Breakfast of Memories

for fifty years they’d each returned
back to the same cafe
gathered round the same table
these small town knights
slowly sipping coffee
reviving the Camelot of their youth
alive again
in a breakfast of memories

stories swirled
more smiles than scars
the pranks, the mindless adventures
girlfriends real, love imagined
mountains climbed and races won
friends recalled and gone

they talked of how they’d loved this place
had never thought to leave
but life and time had swept them off
to chase their separate dreams

not one head turned to watch them go
the gray men and their ghosts
and silence roared to fill the void
of legends lost to most

tio stib
2019, 2020

You might also enjoy: A Friend Passes, Life Journey Poems & Prose

Flavors of Friends

Some are vanilla,
predictably plain
Dependably true
always the same

Some are exotic
quixotic
sherbets with fireworks lives
occasionally glancing
to check others’ eyes

then the specials
like bubblegum treat
beautifully different
sumptuous sweets

Yes, chocolate, strawberry,
and rocky road too
friends of all flavors
some licked and
some chewed

like ice cream
I taste them
each one of a kind
then off on their way
they melt in my mind

Yet over the years
a few friends remain
these flavors I savor
again
and again

tio stib

2014, 2016, 2018, 2020

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Hand in Hand

the first time we walked together
we got lost
the perfect path
to knowing each other

she never complained
simply smiled
marveled at flowers and bird
held my hand

trusted

we’ve walked on
through mountain meadows
singing with bees and butterflies
dancing barefoot on foggy beaches
gleefully splashing in the waves
hiding under an umbrella in Spring rain
sampling strawberries at the Farmers’ Market
gossiping with passing neighbors
skipping to the grocery store
plopping onto our favorite bench

hand in hand

we walk on

 

tio stib

2019

You might also enjoy:  The Walk to Paradise Garden; Life Journey Poems & Prose

My Dementia Diary 64 – Holding Hands

we have reached a place
where holding hands
is a pleasure
beyond orgasm

we have become
an incalculable oneness

after miles
years
of laughing, loving, sharing
a life together
I reach
expect
her soft, strong, tender fingers
to entwine with mine

my heart banishes all thoughts
that one day her hand
will not be there

tio stib

You might also enjoy: The Walk to Paradise Garden, My Dementia Diary

My Dementia Diary 62 – Faith

Faith. Faith Springer. A name that melts the heart.

I met her as we cared for a dying friend. Faith was a hospice volunteer and I remember she showed up each day, in any trying circumstance, with a smile and an unwavering commitment to serve. Struggling with my own fears about death, Fait calmed me. I felt humbled to be with her, blessed by the presence of an angel.

In the months after our friend passed, I often visited Faith, sat drinking tea in her garden, listening to her delighted descriptions of the birth of new flowers she’d planted the fall before, smiling as hummingbirds buzzed about our heads.

Later, as I cradled her head in my lap after she’d died, I was struck by how close we’d become in the brief times we’d shared together. Faith found a life path that brought her ultimate peace. She was the humble servant of love.

I find comfort in thoughts about my friend Faith, her beautiful soul, her overflowing heart. I am not nearly the kind and gracious being she was, but her memory inspires me to continue the daily work of loving.

Faith. Her name could not have been more perfect.

tio stib

You might also enjoy: A Friend Passes, My Dementia Diary

 

My Dementia Diary 44 – Yours to Count On

Over the years, I’ve made hundreds of acquaintances, but precious few friends. The difference between one group and the other is four words.

Yours to count on.

Those are the words inscribed in a book given to me by a man I’d spent an intimate and intense week with during a workshop in Alabama. He gave me the gift as a tribute to what we’d gone through together, including a fire walk.

I remember opening the book and seeing the words, saying them out loud,

“Yours to count on.”

I looked at him. He smiled, and shook my hand. 

I’ve never seen him since, haven’t communicated in any way. But, if I reached out to him today and asked for his help, I know he’d be there.

He was that kind of guy. he was a real friend.

Some time back, faced with a seemingly impossible situation where I was caring for a dying family member while needing to complete a construction project before a bank loan was due, I reached out to three guys who were friends.

They didn’t ask why, but jumped in a car and drove for hours to show up at my front door. they spent several days completing the project for me, shook my hand, and returned to their lives.

They were mine to count on.

There have been others. The kind souls who spent hours comforting my dying relative, giving me a break to renew my soul. 

Good human beings. 

As I stop and pause to consider the blessings of true friendship, I’m reminded that I, too, want to be someone who can say,

“Yours to count on.”

tio stib

You might also enjoy: Flavors of Friends, My Dementia Diary

A Friend Passes

it happened
in the depth of night
a wisp of wind,
a soul took flight

a smile
a laugh
a curious mind
flew off to join
the ghosts of time

as memories sweep
my shores of being
his waves roll on
cross seas unseen

I pause to think
what might have been
if life had passed
without my friend

tio stib, 2015
for George Forrester

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Taxi School-Chapter 2

Introduction

Al McGinty, “Gint” as he is known to friend and foe, does not like change. He’s driven the same cab for thirty years, eats at the same cafe every morning, can’t say a nice word about politicians or lawyers, and worships New York City. He has a unique lifestyle, one true friend, Wally, and reads the New York Times each evening with a glass of brandy and a Cuban cigar. His is the perfect world.

