Tuesday, March 29, 2016

An Old Man’s Early Morning Musings

I've been trying to figure out what I want to be when I get old(er). It is getting harder to aspire.

I was listening to some beautiful finger style guitar music yesterday and realized that my arthritic fingers will not let me go back to that; even back to the simple skills I once had.

I cannot aspire (breathe any hope into the thought that I will be able) to sing anymore. Lungs aren’t what they used to be and one vocal cord has malfunctioned.

Photography is very difficult now; getting out to, then down to, or up to is just more than I can easily or safely manage.

The energy it takes to think past the fog of Gabapentin makes me know that I'm coming to the end of my productive writing days.

I can still cook up a good bean soup, or assemble a delicious salad, but not without considerable back pain, and why, when we can get a good meal provided without the back pain?

So I may just become a mule; let myself out to plow the fields of others; let people know the simple chores I can perform from the comfort of my recliner. I can convert their slides and photos to digital format and (with some luck) their Video tapes to DVDs and mpeg files. It will make me look busy and perhaps even be useful for as long as my equipment (mental and technological) holds out.

I thought about running for President but I’ve mellowed some in my old age; I don't think I can be that nasty, if you can believe it.

I see that the Technical School (“College,” they want to be called now) is holding another of their career exploration days today from 4 until 7 or 8 p.m. Maybe I should swing by there and check it out. Parking is free and they are giving away a five hundred dollar scholarship. 'Spose they'd really let an old man like me keep it if I turned out to be the lucky winner? I probably won't go. I've already figured out that if I can't be President, I want to be a mule.

Can you tell the mood I'm in? I'm not as morose as I sound. Once I get a good Maple Manor Restaurant breakfast in me (one egg over easy and a pancake) my outlook will turn sunny and I'll attack the world with vigor. Yes, vigor! But right now I’m going to check the condition of that yoke and harness.

Monday, March 21, 2016

No Debtors, No Creditors

(A Haiku Duet)
by Jim Rapp

Never a good deed
so small, not to elicit,
“What do I owe you?”

Never a good deed
so immense, not to respond,
“Think nothing of it.”


Sunday, March 20, 2016

The “Stolen” Boat

(A Haiku Trio)
by Jim Rapp

A trusting soul moored
his boat on Willow River;
now I’ve made it mine.

Ashamed to say, I
stole it, then stole away; his
prize, my prize to stay.

A digital theft;
he left, I klept, and now I
own a lovely boat.

Thursday, March 17, 2016

The Birthday Boy

(A Haiku Trio)
by Jim Rapp

I should honor March
with a word or two; it birthed
me ages ago.

Cold Illinois winds
marched across the bleak prairie
carrying me home.

Now Wisconsin marks
my annual merriments;
Eighty Marches told.