Story Time

There is something magical about reading books to children. Even in this world of TV, audio books, video games and electronic entertainment, the value and relational benefit of of paper books remains undiminished. Hardly anything fosters fledgling imaginations and relational bonds more than just sitting down to read a story together with our children. And it's not just about the story. It's also just being together. The busy schedules and electronic distractions of this world drive a subtle wedge in relational time and priorities that is difficult to see ... and even harder to measure. But it's there. 

Are books too old fashioned? May it never be. In a world that is increasingly virtual and isolating, children's books provide a tactile, shared connection that is like nothing else. There is a lot more happening than just words when we read a book to a child, especially one that might be entwined with our own childhood. Nothing can replace that, nor should it. Shared books create shared space and shared time. It provides connection, teaches traditional lessons, and it fosters a sense of shared imagination. It fosters an irreplaceable "with-ness" that few other activities compare with. Grab ahold of story time while children are still at impressionable ages and just read. And , by the way, make sure your children also see you reading actual books as well. Read. Together.

STORY TIME

ALMOST ANYONE CAN READ

BUT WHEN YOU READ TO ME

YOU BRING ALIVE A MAGIC WORLD

THAT I CAN CLEARLY SEE

AS I SIT UPON YOUR LAP

AND WATCH THE PAGES TURN

I'M LOST ON VOYAGES FAR AWAY

I LISTEN AND I LEARN

YOU NEVER EVER SKIP A PAGE

LIKE OTHERS OFTEN DO

YOU KNOW THAT MY EXCITEMENT

COMES FROM DEEP IN YOU

YOU ALWAYS CHANGE YOUR VOICE A BIT

WHEN VILLAINS ARE ABOUT

AND WHEN YOU FEEL THE TIME IS RIGHT 

YOU'RE NOT AFRAID TO SHOUT

BUT WHAT MEANS THE MOST TO ME

IS WHEN A BOOK IS DONE

AND HOW I LOVE TO HEAR YOU SAY,

"LET'S READ ANOTHER ONE!"

        By Frank Carpenter ©

Reflections on Easter Week

Well, if you like holidays, there is always something to celebrate. For instance, just this week we had "Take a walk in the park day, "Bunsen burner day," "Fun at work day," "World party day," and "Walk to work day." I'm not kidding, even if it sounds like it. And, if you’re into religious holidays, this is certainly a red letter week. We had Palm Sunday last weekend. Today is Holy Thursday, followed by Good Friday and Easter. And, of course, we had April Fools Day yesterday. Religious holidays, while good reminders of the truth, can often cloud it as well. We are so easily distracted by the food, the fun, the ritual and social aspects of any holiday that it’s easy to leave God out of such a day - even a religious event. All celebrating, church services, egg dying and palm waving aside, I would like to redirect our focus to the person of Jesus Christ, whom we truly celebrate this week. This is the week that dozens of prophetic scriptures were fulfilled through His triumphal entry into Jerusalem (Palm Sunday), his eating of the Passover, His betrayal, His mock trial, His death on the cross, and finally His resurrection. We must remember, amidst all the other hoopla, that Jesus is the Son of God, that He actually lived, actually died for our sins, and actually rose from the dead. If any of those facts are untrue, then everything else we celebrate this week is pointless and we might as well sing our hymns to the Easter Bunny. If we do not accept Jesus as our Savior and Messiah, then we are all April Fools and that would be the only relevant holiday. Let us come back to the person of Jesus Christ. A lot of dramatic and public things happened during this, the last week of His life. However, I am most deeply moved by that quiet moment after the Last Supper, and just prior to His betrayal, when Jesus knelt in the garden of Gethsemane and prayed. In that scene of anguish and compassion I most clearly see the Son of God choosing to suffer and die for me personally. Easter is a time to celebrate God’s victory over death through the resurrection, but the foundation of that victory is His great mercy and the sacrifice of His only Son on behalf of an undeserving world. If you have further interest, I have pasted below a partial list of prophesies fulfilled by Jesus during the final week of His life. And if you still have questionss, feel free to email me at fcarpenter505@gmail.com. Have a happy Easter and don’t be an April Fool.

