The Magic of Brooklyn
Was it the water, the smell of Levy’s freshly baked bread delivered to my father’s deli? Is it the air laden with aromas from all the Italian, Greek, German, and Chinese restaurants, or the world’s best pizza billowing odorous air streams into the streets, making you want to manga? Was it the Fox theater on…
An 80 year old’s note to self.
The gift of time doesn’t come to all Morning air opens the day Use it copiously and wisely Savor it as it clicks down to sunset Let slumber be dreams of your today’s and rewards of the next tomorrow Be thankful for the breadth that opens another day Be grateful for those who share your…
Losing Our Moral Compass.
The firing squad of loose cannons killing our children won’t quit until we bear down and insist the institutions that protect our society do their job. There is no one simple answer to this problem in America; we’re not living in a Hollywood movie with a white hat hero riding into the sunset. More guards…
Where have all the families gone?
Brooklyn, New York, in the 1940s was bubbling over with Italian, Jewish, and Irish immigrants, and their first-generation children. Tenements are bursting at the seams, spitting kids out onto cemented, dingy streets. They played stickball, triangle, stoopball, and Johnny on the Pony- Shadowed by mountains of brick and small kids’ heads poking out of gated…
Democracy is a tapestry.
It’s a fabric filled with senators, congress members, presidents, governors, and all of us. Of all the essential textural millions of threads, I believe small and large town mayors and community boards are the most important. They are the most direct conduit by which millions of Americans can affect and keep our voices heard. Democracy…
I just want to be me.
Sleep tight, you’re a smart young girl, you’re strong, and I know you’ll be all right, just be yourself, mom says to me. I close my eyes, anxiously dream of tomorrows journey, and try to see what will be. I start walking down my new path to school, and see a special tree. And the tree…
Give me bigger rolls of toilet paper and smaller apples
Is it me or old age or what? Not only are the rolls of toilet paper getting narrower and smaller and my butt getting bigger, the apples in the supermarket are on steroids, forcing me to pay for more than I want to consume in one sitting. The bottom line, my cost per poop has…
Mrs. Jones
Mrs. Jones can break your bones, but in her heart, your body stands. Watch your tongue, you hear, or your jaw will be wired. Words gone wrong will collect like bile imprisoned in your passage space. She is a keeper, a jailer, a tailor, a feeder, and a guidance provider, with gnarled hands shaped from…
The cycle keeps on turning
I’ve walked this earth a long, long time, and seen some troubles along the way. Places I used to dream of, where facades are decidedly different but, Inside, so much the same. Places where problems exist and solutions arrive when the tide is too much to bear. The cycle keeps on turning. Our journeys path…
A salute to the Relay For Life of Mt. Juliet TN
By Mike Rosen (as it appeared in the Del Webb Down Home publication May 18, 2012). It was another Friday ritual for us at Del Webb, a time, Carol and I have lately reserved the evening for mellowing out instead of going out. I still work from home; Carol is a more typical Del Webb…
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