Category Archives: Uncategorized

“Before and After” for NaGloWriMo

Before and After

We follow different orbits. We dislike each other’s friends.
When we are together, the confusion never ends.
Though I respect your choices, I fear they’re never mine.
I’ve strolled a crooked pathway. You’re rarely out of line.

You have a place within my heart but we rarely phone.
We each chose a direction and wandered off alone
collecting lives around us where the other does not fit.
We’ve analyzed our friendship and found the end of it.

Have we made the right decision, or should friendship never end?
Is it wrong to leave old friends behind as we round the bend?
It’s hard to keep momentum when pulling a long train,
and holding onto everyone we’ve once loved is inane.

When you’ve somehow lost the trust that you thought would last forever,
and when you’re simply bored by one you once found fun and clever,
sometimes we have to face the fact we’ve loved someone in vain
and all the joys we shared are ones we will not share again.

 

For NaGloWriMo #17 we were to write an Ekphrastic poem on Friendship based on paintings by Remedios Varo or Leonora Carrington.

Genealogy, Murdo News, 1922 for Writer’s Workshop


Murdo News, 1922

I grew up in a tiny prairie town in South Dakota, population 700 when I left it, 500 now. (Photo above, 1950’s by my guess.) I’ve talked of this place many times on my blog, published two books on growing up there, but just today, someone on the town’s website published these newspaper stories from 1922 which I found fascinating, as many of the people mentioned were known to me.  Judge Parish lived across the street from me, Louis Simpson was my dad’s cousin  and many of the other family names are well known. This may not be interesting to anyone other than my sister Patti and friend Jim, who read my blog and who grew up in Murdo as well, but for what it is worth, here are some of the stories:

JONES COUNTY, SOUTH DAKOTA

News Items

Murdo, April 18. – Statistics are said to show that after every great war nature replenishes herself through twin babies. Mrs. Burke of this place has the distinction of being the mother of three sets of twins and one set of triplets.

Mrs. M. P. Kerlin, also of Murdo is the mother of twin boys, who are now a few years of age. During 1921 Mrs. A. O. Kimble and Mrs. Roy Guthrie each became the mother of twin girls. Mrs. Sam Hubbard gave birth to twin sons, both of whom died.

Recently twin boys were born to Mr. and Mrs. Rex Williams.

Thus, out of nine births in Murdo, nineteen children were born, seventeen of whom are living. It is believed that no other town of Murdo’s size in the state or northwest has a birth record equal to this.


John Connery
Two Boy Swimmers Drown
Lads Meet Death While Bathing at Murdo, S.D.
Deadwood, S.D., June 17 — A telephone message from Murdo, a small town east of Rapid City, tells of the accidental drowning there of John Connery and a companion named Pomberr. Both boys, who were sixteen years old, were in swimming at the railroad dam at that point and are supposed to have been seized with cramps. Neither body has been recovered.
[17 June 1910; Aberdeen Daily News] *Note from Judy: In my part of South Dakota, little manmade lakes were called dams, probably due to the fact that they were created by digging out the earth and rolling it up to the side to create a depression large enough to collect rainwater and snow runoff. In this dry cattle  country, it was necessary. My dad got his start building such dams. Below is a photo of a dam in process. That’s my dad, Ben Dykstra, sitting on the back of the grader adding his weight to smoothing out the dam grade.

M. L. Parish [crime]
Four Fleeing Men Battle Posse and Flee in Prosecutor’s Auto
Sioux Falls, S. Dak. Aug 25 — Four convicts, who escaped from the penitentiary on August 17, fought a posse near Stamford early today. After mortally wounding State’s Attorney M. L. Parish and wounding Sheriff J.C. Babcock, they escaped in the State’s Attorney’s automobile.
The men were pursued from Murdo, S.D., by a hastily formed posse when it was learned they had recrossed the Missouri River into this State and were heading toward the Bad Lands. Airplanes have been sent to aid in locating them. [26 Aug 1922; Philadelphia Inquirer]

Louis Simpson [injury]
RATTLESNAKE PROTESTED
Struck Boy Who Tries to Pull It From Its Hole Near Murdo

Murdo, May 19. – Catching a rattlesnake by the tail to prevent it escaping him nearly caused the death of Louis Simpson, the young son of Mrs. Charles Luken, living near here. The reptile struck the boy on the left hand with its fangs, and but for prompt work he would have died

When the boy discovered the snake the reptile beat a retreat for its nearby hole, and was partially down this, when the boy grasped it by the tail and attempted to pull it back to the surface of the ground. The rattlesnake doubled back and buried its fangs in the boy’s hand, this being one of the tricks of the average rattler when grasped while partially in its hole.

For Writer’s Workshop  the prompt is genealogy.

“To Do List” for the Sunday Whirl 702

To Do List

Shoot moonbeams at your heroes,
shoot bullets at your foes.
Sing songs of blended melodies
to exorcise your woes.

Don your hood and start a brawl.
Flick hound hairs from your sleeves.
Wear your racing stripes to prove
what nobody believes.

This present trip around the track
is not your first or last.
It’s only things we have not done
that make us feel aghast.

For the Sunday Whirl Wordle702 the prompt words are: races wear hound brawl song hood blend heroes flick shoot trip beams

Tender Moment–Please Share Yours!

I just found this video of Zoe and Ollie, taken right after I brought her home from the beach. It was quite a surprise to me when this big male cat immediately became a surrogate mother! It’s a tender moment. Do you have one to share, as well? If so, please put a link to it in comments below.

(okcForgottenMan here. Turns out different browsers treat the link differently. This seems to work now.)

“The Introduction” for Cellpic Sunday

Click on photos to enlarge.