But that’s about to change.

Gint is the main character in my novel, “Taxi School,” and you can follow Gint’s story as his life explodes and he is forced into one of Nature’s three ultimate choices-

Adapt, migrate, or go extinct.

I’ll be publishing a new chapter each week, hope you follow along. comments, on any line, are always appreciated.

tio stib

CHAPTER 2

“Jesus, Johnny, you got nothing better to do but read “Playboy,” blurted Gint as he burst into the office of Carlutti’s Car repair, “I can see you have a demanding schedule, but I need my cab, preferably today.”

ir.

Johnny, a good looking guy with a tanned face and a full head of slightly grayed black hair, was not the least bit moved by his surprise visitor. He remained seated in his swivel chair, boots up on the desk. and raised his magazine for Gint to view.

the title read, “World Traveler.”

“Lulu wants to get out of town,” said Johnny, “and what Lulu wants, Lulu gets.”

“As well she should,” replied Gint, remembering that  Lulu had been the hottest chick in the old neighborhood. She still turned heads. Lulu and Johnny had been lifelong sweethearts.

“As for my demanding schedule, hell, Gint, your Checker cab is about the only automobile I can work on anymore. These days, car repair is all about computers, and I’m not going there. J3 loves that crap and he can have it.”

J3  was John Carlutti  the third, the youngest of the male Carlutti line to work at the repair shop, and the kid Johnny yelled at as he opened the door to the shop, over the noise of air wrenches and occasional curses, “J3, move your sorry ass and pull Mr. McGinty’s cab out front!”

Gint saw a kid with a mop of black hair and grease on his face look up from under a car hood, smile, then dash outside. then Gint saw something familiar.

“Hey, Johnny, isn’t that Joey’s cab?”

Yep, he left it here last week. Asked me to sell it.”

“What?” Gint cried out, turning to Johnny in disbelief, “he can’t do that!”

“Well, he sure as hell did,” said Johnny, “came by, said he was hanging it up, asked me to send the sale money to an address in California.”

Stunned, Gint sat in a chair beside Johnny, speaking softly, “we’ve been in the business together for thirty years, bought our cabs together. We’re partners, a team, the last two Checker cabs in New York City.”

“Not any more, Gint, now you’re a team of one.”

The office street door opened, and J3 stuck his head in, “here you go Mr. McGinty, thanks for using Carlutti’s Car Repair.”

Gint mindlessly shook the kid’s hand and walked out.

On the sidewalk, gint whistled once and Wally came bounding down the street. Gint opened the driver’s door and the two climbed in to the last Checker cab in New York City.

-to be continued-

You might also enjoy: Taxi School – Chapter 1

Taxi School- Chapter One

introduction

Al McGinty, “Gint” as he is known to friend and foe, does not like change. He’s driven the same cab for thirty years, eats at the same cafe every morning, can’t say a nice word about politicians or lawyers, and worships New York City. He has a unique lifestyle, one true friend, Wally, and reads the New York Times each evening with a glass of brandy and a Cuban cigar. His is the perfect world.

But that’s about to change.

Gint is the main character in my novel, “Taxi School,” and you can follow Gint’s story as his life explodes and he is forced into one of Nature’s three ultimate choices-

Adapt, migrate, or go extinct.

I’ll be publishing a new chapter each week, hope you follow along. comments, on any line, are always appreciated.

tio stib

chapter one

It was a dark Bronx morning, still more winter than spring, patches of mist swirling about glowing streetlights. The night’s rain glistened atop the line of vacant cars. With the exception of two figures ambling down the sidewalk, nothing moved. The four legged one lifted his leg on the chrome spoke wheel of a black SUV.  The two legged guy unzipped and pissed on the passenger door.

“Damn yuppies!” he cursed, zipping up.

The two strolled towards the corner and a flashing pink neon sign. The M & M Cafe beckoned.

Slamming the door behind him, Al McGinty announced himself. Gint, as he was known to friend and foe, removed his worn driving cap, smoothed his thinning hair, and hung cap and  jacket on a wall hook. Surveying the empty restaurant his eyes stopped at a lone man hunched over a counter stool.

Smiling, Gint spoke “what’s got the cops up before sunrise, O’Malley?”

The big man in the rumpled suit spun slowly on his stool, sipping his coffee before a grin appeared on his weathered face.

“Most crooks aren’t as lazy as you are, Gint, some of them even work night shift.”

“I’ll never forgive you for that parking ticket, Lieutenant,” replied Gint plopping down on the stool next to the officer.

“Mother Mary, that was thirty years ago.”

“And you were so proud of yourself.”

“Hell, yes, my first big bust.”

The kitchen door burst open and a full figured  woman in a spotless uniform swept in with a steaming plate balanced on one hand. Embroidered above the left breast of her snug fitting blouse was the name “Midge.”