Gethsemane
Jesus knew his time was drawing near
On the eve of that final day
With the weight of the world upon his heart
He came to the garden to pray
He alone knew His Father’s will
And understood His redemption plan
And though He was truly God incarnate
Still, He was fully a man
He knew that pain and suffering
And betrayal were moments away
As He pleaded with God and wept He knew
There simply was no other way
There, in the garden, that fateful night
With the lights of the city in view
Jesus, the Son of God, considered
All that He must go through
The tears of His sorrow freely flowed
That night in Gethsemane
For He understood his path must lead
To the cross at Calvary
He was Christ, the Lord, the King of Kings
Yet, He knelt upon human knees
And willingly chose that night to die
Because of His love for you and me.
By Frank Carpenter ©

Partial list of Prophesies Fulfilled During the Final Week of Jesus’ Life:

Triumphal entry in Jerusalem on a donkey Zechariah 9:9, Mark 11:7–8, John 12:13–15
Betrayed by a friend Psalm 41:9, Mark 14:10, 43–45
Betrayed for 30 pieces of silver Zechariah 11:12, Matthew 26:15
Betrayal money returned for a potter’s field Zechariah 11:13, Matthew 27:3–10
Accused by false witnesses Psalm 27:12, Matthew 26:60–61, Mark 14:57
Offers no defense Isaiah 53:7, Matthew 26:62–63, Matthew 27:12–14
Struck and spat upon Isaiah 50:6, Matthew 26:67, Mark 14:65, John 19:1–3
Hated without reason Psalm 109:3–5, John 15:24–25
Soldiers divide His garments and gamble for His clothing Psalm 22:18, Matthew 27:35
Pierced through hands and feet Zechariah 12:10, Luke 23:33, John 20:27
Executed with malefactors Isaiah 53:12, Mark 15:27–28
Agonized in thirst Psalm 22:15, John 19:28
Given gall and vinegar Psalm 69:21, Matthew 27:34, 48, John 19:29
No bones broken Psalm 34:20, John 19:32–36
His side pierced Zechariah 12:10b, John 19:34
Buried with the rich Isaiah 53:9, Matthew 27:57–60
Deserted by His followers Zechariah 13:7, Mark 14:27,Matthew 26:56
Resurrection Hosea 6:2, Psalm 16:10, Psalm 49:15, Luke 24:6–7
Ascension to Heaven Psalm 68:18, Luke 24:50–51, Acts 1:11, Ephesians 4:7–10

** and miscelaneous holidays courtesy of: timanddate.com/holidays/fun/

Not All Who Wander

 So much of our lives are so planned out, but sometimes it can do a soul good to wander aimlessly for a while. Ever tried it? You don't have to go far. In fact, you hardly have to go anywhere. Just try not being on such a mission to accomplish things like you usually are. I gave this a try recently, and here is my report:

Not All Who Wander

If I don't have a clear destination 

As I wander along my way

Then it matters little where I go

Amid this unstructured day

Far too often live requires

A rigid schedule or routine

Of errands and obligations 

With hardly a moment between

But this one of those mornings

And today is one of those days

When none has a claim upon me

And I can wile the hours away

I can sit and stare at the ocean 

Take a walk in the redwood trees

Drive down scenic highways

All of the above, aimlessly

What's next in my open agenda?

Not sure what the hours will bring

Today, the world is my oyster 

And that is a beautiful thing

By Frank Carpenter

The Stomp Pole

Back in the early 1980’s we lived on a cattle ranch in Northeastern Oklahoma for a few years. That was near Tahlequah, Oklahoma, the capital of the Cherokee Nation. In a remote location on the ranch there was a tall pole sticking out of the ground. When I asked about it, I learned that it was a stomp pole where Cherokees used to come and have traditional dances there at night. When I asked around, a few older people told me that they remembered coming to stomp dances there with their parents when they were young. At one point we noticed that the old pole had fallen over and I asked the guys on the ranch to put it back up, which they did. Some years later I returned to visit the ranch and when I was out on a walk I came upon the old stomp pole. It had fallen over again and become overgrown by brush and green briars. For some reason that made me very sad, like something culturally important had been lost. I’m not Cherokee, nor had I ever seen a stomp dance. Yet, the moment was strangely emotional for me. I sat down on the forgotten pole and wrote the following poem.

