​The first time Mother and I saw the windmill turn its blades was when her twin flew from Albuquerque to Holland to celebrate their 90th birthday. The second time was nearly eight years later, her first day home in two months. Thursday, she walked to her bench at the Jane Tree Corner on Windmill Island and back to the parking lot with Wheelie (her walker). As many of you know, it is not a short walk! I lugged a wheelchair—just in case—forgetting there are miracles within things like excellent therapy, a strong will, and the prayers, encouragement, love, flowers, cards, and snippets from so many people across the western hemisphere. Thank you. 

There once was a woman named Jane
Whose love it was easy to gain.
She'll give you a hug
That makes you feel snug
And she always sees sunshine in rain.
            H.M. of Michigan
__________

Lady Jane 
 
There once was a Lady named Jane,
Whose heart was as grand as her name. 
She loved her family and friends
With a love that never ends,
And all that love lived forever 
as a gift to you and me.  
            J.T. of Texas
__________

Wishing a quick recovery 
To dear Jane McKinney
Who deserves nothing but the best 
Including a better snippet! 
            100-year-old B.L. and the “non hard-rhymer daughter,” S. L., of Florida
__________

Life can be hard
Times can be a little tough
Pull up your big girl panties
And say
“That’s enough!”
            S.H. of Canada
__________

Getting it Done
 
Lady Jane is building strength
To walk inside her door;
Her goal grows closer all the time,
With brighter days in store.
 
Her spirit is indomitable,
Her faith beyond compare;
No wonder she impresses folks
Who give her loving care.
 
We know that in our golden years
It can be hard to heal,
But perseverance is the key
To even out the keel.
 
And so this little snippet
Is coming to a close,
But great rhymes are never-ending,
As any poet knows!
            E. S. of Wyoming
__________

When I was born
I was brought into a home
 
Soon I got married
We built a small home
 
We always liked the beach
Lumber was put together for a magical home
 
Now we are old
We went to a retirement home
 
When we see Him
We will really be home
            J.H. of Michigan
__________

Your mind is a rockin’!
Your will is like steel!
You exercise daily!
Just avoid a cartwheel!
 
Despite what your therapist
Wants you to do
Be firm: “No!” to backbends!
And no high-heeled shoes!
 
Soon you’ll exclaim
To that wonderful staff
“Sayonara! Adios!
As you exit and laugh.
            J.R. of Michigan
__________

For the mother of Mary, I really must say.
Here's hoping your hours are brighter today.

Some silliness, laughter is always in style
So get out for that walk, we need your sweet smile.

Roses are red, violets are purple
No more soda for you,
It just makes you burple.

By now you are home and feeling no pain
No more of your shenanigans, don't do that again!

Ok, I will finish, I really must go, but have a great day-
Sue and Jim say, "hello".
            S.C. of Michigan
__________

There once was a family
Who met once a year
The time we had was lovely
Because we hold all to be dear
         J.S. of New Mexico
__________
​
To try to write a snippet
I’d certainly need to equip it
With a way to be funny
And with the correct iambic and intelligently appropriate metrical structure that would rhyme.
            J.R. of Michigan
__________

If we walk on the grass
we best be wary.
Poop on our shoes
makes Rubin contrary!
            J.M. and M.M. of Michigan

July was tough for Mother. A series of mishaps landed her in Medilodge of Holland for rehabilitation. She’s determined to go home. Many people are intent on helping. To say thank you, we decided to write short, humorous poems to make everyone smile. We call them “snippets.” 
            
Learning about electrolytes

Michael likes blue.
Dawn prefers cherry. 
We haven’t found anyone
who really likes berry. 
 
For a bottle of orange, 
we traded a cherry. 
But we have to admit
we’d rather have berry.  
 
Like Rubin, my brother
enjoys a good rhyme.
Tom says that’s because
he drinks lemon-lime. 
 
Experiencing Therapy

With her athletic prowess
Mother’s wowing the team,
as she learns to move safely
and builds up her steam.
 
She works hard in therapy
so we can go walking
to our favorite benches
and do lots of talking. 
 
Celebrating healing
​
Cards of encouragement
adorn a wall in her room.
When she looks that direction
she’s a flower in bloom.
 
Family gathers each day
in the courtyard at 3:00,
sharing love and laughter
which we know are key.
 
Can you think of a “snippet”?
Please send it our way.
We all could use humor
To get through a rough day. 
 
               For the staff at Medilodge of Holland and family and friends

​When I say the lake is like glass 
I mean the kind of glass 
on which I once loved to skate,
 
back in the days when I waited 
patiently for the Zamboni
to shave the frosted chunks off the ice
and the pools of water to evaporate.
 
