Family Jewels

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vulture Family Tree

 

They mate for life.

family

Mother went up for atrial stenosis surgery

UCLA sent her home

Some emergency...

Vultures soar on thermals with their kin

I see my tree moving away

After building a dynasty

abandoned

orphaned

Plucked to DNA thin.

Then Healed by time.

PTSD soldier resting on a limb.

Surrounded by almond blossoms with heady fragrance.

Perfumers’ choose frankincense, the notes sing a familiar song.

Grandma’s cologne causes sleeplessness.

I miss the girlies.

In their growth.

In their journeys.

I love them as my own

Barberries, pomegranate seeds and

chunky ruby beads repair a broken spirit.

My brother witnessed his heart on a table.

The anesthesiologist gave him remedy.

A pump kept him going.

A California condor elegy?

Find a breeding program for positivity.

 

 





Our Lady of Guadalupe Jewelry

Vulture photograph from my trip to Africa

Family Christmas Tree

 

This year my children voted not to purchase a Christmas tree. I have mixed emotions about the decision. Instead of my elaborate tree, we are donating a medium sized tree and presents that they made and purchased for a family who lives in their car. I sprung for a hotel room for Christmas Eve for the family. I am not going to post their pictures or names as they asked to keep this quiet. I suspect they worry that their two children who do not attend school might be removed from their hard life.

I live in an affluent neighborhood. I notice an increase of not just single homeless men, but now families. The last piece of normal they have is to sleep in their automobile and solicit donations in the shopping center in front of WalMart. I cannot tell you exactly what lead this particular family to lose their home, but I know the struggle to find employment becomes more difficult by not having a stable place to live.

I admit to a selfish wistfulness. I will miss not having a big tree with my gold and silver ornaments that I have collected over the past nine years. I lost all the prior ones in a fire. My ornaments each have some special handmade memory. I have not figured out how I will hang them, thinking fishing wire from every window, but this seems like more work than I have time to budget. Silly and frivolous concerns when I compare myself to a family without a decent place to sleep.

Things have not been easy street for my family this year. I look back on holidays in my past and am thankful of the support I have from the large and meddlesome network I have covering my back. I will have fifty some family and friends for dinner on Christmas Day. I invited my adopted car family but they seem embarrassed to show up. A few of my siblings expressed distress that I might include persons that they worry might make the celebration awkward or uncomfortable. I am not passing judgment on anyone, just doing something I think might help their eleven year old son and fifteen year old daughter to hang on to a memory that offers a more hopeful future.

I wish I could give more.

Mapping the Novel for November

The Road Ahead, Caroline Gerardo copyright October 2011

Embarking upon an adventure, my team is ready, the cupboards and garage refrigerator are full who else is doing Nanowritmo? I have my plans, my note cards of research, the composition book full, the white story board – well it is waiting for all the information to unfold. I would label myself a very organized “pantser” as I do not know the ending until I am done. I allow the story to direct me in the first draft.


Here is my plan: 65000 words by November 24th. I will have not a full first draft but a rough without an ending, or perhaps three ending ideas. That is over three thousand words a day, a pace I have managed daily but I include blog posts as warm ups, poetry and shorts in my count. I will only work on the novel. I have a couple titles in my head, and this too is subject to shift.

My children have agreed to take on the feeding of the pets (in Laguna Niguel we have two dogs, two turtles, an elderly flop eared bunny and yes the hummingbird feeders need attention). They agreed to split up a couple of my chores so I can get up at five and start my quiet hours of writing at the kitchen table. It is in the morning I get the most productive writing done. I don’t have the luxury of a silent space to work in. Yes I have a room of my own, (several) but being a single mom with no relief I can’t lock myself away. My team has come upon the settlement that we don’t watch television, mom writes with her gnarly baseball hat and they read or complete homework. We play games and are intensely competitive to work for goals. Nannowritmo is just as serious as when my son and I had the month long chin up challenge. I build up to eleven, and I felt really strong about it until I suffered tendonitis, but that’s another story.

So who else is doing Nano and what challenges do you find ahead? What will you do if the laptop fails or there is a power outage for days? Let us share our triumphs and cheer each other on to the finish. How will you balance your home life, your day job and will you remember to pay the cell phone bill? I will be limiting my online reading, less blogging, but I will chat about progress and check on you by twitter.

@ cgbarbeau is my handle



Caroline Gerardo © copyright 2011

Sparrow Sings for Michael Jackson

House Bird for Michael

All the jumbled stories about his life aside,

 remember this sleep never ends

The story, the Doctor,

made me think of you, not a bad song.

It is a nasal sparrow tsip whispering in the brush.

A ghost lives in the canyon.

I tried to capture his song

but like Michael it

is threading a recording
through a telescope.

You might not care about

the sparrows facing extinction,
but it makes us sorrowful as

mist creeping over a protective glass.

It is coming soon.

I protect the nest.

It is only a house sparrow you think.

We miss the songs

I Want You Back,

 Never Can Say Goodbye,

And I’ll be There

A sparrow can understand

Twit twack calls,

Or a human if they care

Caroline Gerardo Copyright 2011

Saint Anthony, Saint Patrick and Alfredo Sauce

http://www.indiebound.org/indie-store-finder?ss=92651&storetype=1&radius=100&storelimit=30#ISFMap

link above to bookstores near my home

"Calming Holy Water"

photgraph copyright caroline gerardo march 2011

We have a man in our home we fondly refer to as Alfredo Sauce. He is the subject of blame and missing things. When my favorite coffee mug (the one I imported some sacred meaning and sign of peace to creativity and Major Dickerson's coffee black) was found without a handle we shamed Alfredo. When the side gate cracked ajar and Honey our Golden Retriever lets everyone out for a romp, I know where to point my finger.
If life was simple, we could pass judgment upon a fictional character among the cracks in the mortar. You would need not jolt to anger. One would never feel frustration. All I need to do is call upon Saint Anthony and he delivers.

“Saint Anthony Saint Anthony please come around. Something is lost and it must be found. If you find it please bring it to me, and oh how happy I shall be. Just keep repeating with me kids, and the car keys will be delivered so we may make it to the airport on time for our flight to JFK.”

Forgot we will be in New York on Saint Patrick’s Day.

“Will need to buy something green for each of us to sport in Greenwich Village.”

Carson pipes in, “Mom I packed my shamrock underwear from last year.”

“Thank Heaven something on you still fits twelve months later.”

Cars has grown six inches taller, a whole shoe size larger in the past three months, but his green drawers will still fit.

“Cannot wait to see the FrickCollection, to walk my legs off. I will be avoiding green beer.”

“Keep praying Mom.”

“I found the keys. Get in the car!”