Woman Unfolding

She is a stunning beauty
With long brown hair,
A quick and ready smile,
And those Spanish eyes
That dance inside her head.

She knows how to dress
In the most elegant style
That always captures attention
The moment she enters the room
Stirring a ripple wherever she goes.

Yet she is a timid soul
Not quite owning
The power she holds
To mesmerize a guy
With a look from her eyes.

She hasn’t yet
Mastered the art
Of speaking her mind
And baring her soul
Or saying what is so for her.

But there is a tigress emerging
Once buried within,
Coming from a strength
She never knew she had,
Ready to make its presence known.

The moment she declares
“I am!”
By the power of her words
She will become
The leader she was meant to be!

The Little Hoer

She was an earthy lady
That girl, my wife.
She could make anything grow
Indoors or out.
She just had a way with plants
And an affinity for soil.
Someone once bestowed on her
The honored title of
“The Best Little Hoer in Ventura”
And she laughingly
Accepted that title.
Under her magical touch
Roses bloomed, cactuses grew,
Orchids blossomed
And a multitude of trees prospered.
There were Eugenia Berries,
Lemons, oranges, pomegranates, pears
Plumbs, nectarines, peaches
Figs, bananas and an apple tree.
She even had boysenberries growing
Along with papaya, avocado
And a mango or two.
The house was green
Inside and out
And fully vegetated
Until she passed away.
The green stuff
Didn’t fare so well
Under my supervision,
Oh I watered them,
But it was her love
On which they thrived.
I suppose that goes for me as well.

My Aunt Dofeen

She was always a character
In her own right,
An audacious soul
And a loving spirit.
There was a side of her
Still fighting
“The War Between the States”
That is to say
She was a Southerner
Through and through,
Yet there was another side to her
Of regal bearing
That let you know
She was a queen
And she expected
To be treated that way.
She had inherited considerable wealth
And spent or misspent
Most of it through the years,
But we loved her nonetheless
For she was definitely unique.
The voyage south
On the Yacht Araner
Was her lifelong dream
And she made the most of it.
It was an opportunity to see
The islands of the South Pacific,
To go some of the places
Her father had been
Some fifty or sixty years before.
She was an adventurer at heart
And traveled for quite a while
Throughout Fiji and Tonga
And some of the other islands.
She fell in love with
Tongan tapa cloth
And bought nearly everything
They had in the islands.
She also sent me stamps
From each place she went
To add to the collection
She had started me on
So many years before.
She got to hobnob
With some of the island royalty
Down there in the South Pacific,
Before heading back to Hawaii
To her own version of reality.

In Her Wake

If the value of a life lived
Can be determined by
The number of people impacted
During that life,
Then she was a world leader
Of enormous stature.

She was an English teacher
Whose passion for literature,
Love for people,
And exuberance for life
Rubbed off on thousands
Through the years.

She had a way about her
That inspired people
To believe in themselves,
To accomplish great things,
To stretch their wings and fly,
To live a life they love.

In 35 years of teaching
She had spawned
Doctors and lawyers,
Artists and architects,
Poets and authors,
Men and women of the world.

For this incredible lady
Each day of her life
Was a celebration,
A splendid affair
Full of pageantry and hope
And the people she loved.

She passed away
At 85 years of age,
Some 30 years after
Retiring from teaching
But not before leaving
One final set of instructions.

She demanded
That not a single tear
Be wasted on her passing
For she had lived
An awesome life
For which she was proud.

Instead, in her wake
A party was to be held
Celebrating the life she lived
With the people she touched
Showing the impact
That one Lady had on the world.

People came from all around,
Former students of hers,
Mostly 40 to 70 years of age,
To commemorate her life,
The gifts she had given them
And the legacy of her teaching.

A Musical Tribute

I sat there in rapt attention
Hardly believing my ears
Or the beauty of the sound
Which flowed from his guitar.

It was a classical piece he wrote
On coming to this country
That captured the essence of him
And the passion of the moment.

I had never heard
Any piece played
With such melodious sound
Or that much heart and soul.

It was dedicated to us
And specially to me
For I had helped him
Explore the path he was on.

