[Critique Group 2] Pieces for October 31st Meeting

[Abbie Taylor]

###1. Valerie Moreno’s Poem

Seven

Seven years you've been gone,
feels like seven lifetimes
with seven centuries of tears.

I've adjusted to living alone,
it's not easy or wrapped
in red package and bow saying
"All done"

Today, I miss your voice,
your jolly laugh, listening heart.
Nothing fills the open spaces you
left in my life,
so, here's another "I love you" poem
in this journey of grief.

###2. Alice Massa’s Story

⠠⠞⠁⠅⠬ a Knee on Halloween
by Alice Jane-Marie Massa
            A gasp echoed from both sides of the stadium where two elite NFL teams were playing on  a rain-soaked field on the eve of Halloween.  With a voice touched by sincere concern, the  sportscaster announced, "Darren Roland is down.  He has sustained an injury to his right knee.  The  quarterback of the Zephyrs is now being carried off the field.  We will have an update on his  condition as soon as possible."
            Drifting in and out of consciousness, Darren Roland tried to recall if his parents and  girlfriend were in the stands.  He thought that they were watching the game on television; he was  worried about their reaction to watching his being carried off the field.  Then, the pain in his  knee surpassed his fuzzy thoughts.  
            A short while later, Roland realized that he was in an ambulance--his first experience  with being in the back of an ambulance.  The ride was rougher than he ever expected. 
            "Can you tell me what your name is?"
            Despite requiring more effort than usual, he managed to respond in a raspy voice,  "Darren Scott Roland."
            "Do you know what today is?"
            "Sure, it's Halloween."  The quarterback could feel that someone had cut off part of  his uniform so that the EMTs and team doctor could do a preliminary examination of his bleeding 
and swelling knee.  Darren was grateful to feel all four of his extremities, to feel the pain.  
            Suddenly, Darren saw another face--not in medical attire, but in an Army uniform.  For  a few seconds, the quarterback thought he was seeing a ghost--the ghost of his grandfather who had  been killed in action, in Vietnam, long before Darren was born.  
            "Gramps, is that you?  What are you doing here?" Roland asked aloud.
The ghost drew closer to his grandson and replied, "Yes, I have been waiting for this moment to  talk with you."
            "Are you a ... ghost ... or an angel?"
            The EMT interrupted, "Mr. Roland, are you with me?"
            "I passed, but I did not pass on yet because I had to meet you tonight.  No, I am not  an angel yet.  You may think of me as a ghost, but I am referred to as a spirit.  You may just  think of me as your grandfather who has come to set your knee straight, to set you straight," the  spirit began to explain.
            Darren blinked his eyes several times and tried to block the image of his grandfather's  uniformed.  "ETA 7:07," the younger Roland heard an EMT say.  
            "Do you see my grandfather here?  He is wearing his Army uniform."
            "I understand that none of your family was at the game tonight.  I am sure someone will  be at the hospital with you later," the team doctor said.
            Darren's grandfather continued:  "What's this about taking a knee?  You know where you  were taught to genuflect--at church.  You put down one knee to genuflect, to show your reverence  and belief in God as you entered church.  Then, after genuflecting, you put both of your little  knees on the kneeler to pray.  You kneel at church; you stand for your country and the flag while  the National Anthem is played and sung.  Your family taught you better than ..."
            "Wait, Gramps, now is not the time and place for that," Darren remarked aloud.
            "Mr. Roland, Mr. Roland, can you hear me?" the EMT asked again.
            "No, Darren, you and your teammates have the time and place all wrong.  I thought my  grandson would always want to stand to show respect  for his grandpa and all who fought for that  flag and for our freedoms.  I thought I would never have to intervene as ..."
            Darren more loudly interrupted:  "You did it!  You caused my accident!  How could you  ruin my career like this?"
            "I am not ruining your career:  I am here to save your career, to save your life.  Oh,  I can see to it that you make a miraculously speedy recovery if you recover your senses.  You need  to go to the VA Hospital..."
            "You must know that I am not a veteran:  they are taking me to St. Anthony's."
            "I know where you are going now; however, after your surgery and early recovery, you  need to visit the VA Hospital so that some of those patients can tell you how much they would like  to stand for The Star-Spangled Banner.  Some of them emotionally and spiritually stand, but they  cannot physically stand.  If you want to make a difference, want to be an instrument of change--you  can begin at the VA Hospital.  Then, you can go to other places where you can really make a  difference:  at homes and playgrounds in the inner city, at the Boys' and Girls' Clubs, at the Y,  at town meetings, at the Statehouse, at ..."
            "Gramps, I do some of that."
            "Not nearly enough, I assure you.  You may have taken a knee for the last time on  Halloween, but I am here to make 100 per cent positive that you do not take a knee on Veterans' Day  and that you be a leader so that no one else on your team takes a knee on Veterans' Day.  By  November 11, you will be out on that field; and with a pair of crutches, you will stand for our  country, our flag, our National Anthem, our active military force, and our veterans.  God bless  them all."
            "I'll be a leader:  I will stand."
            The EMT insisted, "No, Mr. Roland, you cannot stand now."
            Several hours later, Darren awoke in the hospital room with his head still spinning and  his knee still aching.  With in a few seconds, he realized that Coach McGuffey was at the bedside.   "Coach, I'm sorry ..."
            "That fiasco on the field was not your fault.  I already watched the video, and you ..."
            "No, Coach, I am sorry that I have not been standing for the Anthem.  You cannot see  him, I suppose; but my grandfather--who was fatally wounded in Vietnam-- is here with me.  His  spirit is guiding me to do what is truly right.  As soon as possible, I want to talk to the team  about other ways we can try to initiate positive changes, about some changes we have to make, about  standing for our National Anthem--especially on Veterans' Day." 