“Wally, baby!” Midge exclaimed, bending down to stroke the furry head of the mid size mutt sitting patiently at Gint’s side.

She continued, “how ya doing, kid?” scratching him behind the ears.

Wally bared his gleaming teeth in appreciation.

“God,” Midge said, “I wish I had those pearly whites.”

“I wish I had my breakfast,” said O’Malley.

The waitress arose and dropped O’Malley’s plate in front of him.

“Anything else?” she snapped.

“Coffee would be swell.”

Midge turned abruptly and headed for the coffee pot.

Gint, exasperated, let go, “and what about me, Midge dear?”

“Yeah,” replied Midge, not bothering to turn her curly blond head as she picked up the coffee pot, “what about you?”

“Now what are you mad about?”

“Gint, I’m always mad about you.”

“I knew it!” You’ve been in love with me since I first walked in here.”

Returning with the coffee pot, Midge retorted, “fat chance, the best offer you ever made me was a trip to Paradise, which turned out to be the Paradise Motel in Jersey.”

“You’d be better off running away with me, Gint, the lady can’t even boil an egg,” said the big bald guy who suddenly appeared besides Midge. “Mick” was written in black marker at the top of his apron, although this was hard to make out through a collage of stains and food fragments.

“Mick and me, together in paradise, that’s disgusting,” said Gint.

“It’s an oxymoron,” added O’Malley wiping up the last of his fried egg with a piece of toast.

“Too late now, boys,” said Midge, refilling O’Malley’s coffee.

“That’s right, guys,” continued Mick, wrapping a tattooed arm around his wife, “we’re selling out and going home.”

“Home? what do you call Brooklyn?” gasped Gint.

“You forget I was born in Vermont.”

“Yeah, and the smartest thing you ever did, besides marrying Midge, was leave. There’s nothing but winter and trees up there. Besides, it’s a foreign country and you don’t speak the language.”

“The kids don’t want this place, but the developers do,” said Mick, “we’re going to take the money and run.”

Midge poured a mug of coffee for Gint, adding, “besides, Gint, it’s getting old serving deadbeats like you.”

Midge winked at O”Malley, then bent down to Wally, “what’s it going to be, boy, the usual?”

Wally barked and showed his pearly whites.

Mick and Midge returned to the kitchen. Gint turned to O’Malley who had demolished his steak and eggs and was finishing off the hash browns.

“Can you believe it? What are we going to do without the M & M Cafe?”

O’Malley swallowed and took a sip of coffee, “not we, Gint, you. What are You going to do. In three months and twelve days, I’m retiring. Amy already has us a cute place in Florida near the grandkids.”

The cop  got up, put a ten spot on the counter, and slapped Gint on the back. “Remember that little job you’re doing for me today.”

Gint, still stunned by the M & M’s upcoming demise, answered, “yeah, got it covered.”

“Keep him out of trouble, Wally,” the cop said to the dog, then laughed to himself, “another oxymoron.”

O’Malley picked his overcoat from a wall hook and pulled it on as Midge reappeared with two steaming plates.

“Take it easy, O’Malley,” she said, putting one plate in front of Gint, then stooping to put the other at Wally’s feet.

“You, too, Midge” and O’Malley was out the door.

Gint looked down at his breakfast and groaned, “why is it Wally gets all the love around here?”

Wally, eagerly scarfing up his bacon and eggs, did not reply, but Midge answered, “he’s cuter than you and he never makes passes at me.”

Gint, still staring at his plate of soy eggs, plain toast, and a bowl of prunes, said”couldn’t you just forget my cholesterol problem and serve me some real food for old time’s sake?”

“What are friends for?” answered Midge, watching Wally lick his plate clean, “besides, those old times have finally caught up with you.”

Yeah, thought Gint, they certainly had.

-to be continued-

Finding Home

it’s a feeling
fleeting
flying off like a nervous bird
when my heart gets too close
yet memories whisper
and I wonder
what was it
that feeling
what was
home

I know I’ve felt it
the Onenes
of place
of people
of shared meals
and wild laughter
in silent awe
watching the moonrise from a porch
sliding up a far mountain
beaming shimmering light across a silent river
sparkling in enchanted eyes

I’ve felt it
in the garden
in the sweet scent of strawberries
picked by eager red fingers
wrapped in buzzing bees and flitting hummingbirds
in the joy of harvest
in the pleasure of shared
plenty

I’ve felt it
in warm murmurs around the fire
in the clink of glasses
in the evening glow of satisfaction
gained from sweating together
building a shared world

I’ve felt it
in smiles and greetings
in walking through community
in waves to passing friends
in bonds formed
by standing together
through tough times

I’ve felt it
in grief and solace
tears shared
remembering those lost
aching for those
forever gone

now I wander
the frontiers of being
soul seeking
heart hoping
to find home
again

tio stib

2016, 2017

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Tags: blind poet, blind writer, life journey, home, home again, friends, friendship, Nature

tio stib

2016, 2017

You might also enjoy: Two Rivers, A Friend Passes

Tags: blind poet, blind writer, life journey, home, home again, friends, friendship, Nature