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Rod on Maui, August 2003.
Photo by John Scoggins.
©2003 by Stanyan Entertainment.
A Thought for Today
Praise God for giving us each other and
the means to make our little lives something. For Him and for ourselves.
The Comfort of Cities
#1 in a series
New York City – for Ben Shecter
I came to New York for a week once and stayed four years. From the start
it seemed like a hard place to live in but still I stayed. Out of work and
feeling sorry for myself, I used the city as a punching bag. This is not
to say I didn’t enjoy myself or have good times during that first stay in
the fabled Metropolis, the city was my muse and I tapped her often. More
than once she came to my rescue.
But finally I moved back to California for a couple of decades; then back
again I came to New York City. This time instead of walking up three
flights to home, I rode express to the thirty-fourth floor. From that
vantage point I could see, far below, the rooftop of the apartment house
where twenty years before I o0ften sold blood and myself to pay the rent.
The movers have arrived and now I’m heading west again. Of course I know
this excursion will be just an interlude until I come back.
Circa 1985, Previously unpublished.
Nicki’s First Snow
Nicki had been sitting in the window
attracted by a trapped in moth
now pawing at the dirty glass,
now batting in midair
absorbed in feline wonder
by a night bug ill equipped for daylight.
I look away a moment.
Looking back, I see that Nicki
has become quite still.
Rapt and silent,
he watches a steady wall of snow
descend like silver serpentine
or cellophane confetti.
Suddenly he jumps down
with his usual grunt,
as though it were an effort -
proving it isn’t
by landing like a
feather.
Then turning with a whispered half meow,
he signals me to open wide the door.
I do and out he bounds,
then bounds back backward
just as quickly,
leaving four small paw prints
on the otherwise untrafficked terrace.
Now gingerly as kings go forth to battle
at the rear of armies
brave Nicki tests the terrace yet again –
one paw extended and put down
then just as quickly pulled back in,
he turns to look at me again
and frowns because I’m smiling.
I reach across the table
for a rubber ball,
an old one I’ve discovered lately
in one of his not-quite-so-secret
hiding places.
I toss it through the air.
His eyes arch with it as it flies.
The ball lands on the terrace
skidding through the snow
then stopping
with the kind of force
a knowing child uses to rein in his sled
at the end of some long,
much too slow toboggan ride.
Go get it Nicki, I call confidentially
as though I’ve deigned to share a secret.
The cat will not be taken in.
He only looks at me as if to say
how dare you toss a treasure
not even yours to toss
into some alien land.
And then as if to punctuate
his statement,
he trots off to the bedroom
and the double bed he shares with me.
Another grunt and he’s curled up
and on his way to a proper sleep.
So much for little wonders
like the birth of slow October snow.
A cat’s interest
in something disagreeable to him
comes and goes as quickly
as the blinking eye of eagles.
Anyway, with winter only starting
Nicki’s got enough time up ahead
to build a proud snowman,
and one more excuse
each time the ground goes white
to have another nap.
-from “The Beautiful Strangers", 1981
I’m putting this Flight Plan together after 1:AM on Tuesday the 25th,
later this morning (7:45 AM to be precise) I report for my first day of
Jury Duty in downtown Los Angeles. Somebody up there thinks I haven’t put
in enough time this November. Obviously he or she hasn’t been traveling in
my shoes. Sleep warm, have a safe and sane Thanksgiving and I’ll see you
on the weekend.
RM 11/25/2003 3:40 AM PST
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