###3.  Abbie Taylor's Poem

What's Damaged?

my garage door after a big black truck crashed into it. 
A little girl in the back seat, about four or five, 
left alone while parents were in the day care center next door, 
could she, in her eagerness to be in the driver's seat, 
have put the truck in gear, 
driven up my driveway, proud as could be, 
slammed into my garage door, 
then leaped back into her seat? 
She says she didn't, 
but only she knows the truth. 
Will she carry her secret to the grave?

###4. Leonard Tuchyner’s Story

Not Exactly a Guide Dog 
            by
       Leonard Tuchyner
No one would ever suspect Barney of being a guide dog -- in fact, not even a help dog. Though the  way he leans up against me with a full body press, stares at me with soulful big brown eyes, just  before burying his tawny head in my lap, is enough to melt the hardest of hearts.  Does he fetch?  That’s beneath him. Does he come when called? Only if he is coming anyway or if he thinks there’s  something in it for him.  This husky fellow is only forty-five pounds soaking wet, but pulls like a  seventy-five pound sled dog.  When he takes me for a walk, he goes where he wants to go. If I don’t  want to go there, it’s a tug-of-war. 
Consequently, our walks can be interesting adventures.  In those often-competitive events, I’m tied  to him by a retractable twenty-foot leash. This is more than enough distance for him to get up a  full head of steam before he comes to a jarring stop, or pulls my arm out of its socket. 
On these walks, I have enough vision to know whether I’m close to the edge of the unmarked  roadside.  However, I make mistakes. I can count on wandering off the tarmac at least three times a  week.  A couple of times a year, I’ll trip over a neighbor’s rock border or plow into a driveway  marker. The old toy commercial, “Weevils wobble, but they won’t fall down,” definitely applies to  me. 
Barney’s not the only dog in the neighborhood, and often one or more of them happen to be on their  own jaunts at the same time. Since anyone beyond fifteen feet is invisible to my eyes, I can’t see  them coming. That means there is barely enough time for me to rein my dog in before he is within  tangle distance of an approaching human/dog duo.  Tangling distance, in Barney’s case, has two  meanings.  One of them translates into leashes becoming overly involved. Barney can wrap up another  canine’s human like a spider wraps up a fly. The other meaning of tangle is as in, “Don’t tangle  with me.” 
Barney is generally a good-natured dog-about-town kind of guy who only wants to play. But there is  the rare occasion when his currish counterpart and he do not see eye to eye. In that case, fur may  fly. If given enough warning, I can tell what’s on Barney’s mind and can control the situation. The  operative word is “if.” Which is why, if my wife is with me, she will say, “Dog ahead!” 
One reason why Diane, my wife, walks our larger dog is because Chloe can be counted on to leave her  smelly contributions in designated areas. If she is about to violate pooping rules, her mistress  will see it coming and take corrective action. I would not necessarily be aware of the impending  crime. Barney usually uses these safe zones, but he is kind of weird in that department. He doesn’t  go once. He goes several times, leaving little tiny tidbits. I really can never be sure whether  he’s gone or not. He kicks dirt out behind him four to six times a walk. If I had to use a pooper  scooper, I would not be able to find the scat. To tell you the truth, I’m happy to be ignorant  about this issue.
Most of the people in the neighborhood probably know I am short in the visual department. However,  a while back, my next door neighbor asked my wife why I never say hello, or smile back at him. I’ve  told him I’m blind, but apparently, he doesn’t get it. She had to explain to him that I didn’t say  hello because I probably didn’t even know he was there. Even if I did, how would I know if he were  friend or foe or whether he was smiling. She explained that he would have to come up to me and say  something. So far he has not done so. Of course, this is an old story for low-visioned individuals  who don’t carry a white cane all the time. 
We live on a lightly traveled dead end street. So that when cars pass by, I often wave and smile.  If the passing motorist reacts, I rarely know. It sometimes feels like I’m waving at a passing  cloud. It seems a foolish thing to do, but I frequently do it anyway, just in case. 
Yesterday, I was startled by the sound of a car’s tires coming out of a driveway just behind me.  There was no motor sound. You got it -- I was snuck up on by a Prius. The nerve of some people  driving a stealth-mobile.  I must admit however, that I say this with some chagrin, since our own  car is a Prius.
Automotive traffic can be a cause of anxiety for any pedestrian. Barney doesn’t help the matter. He  doesn’t believe that anyone on his road would hurt him. He pretty much doesn’t worry about  anything, except how to get loose from his tether and go after that cat or deer who is tantalizing  him with their exotic aroma and enticing presence.  So in his state of danger denial, he constantly  crosses from one side of the street to the other, and I obligingly follow. Usually, the sound of a  vehicle on the road gives me plenty of warning of their approach. So far, in his nine years on this  earth, I have been successful in keeping him from running out in front of these mechanical demons. 
Finally, when we arrive back at home-safe-home,  he heads straight for his water bowl, where I slip  off his collar and collapse gratefully onto a couch to rest and  count my blessings.

###5.  Brad Corallo's Poem

Restoration

In a far away place
in a moment beyond time.
We will finally meet
under a gently glowing golden sky.
Together we will stand, facing.
We will gaze deeply into each other’s eyes
and we will know one another
even more fully than we do now.
We will smile
and take each other’s hands. 
A long forgotten ancient cord shall ring.
And at last, all will be 
as it always should have been.

Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author http://abbiescorner.wordpress.com
http://www.abbiejohnsontaylor.com
abbie at mysero.net
Order my new memoir at http://www.abbiejohnsontaylor.com/memoir.htm