In a Reminiscing Mood

This is one of my Favorite Spoken Word posts. Written on the occasion of missing someone no longer in my Life. It’s the stuff that Love songs a la Luther, Kem, Levert, Donny H spring from. Fueled by that 3rd glass of Pinot in the quiet early dawn. 🎶Yesterday …Love WAS such an easy game to play… 

Liberal Lin


The World yawns, stretches and braces for a New Day

Birds chirp their morning Anthem.

Leaves unfurl

Grass shakes off its dew

And I lie here sleepless, thinking of you.

Missing the voice that cradles my heart.

Soothes and calms my fears.

Whispers gently, trust me

I will Not let you go

I get you.

Missing the Smile that twinkles

those gray/brown eyes

Deepening the dimples

bringing out the impish boy hiding inside.

Missing the Hands that heal the wounded

Pray to the Creator

And catch hold of mine

Carefully guiding me beside not behind.

Missing the Mind, lightning quick

complex, collecting, processing, storing

Zoom zoom on multiple tracks

Yet carving out some

cerebral space for me.

Missing the pet names

A language shared only by us.

Missing the passion

The volcano erupting, bubbling over

Spreading its fiery furnace over My land.

Missing my smile, my lightness, my glow

That touches all…

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SUMMERTIME…and the livin’ is…

C’mon singalong, you know the rest.

…Easy. Fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is high.  Oh, your daddy’s rich and your ma is good -lookin’. So hush, little baby, don’t you cry. (Ella Fitzgerald)

Well, Memorial Day, the unofficial start of Summer is behind us and although the calendar has not fully reached the ‘official’ start of summer, many of us sun worshippers are in attack mode.

The weather is appropriately hot/humid, mosquitos are abuzzing, flowers are drooping, grass is dying, ice cream trucks are a dingalinging, honeysuckle blossoms perfume the air, long lazy days/ hot, heavy nights, wet swimsuits/towels drying on the porch, lazy afternoons in the hammock/Adirondack, Vacation days circled, car packed with surfboards, jet skis unearthed from garage, crab nets cleaned, sun hat/sunshades and suntan lotion packed (yes, Virginia, people of color burn…just takes longer to get through that God given melanin). free movies/concert on the beach/river/town center lawn, charcoal grills ablaze and starry, whisper filled nights spent out on the patio/front porch.

All over the country, people are making the transition from spring to summer and the memories that I have are probably not to different from yours.

Girl, I dunno…you have some weird stuff going on in your life.

It IS time to slow down. Take a break. Leave the hustle and bustle of our technological, I am not a Robot filled lives.  Time to dress lighter, eat healthier, drink sensibly (except h2o, beer, tequila and wine…got to stay hydrated), and for once, truly marvel at the World around us.

The question Reader is how many of you have taken the summer plunge? And how many of you are still in everyday rush, rush, type A, can’t get it all done mode?  No, I’m not advocating wholesale abandonment of your job.  That would be foolish, reckless and a chance for another country to come in and take over…start producing all our goods, buying up all our real estate, outsourcing all our jobs…oops, Damn, that’s already happening…

What I am advocating is that you devote some time in the next 2 months to an activity ( be it solo/with a partner/family) that conjures up/recreates memories from your own childhood.  Some pleasurable memory/experience that means summer to you.  What is that, you ask?

Well, in my best soothing yoga voice, Relax.  Remember a time when life was simple and uncomplicated. When summer meant playing outside with your best friends for hours stopping only for a quick glass of  ice cold lemonade and a baloney sandwich.  Roaming the neighborhood like an Explorer in a Foreign Land squashing beetles, capturing butterflies/ladybugs and swatting mosquitos along the way. Jumping rope, hopscotch, hide and go seek, Marbles, dodge ball, softball, stickball. Kicking rocks. Begging for money for the ice cream man, and  please can we get wet with the garden hose … staying out until the streetlights came on. All because it was Summertime!

Would love to hear your memories in the Comment section below. Love and Light!


