Aunt Ann

Aunt Ann

By John R. Greenwood

Dear Ann,

I’m sorry. I should have been here long before now. There are no excuses. Too busy doesn’t cut it. It’s so far away, holds no water. All I can do is apologize and tell you I love  you. It was good to see you today. It took a minute for you to recognize me but when you heard my voice you smiled that great Aunt Ann smile and said, “Oh, Johnny!”

You looked nice in your white sweater and pearl necklace. You showed me your watch and said, “Debbie gave me this.” We sat and talked for quite some time. I held your hand and you squeezed mine. I needed that. It reminded me of mom and how she would squeeze my hand so hard when dad and I would visit her in the hospital. We talked about a lot of things today. I told you what relatives I’d seen and when. We reminisced about Uncle Steve and how he loved to get out his banjo and play it for me. I always loved the banjo because of him. We talked about your beautiful Angora cat that was so big it looked like a lion stretched out on the sun filled window sill. You said you missed the old house and I assured you it was still green and white. I explained that it looked a lot different inside now but it was being put to good use as a community center for seniors. You liked that idea. 

You said I looked good with no hair. I told you that when I tried coloring the grey it turned red and the guys at work kept calling me Big Red. You laughed. I told you I decided to just cut it so short you wouldn't be able to tell if it was grey or missing and you laughed even harder. It felt good to hear you laugh. 

I think I tired you out. I was drained from worry. I thought you might be upset to see me. That wasn’t the case. You made me feel special like you always did. I wish I could turn back the clock for us both but it won’t work, I’ve tried. All I can do is hold your hand gently and kiss your forehead. There is no time machine for us, only a book of memories. It was good to see you today Aunt Ann. I love you. 

Readers, 

If you have someone you have been meaning to see, whether they are young or old, don’t wait until next week. Go now. Go yesterday. Just go.

Here is a photograph of Aunt Ann. It was good to see that smile today. 

Ann Pasek circa 1940's

Two Friends

Two Friends

By John R. Greenwood 

Ed Covell (L) and Ron Petit (R)

I ran into two friends today that I haven't seen in twenty to thirty years. It was a strange set of circumstances that brought us together. I was at a local fairground picking up my company's fiberglass cow. It is used as a promotional prop and is the size of real cow. As a coworker and I were preparing to load the cow on a trailer a pickup truck pulled up and asked if everything was okay. I replied it was, and thanked the driver for stopping to ask. As I looked closer he seemed familiar. He was also smiling from ear to ear like an elf. It was obvious he had more to say. I then realized it was someone I knew from a couple decades ago. He didn't think I knew who it was but I did, it just took me a minute to digest and calculate his name. His name was Ron Petit and he once drove a milk truck where I worked. I hadn't seen or heard from him since his last day some 20 years ago. It was great to see him. I stood at his driver side window and reminisced for several minutes. He had a passenger who sat patiently waiting. I couldn't really see him clearly. I assumed he was a friend or family member. Ron finally said to me,"You probably know this guy." I leaned down and looked across the cab only to realize it was another friend I hadn't seen in almost 30 years. His name was Ed Covell. We lived in the same town and we were both volunteer fireman. I instantly envisioned a fire call where Ed slipped on an icy driveway while running with the hose. He hit his head knocking him unconscious. Instead of fighting a fire Ed found himself in the back of an ambulance headed for the hospital. All I remember is jumping in the passenger side of the station wagon type ambulance in full firefighting gear. My door wouldn't close and as we raced to the hospital at 70mph I clung onto that door for dear life. In the end Ed was fine. The door latch was fixed. And the trailer we raced to extinguish that night burned to the ground. No one was injured. Memories were made. 

It was a double injection of nostalgia as I stood there leaning on the door of Ron's pickup. It turns out Ron and Ed have been friends for quite sometime now. All three of us shared fifteen minutes of ear to ear smiles and lots of, "Do you remember?"'s I could have stood there for hours. It was like hitting two $50 scratch-offs in one day. I think it was the unexpected thrill of reuniting with an old friend that made it special. To get a double shot out of one Dodge pickup was worth the ride. 

It was a good prelude to my day tomorrow where I plan to visit an aunt I haven't seen in many years. It won't be slap on the back fun, but I am looking forward to a good long hug. I am hoping my mother is there watching over us from above. I will need a little help. It is a long overdue visit. I have some apologizing to do. 

Just in case you didn't believe me. 

Cloudy Heights

Cloudy Heights
By John Greenwood

I stopped aside a country road
a voice told me to
It was Mary Kellogg softly whistling these words:

Slow down young man and raise your eyes to the clouds.
There atop that hill so high, a tree stands silent waiting for your greeting.

I waved an Andy Taylor wave and then
the tree that graced those cloudy heights
lifted leaf and limb and waved right back to me 

*Inspired by a Mary Kellogg poetry reading at the Bedlam Farm Open House on September 1, 2013. 

Country Visit

Country Visit 

By John R. Greenwood

Bedlam Farm view from afar

An Open Group gathered in open air at a place called Bedlam Farm today. Familiar faces, new faces, happy faces, faces so recognizable they seem to speak to you without words. Inspiration spread across a gentle farm, led by the sweet and tasteful words of poet Mary Kellogg--Mary a pillar of confidence reading us her poetry in the shade of a generation old apple tree. 

Poet Mary Kellogg and Emma's dog Pearl 

Animals at every corner of the farm watch with content as their provider sings their praises. A glorious afternoon dotted with people from distant places like Baltimore Maryland, and Edina Minnesota. All arrived in a Bedlam Farm pilgrimage to this real place swarming with real people who emanate such a creative aura you could feel it as they pass by. 

Quiet time with dad

Thank you once again Bedlam Farm and all who wandered her grounds today. You filled up the well once again. My thirst now quenched, my pen filled to the brim. 

UFO's
-Unidentified Farm Occupants-
Soaking in the magic of Bedlam Farm

Hanging out at Bedlam Farm 

I Know A Woman

I Know A Woman
By John R. Greenwood

I know a woman don't you? She's fighting a fight. She's stronger than any man I know. Her gloves are off and her heart is cranked up high. Do you know her? She's your neighbor, your relative, your coworker's mother, wife or sister. She's the woman that waits your table, takes your reservation, writes your prescriptions. You know who I mean. That woman with the larger than life spirit who does for everyone around her without hesitation. That woman you just passed in the market, that's the one. She's on her way to war today. They call it chemical warfare-- a war on her body. Inside that body another war rages against a formidable foe. One who snuck up while she wasn't looking and tried to kick her legs out from under her, but she jumped and it missed. It kept kicking and she kept jumping until they both collapsed in exhaustion. You may not have recognized her but you passed a women today who's been battling for her life. You couldn't tell because she was smiling while shopping for her family. You might have walked by her on the street as she headed to pick up her little ones at day care. The little ones who don't even know what cancer is, they just know every mention of it elicits hugs and tears and I love you's. Then there's that other women you stood next to at the bank last week. She was there drawing cash from her secret savings account. She told the teller she was going on vacation. The teller smiled and said she was jealous and told her to have a nice time. The teller had no way to know the cash was going to pay the power bill. Missed work lightened the family income and they just hadn't planned on going to war with a disease. The woman I know is everywhere. She needs to be. She can't just call a timeout. Be mindful when you pass a smiling face, it may be a mask with tears underneath. 

Dedicated to a woman I know; a woman you know; a woman we don't know...


* This piece is for anyone fighting a battle with cancer. It was written for a someone outside my family but always in our thoughts and prayers.