What’s for dinner?

It often seems that life goes full circle

And yet unbeknownst to us

That circle had been closing for a very long time

A lifetime even as we now look back

This particular round shape currently under consideration is

FOOD

Quite right as there are as many divergent issues about food as there are about politics and religion

Thinking to yourself or reminiscing with a good friend

Actually you could be discussing food with anyone

As food is an acceptable topic around the table

And yet there needs to be an order to the discussion

Just a suggestion

Early memories of food

Family traditions about food

Likes and dislikes

Current alterations to the culinary experience

So why does this matter?

Well some people are tired talking about the weather

Politics and the pandemic are steeped in anxiety

Food is potentially more appealing

Food will always evoke visceral memories

My father ate Limburger cheese and drank buttermilk

That should cause your stomach to curdle just thinking about it

All of us have those type memories or very pleasant reflections

Seems like every family has their own history at the dining table

From saying prayers, please and thank you

To discussing the days events

And for such a gathering there were always rules

Eat everything on your plate, if your late for dinner you don’t eat

But only after children have left the nest

Do discussions start about what was served at the table

Tuna fish casserole, hot dogs with sauerkraut , skillet liver,

Ad infinitum are the examples along with the varied reactions to those memories

Nonetheless we have all moved on

Some dishes were modified, some never copied

And not all have had their personal chef through life

And so it is that though political, health, religious topics permeate

At the end of the day for better or worse

Just one question

What’s for dinner?

Frank X Cameron 10/29/2020 frankxcameron.com Copyright

Remember

Did not recollect

Ok I forgot

The annual rite of Christmas

The captivating story of Santa Claus

The reindeer, the midnight ride

Little children understanding

The need to be good

To be rewarded with presents

So often now Facebook, Amazon, Google, etc

Already know what we want

But who exactly knows if we’ve been good

Don’t look in the mirror

Worst liar in the world looking back at you

Just one candidate to decide

Whose been naughty and nice

Yes it is Santa Claus I was told

By an introspective four year old

As she gazed through a Christmas tree display

Santa knows if you’ve been bad PaPa

Didn’t want to tell her

There was a long line of people

Who know if I had been bad

Let’s leave them outside of this conversation

FXC frankxcameron.com 10/12/2020

Little eyes see it all

This moment

So indecisive about

The existence of God

Yahweh, a Supreme Being

Life tosses us in so many directions

Good, evil, apathetic

It would seem we cling

To our upbringing or rebel

But ultimately we don’t know

Whether coming or going

Most seem to feel they are the righteous

But the young, the very young

Seem to understand

The purity of goodness

That reaching out with kindness

Is an undeniable eternal gift

Thus my grandchild

Like yours

Can make a cupcake with help

Give it to you

Reaching up eyes searching

Saying

“PaPa I made this green cupcake for you because I know green is your favorite color”

I don’t even want to ask how many hairs on my head

Yes, yes your eyes, your thoughts

Refresh my faith

I love you dear child

FXC 10/2/2020 frankxcameron.com

Sous-chef

Many years spent eating

Never dreamt an opportunity

Might arrive

To actually be an Executive Chef

Frequently studied menus

Even recipes

But beyond PB&J and tomato soup

Had never gotten a whiff

In a kitchen with real responsibility

An iron clad grip by the resident executive chef

Prevented any upstart

From trying their hand at a culinary delight

For a long time I was placated

With slicing, and dicing

Thawing, marinating

But even seasoning was beyond my pay grade

As my ‘pinch of salt’

Seemingly was not actually the right, ‘pinch of salt’

It was accepted by myself and others

That I would be forever relegated to the kitchen

And yet after many, many years of my tasting

Fatigue began to affect the Executive chef

Occasionally now slivers of responsibility

Drifted my way slowly

Turning the oven on, setting the temperature

Greasing the pan, determining the timer

Sometimes even meal preparation skills

Were developing

At the end of the day, in my innermost thoughts

I understood I had no intuitive understanding

Of the culinary arts

Other than what I read in a recipe

Nonetheless hunger, endless hunger

Motivated a drive to create delicious dishes

Yet even now, I accept I will never really be an

Executive chef with the responsibility of

Satisfying divergent tastes

So though I remain hopeful of upward mobility

And the perceived chance to advance from Sous-chef

I respectfully serve at the discretion of the current

Executive chef

Frank X Cameron 9/24/2020 Copyright frankxcameron.com

Mind games with a 4 year old

Old enough now to expect respect

Maybe even demand respect

From the younger generation

Really younger generation

And more to the point

When playing a head game one on one

The assumption is that I know the ending, I WIN

Not anticipating one so young would see clear through

My alleged sense of humor

Case in point

On the swing set, said young culprit was not behaving

Was told I would find the biggest stick possible for correction

Suddenly the swinging stoppecd

Little feet quickly found a bush and branches

Very carefully a little hand found a little stick

Brought it to me

Simply stating, “Here PaPa”

Understood almost immediately

Someone had played a head game on me.

