Last time I saw him

June 29 1969

His last day with us

His wife and seven children survived

Somewhat like being thrown to the wind

Always sensed the difficulty

Of having seven children

A single Mom at 54

But really still lingering

Thoughts and memories

Of a man never really knew

Faded pictures and worn mental images

Persist

Would periodically wonder if we were alike

Not a fair comparison

Our time together

Were his busiest days

And my growing away opportunities

Often times still grieve

All that I missed, he missed

Able to read his writings

Descriptions of travels the family took

Written somewhat like a lawyer which he was

Still though

Isolated moments

That I still vividly see him

Not on his last day

But on another happy day

In his royal blues

Colonel Thomas Joseph Cameron

Thank you Dad

I love you

FXC 11/2/2019

Copyright

So often the phrase

Onlookers

Labels those who drive by an accident

Not stopping to lend assistance

In other scenarios

Is heard ‘they don’t care’

But to truly understand

There is good, evil and lukewarm

Sit with me

As on a cold rainy Saturday afternoon

In a crowded well lit bowling alley

As a Special Olympic regional bowling tournament

Is played with banners, music and intensity

Competitors of all abilities

Struggle to shine

Exhibiting all that they have

Surrounding them

Coaches, fans, families

Committed that these athletes

Will be all they can be

Make no mistake

These people who hold, love and support

Many who are not even family

But help as if FAMILY

Reveal themselves

To be the ONE!

FXC 10/27/19

Copyright

Started out simple enough

Curious about anything and everything

Didn’t seem to have time before

Yet now trying to take a break

From my working even in retirement

Not kidding

Yard work, housework, grandchildren, travel, cooking

Yes, I said cooking

After 50 years the job has pretty much been handed over to me

Back to taking a break

Just wanted to sit and scroll on my beloved iPad

Review Facebook,

Found out all about my relatives and friends that

I will never be able to visit

Be educated about current events

Brutally found out that what I considered

‘Near and dear’ was not the same for everyone

Discovered 50% of the people in myworld

Were not actually in the world I thought I was in

Difficult accepting that

Needed to sort through all the news sources

Deleting some adding some

Unable to assemble current information

Suitable for my interests

Like most I’m sure

Concluded that was impossible

Reduced ‘screen time’

Still dealing with the new realities

Greatest shock is that

This divergence in my world

Is actually not new

That the fight to establish

Perceived truth

Is eternal

Welcome to the new real world!

Women

Men just so unable,

To relate

To women in all their reincarnations

Grandmothers, Mothers, sisters, daughters, girlfriends, wives

And all related variations like in-laws

And strange as it may sound “sister”

Is the most intriguing relationship

Never really believed understanding a woman

Would be my forte

It’s not like there is a ‘Wikipedia’ for Women

So my learning could only be by observing

Sisters seemed to be all around

Grandmothers, Mothers, sisters, in-laws, friends

All had sisters

Heck, even I had sisters

But it wasn’t until my daughters were sisters

That a glimmer of understanding began

And not actually till they were independent

Sweet support, undying loyalty, deep, deep closeness

Which I’m afraid, not sure guys just aren’t really capable of

Extremely satisfying there are people, okay women

Who just want to love and support

Hmm better call my sisters

Amen!

FXC 10/12/19

Copyright

,

Though the upstairs is cluttered

The basement is a repository of a

50 year time capsule

Comparable to the catacombs

From largely uncategorized cartons of pictures

Sealed bags of clothes and shoes

Unintended vestiges

Of a grand ‘hand me down’ program

Volunteered to slowly, very slowly

Reclassify the intended recipients of family belongings and history

Mostly served as a ‘go for’

A roll I was born to

A documentary of our lives ensued

“These were Carol’s’ shoes

Would love to have remembered Carol in those shoes

Different pants and dresses

Belonging to different children and grandchildren

Going through seemingly endless collections of ‘hand me downs’

My teacher painting our history

Making a verbal movie

So much wished

I could see the original again

But it is not there

Had wanted to clear the clutter

But now I understand

I need to keep it close

Don’t really understand

Why or where

Please rewind and play it again

FXC 10/7/19

Copyright

You know it’s a tough life

So many methods

To indicate success

Have you measured up?

Wear the right dress?

Gone to the right school

Gotten good grades

Made the ‘A’ Team?

How many Social media friends?

Weight in proportion to height?

Smoke – drink?

Good looking?

Good person?

Will it ever be okay

To just be me

Frank. Cameron 9/3/19

Copyright

Batting practice

Every day seems to be a rehearsal of sorts

For the next game

Which is ‘Today’s game of life”?

The night before the dishes are done

Coffee is ready to turn on

No items on floor to trip over

If need be alarms are set

A short list of ‘To Do’ lays by the wallet and keys

A reminder of sorts that

To be a living viable member of life

A plan for that existence must exist

A purpose if you will

Whining about not moving to Florida

Or to a patio home

Only begs the question

But what will I do

Reading the paper has really became passé

Facebook only has so many friends

Eventually the coffee pot is drained

Then what?

First pitch whizzes by

Strike one

Still haven’t gone to the grocery

Got it

Next pitch is on the way

Knees are slightly bent

Yes, yes the French lesson has been learned

Ball 1

The memory

Starts to come back

The next ball will probably be a curve

Asking her to dinner

Oh yeah, Ball 2

Sweat in 90 degree sun flows

When will I ever get on base

Good Luck with that

Base running is a whole other game

Strike 2

Concentrate

Keep your head in the game

This crazy game of life

FXC 10/3/2019

Copyright

Well it’s a question

Do you speak French?

Early on there were some hardened educators

That were of the opinion

Latin would be my strong suit

Well hopefully they didn’t bet the bank on that

In subsequent years there seemed to be a need

To learn Spanish or German

In no particular order

But both attempts

Resulting in disorder

Then though

A retired educator

Was of the opinion

That two aged

Septuagenarians

Would fare well

Learning a new language

To stimulate their mental aptitude

And whatever else

An online course was chosen of course

Books are too intimate

And she would always

Be looking over my shoulder

In all fairness to me

My compatriot and competitor

Studied French four years in high school

Granted cobwebs lingered

Interesting point

There is now an assigned time

For the study period

Not sure why

But dinner at the same time

Is more difficult to arrange

Than a set time to learn French

Wonder if there will be a tape made

Of the first dinner in which French

Is the primary language

My suspicion it might

Be our most hilarious meal

Well let’s be honest

We’ve got nothing to lose

FXC 9/28/19

Copyright

5 AM in the darkness

Of A Gatlinburg morning

Rushing creek provides

Nature’s orchestra

Solitude slips in

As a soft summer breeze

Heralds a cooler day

Jumbled thoughts slowly

Begin to make sense

No phones, TV

Just the creek and me

To solve the problems of the world

But always so difficult

To recreate this moment

When I leave

Gatlinburg

FXC 9/14/19

Copyright

Continue reading →

This Day

To long to remember all the details

Of that seemingly hastily arranged day

Yes 17 might have been a bit young

For a young lady to be proposed to

And yet no logic would discourage the young man

Girlfriend just did not suffice to describe the desired relationship

New to dating he totally understood competition

Would be fierce

No time to be hesitant and noncommittal

Wine, dine and plead your case

That all that was right in the world

Was in her waiting to be set free

Waiting would just postpone the dream

Now fifty years later to the day

As the mind sometimes struggles with details

The TV is turned off

No endless social media

Alone for a moment

Still does not seem like

There is enough time

For a moment alone

Grandchildren have gone home for the day

Dinner for two again

How perfect

Dinner for two

With you Julie Becker

FXC 9/13/19

Copyright