It gets hard sometimes—to sit and write. I sometimes lose focus on why I began this trip. But then something happens. Someone steps up and shares a piece of their life with me, and that’s when I realize, “Maybe I’m not alone in this crazy place.”
I began this journey years ago with a short blog entry that explained, “I doubt anyone will ever read any of this, but here it goes,” and so I went on.
I learned as I went and withstood the criticisms and jabs. I learned to disregard my Continue reading
Author Archives: bennyk1972
Quick post: an old re-written poem
The years have moved on into delicate wrinkles.
I know this because I’ve aged too.
I’ve grown older somehow, despite my best efforts
and I find myself curious about things I never considered . . .
Like what would have happened if you were caught instead of me? Continue reading
Labor Day Morning.
The first Labor Day was celebrated in New York City on September 5, 1882. During this time, the city was in the early stages of electricity. Most worked 12-hour days or 60 hour workweeks. Children as young as six were allowed to work in factories, whereas today, children at the age of six cannot even play on their own front lawn without adult supervision.
I wonder if society then complained as much as we do now?
I admit it . . .
I want to quit sometimes. I don’t want to work the hours I work, and I’m tired. I have too many Continue reading
quiet poetry
Sunday, Labor Day Weekend 8/31/14
It is a quiet day to end the summer.
There is no sun and gray clouds blanket the sky.
There has been no rain yet,
but the smell in the air says that rain is on its way.
Though not officially,
tomorrow is the commercial end of the season.
After this weekend, the beaches will empty.
The waves will continue,
but without the bodies lining the shoreline,
the sound of waves crashing Continue reading
Paying it forward
People often say, “Don’t get old,” and they say this as if we have a choice.
They say, “If you do get old, then don’t get old and sick,” and again, people will say this as if we have a choice in the matter. But we don’t.
Next is, “Don’t ever get old and sick. But if you do get old and sick, don’t get old and sick and be poor.”
I suppose that’s all good advice.
My mother falls into the “Old” category and with five diseases in her spine; I think she falls into the “Sick” category as well.
She does not have the money she once did, nor does she Continue reading
Friendship
This may only be my opinion, but in a world of applications, updating software and social media, the term “Friends,” has become less that what it was. In my opinion, it has lost its value.
The dictionary defines friend as a Continue reading
Goodbye Letter
When I arrived at your facility, I was still shaky at best. I was not sober for very long and the whispering urges were still with me. So was the attitude and so were scams that come with every wise-ass kid trying to prove himself. I weighed just over 100lbs and my skin was beginning to come back to a natural color. My eyes were sunken with dark rings beneath them and my ribs poked from the sides of my body. I was not ready to give up my addiction and I was even less willing Continue reading
in memory: a lesson from the farm
I sat in the back pew of an upstate church with the February sun leaking in through the stained glass windows. The room was cold and empty. The wooden benches were cold to the touch and the silence was loud enough to make my ears ring.
My hands were cold because the heat was turned down. My thoughts were scattered and my stomach growled because my breakfast was only half-portioned.
Outside, the sky was a brilliant shade of winter blue with long faded strips of Continue reading
a small getaway
I want to sit in my car, turn the key, and take you to small place in a quiet town. I want to go beyond the tall city buildings and away from the hustling grind of the everyday businesses, away from the senseless chatter of meaningless complaints, and away from the everyday energies that drain us from our dreams. I want to drive over the George Washington Bridge and through the valleys and mountains that make our upstate drives as scenic as they are.
I want to drive along I-80 into the State of Continue reading
A Way to the Heart
I believe in the healing power of a home cooked meal. I say there is nothing as heartwarming or welcoming as a table filled with plates of food, because food is love, and aside from the nutritional value is the beautiful gesture that comes during its preparation.
Some of my warmest memories are linked to great meals. Some of the memories are from crowded family tables and some are more intimate and candlelit. Like the time I made acorn squash, mashed with butter and sweetened with brown sugar. I plated this with chicken and served it as the first meal I ever prepared for the girl that became my wife.
Food is love . . .
After a long day at work, I had the kind of day that left my bones aching and my Continue reading