I was honored beyond measure
By the words he said,
The acknowledgement he gave,
And the music he played.

If ever there was a question why
I spend the time
Or the effort to coach
That was the answer!

The Secret Passion

There was a side of him
Few had ever seen.
Even his best friends
Really didn’t know
What he had been doing.
It was not that he
Consciously hid
What he was up to,
But he never trumpeted
His passion in life.
He dedicated himself
To documenting
Life in the rural communities
Of the Central Valley.
He quietly amassed
A collection of thousands
Of priceless photographs,
Depicting every aspect
Of country life.
His work was superb,
Black and white images
Of the finest quality.
He had captured
The spirit of the land
And the people
With unbridled affection.
He had been at it
For at least forty years,
Yet it was not until
He passed away
That the collection
Was discovered.

The Barnstormer

I spotted him
Slumped over
In his wheelchair,
But even then
I could see he was sizable.
His eyes flashed to life
With my company
And he warmed
To the opportunity
To share his story.
He was ninety-one years old
And had lived
An adventurous and exciting life.
He was one of
The original barnstormers,
The people who made
Aviation history.
He vividly recalled
Flying his biplane
From field to field,
Doing aeronautical stunts,
And watching
As aviation transformed.
He was there
When every one of the airlines
Got their start.
His son was also a pilot
Until he was forced
To retire at sixty-five.
I could feel his passion
For the skies,
And sensed his will
To be up there
Just one more time.

Aunt Dofeen Finally Gets to Sail

Every family needs
An Aunt Dofeen,
Someone whose
Free spirited
Flamboyance,
And outrageous
Eccentricities
Never ceased
To ruffle the feathers
Of her more
Conservative siblings.
Though she was
Sixty-nine years old
At the time,
She didn’t hesitate
A heartbeat
When it came to
The opportunity
To sail with her
Exuberant nephews.
Her father had been
A prominent naval captain
Many years before,
And she remembered
The feeling of being
Left behind
While he gallivanted around
The South Pacific,
And she wasn’t about
To let that happen again.

Fear of Ending Up Just Like Them

She got started
As a professional model
At eight years old
In New York City.
When she was twelve,
Her parents moved to Texas,
But she chose to stay behind
And rented an apartment.
She continued her modeling
While going to junior high school,
And had no idea
That it was unusual or illegal
For a twelve year old
To live alone, work
And rent her own apartment.
After nine months, however,
She decided to move to Texas
To be with her parents,
So she packed all her things
And had them shipped,
Then she bought a bus ticket
And headed there herself.
On the trip to Texas,
She encountered a variety
Of transient characters,
Many of whom insisted
On telling her their story
Whether she wanted
To hear it or not.
She experienced
That she didn’t belong
In their world
And made up her mind
She was never going to
End up like any of them.
Sixteen years later,
She has a Ph.D.
And two Masters degrees,
Is the CEO of her own
Dot.com company.
The source of her
Extraordinary drive
And the motivation
That has taken her
To the top of the business
And financial world
Are the fears of
An independent
But frightened
Twelve year old girl.
Though she is
Light years removed
From the people
She met on that bus
So many years before,
The irrational fear of losing
Everything she has
And becoming just like them
Still drives her on.
Only by confronting those fears
Can she relax and enjoy
What she has earned.

Trish

I am always intrigued
By people who overcome
Tremendous obstacles in their lives
To accomplish great things.
Trish is one of those people.
She caught my eye
In Toastmasters
A few years back
When she did a demonstration
Of the West Coast Swing.
She is a stunning redheaded beauty
Whose poise and grace on the floor,
Was accented by
The dance outfit she wore.
What I didn’t know at the time
Was that only a few years before,
She was barely able to walk.
She had tripped
Over a vacuum hose in her house,
Fallen and broken her hip.
The damage so severe
That the doctors told her
That she would never walk again,
But they didn’t take into account
The force of her determination!
She was eventually able
To walk with a cane,
But that wasn’t enough for her.
She took up dancing
As a form of physical therapy,
And it took her three years of hard work
Before she could cross
Her left leg over her right.
Nevertheless, she kept at it
And eventually went on to compete in
National dance competition.
I suppose every person
Who has the gumption to excel
Overcomes some element of adversity
To do so,
But I am still inspired
Each time I witness it.

