Not The Rockefellers

voices raised in protest flood the streets of Tehran a shot a river an end a red rose  under a maiden's nose blooms silently across her lips a circle of thorns surround her heart Peace - Rene all words and images by rene 200 9

Late Bloomer It's a little strange to start discovering who you are, and what you want to be when you grow up, at the tender age of...over 30. Writing is something I've always done, not out of a want but a need. I just never thought I was good enough or interesting enough to be read ( I still struggle with this). I find it difficult to hold someones attention during a conversation, so why on earth would anyone want to read what I have to say. So, for the majority of my life, I've treated writing like a guilty pleasure, a private habit... I scribbled my thoughts and feelings into marble composition notebooks. It wasn't so much about keeping a journal, it was more a random collection of poetry, song lyrics, short stories and brilliant snippets of genius :) Sometimes I'd leave a notebook lying around by accident, it would be read and I would be asked, Where do you come up with this stuff? I never knew whether it was good or bad stuff, j

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength while loving someone deeply gives you courage - Lao Tzu Before Mary made her entrance into my life I thought I was a little courageous. With Mary I have realized that I am a lot more courageous than I gave myself credit for. Mary allows me to let my guard down and be myself. I don't have to impress her because she knows me inside and out. One of my biggest fears is public speaking. I am a trainwreck, partly because of my deep dark fear of failure and then there is... gasp...the NJ accent. Gawdawful... But for Mary, I will risk it all and speak in front of her class, because she has asked me to. I will ask her pediatrician a zillion questions and never once worry about sounding stupid. I will pose (mug) for picture upon picture with her not worrying about how I look. I will post her choice of picture on my blog, no matter how much I crinkle my nose, because she feels it's the perfect choice. The definition of courage is the qu

Father's Day 2009 Silent words Filled the space You used to occupy Our first Father's Day without you... We visited your grave And said a prayer But, to me You are not there You are In my daughters smile In my eyes In Tommy's laughter In Bernadette's wit In Billy's business sense In Mary's compassion In Jane's loyalty In Mommy's devotion And most of all you are In all of our hearts. Peace - Rene While I was at the cemetary today, I noticed many families enjoying the break in the rain and sitting at the plots of their husbands/fathers who have passed, in their lawn chairs. Spending a quiet Sunday with loved ones reading the paper. Just because their spouses were not here anymore didn't make them any less "loved". A family of brothers stood on their newly deceased father's grave and shared a beer with their Dad. As they would have on any other Father's Day. Older widows mingled with younger ones and helped them plant flowers.

I wanna be ten and be blissfully unaware of the time. I wanna spend a good 10 minutes perfecting my pirouette, or what I firmly believe is a pirouette, in front of the bathroom mirror. I wanna "sock skate" throughout the dining room, posing for the cameras as I go. I wanna exist on a handful of raisins and crust less PB & J's. I wanna believe in an endless world. I wanna be able to WOO-HOO anytime, anywhere and anyplace and it would be considered normal. I wanna have the hardest thing in my life be memorizing the 9 times tables. I wanna be able to put my pants on backwards and walk around the neighborhood with my friend like that. I wanna have giggle fits over "nothing, just nothing" I wanna get excited about birthdays, again. I wanna go on a field trip. I wanna pass a note to my friend in English class. Circle yes if you think so and so is cute.... I wanna be crushed on him, but except he

It was one of those moments, like in the movies, where one thing leads to a flashback... I was at the milk cooler, at school, getting the milk order for the class: 6 chocolates, 4 whole milks, 3 skim. In my peripheral vision I could see another child coming up alongside of me. "Hello Aran , how are you today?" "Mrs F. I'm not Aran , I'm Nazir ...Don't you know me anymore?" I looked over at Nazir and the hurt in his eyes was like a knife through my heart "Don't you know me anymore?" just echoed through my head "Of course Nazir , I am sorry, I should have looked at little closer." It's true he and Aran shared the same build, the same features but Nazir , Nazir was my former student. My little man, the youngest in the room who had the biggest heart of all. When I was having a bad day all I had to do was hear Nazir's belly laugh and it would just make me forget my troubles. And when he was finally able to master printing

let's get away just you and me to a playhouse in the trees climb the ladder 1,2,3 hiding out from our duties let's forget our cares and be free up there doin' just whatever we please up in the trees there’s a piano up there how it got there one can only guess we play heart and soul lose control 'til that duet we soon forget ticklin' arms and knees 'stead of ivories your sneaky little kisses get the best of me learnin' 'bout the birds and the bees up in the trees take me away take me today let's go and play fifteen feet up and there we'll stay Do mo anamchara, las tú an tine ~Rene