August 4, 1962 Honolulu, Hawaii

 

 

The first time I saw big black headlines,

People thought Pearl Harbor ended the world.

The incident occurred before I was born,

American flags in Hawaii, stayed unfurled.

 

In my mind, this naïve 12-year-old thought,

The harbor attack to me seemed old news.

I was too innocent to ever dream,

News could change my rose-colored views.

 

Every barefooted kid in Hawaii,

Knew when crossing a city street,

Walking on painted white crosswalk lines

Avoided the black asphalt’s heat.

 

The moment I crossed Kalakaua,

 At the International Market Place…

I saw my second, Big Black Headline.

I froze, tears streamed down my face.

 

Before that day I was fearless,

Until I processed what I’d read…

I thought my heroes and I were immortal, ,

Until I read Marilyn Monroe was dead

 

 

Gale Warnings

 

Asleep during a sailor’s warning,

Faces and voices playback in my head

Memories pass through me with the wind

As ghosts gather around my bed.

 

I remember friends who called me,

On that once annoying telephone,

Voices fallen now silent forever

Having left this seaside home.

 

I sometimes think about my losses,

Pulling the covers over my head,

Then using the beam of a flashlight,

Starting a book I’ve never read.

 

Once the gale flag warnings were lowered,

The town seemed safe and looked the same…

I’m happy to still have my neighbors;

The people who remember my name.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A "Do Over"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If I could live my life over,

One chance to go back in time,

I’d likely live each day the same.

I love every memory of mine.

 

I was a teen, a farmer, a fireman,

A realtor, art dealer, and loved to teach.

I never had anything handed to me,

A "No limits" world was in my reach.

 

My biggest do overs aren’t many.

I’d have slowed down occasionally,

Exiting the freeways for more back roads,

To savor every hillside and sea.

 

If I could live my life over,

I’d have eaten more chocolate back then.

I’d never have smoked a cigarette,

And I’d read Blue Highways again…

And again.