The Power of One

There was a young boy,
Only nine years old,
Who wanted to make
A difference in the world.

He saw homeless kids
On the news
And in the streets,
And he wondered what he could do.

He assumed that most of them
Had a home at one time,
So he decided to interview them
To find out what it was like for them.

In a couple of days
That boy interviewed
Over a hundred homeless kids
Asking them what they missed most.

Now imagine if that were
You or me,
It might have taken us
A year or more.

What that boy found
Might surprise you a bit,
But his survey revealed peanut butter
Was what those kids missed most!

He decided to collect
Peanut butter for the homeless kids,
And quickly earned the title,
“The Peanut Butter Kid!”

He told his teacher
About his project
And got permission
To share it with the class.

There were thirty other children in the class
And the next day
Twenty-nine of them
Brought jars of peanut butter.

He had a talk
With the lone holdout,
And the following day
That kid brought two jars.

The school principal
Heard about the project
And invited the boy
To present it to the school assembly.

The school district heard about that
And he was invited
To present his project
To each school in the district.

That nine year old boy
Collected over
20,000 jars of peanut butter
For distribution to the homeless kids.

That may not have solved
The homeless problem,
But it sure points out
The power of one!

If he could do that
Then what can you or I do
Who are not of such
Apparently limited means?

The Developer's Dream

It is a developer’s dream.
A large piece of land,
Vacant and available,
And you see a possibility
Of providing homes
In which people can live,
And if you are lucky
Making some money
In the process.

So you begin to do your homework,
Assessing the potential costs,
Making the most of the land,
Measuring the impacts,
Predicting how long it will take,
Estimating the cost per home,
And designing a place
That a family would want to live
And proudly call their home.

You carefully evaluate the feasibility,
Determining what you can afford to do
And what you can’t.
If the economics are good,
You will present your plan
For governmental review
In the hopes of getting
A Development Agreement
Establishing conditions under which you can build.

Then the project comes up for public review
And you discover a hornet’s nest
Of people with varied interests
Other than your own,
Sometimes with irrational fears,
But you have to deal with them
One by one,
Realizing that your dream
May not be accepted.

Once you have cleared that hurdle,
You can finally get your approval to build.
Then you get your financing arranged.
You may have spent years
In planning and preparation,
And now you are ready
For construction to begin.
You still have the challenge
Of keeping on schedule and under budget.

It is always a balancing act,
Trying to do the most
With the money you have,
Keeping the expenses down.
Only after the homes are sold
Is there income coming in.
Any further delay could affect
Whatever profit there might be
After all was said and done.

It is often a hard fought battle
To pursue a development dream,
And it is a part of the reason
That the cost of new homes
Keep going up and up.
After you are done
You sometimes wonder
If it is really worth it,
But some people relish that challenge.

Aunt Dofeen

Her real name
Was Aunt Josephine,
But I couldn’t
Pronounce that
Back when I was young,
So I called her
“Aunt Dofeen”
And rest of the family
Simply followed suit.
She didn’t seem to mind.
She was a free spirit
If there ever was one,
A zany concoction
Of Southern aristocrat
And Western pioneer.
Aunt Dofeen was
An outrageous character,
As colorful
As they come.
There was nothing
Muted about her,
And she seldom hesitated
To speak her mind.
She must have
Chaffed terribly
Against the dictates
And relative drabness
Of mainland society.
The moment
She freed herself
From Uncle George,
She took flight
And headed for the tropics
Where her exuberance
And compulsive individuality
Were more the norm.
She discovered
The big Island
Of Hawaii,
And adopted it
As her new home.
She blended in
With the rest of
The fluorescent crowd
Taking the island by storm
And darn near
Conquering it.
What impressed me
The most about her
Was her determination
In the face of family
And circumstances
To dictate the terms
By which
She lived her life.
She had the courage
To do things
Her own way
No matter what
Anyone else thought.
She was crazy
Like a fox.

