Francy's New Morning

          Our street after Hurricane Sandy (a year ago, October 29 2012)    Evacuate!   Some listened, some ignored Some left, some stayed As the storm crept up the coastline   One Time Mattered:   Her arrival   And when her time came, She lashed out pent up rage, Swirling and smashing, tearing and toppling In a tantrum, daring to destroy   Too late To evacuate   Ocean water invaded homes Killing memories Of other times, special times   When her stamina waned And she faded into a gentle breeze Time changed for those she abused   Thrust back to pioneer days— Time measured by the setting sun; Dusty lanterns found; Unused jars of scented candles Now lit Cloaked the darkness with vanilla and jasmine; Blankets replaced heaters, Canned food replaced meals, Tears replaced time   How long til time passes And tick-tock...

         Oh so serious me     My funny family and me in my ironman coat   I’ve always wanted to be funny…but we don’t always get what we want. Thanksgiving, age thirteen, was the first time I realized how humorless I was. Sitting at the kids’ table with my cousins, I listened and laughed as each one took turns telling jokes…but I had nothing to say. I didn’t know one joke to tell other than: “How did the chicken cross the road?” Wait, I even got that wrong. I also lacked confidence, so was afraid to try being funny for fear that I’d be the only one laughing like a big goober. And this is with relatives—imagine how quiet I was in school! I made up for my serious and sensitive soul by having funny friends and marrying a funny guy—hoping it would rub off or just opposites attract? Gene and I produced five funny kids. I’m sure funny is a dominant “gene.” Ha ha, get it? Or do I have to point out the pun? And I love writing—c...