When Juan Pablo brought my car back to me after taking it for servicing, he brought a surprise––not only Santiago, but an adorable new puppy!  The next day, when they came to see me, bringing the puppy, I reached out for it and Santiago yielded me his prize, but then made his usual beeline to the doggie lineup on the other side of the dining room screens. Once I put the puppy down, It took a little while for curiosity to win out and for him to actually approach the screen.  Next time, perhaps we’ll take him outside.

For Johnbo’s Cellpic Sunday.

Dear Canada

“Jammed Up Creativity” for SOCS

Jammed-Up Creativity

Dark genius sits there pondering and staring at the screen.
His features in reflected light glow a sickly green.
He works his cyber screwdriver slightly to the right.
His only tool––the keyboard––is his weapon in this fight
as every blog on WordPress skews slightly all at once.
He’ll show his third grade teacher for calling him a dunce!

He tugs a little here and there, adjusting cyber screws.
And just for fun, he adds a few zeroes to my views.
He knows that I am watching and he senses my excitement.
He chuckles that my false success has been at his incitement.
Then he shuts down the internet––Facebook, WordPress, Twitter.
and my seconds of great happiness turn just as quickly bitter.

Bloggers the world over are turned back onto themselves.
Photos trapped in media files or stacking up on shelves.
No place to reach out for a friend for shut-ins who, once freed
to roam a universe of blogs now sit in dire need
of someone just to talk to. To realize they are there.
They sit staring at their screens, though all of them are bare.

Week after week we wait for our deliverance from this blight.
We miss the internet all day, and even more at night.
I’m thinking about former friends, now lost across the miles,
tripping over poetry surrounding me in piles,
thirsting after comments about every brand new thought.
Having no fast outlet, my brain feels like it’s caught.

Bound up in old creations that have no place to go,
with no easy outlet, the thoughts are coming slow.
Jammed up creativity is worse than constipation,
for writing with no readers is just mental masturbation.
It’s true that I have friends to call and writers’ groups as well.
But they have not the patience to hear all I have to tell.

A blog gives me an avenue to fill out a whole world
with thoughts that for a lifetime, I’ve kept inside, tightly furled.
For those of us who always have felt slightly alone,
the Interweb has seemed a placed created to atone.
In the darkened hours when others are asleep,
we live that midnight life we’ve kept within us, buried deep.

History moves ever onward despite glacier, war or flood.
We see it trailed behind us in footprints etched in blood.
So we’ll survive the cyber war when it comes to pass
by spending more time with our friends, calmly smoking grass
or sharing drinks at Starbucks, devoid of texts or apps,
but we’ll miss our midnight family filling in the gaps.

 

For SOCS the prompt is Jam

The Numbers Game #67, Apr 7, 2025. Come Play Along!!

The Numbers Game #67, Apr 7. Come Play Along!!

Welcome to “The Numbers Game #67”  Today’s number is 188. To play along, go to your photos file and type that number into the search bar. Then post a selection of the photos you find that include that number and  post a link to your blog in my Numbers Game blog of the day. If instead of numbers, you have changed the identifiers of all your photos into words, pick a word or words to use instead, and show us a variety of photos that contain that word in the title.This prompt will repeat each Monday with a new number. If you want to play along, please put a link to your blog in comments below. Here are my contributions to the album.

Click on photos to enlarge and view in gallery..

 

Click on photos to enlarge.

Guess Where: For CFFC Signs and Navigation, Apr 6, 2025

Click on photos to enlarge and see as a gallery.

For CFFC, Signs and Navigation

Rhymed Rants of an Expat in Mexico (for SOCS) Apr 5, 2025

Rhymed Rants of an Expat in Mexico
(Why you should never drink tequila when you haven’t finished your SOCS poem yet.)

Toss in the tequila
ice cubes and a lime.
Put it in a blender
and mix it for a time.

Put salt on your glass rim.
Pour the liquid in.
Take a little sip now.
Drinking’s not a sin.

If I hadn’t had two
with my evening meal,
I’d be writing verse now
you could take for real.

But Margarita got me
and holds me prisoner now.
I couldn’t engineer a poem.
I can’t remember how.

If you’ve a mind to scold me,
please don’t do it now.
I need to write something
to stay true to my vow.

There are laws against drunk driving
and driving while you’re stoned,
but nothing that forbids you
from writing when you’re zoned.

So please forgive this sad and
paltry little rhyme.
They need to make drunk writing
A misdemeanor crime.

To save you from the souls like me
who dare to take up pen,
disregarding just what
condition they are in.

You should give us pillows
and send us to our beds.
Remove our clothes, take off our shoes
and pat us on our heads.

Tell us that tomorrow
will be another day.
But now, for sure, the writing
we should put away.

Lock up our computers,
hide our ball point pens.
Throw away our pencils
in the garbage bins.

Please try to divert us
and help us to forget
so there will be no errant
verses to regret.

When we wake tomorrow,
we’ll hold our heads up high
with no embarrassing poetry,
no need to wonder why.

We posted here such drivel
that it could make one weep.
We just kept on writing.
We should have been asleep.

We did it for our SOCS prompt
against out better sense.
The late hour made us silly.
Tequila made us dense.

Tomorrow we’ll make up for it––
put bees within our bonnet
and write an ode, a ballad,
a haiku or a sonnet

Once more you’ll dare to call us friend
and read our royal rhyme.
I don’t know why I’m calling me
“we” all of this time.

I really don’t feel royal.
My identity’s not split.
I simply started writing
and “we” just seemed to fit.

I can’t seem to finish
this awful little rhyme.
So I’m just going to have to
stop and holler TIME!!!

The SOCS prompt is pat.