So That We Might Live

Cecilia’s passing
Was a turning point
For my daughters
And me.
We each struggled
To deal with grief
In our own way.
Mostly we
Turned inward
To sort through
The minefields
Of our feelings
And emotions.
Sometimes
We tormented ourselves
Speculating
What else
We could have
Said or done
That would have
Made a difference.
One thing was clear,
Cecilia had
A will to live
More than anyone else
We knew,
And she wasn’t
Taken easily.
Her death taught us
We could no longer
Take life for granted.
It gave us
A sense of urgency.
Our values changed.
Things that once
Seemed important
Suddenly had
No relevance to us.
Recovery took time,
Much more
Than we could possibly
Have imagined.
Each of us
Eventually emerged
Stronger and more resilient,
Having profited by
What we went through.
In a certain sense,
Cecilia died so that
Each of us might live.

A Candidate for President

She is woman
Of obvious class
And distinction
Who has led
A most remarkable life.
Her list of
Accomplishments
Could run for pages
And still not be complete.
She has worked
Side by side
With Mother Teresa,
Administering to the
Poorest of the poor,
And she has worked
On an equal footing
With world leaders
In government,
Finance and business,
Some of the richest
Of the rich.
She was equally at home
With either group.
In one sense,
Nothing she has done
Up to this point
Has prepared her
For the next challenge
That she has taken on,
But in another sense,
Everything has.
She has declared herself
A candidate for President
Of her native Bolivia.
She is determined
To be more than
Just a president, however,
She intends to be
A truly great leader
And leave her mark
On the world.
Some think
She is crazy
But I do not.
She has a love
For people
And a commitment
To make
The world
A better place to live.
She has the guts
To take on
Whatever obstacles
May confront her,
And the willingness
To train herself
For the task ahead.
She has no political base,
No experience
With political intrigue,
And no ties
With the military,
So there is little probability
For her becoming President
Using a traditional approach.
It just wouldn’t happen.
Her candidacy must be
By its very nature
As unconventional
As any political campaign
Has ever been.
She must establish
The legitimacy
Of her intentions
And speak with words
That will not be silenced.
Her words must appeal
To the people,
Capturing their hearts
And captivating their minds.
She must be
Recognizably extraordinary.
She has been counseled
To go back to school
To get a Masters Degree
In business or economics,
But I do not believe
That any of that
Will make a difference,
Or have her become
Who she has to be
In order to
Make herself known
And recognized
As the leader
She intends to be.
Others may hide behind
Their supposed credentials,
But what she offers is herself
In full transparent integrity,
A woman of obvious stature,
True to her word
Who inspires people
And gives them hope
For humanity
As well as the possibility
Of a better tomorrow.
What she must overcome
Is the cynicism and resignation
That says that nothing
Can be done,
That government is
Inherently corrupt,
That no one
Can be trusted.
She must excite
The confidence
Of those around her
And all those
Who hear her words
That with her leadership
And their participation,
Anything is possible.
In the end,
It will be a war of words
And her greatest weapon
Will be her word.
On that basis
She may very well become
The President of Bolivia.

Her Mission in Life

She had fought most of her life
To forget her childhood,
To escape her tortured past,
But it always remained
Just below the surface,
Haunting her every move.
She could never run far enough
Nor fast enough
To get away from the fear,
Or the sense of helpless horror.
It was nearly forty years
Before she was strong enough
To deal with what happened,
To confront the anger she felt.
In the interim it had cost her
Several failed marriages
And countless sleepless nights.
The years of denial
Had not lessened the scars,
But once she faced
And accepted what happened,
It gave her a capacity for compassion
She never knew she had,
As well as a sense of purpose
And a mission in life
To halt the abuse of children.

