Writing to learn

Learning to write

   Making sense of reality

Leaving reality

    Walking into newness

Letting go

   Making images

Liking words

   Wishing for success

Listening

   Wanting to hear

Lessening

HEAT

    In the winter we wish for heat. The chance to peel off the layers to walk barefoot in the sand and feel the warmth massage the bones of the toes. The idea of heat on the bare skin, sun warming, cooking the epidermis, evenly caressing the air, soothing everything exposed. The idea of exposed skin feeling its response to the evenly dry warmth. The initial stimulation of the sunlight being absorbed on the bare skin. Warming the bones, cooking the blood, slowing the senses and the motion of life.

   As the dog days of summer dry everything the thought runs to find something cool. Makes one want a haircut so short each hair will not be missed. The idea of humans longing for a hot meal is repugnant. The idea of hot and spicy sends the sensibilities a flutter.

   The heat is oppressive it choles the ability to breathe. It cooks the skin into numbness. It boils the blood. Then there is no one or nothing worth touching. It frays the nerves. It changes the landscape producing an alien planet seared to oneness. Each blade of grass burnt to resemble each leaf fallen from the tree. Each petal from a flower looks shriveled. Too much of anything?

   In the winter we wish for too much heat. In the summer we wish for much less heat. There seems to be an affect upon the skin, perhaps it is the evaporation of moisture we find less inviting, perhaps it is the oils dissipating. Whatever it is, it is more than we want or less than we want. The never measure of satisfaction.

   As the nose dries, the eyes no longer tear, the wetness on the palms of the hands is so intense it does not cool the face as it evaporates.

   It is early July with plenty more time for intense heat to swell the senses into a numbness like no other. Without water, longing for water, looking for wetness, cool sprinkles to wake the heated mind. To bring alive the person sitting quietly waiting for winter to again be wishing for summer.

A chilling experience

  The ice cube gives us a chilling experience - it cools our mood to last than body temperature. There are iceboats, ice angels, and mermaids, some fit in a glass or float atop a table. It is a cold thought in the winter and less of a chilling version in summer. 

  Oftentimes, flowers are planted in containers to be frozen in time to freeze the beauty, for individuals' glasses, as they dance upon the liquid sea surrounding.

  Of course, there are other tantalizing uses for the frozen water: to adorn fresh fish or cuddle a cadaver. 

  Most often we associate ice cubes with the food industry, yet, if you have ever been the recipient of fake knees, you know they are wrapped surrounding skin to reduce swelling and pain.

  Of course, they are priceless for hangovers as partygoers swear.

  As we raise our glasses let us toast the ice cube melting atop the fire. And the cill it imparts on the flame, though it will not be crushed, just melted away.

a love story

   A sunny Saturday morning in summer. Children are running around the house, running in circles around the building, running, as children always do. Why? Who knows. It is just something children do, exercising their muscles and venturing just a bit away from the nest. They are running in the same direction, along the driveway, past the garages and fig tree, into the yard and out to the front sidewalk. They stop by the front double doors of the four-family dwelling to catch their breath. One of the girls lifts her head up from gazing at the cement and glances up the street.

   "It's Benny, Benny's coming!" she yells. In unison all the children become agitated, fidgety jumpy and screeching with excitement. They disperse as if there is a fire. From every door they run into Grandma's apartment and select a position in the dining area of the big kitchen. They find their spot and their feet are in place, lictors positioning on their marks upon a stage, they stand in silence.

  Benny arrives in the kitchen with his little black bag and greets everyone. He moves one chair to the widest space in the room. He opens his bag and removes his nylon shirt, outs it on and continues to remove things from his tiny leather case just as Professor Irwin Corey would take sausage from his train car on the Ed Sullivan Show. He places scissors and comb in his pocket, the children following every movement of his arms without moving a muscle. Only their eyes follow. not missing a step.

   Next, Benny helps Grandpa out of his seat by the window. Since his stroke and the onset of Parkinson's Disease, Grandpa has lost most of the ability to move his arms and legs. his speech a whisper with an Italian accent.

   Grandpa is aided in lowering himself into the new seat. Benny takes a small white towel from his bag and places around Grandpa's neck, and then puts the barber's cover over Grandpa's torso, snapping the clasp at the back of his neck.

   From one of the small shelves decorating the sides of the wall, Benny takes Grandpa's shaving mug and brush, adds some water, and whips up some lather for Grandpa's freshly washed face. He brushes lather on the week's growth of whiskers.to under the chin near the ears. The children shift their weight to their other foot, eyes not blinking. Benny wipes lather from Grandpa's lips.

  Benny's strop, the yard of leather used to sharpen the straight razor' is somehow attached to the back of the chair. Benny holds the strop taught as he strokes the razor's edge down the strop, angling the other side of the razor back up the stop. Several times he glides the blade up and down the leather to sharpen both sides of the blade, then touches the blade with his thumb to see if it is sharpened to his liking. Benny gently slides the blade of the razor along Grandpa's cheek, near the top of his ear down to his chin. He wipes the lather with the bits of Grandpa's beard, onto the towel waiting on Grandpa's shoulder.

   The children still have not moved. In a twilight trance, one wiggles away thee need to run to the bathroom, hoping it will delay the call of nature. Benny gently raises the tip of Grandpa's nose; the children note his tender caring touch, nod approval to themselves, acknowledging that Benny is regarding Grandpa with the honor they expect for him.

  After Grandpa's seven-day beard is removed, a warm wet cloth erases the last film of lather and Benny begins to trim the little bit of hair left growing on Grandpa's head. The children begin to fidget without moving their feet. Even the littlest the four-year-old hasn't left the stage nor made a sound, waiting. Benny combs the last locks at the back of the head, removes the wrap, shakes the hair to the floor, removes the neck towel and dusts Grandpa's neck with powder. Then he brushes the shoulders of Grandpa's shirt.

  Now the piece de resistance. Benny pours some liquid from a small bottle into the palm of his hand, rubs his hands together, and softly moves his hands along Grandpa's shiny soft cheeks and neck. The magic moment in unison. when the children run to climb upon Grandpa's lap and touch his soft cheeks and kiss the bristle free face smelling of aftershave.

  They like kissing Grandpa the most on Saturday morning after his haircut and shave, his soft smooth cheeks like velvet. The children are happy; they can climb on Grandpa's lap and kiss him without getting scratched.

  Benny is pleased as he assesses his work. He has brought happiness. He smiles approval, then sweeps the hairs from the floor and repacks his little black bag, and the children return to running around the house.