A Day at the Beach

I don't have a regular formal writing hour and I
seem to be lost without it.

I'm sitting outside in the after shade of the cool
Florida sun.  It's 3:30 and the heat of the day's
sun has dwindled and a cool breeze waifs through
the long pencilled fingers of the palm trees that line
this neighborhood's swidwalks.

I can hear the voices of my 7 and 8 year old  grandchildren
as they chorus in unison with the other children on the block
as they play with their bikes, jump rope or just hang out in
groups scattered on the black macadam street.

John, my husband, needed to buy some type of Nutri-
Cal for the Yorkie, Murphy, so the dog will eat his dog food.
John is sitting opposite me rambling on about the dog.  I catch
a word here and there as he laments about the fact there is
no Nutri-Cal.  I try not to listen.  I succeed.  And John
finally leaves in the car in venture of his quest.
Hopefully he will find his way to the Pet Store and then
back home.
(For those of you who don't know John, he has memory
problems, so this is indeed a quest.)

This morning John and I went to Daytona Beach.  It
cost us five dollars to gain access to the beach and then
the beach was ours.  We parked our car not too far from
the entrance, popped open the trunk and dug out the green
and red beach chairs and proceeded to sit back and enjoy
the day's sun.

The rays were warm on my face and I put my head back and
listened to the music of the waves rolling in and hitting the beach.

The sounds, the breeze, the warmth of the sun stirred my
memories and brought me back to my pre-teen years.

My father used to come home from his day job and if it was
early enough he would pack my sister Helen and I into the
family car and we would head for Rockaway Beach.  Helen and I
had great times there and we would swim and jump in the water
until my father would whistle for us to come out.  Even if it was
crowded we  would  recognize his whistle anywhere.
Then we would head home and Helen and I usually fell asleep
in the back seat curled up and leaning against each other.

On the weekends my mother, father and Helen and I would head
for the beach early Saturday morning.  It had to  be six o'clcok
in the morning because we needed to find a parking spot and on
Saturday every car in Queens was pointed in the direction of
Rockaway Beach.  The race was on.

We got to the parking spot on 98th street early,  parked the car,
and with cooler, the old beach umbrella, towels, and blanket in hand
we found the perfect spot on the beach.  We laid out our blanket,
set the umbrella for the best shade and hurriedly put a shoe on the four
corners of the blanket to ensure that the blanket
wouldn't blow away.  Then we would put our towel, shorts and blouse on
the designated part of the blanket that was our own individual spot for the day.

My sister and I couldn't wait to get to the water and with an all right,
okay from my mom we were off.  With squeals of delight we would
race to the water's edge, hesitate one moment, test the water with our
toes and and then we'd start running into the water and splash each other,
We would then hold hands, scamper haphazardly over the waves and
then finally laughing, giggling and out of breath jump over the waves.

Helen was 5, I was 6.  Helen was 6, I was 7.  Helen was 7, I was 8..
And so our journey to the beach continued.

My mom would make hard boiled eggs and balogney sandwiches with
mustard and we would buy a cool drink from the beach vendor.  On
days when my father had extra money my sister and I were treated to an
ice cream.

My sister and I were always famished and the hard boiled eggs tasted
soooo good.   On more than one occasion I got sand on my egg or
sand in my balogney sandwich and I would feel that horrible crunch
in my mouth that I didn't like.  I would look at my mother for help but
all she did was shake her head.  The look she gave me told me that I
had to deal with the sand on my own.

People would start to leave the beach but we thought we had the best
parents ever.  We stayed.   The lifeguards went home.  We stayed.

Then my sister and I would climb up the lifeguard's chair and wrap
ourselves in sweaters, long towels, anything to keep warm and we
would just sit there and listen to the sound of the waves and look out
at the stretching waters dancing on the horizon.   We stayed that way
for a while.

I remember my mother and father used to sit on the blanket.  My mother
would have herself propped up on her elbows, her long legs out in front
of her.  Her face and eyes lost in thought looking out towards the water.  My father
would be sitting up straight, his right knee would be bent and his hands
would be clasped around it.  His other leg would be straight in front of
him.

I remember them sitting  there, not talking but listening and watching the
waves.  Once in a while my father would bend his head towards my
mother and I  could see them whispering.

So, that brings me back to the moment of today when John and I were
at the beach sitting in the sun listening to the beat of the surf and feeling
the soft stirring of a breeze on our faces.

It invoked in me a memory, a memory held within the boundary of sounds
and whispers and stirrings of beach days long ago.
 

august 1961

each man is his own
yet no man walks alone
for in the silence of a soul
there is a presence
sometimes forgotten and unknown.