The Possibility

He didn’t know why
The possibility
Of a world beyond hunger
Occurred to him
The way it did,
But when it did,
His life changed forever.
It became his cause.
He could no longer
Sit idly back
And be a spectator,
Lamely watching
As people died of starvation
Half a world away.
He was called to action.
He had to do something.
It gave purpose to his life,
And method to his madness.
He now had a cause
Worthy of devoting his life to,
There was a new bounce
To his step
And a passion to his words.
The concept
Was ridiculously simple,
But could the idea take hold?
It wasn’t something
He could possibly
Cause by himself,
And it certainly
Wasn’t something
That would ever
Occur naturally,
But he could share
The idea with others,
And if enough of them
Saw the possibility
As he did,
Then it could become
More than just a possibility.
That was enough
To keep him going,
And from that came
The Hunger Project
Which brought the possibility
One step closer,
And impacted millions of people
In the process.
Some of us see the world
As it is, and despair,
While others of us
See it as it could be
And rejoice,
Which one are you?

The Spirit of Africa

He was born in a humble village
In a far away land,
But although he had left there
More than 30 years before,
The spirit of his people
Still pulsed through his veins.
He had been one
Of the fortunate few
Who had managed to escape
The grinding poverty,
Hunger and depravation
That had sapped the will
Of those who remained.
He had gone on,
And against incredible odds,
Obtained a first rate education,
And had done very well for himself.
He vowed when he left
That he would return
And give back to his people,
And the time had come.
It was still a land
Encumbered by poverty,
Periodic famine,
Floods and drought,
War and perhaps
Most devastating of all,
Political corruption,
But the spirit of Africa
Is something
People are born with,
And never loose.
They may leave,
But their hearts
Stay behind,
And in their dreams
Lie the hope
For a better tomorrow.

Dana

Dana was my grandmother
On my father’s side.
She lived with her daughter,
Aunt Dofeen
And son-in-law,
Uncle George
A block over from us
In San Diego.
She was born in Virginia
About the time
Of the Civil War,
And went on to marry
A rather storied
Naval captain
Who apparently led
One of the ships
That took Manila
In 1898 during the
Spanish American War
My grandparents
Were stationed
In the Philippines
For many years afterwards
While my grandfather
Gallivanted around the orient
And played explorer
Throughout the South Pacific.
My father was actually
Born in the Manila
Back in 1908.
Dana went on to outlive
My grandfather
By at least forty years,
And when I knew her,
She was already
Extremely elderly
And quite senile.
I never got to hear her
Talk about any of her experiences
During those early years,
Though I am sure
There was much to tell.
She was lucid enough, however,
To set money aside
For my private school education
And to make an investment
In a local bottled
Water company
In my name
That would later
Be worth
A small fortune.
She never seemed
To begrudge
The loss of her mind.
As I recall her,
She was always
Pleasantly demented,
Possessing both
The mentality
And the enthusiasm
Of a three year old
In a ninety year old
Arthritic body.
Her innocence
Endeared her
To almost everyone,
Especially to salesman
Selling Florida swampland
And western sagebrush farms.
She mainly busied herself
Writing letters to people
Who had died
Some fifty years before.
I remember one
Classic Dana incident,
In particular.
It was just after
She got home
From a short stay
In the hospital
Where she discovered
The pleasure of bedpans.
Dana must have thought
They were the neatest
Invention in the world,
For she brought
Some over for us kids.
For some reason,
My mother didn’t
Seem to be
All that amused
By Dana’s humble generosity
And aged thoughtfulness.
I only hope I have
Half as much character
And just as much fun
When I reach that age.

Charlotte's Charm

Charlotte was amazing!
She was a small, slender
Tropical island beauty,
An exotic mixture
Of Filipino and Japanese,
With long, long,
Silky, black hair
That hung almost
To the ground.
She had a gorgeous
Natural tan
That never faded
Even during the harshest
Michigan winter,
A warm easygoing smile
And a soft gentle style
That captivated us all,
But it was not
Her outer beauty,
That made her standout
As someone special.
We worked together
In Engineering Services
On the University campus
With over three hundred
Other people,
And she knew
Every single one
Of them by name.
Charlotte had
An encyclopedic mind
For details about people.
She could tell you
Their birthdays
And anniversaries,
As well as
The names and ages
Of their family members.
She made a point
Of getting to know people,
Discovering their interests,
And greeting each one by name.
She cast a spell over all of us
Simply by taking an interest
In who we were,
And letting us know
We were each
Worth remembering.