(From the 2012 Archives…what’s old is new again…life is a circle…same sh*t/different day)
(I originally wrote this Blog a month ago  and in my haste to post it lost it due to a “no signal” message which suddenly scrolled across the monitor just as I was about to hit “publish” button. Of course, Reader that was in the early writing days of the Blog when I was foolishly typing on the site. After that experience, I went back to my traditional composing/ rewriting/editing method on a Word document before transferring it to the Blog site).
…This topic came about following a conversation with a close friend who casually mentioned it was her Anniversary.  In fact she recounted laughingly (not a word) that she had been married 34 years and did not realize it until a church member pointed to the Announcement in the church bulletin that Sunday. Surprise, Surprise. I assumed this was her hubby’s way of making this fact known to the congregation and also to his unsuspecting wifey. She said they generally never celebrated their Anniversary by doing anything special and this one would have gone by unnoticed as well.
…Thirty four years with the same person…waking up..going to bed..sitting across from the breakfast/lunch/dinner table…stumbling over underwears/shoes left in the floor…sharing/squeezing out the same toothpaste tube….doing the ..hurry up I got to use the bathroom dance...bickering about the remote/the credit card balance/the kid’s report cards/the water you forgot to put in the ice tray…AND she didn’t remember? How is that possible?
…In a relationship where the couple has weathered the storms of marital harmony and escaped the divorce monger (we are still at 50% survival rate), I guess it is easy to forget about the years that have slipped by preferring to focus on other daily challenges that life presents. How nice it must be to know that this area of one’s life is safe and under control…while jobs/career plans/health/finances/children/cars/foreclosure/bankruptcy/student loans/aging parents/etc.. all conspire to make life a hurdle and not a sprint.
…I had to pause for a moment and literally count the number of couples I knew who were similarly situated. Maybe not 34 years but still in the marriage game. Alas, the number was not many. The number of friends/colleagues/associates who are in the ranks of the divorced far outweigh the equally yoked crowd. And this Reader, I found to be quite sad.
…I am a self-proclaimed Romantic (not the tree hugging Wordsworth kind, I am more of the Zora Neale ilk), I believe in love. Just the other day a man I was unashamedly flirting with, asked me what is the one thing you want in life? Without pause, I responded LOVE. Not peace, not an end to world hunger, not a BMW, not a winning lottery ticket…(those would be nice of course)..but LOVE.
…As a young girl growing up in the 60s, I fantasized with my fellow playmates about falling in love. Back then it was Kookie from 77 Sunset Strip or Efrem Zimbalist Jr. who made us all go faint at the thought that they would leave Hollywood and come home to us in Victory Manor after a long, hard day on the set. This affinity and belief in love stayed with me through the terrible junior high years when I struggled to understand who I was. A skinny, darkskinned girl with long, thick hair and a nose too wide for her face. Who everyone agreed was smart as a whip and with that smile and that distinctive voice would certainly go far in life.

Gurl, you proved them right didn’t you…go head!
…All I really ever thought about was when would someone ever love me as much as I loved them. Of course, the fact that I was terrified of boys with their parts that could make a girl big like a watermelon did not help much in the boyfriend game. So I  spent long hours tucked away in the stacks at Blyden library reading every romance novel from Jane Eyre to Lessons of Desire And the stack of True Romance that I kept hidden under my mattress allowed me to vicariously experience this thing called love (or was that lust?) Same thing…Ah just kidding.
…High School brought concerns about fitting in, finding my place in a newly integrated world where I was a foreigner. Instead of the usual boyfriend/girlfriend/whatarewedoingSaturdaynite issues, I was busy trying to navigate the world of MHS and avoid the spitballs, obscenities, fights, threats that accompanied a typical school day. But I had chosen to enter this battlefield while my friends attended historic, all black BTW across town because I was in search of a different experience. I eventually found my place in Mr. Comer’s journalism class and under his guidance became the author of a monthly column, Over the Wall, which temporarily took the place of a boyfriend and opened me to the wonders of writing.
A column takes the place of a man….girl you must have bumped your head?
Writing became my solace, my girlfriend, my boyfriend, my safe place to fall…my love.
…Did it stop me from seeking a man to love? Of course not. If you have read those excerpts from my Memoir/Fiction (publication still pending…waiting for all the 50 Shades hoopla to die down) you know that I am the proverbial seeker of love (in all the right/wrong Places). From the days in heady L.A. to nights in Virginia is for Lovers, I have sought love. And sometimes it has sought me in return. Despite this quest, unfortunately, I cannot claim 34 years of marital bliss. Life had another path for me….one that involved lots of stops and starts…and multiple leaps over the broom. Am I disillusioned, burned out, broken hearted, walking wounded, stickaforkinmeI’mdone with Men?
Sometimes. Some days. But not many.
Most days I am hopeful… like Janie in Their Eyes Were Watching God, I too am looking at the pear tree waiting for love to find huh. And smiling at the memory of my friend’s 34 years that just seemed to whiz by without her noticing that she is still loved and in love