  ------------------
o little white rose
what part in god's plan has thee
silently your petals unfold
each a new mystery.

your place is there amidst the thorns
a light to those that flock to thee.

-------------------

time is fleeting
moments to be remembered or lost
as a robin when he sings in flight
soaring, soaring in delight
or a child's reflection in a lake
mirrored there the reflection of one's own thought

yes, you and I, each one of us have a timeless eternity
whereby smiles, laughter, or a tiling of the head
can recall memories that are either a treasure or a loss. 

  --------------------------------
What do people's faces tell thee
      O' Little One
What is there - can you see beneath the veil -
or maybe a fleeting glance, a momentary glimmer

Loneliness, suffering, joy all these the face express

how many stop to look

how many are satisfied with the veil -

who do not bother to brush it aside.

just one look, one glance  - can communicate the
heart's desire.

yes, there are many faces
some of which are masked
just waiting, waiting for the lingering look of another.

  -------------------------------
THE END.

shadow

being mean
  keeping quiet so not to say mean things.

being not included
  so keeping to myself, being different,
developing my own code.

talking when supposed to be quiet.
  saying the wrong thing - so feelings of
disjointedness, out of place,

being punished because talking.
  watching what i say.

when a child - cunning - lied.  gave me
a present when it was for my sister.
  tried to be better - tried to always tell the truth.

didn't like to study in grammar school
liked to play -
tried to be perfect in my love for god.

in my writing not good enough, not creative enough -
  so didn't attempt to write or be creative.
  because it wouldn't be good enough.

when i was a kid - i invited myself to a birthday party
when i wasn't invited.
didn't go placed where i wasn't invited.

i used to like to run
i wasn't the fastest runner
so i didn't run anymore or if i did
i resented not being the fastest.

danced on the stage, but said i was fooling around
so i didn't get a good part.
i seemed to get into trouble for fooling around.
did i fool around less - i don't know. 

i never won, or was first in anything so i didn't
really try scholastically to excel.
except in 7th grade i studied and got in the 90's average.

now with writing i may not be first
so do i give it up. i don't know.

court reporting machine i just practiced until
i got speeds high enough so i could pass the
test and get the job.

i don't know if i don't try to achieve because i won't be first
or get the top prize.

The Tree

I stood in the forest and knew
    the strength of my limbs.
I stood in the forest and felt
    the heat of the sun.
I stood in the forest and saw the
    flight of the eagle overhead.
I stood in the forest and heard the
   cicadas sing.

I stood in the forest when morning melted
    into evening.

I stood in the forest grounded in moments of reverence and
  awe.

I stood in the forest as a family of three, man, woman and son
  rested under me..

I stood in the forest and heard them whispering  -- The Tree. 

Soft voices, laughter, murmurings
  and conversations  I did hear.
A family of three took refreshment from me. .

The boy played a game of hide and seek
and at times rested his head on me.

The mother - her being I felt at one with me.
The father smiled approvingly. 

Time passed.

Days and evenings became many.

Months became years.

I stood in the forest growing strong.

Until that terrible day I was cut down
and a cross I was made.

Lifted high up on the hill for all to see.

The mother knew at  once it was me.

Ah  familiar tree, she murmured.

And I felt her being was one with me.
And the father again his approval was with me.

And then - rough men positioned him on to me.

I draped her son tightly to me.
A tighter embrace there could not be.

The woman's child closed his eyes as if to play hide and seek.

Old memories stirred of  the peace and strength of  - The Tree..

Welcome, old friend, He murmured to me.  

Psalm 7 - Prayer and Praise for Deliverance from Enemies

The Psalmist Prays:

O Lord my God, in You I put my trust,
Save me from all those who persecute
    me;
And deliver me,
Lest they tear me like a lion,
Rending me in pieces, while there is none
    to deliver.

Psalmist Doris Prays:

O Lord my God, in Your hand I place mine,
Save me from thoughts of pride and grandeur;
And protect me,
Lest my thoughts overtake me like the running cougar,
And pounce on my bones, while there is none
    to protect me.

The Psalmist Prays:

O Lord my God, if I have done this,
If there is iniquity in my hands,
If I have repaid evil to him who was at
    peace with me,
Or have plundered my enemy without
    cause,
Let the enemy pursue me and overtake
    me;
Yes, let him trample my life to the
    earth,
And lay my honor in the dust.


Psalmist Doris Prays:

O Lord my God, if I have allowed this,
If there is evil in my heart,
If I have struck him who bore no
    harm towards me,
Or have plundered the families of the
    innocent;
Let those who I have struck the first blow
    find me;
Yes, let him see me in the distance,
 And trample my honor in the earth.  