Insult to injury

No eye contact was made

Will just have to up my game!

FXC 9/13/2020 Copyright frankxcameron.com

Willmette

Once upon a time

Long , long ago

In a tiny Chicago suburb

Nestled so close to Lake Michigan

Lived two children

Still clawing their way through high school

Inexperienced in life and love

Nonetheless with the urging of normal biology instincts

Began a story 51 years long

Rife with passion, sadness and joy

So many books with so many similarities

Why this journey though harrowing at times

Stayed on the tracks though often the turns in the road

Might seem to derail

When other stories were cut short far before their time

Prognostications would indicate no possibility of success

Life never predictable

Vagaries permeating

Left this couple to chance

Still with gnarled hands

Clinging to friends and family

Tired eyes still smiling

Grandchildren, yard work, sewing and writing

Await, the story not finished

Though no longer rushing headlong

Seems the heart will pen the final chapters

Of this tale now along the banks of the Ohio

Peaceful moments, grateful memories, thank you all!

FXC frankxcameron.com Copyright 9/13/2020

Continue reading

30 minutes, slow down

Heard tell the heavyweight of

Package delivery

Has put their foot down and

Will now deliver packages in 30 minutes

Using drones

Drones, a word, a concept

That didn’t exist till Star Wars

This march of progress

Has now become a race

To increase the population of hoarders

What is it that needs to be somewhere in 30 minutes

Mothers in a delivery room

I get that

Pain relieving medicine

Makes sense

Bride walking down the aisle

Oh dear Lord please hurry

There are more examples

But none that need to be at my house in 30 minutes

Including food, sex and religion

Trust me I need a good thirty minutes

Before I’m ready in any of those areas

So hold on to your stop watches

Take a survey of individuals sitting on their porches

Waiting for the sun to rise or set, the rain to soak the lawn or just smiling as grandchildren roll in the grass

I’m not worried about thirty minutes

Let’s try a switch

Let me just enjoy this thirty minutes

But who is counting

FXC 9/1/2020 Copyright

frankxcameron.com

Political porn

Funny thing

You and I

Have different tastes

In reference to religion, food, sex, friends, politics

Somehow though any of those or all

Routinely and incessently

Are splashed across all news feeds

That is totally understandable as money

Talks real LOUD

The large net will surely snag all of us at some point

Capture our minds for a minute or more

Porn can do that so I’m told

Our valid interests in news draws us in

Veiled images and allusions

Used to exploit and entice

Appeal to all right or left

Though some might demurely deny

The very existence of lust

For the excitement

One of the great things about America

Is that it is predictable

Capitalism rules

Unless we just pick up a good book!

And just experience wanderlust!

FXC 8/20/2020 Copyright frankxcameron.com

Why do I write?

A close friend recently messaged me a quote

A quote from Toni Morrison, who herself is a great writer

“This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no pace for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal.”

What I feel, see, touch pours out of me

Much as colors from an artist, notes from a musician,

All of us are writers within how we live our lives

With compassion, and dedication to making our world better

I’m very grateful to my friend for reminding me

To pick up my pen again and write

FXC 8/9/2020 Copyright frankxcameron.com

Macabre humor?

So much so long ago

Really had no thought behind it

Racing through life

As if it was a a journey

That needed to be completed

With urgency

Till now as time flies but the body doesn’t

Daily, frequently, all the time

It is frighteningly quite apparent that

The body is lagging far behind

Slowing down, reversing gears as it were

In it’s attempts to replicate

What was once ‘all that’

Case in point

Trimming trees

Granted never has a tree had me scampering up its bark

But in my defense often used a ladder

To shape the lower branches

And here is where I have finally found

My understanding , my brain is of the opinion

I still possess this skill set

So as it were

My wife and I set out the front door

Three step step stool, and a trimmer our accessories

Slight discussion who would use the step stool

She of more ‘nimble footing’

Might have been the logical choice

But I the more delusional of the pair

Somewhat confidently strode to the arena

Heard a loud drumroll

Up the three steps

Still bending over

Knowing full well to straighten up

Will test every known weakness in my body

Finally my body is extended to it’s full 5’7”

And with that a certain movement was noticed in the sky

As the juxtaposition of my body and the moving landscape

Immediately convinced me of my folly

Quickly notifying my cohort of my concern

I returned to Mother Earth from my perch

Neither of us able to look at each other

Quietly very quietly

Playing the last moments over in our minds

Not understanding where the last seventy years had gone

Wanting to cry and laugh at the same time

For what we had lost but also for what we still had

FXC 8/9/2020 Copyright frankxcameron.com