It's a reminder that culture, even someone else’s culture, has value and connects us with shared heritage. If you’ve ever been to a stomp dance I’d love to hear from you. Either way, I offer the following as my personal take on the loss of a small cultural icon that likely meant something to people at one time. Maybe we should all be on the lookout for the things that connect us to the past, and to the pasts of others. But for now … the stomp pole is down, and the voices are gone.

The Stomp Pole

How long has it been since my people and I

Came to this place when the moon was high

Came to this place to dance and sing

Our children, our songs and our hearts we'd bring

How long has it been since those nights of old

When the tribal legends and stories were told

When the forest would ring with our ancient tongue

When our hearts and minds were heavenward flung

Around the stomp pole, we were a tribe

And the spirits of old were still alive

And as long as the pole was standing still

So would our heritage and our will

I'd wander back every now and again

On a moonlit night to that quiet glen

To dance by myself beneath the trees

And hear voices of old singing on the breeze

Now it's been years since I passed this way

And I came to stomp pole again today

But the wind and rain and the demons of time

Had toppled the pole and been unkind

Green briars held it fast to the ground

And cattle had trampled the spirits down

Long I listened for voices upon the wind

But the voices had fled and would not begin

The ageless thickets of cedar and oak

Did not remember the fire's smoke

The stones were cold, the stars were dim

The forest was silent, the moon was thin

I sat there alone on the long-fallen pole

No dance or song could be found in my soul

The still earth accepted my sorrowful tears

As they rolled off the stomp pole and over the years

Watering memories that in my heart would live on

But the stomp pole is down and the voices are gone

             By Frank Carpenter ©

You Know Me

I was thinking of Psalm 139 this morning, where it says, “Oh Lord, You have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; You are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue, you know it completely, Oh Lord.”  Psalm 139:1-4

This could be a little overwhelming, like we don’t have any privacy from God. However, it also means we don’t need any ice breakers of introduction with God. We just start talking, and He’s already fully engaged in the conversation. We can explain things, for our own benefit, but He already understands how we feel and what we’re going through. We don’t have to dance around a subject because He gets it. God gets us.

We also don’t have to search for God physically. Churches and mountaintops and sunsets and retreats can make Him seem closer … to us. But He’s right there, right here. We live in His presence, or at least on the edge of it, at every moment. We can save a lot of petrol by understanding that we don’t have to go look for God. He’s here. We just have to acknowledge him. One of the names for Jesus from the book of Isaiah is actually Emmanuel, which just means, “God with us.”

Does all of this seem a little too intimate, too “in your face,” too “give me a little space, for heaven’s sake?” Maybe sometimes. Yet it’s also beautiful and miraculous and encouraging. And true. And if God’s right here with me, ready to listen and encourage and lead and participate, it kind of changes everything. It changes my humdrum, lonely, little life into something holy and powerful. It makes you and I participants in God’s kingdom and plan. It brings heaven near and makes eternity now.

God being with us isn’t just something that happened to Old Testament prophets and New Testament disciples, or priests and monks. It’s real, and we are right here in the middle of it. “Hey, God, good morning. Thanks for being here. What shall we do today?”

Saint James

There are certainly all kinds of people, and I seem to spend time around a lot somewhat boisterous type A personalities. Yet, among all those noisier folks I’m also blessed to know a man of a different sort. He has a quiet and gentle spirit. Being, “quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry” in the words of the apostle James. His name, coincidentally, is also James. He’s definitely the strong, quiet type, who can seem a little imposing to the uninitiated since he is rather tall. But beneath that imposing and ruggedly handsome façade there beats a heart of pure gold. He teaches high school math, coaches a youth mountain biking team, has his own adult sons and is the servant of all. A man of few words, but the first one to show up in your time of need. He’s also a man of humble prayers that often humble me. And he is the only person I know who still occasionally uses the word “knuckleheads.” However, in his case it really is a term of endearment. It means those who could use a little extra help … or a lot. But rather than being the old guy who might generally proffer such and archaic term as knucklehead, he responds and jumps in to help. In his case, after the words “slow to speak and slow to get angry” you might also add “quick to help.” He’s a great encouragement to many people, and certainly to me. So I offer the following poem to my friend Saint James, whom I have dubbed the patron saint of knuckleheads. 

