You Lost Yourself is a poem for all little boys who ultimately become men whether they like it or not, or for all men who still remember the joy of being a little boy.
You lost your self or so it seems
At nine or ten or twelve
And you were left alone to
Ponder and to delve
into the past and wander
Looking for “a” self
When ego was so pure
and really not so bad
You look under rock and stone
And upwards towards the cross
At paths so unfamiliar a little so untrue
And making Lil’ Boys feel lost
A little boy exploring
that is what you do
Look at kingdoms named by others
And friends and stories past to
far away peoples, places
do they hold a key?
No, the answer’s there lil’ boy
Atop that great big tree
Find it, climb it, hold it
Give a firm, “I am,” a
“Roger and I’m out.
I am the master of my domain
and “self” it is okay, so someone tell me please
why, can’t I remain?
I can’t, I am I am”, so go ahead
It is okay to run and shout!
When your kingdom is that which rules
And the rules are yours to play by
There’ll be no need to wonder why
No need to shake your head and cry
As martyrs of the past stood, ready to be stoned
For declaring Moses incomplete,
This story is your own.
Clarity will come to you
The words that you should speak
I offer you no games or joker’s kingdom wild
I am only me,
The sacred’s lost and messy child
my kingdom’s made of simple song and stone a little grain,
Look a little closer and then you’ll see
A flower real, just peeking, seeking
Just like you, for me
For you and me and we, are really quite the same
So let me climb that tree with you
And join you in your kingdom lair
I will let you touch my face, my lips, my hands, my hair
I’ll let you beat me to the top
And stare at you with awe
For you are you and I am me and together we shall claim
The self that we both lost at nine or ten or twelve
We will smile, laugh and sing upon
your magic bough.
A year with no Santa? Mary's Blog
Every year my little girl fantasy gets carried away with the hopes and wonder of Christmas. I admittedly believed in Santa until I was past the fifth grade. (I still believe and that is the point of this article)
I remember Very vividly going down to my friend’s house on the 23rd of December. We were all off for Christmas break. Yes, in 1970 we still referred to winter holiday as Christmas break! So as I walked down the block to my friend Mary’s house, I was looking forward to the coming days with great anticipation. Her house was always so perfect, nothing ever out of place. Her father had just replaced the dingy light in the kitchen with a drop ceiling hiding rows and rows of fluorescent lights with a neat plastic covering that had little notches, kind of like diamonds twinkling above, and translucent with bluish fluorescent light streaming through them. I was impressed. We still had the wagon wheel style lamp that danced above half way between the counter where the little kids sat and ate and the stove.
Mary and her mom always had an interesting relationship. Mary was a late in life child. The age difference between her oldest brother and herself was enough that her nephews were her age. I thought that was quite unique and it put Mary at an advantage in the growing up department. They often talked and argued more like sisters than a bantering between mother and daughter. Now do not get me wrong. I had a few squabbles with my mom too, but somehow it was diminished due to the fact that Mary’s siblings were out of the house for the most part and, well, as for me, there were still 6 of us at home ranging in age from about 6 to 18!
It was getting dark and the clock read 4:15. I still can see the clock in their kitchen. I think I was keeping my eye on it as I was always running a little late. I began to share tales with Mary and her mom about how excited I was that Santa would be delivering gifts to our house in less than 48 hours! You can only imagine what mortification I felt as they both turned, looked at me, exchange a quirky smile, (you know the kind that indicates the other parties knows something you don’t) and then broke out into a chuckle. “Oh honestly, you do not really believe that there is a Santa, do you?” I could see Mary’s mother so clearly, she was challenging me to argue, to dare to suggest that I did indeed believe. “I, I, I, well, I guess not.”
I left, ran, I was so upset. I wanted to cry. I guess in my logical brain I knew the truth, but in my heart, I wanted so much to believe, to believe that there could be someone in the world who would want to visit me, to share treasures, to visit and seek me out, special. I went into the kitchen to find my mom cooking, I could see her over the counter through the steam. The room lit with that doggone light. Why couldn’t it have been brighter? I told my mother of my encounter. I was so down, the Christmas spirit had been dashed, hopeless. "What was the use?"
Mom in her wisdom assured me that indeed Santa could be in my heart and as long as I chose to believe, it would be real and indeed Santa would bless my Christmases for many years to come.
That same year I remember my mother was also a little down. She feared there was not enough money to make it a really good Christmas. As my memory serves me, I reassured her that the most important part was the time we would spend together on Christmas Eve in the house on Evergreen with her traditional candlelight, a feast of cookies, eggnog, sausage, cheeses of many kinds and her cheese ball.
That Christmas Santa did indeed visit us. There were more than enough presents to go around, and the miracle of family, Santa, food, wonder, dreams, miracles and festivities all in the name of the Christ-child.
To this day I look for a Santa encounter. I remember a time or two that I did not get to feel that feeling. I remember a years that there was no Santa. It was sad, I looked and looked and I did not have one of those special encounters. I wondered if I would this year. Lo and behold it came today! The day was not off to a good start. Sometimes being a grown up is the worst thing in the world when you are suppose to be filled with the wonder of the season.
So, off I went with my middle daughter Aubrey. We would do a little early shop around. No serious shopping, just a little stop here and there to cash in on a special deal or two.
We were driving through the Lighthouse mall in Michigan City, when Aubrey announced that she spied a red suit! “It is Santa!”, she exclaimed! I quickly assured her that there was no way, no way! My denial turned to a “where, where, hurry, park this car, we gotta go!”
As we approached the mall, I could see the man in the red suit and Mrs. Santa too. Aubrey had to make a necessary pit stop, so I asked her to please hurry as I wanted to get a picture of her and Santa. She mumbled, a no way and I was rather insistent. We were quite a distance away from the Jolly old elf. I kept my eye on him as she went into her pit stop. As she came out, I begged her to let me take her picture, she said “No!”
We walked along smiling when Mrs. Claus asked if we would like a candy cane, of course we did. As we were walking away Mr. Santa said, “would you like a picture with us?” Now, how in the world did he guess that? There was no way he could have heard us! I smiled and said, “yes!”
Next thing I know was I was taking out my camera phone and Santa was asking a stranger to take our picture. It was magic!
Yes, Mary there is a Santa, and for as long as this Mary lives, there will be a desire to have a Santa moment and I know all too well what a Christmas without Santa is all about!