Love and Light!

Welcome to My Love…


IMG_1505Welcome to my love, come on in and make yourself at home. Welcome to my life. I know everything is gonna be alright. Welcome to my love oh darling . Come on in and take all you want…(Rachelle Ferrell)
…Compiling a new Playlist for walking/dancing around the house/ wine tasting with me myself and I/feel like I’m the only person in the world who understands me Times.
I guess this is the Boomer version of a mixed tape. Although I don’t ever remember compiling any. I did however, receive a few from suitors who were really trying to impress me…they knew I was a music lover…and in many cases, it worked! Often the music from their carefully chosen collection of love songs dedicated to me played on long after the relationship ended. And when I’m in a sentimental mood, I can still break out one of those tomes and a box of tissue and reminisce with the best of them.
…I was one of those folks who used to buy a vinyl record and wear it out, playing a favorite song over and over until the whole record was ruined. It was only recently that I took my decades old collection to a dealer (record) and parted with it for a very paltry sum. I really wanted to keep some of those old jacket covers but read that they can be fodder for bugs (they eat the glue) and who needs that.
…My love of music traces back to my early days listening to my Dad’s jazz collection. He had hundreds of vinyl records and ALL the greats. My favorites were Miles, Frank Sinatra, Nina Simone, and Nancy Wilson. Every Sunday, the house would awaken to the melodious sounds of these and other jazz greats setting the tone for our Sunday family breakfast ritual, Sunday school/church (the only Black Presbyterians in town), a car ride afterwards through the tunnel to visit family/friends, or if it was Summer, an impromptu picnic at the lone Black beach.
…Little did I know that this music would become the background for my life. And as my teenage tastes gravitated to Motown and later Hip Hop, I always kept a few staples of jazz in my collection.
…Recently, I was purging my CD collection prior to a move and decided to box up many of my Verve label hits…many of them standards my Dad used to own in vinyl…and present them to him as a gift on Father’s Day. The sly smile that played across his face was priceless and his soft thank you…music to my ear.
….Fortunately, I did not invest much money in tapes back in the day, as I could see they would be short lived. Cassette tapes always got tangled up and required the owner to keep a pencil nearby for such emergencies. I welcomed the CDs for their clarity of sound, long lasting, almost inability to scratch, can play in a car/Beatbox/computer/Walkman versatility.
…Sadly, my CD collection does not get much use these days. It has been hijacked by the likes of itunes Amazon, and easily downloadable singles. I’m still waiting for someone to give me the link to the free downloads site…but I guess those guys are all waiting for bail.
… After discovering the joys of Playlists, I can always find time to organize My Music, unlike my life, in nice, neat,easy to access categories. This technology, of course, ensures the appropriate music for any occasion whether it be a brisk calorie counting walk, a long train rain, an even longer car ride, a gathering of friends or just some ME time dancing, lipsync-ing, contemplating, raging, namasta-ing (not a word), loving my way through this life.
Play On!