Saint James

It seems there is a patron saint

For most every kind of folk

Who need someone to watch over them

And whose name they can invoke

Soldiers, travelers and sailors

Beekeepers, cobblers too

Whatever hobby or profession

There’s a saint for what they do

And there’s a saint for ne’er do wells

Who at times have lost their way

On bike trails or their math skills

And he walks with them each day

He offers wisdom and encouragement

Kind words, and hope to those

Who seem to fall a bit behind

And he loves them, heaven knows

He dusts them off and nudges them

When they have fallen back

He prays for them wholeheartedly

And guides them to the narrow track

Those who need assistance

Can call on him by name

Most think of him as Mr. May

But he truly is Saint James

He’s the apostle of encouragement

No finer man this earth has tread

Than Saint James, the encourager

The patron saint of knuckleheads

                By Frank Carpenter ©

"Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters: You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry."  James 1:19

For the Dads

 I was blessed with a great father, an amazing step father and a father-in-law. It's Father's Day and I penned the following poem as a tribute to all of them as  I sat in church this morning. I thank Gid sir all of my dad's, and this one is for them.

For the Dads

I was blessed with three dads

Who helped me on my way

A father, step dad, a father-in-law

I celebrate them all today

Each of them had a season

Each one had influence

Each helped shape the man I am

And helped my life make sense

I was blessed with earthly fathers

Who blessed and encouraged me

Who showed me how to live and love 

And unravel the mysteries

Each of my fathers offered

The wisdom so dearly bought 

Through struggles and trials lived out

When they suffered, failed and fought

Each of them gave me a blessing

Each showed they believed in me

None left me with guilt or oppression

But left me feeling strong and free

These men are all in heaven now

But they left their impression on me

So I thank God for all of my fathers

And I am their legacy 

By Frank Carpenter

Proud of You

This one goes out to my granddaughter Aubree May Carpenter for her 14th birthday and her junior high graduation. We are so proud of you every day, and I can't wait to see what God has in store for you in the years to come. 

Lots of Love Always, Pops

Proud of You

Fourteen years old and moving

To high school from junior high

A girl on the brink of womanhood

That no one can deny

With a faith to move the mountains

Plus a smile so warm and bright

You seem to light up every room

And fill others with delight

In this summer of transition

Between seasons, between grades

Between childhood and adulthood

Between dreams and plans you’ve made

We stand by you and celebrate

All you’ve accomplished, all you’ve done

Friends you’ve made and love you’ve shared

How you bring joy to everyone

How you inspire others

With your faith and how you live

With the open-handed way

That you encourage and you give

And from this moment forward

It’s important that you know

Our hopes and prayers go with you

Wherever you may go

Wherever God may lead you

We carry you within our hearts

Through this big wide world of wonder

As we have right from the start

So dream farther than your comfort

Pray bigger than you dare

Reach for the very brightest stars

Always, always love and care

Trust in Jesus to walk with you

Every day, your whole life through

Happy birthday and graduation

Aubree, we’re so proud of you

                        By Frank Carpenter ©

Unforgettable

Some unusual thoughts today about a few possible futures I've mulled over after bumping into a friend who lost her husband to Alzheimer's. That's rare, but we've also had our own serious car accident. And a variety of other events in our wider circle of contacts reminds me that life just doesn't come with a guaranty. So it's become my philosophy never to neglect saying the important things both early and often to the people I love. I never want there to be any doubt about how I feel ... or felt. So to that end, I offer the following reminder to my bride of how much she is loved and how blessed our life has been. I hope we never need these words, but if we ever do at least they have been said.

