Do Stuffed Animals Have Souls?

Do stuffed animals have souls? Think about it. Who among us has looked lovingly into the black, button eye of a beloved teddy bear and not wondered if it might be so?


I can’t throw stuffed animals away because it feels like…..murder. I did it once, a long time ago. I was a different person then – you wouldn’t even recognize me as I am today. All I can say is that I was in a crazy place in my life. When I am some day standing up for the Final Judgment, and they are reciting the long list of my thoughtless transgressions, I know that throwing away a helpless, harmless teddy bear is going to come up. It haunts me even now.

The other day I was driving along a fairly busy street and there - in the gutter near an intersection - was a small stuffed… I don’t know what… but his tiny body was all twisted upside down and his little happy face was smiling at me, despite his unfortunate circumstances. They never give up on us! Why do we give up on them?

Oh sure, I understand – the mere subject opens up so many debates that it boggles the mind: should stuffed animals be allowed to roam freely within your house? Is it okay to box them up? What about the ones – like the cheap hot pink snakes and the crudely sewn carnival pandas – that should never have been “created” at all? Do we treat them as lesser beings? I could go on for hours, but I want to be able to sleep tonight.

The Winter of My Toes

Winter can try her best to rally, but her power is waning. Her pitiful attempts at a comeback are short-lived. We're not afraid of her any more. Her voice grows faint, and in its place we can hear the strains of the song of Spring.

I want to run outside without my coat! My flip-flops beckon from yon closet. But hello -- what's this? Whose feet are these at the end of my legs? Someone has surgically removed my own toes, it would seem, and transplanted a batch of MAN-toes on my feet. **Sigh**. This is what happens when you don't see your feet for 5 months out of the year.


The Winter Of My Toes

In winter
My toes live cloistered
In my socks
And do not associate
With the Outside World
They may long to bask
In warm sunlight
On a patio laid with cool flagstones
But theirs is a dark and woolly clime

In winter
My toes are neglected
They grow handsome
Burly and robust
And lose touch with their feminine side
Like old bachelors
Left to fend for themselves

Canta-Lupe, Patron Saint of Fruits

Sweet and mellow
She’s an orange-y sort of yellow
That’s Canta-Lupe, the patron saint of fruits
She’s a musky round melon
With a flavor so compellin’
Canta-lupe, the patron saint of fruits
She’s not a water melon or a honeydew, her
Virtues are many and her calories few
she’s a pip, she’s a prize
for the stomach and the eyes
Canta-lupe, the patron saint of fruits
Canta-lupe, the patron saint of fruits

Snow He Was a Friend Of Mine

Hooray! We love snow!

Snow is here! -- softening edges, muffling noise,  bringing tree skeletons to life: it’s miraculous!
It’s bliss!
Lovely snow! Beautiful snow! Let’s stop and throw a snowball. Make snow angels! Pull down on that evergreen branch and we’ll take a snow shower!


********************

We emerge from our domiciles with wonder and trepidation. Some make the careful transfer from house to car, car to work, work to car, and home again. Others spend the day sledding and exhilarating. Our world is January’s page -- torn from a calendar. We rustle up big, steaming pots of soup and dig our thick socks out of the drawer.

********************

Life resumes…..the snow is pushed to the side of the road. We have places to be and time doesn’t really stop. There’s catching up to do but damn, it’s cold outside. Salt on the roads sticks to our cars. Hey there, snow – we give a cursory acknowledgment as we drive past.

********************

Dirty now and covered with mud from intermittent melting and traffic, the snow holds no joy for us. Life has thrown mud all over our good, beautiful snow. It needs to leave already. Go on, get out of here. It was nice, we enjoyed you, but we don’t want to see you like this. Tarnished. Ugly. Brown. Or worse - yellow. 

********************

For the love of God! Five more inches of the hated stuff last night! I’ve had enough of Snow. I’m ready for Spring.

Walking Man

Moving in silent desperation
Keeping an eye on the holy land

a hypothetical destination

Say, who is this walking man?

                             -- James Taylor

He walks.
Along the road.
Whenever I see him, I think,
“There goes Walking Man.”


I don’t know where he goes,
or where he’s been,
but I see him sometimes in the evening
as I’m coming off of I-29 at my exit.


In the hour of the long shadow,
at the onset of dusk,
he’s walking alongside 64th Street
right where it crosses
under the overpass.


Traffic is nuts here –
the intersection bloats with cars,
stacked up and waiting
for a green light to release them unto their final destination.

But still, oblivious, he walks.


His gait is unnatural and herky-jerky, as if walking requires some skill beyond just setting one foot down in front of the other. He carries one arm close to his body, and there’s an extra beat per measure, somehow, in his gait.

The first time I saw him I thought, “Oh my god, that guy is loaded -- and he’s going to walk right into traffic!”

Walking Man has white hair, almost shoulder length, and a frightening grimace that is a perpetual look of anguish. After seeing him a few times, I began to realize that he wasn’t scary and he wasn’t drunk. Well, he could be drunk or high. He definitely has some serious infirmity, though whether it be of body, mind, or heart, I couldn’t say.  

Mainly, he walks.

In the summer - with waves of heat turning the pavement to jelly and distorting my view of him -  he was walking then.

Last winter he wore a stocking cap and a coat, but he walked. When the snow was deep, Walking Man trudged on. What was so important that he just had to get out? I’m not sure but it seems like the walk is the thing. He’s never carrying anything.

I’ve invented stories in my head to explain his walking: he’s a Vietnam vet who walks to forget the horrors of war; he’s had an unfortunate accident is walking for therapy, determined to regain full use of his body; he’s a drugged out weirdo who gets hammered and then decides he needs to walk down the road… for a fix…for some booze….maybe he thinks he’s walking an imaginary dog.

But you know, Walking Man doesn’t care what I think.
Obviously.

A few days ago, I saw Walking Man wearing a bright orange vest with reflective stripes on it – like the ones that highway workers wear. I like to think that somebody else who watching this saga unfold cares about what happens to Walking Man, and has donated the vest so that he maybe won’t get hit by a car. Because you know, he’s our Walking Man, and we have to look out for him, a little bit.

Christmas Is Coming

Christmas is coming
The goose is getting fat
Everywhere I go I wear my santa hat
If you haven’t got a santa hat a stocking cap will do
If you havent’ got a stocking cap you’ll say ker-choo!

Christmas is coming
Have you bought your wine?
Better do it soon because I won’t share mine
If you haven’t got a bottle your Christmas will be lame
And you won't have anyone except yourself to blame

Christmas is coming
With presents on the tree
How the hell they got up there, don’t ask me
If you didn’t get a present, consider this advice:
Santa will skip over you if you’re not nice

Christmas is coming
Have you extra lives?
You’ll need all of them if you should hear Burl Ives
If you don’t run screaming from the room you’ll wanna stab yourself
Then dial 9-1-1 and give a call for help

Christmas is coming
Light a penny candle
Bring me all the peanut brittle I can handle
If you haven't got a peanut, some toffee will be fine
And a little box of chocolates and some deep red wine
Deep red wine,
Deep red wine,
Merlot is fine,
La la la!

Mom's Banana Bread

I just baked up some banana bread. I got this recipe from Mom years ago and I think it's a great and easy recipe.

Mix together:
1/2 cup butter
1 cup sugar
2 eggs

Add: 3 bananas, mashed
Then add:
2 cups flour
1 tsp soda

Then add: about 1/2 cup nuts, ground to a fine meal

Bake at 350 in loaf pan for 1 hour.
This recipe is so easy, there's no reason to ever buy a banana bread mix!

yuuummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.