Wisdom

All Poems, Change, Family, People Traits, Spouses, Stories, Wisdom

Breaking Rules

Posted on

It seems all the rage now to break rules.

Mock speed limits.

Tread on property not your own.

Walk dogs where prohibited.

Modeled by legislators who trespass yet more.

Flout election laws.

Defy official subpoenas.

Take bribes.

Making light of prohibitions, regulations.

Often sliding by without consequences.

Have you ever been tempted to disregard a sign?

For convenience?

Momentary ease?

Out of frustration?

Pulling into a parking space to go shopping?

One, designated for a tenant in an adjacent building?

Like Bob did the other day.

Because the lot looked full.

Telling me he’d park for just a moment.

In the spot marked for apartment 202.

He’d put on his blinkers.

Run in, then run out.

I glared at him.

Superego screaming, no.

Challenged him: What if #202 returns home?

Needs to park, race inside?

What if it were your space?

It only took a moment.

For my scruples to rouse his.

He got back into the car, moved it.

I was glad my restless conscience

could deter his moral lapse.

For obeying signage on the streets,

keeps society from collapse.

Lynn Benjamin

June 8, 2024

Adolescence, All Poems, Change, Cousins, Emotions, Family, Memories, Regret, Wisdom

Then and Now

Posted on

That was then, this is now, said my ninety-year-old cousin to me.

At her baby brother’s eightieth birthday party.

The then, my adolescent behavior at her parents’ overnight camp.

Fussing, crying to leave.

Return home.

To play according to my own whims.

Out of step with community activities.

The now, over sixty years later.

Still taunting me.

In the presence of this family.

Wanting to erase this episode.

Delete it like a paragraph in a Word document.

Wishing I could have blended in.

Enjoyed my time away.

Instead of resisting.

Causing a stir.

But, Selma’s words gave me pause.

Perhaps it’s I, not they, making much of it.

Indeed, time to let it go.

Like all things parted with on downsizing.

The now has no space for regrets.

For childhood embarrassments.

Only for compassion, kindness.

Exhorted by a matriarch.

Able to shrink humiliation

with one simple sage remark.

Lynn Benjamin

May 8, 2024

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Emotions, Environment/Mother Earth, Hope, Natural Beauty, Plants, Politics, Seasons, Spirituality, Trauma, Violence, Wisdom, Worry

Madding Drumbeat

Posted on

The world, madding drumbeat of bad news.

Endless wars.

Unreleased hostages.

Political chicaneries.

Environmental catastrophes.

Where’s the relief?

Even for a moment?

From the echo chamber of the mind?

Playing, replaying the misery?

Where’s the reassurance things will rebalance?

When no one has a crystal ball.

But, everyone, an opinion.

The only comforts, what Mother Nature offers.

Predictability of seasons.

Awakening in spring.

Aromas of lilacs, viburnum bouquets.

Silent explosions of color.

Maple seed pods and mushrooms.

Pollen and nectar.

Honking and chirping.

Baby bunnies and geese.

Newness and vitality.

Energy to move us forward.

Appreciate a smile, kind word.

Offer the same to others.

Tiny attempts to heal what’s broken.

Make something whole.

Do for others what Mother Earth does for us.

In her generous embrace.

Take a breath.

Let the earth caress.

Find blessed respite.

From frenzied distress.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 30, 2024

All Poems, Art/Arts, For Children, Holidays, Jewish Holidays, Museums, Philadelphia, Pleasure, Trips and Places, Wisdom

Morning After the Second Seder

Posted on

It was morning, after the second Seder.

Ordinary excursion to the Franklin Institute.

A favorite museum of grandchildren.

For exhibits on electricity, biology, physics.

A planetarium’s view of the universe.

All with predictable participatory fun.

But not one of us expected the surprise in the special gallery.

The Art of the Brick.

By artist Nathan Sawaya.

New Yorker, whose love of legos bloomed into masterpieces.

Copies of well-known paintings, sculptures.

His own expressive works.

On love, growth, hope.

Collaboration with photographer, Dean West.

Crafting distinctive photos with landscapes and legos.

Even more than prolific production, Sawaya encourages.

Cradles creativity.

Tells you who he is.

His journey from attorney to artist.

Enjoins you to find, honor your unique path.

The visit, ordinary to extraordinary.

Sawaya surely has a goal.

To uplift us and inspire.

Nourish each and every soul.

Lynn Benjamin

April 26, 2024

 

26, 2024

Aging, All Poems, Health/Illness, Memories, Stories, Wisdom

Today was Visiting Day

Posted on

Today was visiting day.

Not for children at school or camp.

Rather, for members of the oldest generation.

A cousin, nearly ninety-one.

And my sister’s mother-in-law.

Both in the same building, different wings.

One for residence.

No longer able to manage her home.

The other for rehabilitation.

After falling, breaking a femur.

Rounds like my father made when still alive.

To see his sisters.

One in a senior residence.

Another alone in an apartment.

His brother-in-law in assisted living.

Sister-in-law in nursing care.

Visits I often drove him to.

When he no longer had a car.

Necessary visits.

Remembering the lonely.

The ill, disabled.

Imbuing visitor with contentment.

Gratification to stop, chat.

Look at photos of a great grand baby.

Hear details of an accident.

Wise words from an immobile woman.

If you have health, you have riches.

 

Is it possible my father hovered

between me and those unwell?

Accompanying me on visits

in mysterious parallel?

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 16, 2024

All Poems, Invitations, People Traits, Wisdom

Meditation on Expectations

Posted on

Expectations are often the crux of conflicts.

Between parents and children.

Teachers and students.

Committed couples.