Unforgettable 

Whatever the future holds for us 

Whatever may come our way

I reaffirm the love and commitment

That we share every day 

Everything seems so perfect

So many ways we're blessed

So this poem is a touch stone

In this season when things are best

Because we know that circumstances

Could always turn on a dime 

At anytime in this last third

Of our precious years and time

If our financial situation

Or my heart or memory

Should suddenly take a left turn

I want you to hear from me

That I've loved you with all my heart

From that first June day we met

That we've built a love and life

I would never want to forget 

If we swerved off the road again

Or end up in the ICU

If cancer or Alzheimer's mar our path 

I'll still be filled with love for you

Whatever the decades bring us

All that hasn't quite happened yet 

Lies beyond our vision or control

So I ask you to never forget 

All the beauty, wonder and laughter

Kids, friends, vacations and fun

This life of faith and blessing

Every good memory, ever one

If somewhere in the future 

I'm  somehow less me than before 

Remember our love here and now

Know you're the one I always adore 

Know that I believe in forever 

In case I should forget someday

I have cherished our life together

And nothing could take that away

By Frank Carpenter

And one final thought. On the same subject, here is the chorus of a song I hope never to have to finish writing:

I hope you will remember

In case I should forget 

What happened that September

I never could regret 

All the years we shared together 

They mean everything you see

So in case I can't remember ...

Don't give up on me

The Times I Almost Died

The Times I Almost Died

There are those rare occasions when we end up thinking to ourselves, “Whew, that was close!” Most of us have had one or two such moments. As for me, I can think of at least four of those times:  One dicey health scare, and three driving incidents. And in each of the driving ones I was completely surprised and not at fault. The point is that no matter how careful we may be, things just happen, and they are often beyond our control. If we’re fortunate, they turn out to be near misses. When they are, we can be left wondering, “How did that happen?” Yet, with the way my heart and mind work, I’m more likely to ask, “Why didn’t that happen?” Why indeed. And here’s where your world view makes all the difference, because I happen to believe that there is a God who cares about us and has a plan to work things for good. Following that train of thought, if I’ve lived though all those close calls then I’m just assuming that God’s not done with me yet. In fact, I’m pretty sure that once God is done with us, we assume room temperature. So if I’m still here after all those close then I have to believe that I’m here for a purpose, that I should live in such a way as to be available for discovering and fulfilling that purpose. I may not know for certain what it is just yet, but I can still be inclining my heart and life towards God in order to be open to fulfilling it. Sure, I almost died a few times … but I didn’t. So I’m going to make the most of this extra gift of life God bestowed on me … on multiple occasions. Ever wonder why you’re also still here too. Apparently, God has a plan for each of us. Let’s go live it.

The Times I Almost Died

Jesus, why have you kept me here?

When you could have done otherwise

When I swerved too close to disaster

To danger and compromise

When the tires began to lose traction

Or the lines on the EKG

Dragged me to the edge of oblivion

Lord, why did you rescue me?

I can only conclude, my God

That you had other plans in store

That I still wake up every day

Since I was meant for something more

So Lord I offer up my life

And open up my heart

To whatever plan you have for me

I’m ready for it to start

Use me as your instrument

Sweep away my fear and pride

And do whatever you saved me for

On those times I almost died

           By Frank Carpenter ©

Countless, Worthless, Priceless Treasures

I have the good fortune to be married to a woman who understand the intrinsic value of things. She sees the beauty and wonder that God scatters upon the path in front of her, and takes the time to stop and enjoy it, living so much more in the moment than me. One of her favorite pastimes is looking for sea glass and shells when we’re walking on the beach. To her, a piece of polished sea glass is a precious stone. Precious is, after all, in the eye of the beholder. Consequently, we have quite a collection of various detritus from a host of favorite shorelines. That’s just fine with me, because she gets more joy from a rare and perfect piece of sea glass than many other people seem to derive from diamonds or emeralds. I’m not saying that she doesn’t deserve those as well, yet her perspective provides a commentary on how we assign value to the other things in our lives. The richest people aren’t necessarily the ones with the biggest jewels. Rather, they are the ones with beautiful memories and various keepsakes that remind them of those memories. That’s what sea glass is to us. Not so much precious stones as touch stones. This also begs the question of what we fill our lives with … and why? In the meantime, I’ll keep hauling home the pockets full of sandy treasure that my beloved finds joy in collecting. After all, it’s not just about the glass. I think she’s actually collecting joy … and that is a treasure indeed.   

