Tag: Richard Williams

To most of you, what’s said here won’t mean anything, To others, it will bring back haunting memories. There are those episodes in every life which sting Each time they are remembered, doomed to never cease. In looking back, each one will violate the norm; What you feel would be

When you were just a kid, with all that childhood stuff, Were you aware you were a diamond in the rough And, like a diamond, measured for potential worth, A lengthy process that began before your birth. But this does not relate to fame and fortune here; Your “average” life

I know that Christmas is long gone—a memory; But something happened then that’s still dumbfounding me. My daughter had become a problem months before, And every day since then had been a constant war. It seemed that nothing that we tried did any good; And, believe me, we did everything

In searching how our ancestors had lived and died, We always looked for evidence they could not hide. To know how they existed, and on what they fed, Would always come to this—how did they treat their dead? No matter their primeval state, to each his own, Respect and honor,

You may not be a Jew, and so the Holocaust Means next to nothing in your mind—the human cost. In your mind, they had to have done something to bring This all about, which would explain most everything. And, since you were not, are not, personally involved You won’t concern

We need to make a service call, so then, of course, we call; But we get someone who cannot speak English much at all. We try to make “it” understand that we don’t understand; But seemingly there’s no attempt to bridge the language spanned. So what has happened to “good

So this year’s Christmas now has passed; Was it one that you wished would last? Well, then, allow me to this hint to drop— In Christmas, where does it say “Stop!” For Christmas is an attitude; With invitations to intrude. Which means just this: invite them in; “The more the

December 7, ’41: Pearl Harbor Day! But most of you were not alive then, or too young, To recognize its impact then, in any way; But that day must not be allowed to fade, unsung, Because of passing time, advancing years or not, For in and of that day this

Do you believe in Santa Claus? Perhaps you’d better! You must be cognizant that he’s a trend setter. We’re lucky that we get him on this Christmas gig; For as our kids are quick to tell you, he is BIG! And I can prove it—every Christmas, every letter That they

When I was eight, or nine, or ten… It matters not at all, back then, But there is something I still see, Most definitely Mom would agree, She’d look at me with scant belief And, in that first look, say “Good Grief!” The dirt around our neighborhood Just never acted

I viewed the calendar. I felt the panic pour. That everything was happening just like before. I hardly could believe—anticipating then In going through the same old routines once again. Upon my writing this, re-reading the above, I realize this is but an exercise of love. Each year we feel

As your habit of measuring time, I surmise, May now come to you, actually, as a surprise; Because you never thought of it that way before, So in “measuring time” you must quickly learn more. But, in truth, you will measure time some every day, Like the things that you

Through history, most governments are formed by force Or accident—and this has been the normal course, Until, in 1787, came a voice Insisting it be made through reflection and choice. Not only was this unheard of, but viewed with doubt— In governing, the common citizen was out. Our Constitution brought

The frost is on the pumpkin, yessirree; Predicting what the weather soon will be. But, here and now, we’re barely into Fall, So why do we now have this early call? I know that Mother Nature’s oft obtuse, But here it seems she’s playing fast and loose. Two days ago

No matter how you came to see them, brooding round their pot, Their stark black garbs identical, down to the common stitch, You realize that this Halloween is different, like as not, And tremble knowing that you cannot tell which witch is which. But you don’t have to worry, and

To put one season of the year above the rest, Many of you think that Autumn is the best. Subjective logic likely will come into play; Though I believe it’s simply in your DNA. For this is Harvest time—the “bringing in the sheaves.” The whole year’s effort then is seen,

Today, some primeval mentality persists; Perhaps with some sophistication, it exists. The most successful hunter-gatherers stood tall, And soon would find that they were ruling over all. What this high status did for egos was not taught; Some good, some bad, some praiseworthy, some not. But this had far-reaching effect

Logic may well be a word not logical at all; Take, for instance, life forms on which all our food chains fall. Logic says they have been out there to provide a meal For specific other life forms to consume with zeal. But, what is not logical, is how and

A situation in which God must intervene To have it be as you would have it seen Is not so rare in life as you may choose to think, Or not believing that there can be such a link. We muse about our Guardian Angels, like as not, As harmless