All of us harbor them.

How could we have order without them?

How would society function?

We teach children to follow rules.

To become good citizens.

Teachers expect performance.

Partners expect the other to do a fair share.

And yet, how often do people complain that expectations stifle?

Thwart communication?

Sincere back and forth?

Is it possible to enter a space without expectation?

Desirable?

I don’t know.

For, I think, everyone has expectations.

Perhaps we can lower them.

Like diminishing intensity on a dimmer switch.

To soften the light.

Avoid disappointment.

But, all parties possess them.

Those wanting them lowered.

Those lowering.

So, maybe it’s more a matter of awareness.

Noticing when expectations exceed reason.

In truth, I rely on expectations.

I like to know what’s expected of me.

What I can expect of others.

Of myself.

Could I accept an invitation to abandon expectations?

I don’t think I could or would.

That invitation, I’d decline.

Just tell me yours; I’ll tell you mine.

Then we can be genuine.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 15, 2024

Aging, All Poems, Family, Health/Illness, Hope, Spouses, Wisdom

Never Too Late

Posted on

It’s never too late to take care of your body.

Go to the gym.

Lift weights.

Stretch, build strength.

Even at seventy-five, it can make a difference.

As Bob notices.

Demonstrating his biceps.

Flatter belly.

Why didn’t he start earlier?

Always studying?

Rearing children?

Working long hours?

Tending to aging parents?

Believing he wasn’t athletic?

He spent years cultivating the mind.

Becoming a physician.

Treating patients day and night.

Who had time?

Stamina?

Motivation?

But, he’s honoring his body now.

Grateful it’s not too late.

Schedule full of bands, barbells.

No time to procrastinate.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 14, 2024

Adult Children, All Poems, Family, Grandchildren, Natural Beauty, Pleasure, Santa Monica 3/24, Stories, Trips and Places, Wisdom

One Last Hike in California

Posted on

It was our last full day in Santa Monica.

Dan proposed a hike at Will Rogers State Park.

So, all of us piled into the Lincoln Aviator.

Set out for the trail.

Samantha carrying Arthur on her back.

Dan, Solly.

Only Ezra, five, and the grandparents ascended unencumbered.

Able to savor wild purple flowers.

Yellow daisies, white Catalina lilacs.

Views of Los Angeles, the beach, the Pacific.

Catalina Island, hazy, in the distance.

We made it to the top.

Where exhausted parents rested.

Children snacked.

Grandparents marveled at scenes below.

And the family all around them.

Endurance, capability, strength.

Joie de vivre.

But we had to leave.

To get home in time for Ezra’s math lesson.

Briskly, we descended.

Passing stables, children learning to ride.

A barn full of early twentieth century farm equipment.

To the house of Will Rogers.

Built on land bought in 1922.

And a small museum in homage to his legacy.

We only had ten minutes.

To fill our heads with a lifetime of accomplishments.

Philosopher cowboy, stage and movie star, radio personality.

Newspaper columnist, world traveler, humorist.

Descendent of Cherokees.

Whose family predated the pilgrims.

Celebrity to our grandparents.

Will Rogers was a citizen

who honored what is right.

Who cared for human dignity,

could inspire and shine light.

The hike in Pacific Palisades

animated each one’s pace.

Who knew we’d run into Will Rogers

in this wondrous meeting place?

Lynn Benjamin

March 31, 2024

 

 

Adult Children, All Poems, Family, Grandchildren, Parent Love, Shabbat, Wisdom, Worry

The Time Had Come

Posted on

 

The time had come.

To catch the ferry back to Long Beach.

Return to Santa Monica.

Spend a weekend with the grand boys.

Our son reminding us he was going to light candles.

For it was Friday night, Shabbat.

Last Friday, in the whirlwind, we didn’t do it.

So, just before dinner, the candles appeared.

Arthur has been afraid of fire.

But, he conquered his anxiety.

Wanted now to be the first to kindle.

Before Ezra, the second.

With the help of a utility lighter, and mother’s steady hand.

Bob began to sing the accompanying prayer.

Arthur protested, covering his ears, No singing.

Bob stopped, but not understanding, started again.

Arthur screamed, No! No singing!

Our son intervening, saying, Arthur can’t stand the sound.

Was it that the blessing was in Hebrew?

A language he didn’t understand?

We just don’t know.

It surprised us, the child

who loves to croon, to sing,

would object to joyful melody.

To Shabbat welcoming.              

But, three-year-olds are fickle.

They change minds so fast.

Every step is progress,

as each fear surpassed.

Bravo to the parents

who reintroduce, who try

making the strange familiar,

while honoring a child’s cry.

 

Lynn Benjamin

March 30, 2024

Aging, All Poems, Cousins, Death, Family, Loss, Time, Wisdom

Excellent Visit

Posted on

 

It was an excellent visit.

With my ninety-year old cousin.

At her Assisted Living Residence.

Where she maneuvered a walker.

To a seating area by a window.

With white wicker chairs.

A place to converse.

Catch up on goings-on.

Her children, grandchildren, mine.

Her first great-grandson.

Her sister, my siblings.

Discuss trips, past and present.

Her grandson’s visit to London.

To see the Harry Potter village.

The same month she and her late husband used to go.

It was, indeed, a pleasant meeting.

With smiles surpassing sound.

Till she said with wistful eyes

all her friends lie in the ground.

She has always been a magnet

for mates to flock around.

So her statement from the blue

sent a message most profound.

Savor all relationships.

Clocks don’t cease counting down.

Who knows who’ll be left above,

who’ll be buried neath a mound?

 

Lynn Benjamin

March 12, 2024