and books and sudeenly he spied a little stove with pots and pans.  He pulled open the oven door and broke it off.  He laughed and said, "I guess you may have trouble baking now!"  Too bad but it didn't spoil my Christmas as we continued to open gifts.

 

Mother and Father were very tired as they never did get to bed on Christmas Eve.  I will never forget this particular Christmas eve, although they were always beautiful every year.  They were so happy watching Bob and I, as was my grandmother who lived with us. The aroma of turkey baking in the oven came wafting into the whole house.  I must tell you that every Christmas was wonderful, but this one remains in my mind as the very best of all!

 

 

 

  

 

Christmas at 7

By Ken Wright

Christmas at our house was a wonderful time. It was 1941 and the world had just exploded with war at Pearl Harbor and in Europe. But in in my small home in Swarthmore I was blessed with loving parents and friends who made me feel special.

So at this time of the year my life was filled with hope. What I hoped for most was that Santa would bring me a chemistry set. I wasn’t sure what I would do with it, but I really thought I wanted one. There was one problem though. In our town Santa came to see each young boy or girl who still believed in him and I wasn’t sure I still believed. My best friend Bobby told me he didn’t believe, but he wasn’t going to tell his parents cause then he might not get any presents. That is what I decided to do, but I wasn’t happy with it.

We weren’t poor, but we really weren’t rich either. Christmas meant one big gift and a stocking filled with an orange, or socks, or candies. It wasn’t like today when everybody gets dozens of presents, so my wish for a chemistry set was really important. If I thought there was any chance that I could get a bike I would have wished for that, but bikes were way too expensive for our family.

Christmas Eve came before I was ready for it and that was when our family had our big Christmas dinner and my Dad’s mother, Mom-Mom, came to be with us. The dinner had turkey and all the fixin’s and the house was filled with yummy smells and colors. My Mom didn’t believe in putting up the tree until I went to bed, but the rest of the house was filled with Christmas balls and ribbons. She also baked chocolate chip cookies that you could smell for days before. Lord, they were good!

I went to bed hoping that Santa would still come even though I wasn’t quite sure he was real, so I fell asleep a bit worried. I really wanted that chemistry set! I woke with a start. There was Santa right in my room, with my Mom and Dad peaking in the door behind him. He had a box in his hand that didn’t look big enough to hold my chemistry set, but I quickly opened it. It was a toy truck – a jeep to be correct. I tried to not cry, but I was really upset. Then Santa said, “Oh, I forgot your most important gift, Kenny!” and he handed me a new, beautiful young puppy! “What will you name him?” Santa asked. “Jeep” I said between grins as my new friend licked my face over and over. 

This was the best Christmas I ever had and I believed in Santa for a couple of years more. Oh, by the way, I never did get a chemistry set, but along with my puppy I got a brand new bike that my best friend, Jeep, and I rode all over town for the next 11 years.

What Christmas means to me

By Joann Petrovitch

First Christmas is the birth of our lord and savior Jesus Christ in the book of Luke in the King James Version of the bible.

Second Christmas is getting together with family.

Third Christmas is the spirit of giving to family and friends

Fourth Christmas is a time of Thanksgiving for another year for health.

I also enjoy writing out Christmas cards and sending them to family and friends.  It doesn't seem like people are sending Christmas cards this year as much as they use to.  Then it is early yet and a haven't as much room as I use to when I lived at Eddystone. pa I taped them all along the banister of our stair steps from the dining room almost to the second floor or house.

When my dad, Joesph Petrovitch was still living we always had a real Christmas tree in the middle of the floor between the living room and the dining room.  It stood in a red metal stand and my mother, Pauline would put water in it for the tree to drink.  It also had a few small cords to secure the bottom branches of the tree somehow to one another.  Then a tree skirt went around the bottom of the tree.  We put a manger scene in the front  and a few houses and figurines around it.  

After dinner mother and I would trim the rather large fur tree!  Mom usually put the lights on it and I tried to help her.  Next were the different Concorde Christmas balls, red, green, blue, white and yellow.  Next was the silver tonsil.  And the star that lit was on top.  

My mother hung our stockings on the banister rail that curved at the bottom.  Our names were on the stockings, Joann and Dale.

At night on Christmas Eve my mother would fill the stockings usually with toothpaste and toothbrushes an orange or 2 and a couple of candy canes sticking out of the top.  All to be seen on Christmas morning.  Also my mom gave a present, usually what we asked for.  We came downstairs Christmas morning, Dale, my brother and me and we were surprised at what we got.  Usually better than what we asked for.  

Grandmother Solomon and mr Solomon would come visit us with their son, my uncle David, who drove the from Marcus Hook, PA to our house in Eddystone.  They would stay and eat Christmas dinner with us. Turkey and all the fixings.  And sometimes bring us their Christmas gifts.  This was years ago.

We had one real Christmas Tree in 1999: the year my dad passed on.  My mom bought me a cedar chest from the Boothwyn Farmers Market, I believe.

The top was covered in a blue and white plaid canvas.  She also bought me a pretty navy blue sweater with snow men around the bottom.

Now I still have this pretty little table top tree in my living room for the past nine years that is decorated and all lit up.

These are my memories past and present.