I remember lugging 
a weathered canvas duffel 
into an empty women’s locker room 
 
and dumping the second-hand gear
on the floor—the padded shorts 
with suspenders, shoulder pads, 
elbow pads, shin guards
(none of it flattering)--
 
and lacing a snug pair of boy’s skates 
on my feet, tying my hair back 
to fit a helmet on my head, 
 
shoving a mouthguard 
between my lips, sliding hands 
into oversized leather gloves,
 
grabbing my stick, 
and waddling out the door 
to join the guys,
 
determined
no one 
could tell me
what I could 
and couldn’t do.
 
So many injuries 
against the glass. 
Do you, too, 
remember the ceilings? 

​I wrote the essence of this poem on the 7-hour motor-sail from Ludington to Frankfort, before President Joe Biden decided to step aside and support Vice President Kamala Harris as the next president of the United States. If she is elected, and I plan to do my best to make that happen, our country would become the 60th country since 1960 to elect a woman as head of state. The splintering of glass would be heard by young girls around the world and the light of hope would shine on us all. 

​Is it okay to be afraid? I whisper,
my words slipping out unintentionally
as lightning illuminates an angry sky
and thunder explodes like circling cannons. 
 
Sails down, we huddle in the companionway,
knowing the mast on our sailboat 
is a conduit for the electrical fury raging 
above Lake Michigan. This unforeseen
 
wall of weather on the water 
is inching closer, winds building 
off the stern, swells rocking the boat 
and challenging the autopilot for control.
 
A pounding rain reverberates 
off the fiberglass and a misty fog 
swallows the shoreline. 
One lightning strike could 
 
destroy navigating instruments,
punch pinholes through the hull, 
explode the mast, electrocute one 
or both of us. Miles from harbor, 
 
there is nowhere to go.
 
His eyes are gentle as he answers my question.
Only two seconds between the last flash 
and the trailing thunder. 
The strike was a half mile away. 

​Before sailing out the channel,
an army of sweat bees 
emerges from the forest
as if telling me
it’s time to leave.

​Thank you to Mother, who agreed to move into respite care while Rubin and I sail out the channel and head north. (Respite care is designed to provide short-term relief for primary caregivers.) Thanks to siblings who are driving the long miles to be with Mother while we are gone; to caregivers who are doing their best to keep Mother safe until we return; to you who encouraged me to care, also, for me; and for any favorable winds, smooth seas, and sun-touched skies that accompany us on this journey. 

Mary

P.S. As access to internet can be difficult on the water, postings this summer will be erratic. Rubin says, "hang in there!" 

​Death, certainly, is the most permanent. 
Like the time my older sister lost her kitten
to the teeth of the dog next door. 
 
Or the morning he, who could no longer speak, 
said goodbye to his wife with his eyes. 
But I also have wept after witnessing 
 
the mental and physical decline of ones I love; 
at knowing I, too, am aging and life changes 
are inevitable. I have experienced the betrayal 
 
associated with harassment, discrimination, assault, 
and the resulting loss of faith in humanity. 
I am living with the heartbreak of seeing 
 
the blue waters of a beloved lake blanketed green; 
the sandy beaches I used to walk defined by pebbles, 
impassable because of new rock embankments. 
 
But the losses hardest for me to shoulder 
are those caused by my own mistakes; when I, 
usually speeding through life’s to-do list, 
 
trample on ones I care for deeply; 
when I harm and am erased from a life, 
a wall created to keep me outside. 
 
How I deal with loss is a matter of choice. 
And since all losses can potentially tear apart 
any peace of mind, I want to choose wisely. 
 
I asked my husband his thoughts
and he was surprised I cared so much 
about football.  

Two deaths in three days. A brother. A poetry friend. And yet, the robins, finches, cardinals, and chickadees are singing from the trees at dawn. Their songs remind me it is a new day rich in possibilities.
​
How do I want to live my “one wild and precious life?” * 
 
*From the poem, "The Summer Day" by Mary Oliver

​As I was not there
to see the young fox  
emerge from its den beneath 
the neighborhood bench,
witness the inquisitive eyes 
confronting the camera,
watch its black boots bound
across the sloping dune,
the white tip of its tail disappear
among the first reeds of spring,
a neighbor sent me a photograph.
 
Instead, I stood at a window
seven miles from our home,
one arm around my mother,
and pointed to the young maple
rising above the cattails, 
its pencil-like trunk bending
under the weight of a furry body
plumper and more awkward
than a squirrel; tail flatter,
rounder than an otter;
inching too far up the tree
to be a beaver; a woodchuck,
perhaps, climbing 
to the topmost branches
to nibble the first
of the lime green leaves.