 The Psalmist Prays:
Arise, O Lord, in Your anger;
Lift Yourself up because of the rage of my
    enemies;
Rise up for me to the judgment You have
    commanded!
So the congregation of the peoples shall
     surround You;
For their sakes, therefore, return on high.
The Lord shall judge the peoples;
Judge me O Lord, according to my
     righteousness,
And according to my integrity within me.

Psalmist Doris Prays:

Arise, O Lord in Your anger;
Show yourself, because of the hostility of my
   enemies;
Assert yourself for me according to the ordinances
   You have  laid down!
So the multitudes of the citizens shall mull around
    You:
For their welfares, therefore, bestow kindness.
The Lord will be eye to eye.
See me O Lord, according to my
    righteousness,
And according to my honor within me. 


The Psalmist Prays:

Oh, let the wickedness of the wicked
   come to an end.
But establish the just,
For the righteous God tests the hearts and
    minds.
My defense is of God.
Who saves the upright in heart.

Psalmist Doris Prays:

Oh, let useless thought perish.
But let the Lord come through,
For the ever faithful God stirs the hearts and
  minds.
My shield is of God.
Who protects the vigilant.

The Psalmist Prays:
God is a just judge.
And God is angry with the wicked every
   day.
If he does not turn back,
He will sharpen His sword;
He bends His bow and makes it ready.
He also prepares for Himself instruments
    of death;
He makes His arrows into fiery shafts.

Psalmist Doris Prays:
God Lord is my judge.
And God's anger is on the wicked every
   moment.
If he does not halt,
He will prepare His armor;
He sharpens His sword and practices.
He  also stores up instruments of death;
He makes his blade to shine in the light.

The Psalmist Prays:
Behold , the wicked brings forth
   iniquity;
Yet he conceives trouble and brings forth
   falsehood.
He made a pit and dug it out,
And has fallen into the ditch which he
    made.
His trouble shall return upon his own
    head.
And his violent dealing shall come down
    on this own crown.

Psalmist Doris Prays:
Behold, the evil one brings forth
    plans;
Yet he plots gossips and brings forward
    untruths.
He made a hole and carved it out,
And falls into the pit which he made.
His plans shall come knocking on his
    own door.
And his viciousness shall come down
     on his own household.



The Psalmist Prays:
I will praise the Lord according to His
    righteousness.
And will sing praise to the name of the
     Lord Most HIgh.

Psalmist Doris Prays:
I will utter praises and shower the Lord
   with adulations.
And this lowly creature will bow before you
    always.
You are the food of my soul, the love of my life.
Thine will be done for ever and ever.

A M E N.










 








 

Psalm 6

A Prayer of Faith in Time of Distress

The Psalmist Prays:
O Lord, do not rebuke me in Your anger,
Nor chasten me in Your hot displeasure.
Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am
    weak;
O Lord, heal me, for my bones are
   troubled.
My soul also is greatly troubled;
But You, O Lord--how long?

Psalmist Doris Prays:
O Lord, do not turn away from me in Your displeasure,
Nor smite me in Your anger.
Have compassion on me, O Lord, for I am just a
  pebble in the rock pile;
O Lord, pour your saving grace upon me, for I am
  in inner turmoil.
My spirit is laden with grief;
But You--O Lord, how many days without you?

The Psalmist Prays:

 Return, O Lord, deliver me!
Oh, save me for Your mercies' sake!
For in death there is no remembrance of
  You;
In the grave who will give You thanks?

Psalmist Doris Prays:
Come back, O Lord, save me!
Oh, comfort me for Your heartfelt way!
For in dying there is no presence of
   You;
And in the burial ground who will give You praise?

The Psalmist Prays:
I am weary with my groaning;
All night I make my bed swim;
I drench my couch with my tears.
My eyes wastes away because of grief;
It grows old because of all my enemies.

Psalmist Doris Prays:
I am tired with my thoughts;
All night I twist in my bed:
I wrench my nightclothes from my body;
My spirit lacks nourishment.
It grows distant because of all my murmurings.

The Psalmist Prays:
Depart from me, all you workers of
  iniquity;
For the Lord has heard the voice of my
  weeping.
The Lord has heard my supplication;
The Lord will receive my prayer.
Let all my enemies be ashamed and
   greatly troubled;
Let them turn back and be ashamed
   suddenly.

Psalmist Doris Prays:
Go away, all you thoughts of
   iniquity;
For the Lord has heard the voice of my
  supplications;
The Lord has tuned in to my weeping;
The Lord hastens to hear my prayer.
Let all those who seek to wreak havoc in
  my life not succeed;
Let them be annihilated and put to flight
  suddenly.