 Countless, Worthless, Priceless Treasures

Wherever the water kisses

The sand, you’ll find her there

Wandering happily down the shore

Wet feet and windblown hair

Oblivious to tide and time

As the lazy hours pass

She scours the shore for shiny stones

And odd pieces of sea glass

Tucking the treasures in her pocket

Whenever they appear

And wandering down the sunlit shore

As she has throughout the years

So we have a vast collection

Of such trinkets from the shore

Countless, worthless, priceless treasures

That she collects and she adores

And why not, we know so many folks

Who pay a fortune for the things

That they think will make them happy

Yet no greater pleasure bring

Perhaps the wisest of us all

Is she who wanders happily

And finds her joy in simple treasures

From the Great Lakes and the sea

          By Frank Carpenter ©

A Rock and a Hard Place

Last week I was just walking from my car to my office when

a small yellow flower caught my eye. It was really just a little weed which had contrived sprout between the asphalt of the parking lot and the cement of the curb. Yet, the instant I saw it and a common phrase leapt into my mind: “Stuck between a rock and a hard place.” How many times have we heard that in reference to people who find themselves in difficult situations? Here was the personification of that phrase blooming just underfoot. I took the attached photo of that brave little plant with the idea that I’d return to the subject and explore it later. I eventually wrote this poem to accompany the photo and I take the liberty to share it with you today. You might ask why I even care about such an undignified little weed, clinging to such an unlikely spot. Well, truth be told, I have several people in my life right now who resemble that flower. Their circumstances of life have left them feeling like they’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, and they are just trying to find a way to bloom in the midst of difficult situations. Have you ever felt that way, or are you feeling that way even now? Sometimes it seems like life is literally squeezing the life out of us. It could be health or financial issues, family or marriage problems or a host of other things. If you’re there, or know someone who is, I know things can feel pretty overwhelming. I’ve certainly been there myself and I clearly don’t have all the answers, but I do have one answer. Jesus. By all means listen to the doctors, see a financial advisor, confide in wise friends and be willing to seek professional counseling if it’s warranted … and maybe think about praying as well. It sounds so cliché, but Jesus really does love you. Whoever we are and wherever we gotten ourselves, He’s ready to meet us right where we are and help us through life. Are you stuck between a rock and a hard place? Good news … Jesus knows just what that feels like, and he’s no stranger to that address. So, once again, maybe think about praying. Those first words can be a little awkward, but they open up your heart to the comfort and strength of a loving God. Feel free to reach out to me as well. My email is fcarpenter505@gmail.com . Don’t give up hope, and remember that little flower in the desolation of the parking lot by my office. Even if you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, you can still find a way to bloom.

A Rock and a Hard Place

Sometimes it seems we’re out of options

Like the tide is rising over us

When we’re overwhelmed and feeling hopeless

It shakes our faith and makes it hard to trust

When we find our backs are up against a wall

Drained of joy and peace and even grace

And we can’t see a path to a solution

Stuck between a rock and a hard place

In that moment when we’re lost and desperate

And we can’t imagine there is a way out

Jesus meets us right where we are stranded

To melt away our brokenness and doubt

He bears the burden of the broken hearted

Forgives what seemed so unforgivable

Loves us with a love beyond conception

And pours himself into us till we’re full

If you feel between a rock and hard place

Take heart, friend, and take the time to pray

God will meet you right where you are standing

And walk with you each step along the way

                               By Frank Carpenter ©

Into the Night

Earlier this week I had a night to myself and ended up taking a long walk on one of my favorite beaches. The tide was low so there was lots of beach to enjoy. And it happened to time so that I got to experience the whole transition from the bright of day to the dark of night. It turned out to be one of those perfect moments when everything aligns and you’re just glad to be alive, and be there to enjoy it. Just beautiful. Part way up the trail back to the car I paused to record the moment in the below poem, which I feel speaks for itself. While driving home I reflected upon the experience and was stuck by

the fact that I could have sat in front of a computer screen, or worked in the garage or watched TV for the evening. Instead, I got out and did what I love … and was rewarded with, literally, perfection. In truth, the rest of this week has been a whirlwind of work and meetings and obligations. Yet, because I paused for a few hours on Monday night, everything has been different. I have been different. It’s a reminder that sometimes we get too busy with life to actually stop and live. So this is my reminder to take a little time out and do what you enjoy.

You won’t regret it.

Into the Night

The sun is slipping below the sea

As I wander along the shore

Traversing familiar beaches

As I have so often before

The light fades on the horizon

As nighttime smothers the day

But my steps are sure upon the path

For my heart knows the way

I pause a while upon the trail

Which climbs from the beach below

To etch this moment in my mind

These touchstones I love and know

Just enough orange left in the west

To silhouette the island I love

Just enough thumbnail moon to light

The pale ocean from above

A couple of sailboats creep along

Gliding back to the harbor tonight

Where the bell buoy beckons

With its gong and flashing light

The darkness comes, enveloping me

A chill seeps into the air

The waves roll in contentedly

Washing away all my cares

At last I turn and make my way

Up the path, away from the sea

As the song of the waves begins to fade

A peace descends upon me

       By Frank Carpenter ©

 

Dads, Grandads and Crawdads

During the summer I went on a little field trip with my son and grandson. It was to a familiar little ravine near my childhood home that I hadn’t visited for 50 years. Just a trickle of a waterfall into a muddy pool that time had forgotten, but when I viewed it once again, through my grandson’s eyes, the wonder of my own youthful memories came flooding back. My adult son had been visiting this spot with his kids for a couple of years, coming to catch crawdads with bits of bacon tied to fishing line, and that’s what we did as well. It was pretty darn fun. We filled a bucket with the fascinating creatures, played with them for a while, and then let the whole lot go again before we left. It was strictly catch and release, since it wasn’t the kind of water you would want to dine from. Nonetheless, it was the good old fashioned Tom Sawyer kind of fun that I’m not sure people get enough of these days … the kind of fun that grandpas should have. My son is the master of planning this kind of little adventure that creates fun times, doesn't cost a dime and makes awesome memories. I was reminded of how often I’m too busy or distracted to pursue such simple pleasures in life.

And there’s another whole essay to write about how the stubborn crawdads latch onto the bait and let themselves be captured and destined for ruin because they’re too greedy to let go. That has all kinds of application to our modern lives of comfort and distraction. But that can wait for another day. 

In the meantime, let me encourage all of us to step out of our routines and seek out the simple activities that can bring so much joy with so little cost or trouble. We’re always striving for the big, shiny experience that seems to promise the greatest reward. However it’s the little things, the simple things, which often matter so much more in the big picture of life. When I think about such experiences, it’s pretty hard to do better than the classic mix of dads, granddads and crawdads. Besides the fact that it’s just fun to say, there’s pure magic in such a recipe for fun.  

The Coral Street Pier - Revisited

My first date with the love of my life was in June of 1980, an evening that ended with our dancing on a pier in Newport Harbor. Somewhere along the way I wrote a poem about that evening and eventually posted it here in 2004. More recently, I revisited the focal point of that first date once again and took a few moments to reflect on the past 40 years since then. The following poem is what happened while I was there. It’s a reminder that my poetry not only tells the story of my life, but also serves as a touchstone to important memories which have helped to defined me. This gift also helps me to celebrate those moments while preserving them for posterity.

Some moments are truly worth remembering, and that evening all those years ago is one of them. It was my last first date, and that is something worth celebrating … and remembering.  

The Coral Street Pier, Revisited

I don’t speak of it very often, but

I wander back here time and again

To this touch stone of all our blessings

Or, perhaps, to remember when

Since what happened on that night

By this ancient, familiar shore

Changed the trajectory of my life

And is etched in my heart evermore

I couldn’t say it was love at first sight

For we were only friends, after all

But something took root that evening

Even though it may have been small

A movie, a dance, a little starlight

Some providence, or destiny

And that tiny seed we planted

Has grown into a beautiful tree

I have never forgotten that moment

Nor has it faded with passing years

That first date, when long ago

We danced on the Coral Street Pier

                By Frank Carpenter ©