Category: POEMS (Page 16 of 30)

Rhymes of all kinds

Retirement is not without Hassles: Happy Hunting #836

February 10, 2019 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I put on my chauffeur’s cap this morning, as I awoke from a deep fog. My poor working wife had gotten up at 4 a.m. on a Sunday morning to catch an early flight. I had planned on sleeping in and taking the dogs out in the morning sunlight for a change. It’s been cold here in Portland, with some snow flurries and icy roads. My wife’s boss thought it would be a good idea to arrive early for their budget meetings in Phoenix and get ahead of more anticipated snow. She was probably right in being diligent about their responsibilities. Unfortunately, there were no Uber drivers to take my wife to the airport this morning and I got the nod.

It’s no big deal since I’m retired and therefore do not distinguish Sunday from any other day of the week. They’re all the same in my world. I’ll fly out in to join her in the warmer climate once her meetings have concluded. In the meantime, I’ll save us a few bucks in pet sitting fees and enjoy life as a homebody. I’ve got an I.U. basketball game to watch in a few hours and I hope it doesn’t lead to late morning drinking. It’s been that kind of season, but at least with the West Coast early start, it will be out of the way for the day. I had honestly not planned to leave the house until my flight, but instead I got an early startle, dogs out, airport visit, daily run, and some writing in by 8 a.m. I’ll even have some time to do some “hunting” for Banister relatives on the Ancestry.com site. In all, that’s more than most people do all day…even the U.S. Army,as they like to boast!

I’ll probably need a nap after the game, but basketball adrenaline will boost me until that time comes. It’s been a tough week of bad decisions on my part that have only added to my wife’s work stress. Even an attempt to humor her with a Limoges box and poem went wrong. It was supposed to be a celebration for the 20th anniversary of our first “date,” when we typically observe Valentine’s Day. At least that way I get two chances to make it right, so there’s still time for a make good.

I have several themes that I follow when I gift my wife a Limoges Box. It’s been another of our 20-year traditions and I have bought hundreds for her collection. There are holiday boxes, those that are travel-related, romantic, and whimsical categories that I look for. I typically purchase them on-line from reputable sources since it’s rare to see them in the stores any more. For those of you that are unfamiliar with Limoges, they are French, hand-painted, porcelain boxes that are hinged to sometimes reveal a surprise inside. I put a poem inside each one that I give her and once proposed with a hidden diamond ring. In that particular case, the design included a rabbit with a carrot (or karat). (See Post #146). They also each feature a distinctive clasp as part of the hinged lid. The FOX BOX had a gold HEN where it opened and hens were painted on the inside. I enjoy “hunting” for the right one to fit the occasion, but I’ve also made a few mistakes.

I was probably trying to be too clever in selecting a FOX themed box. However, she used to enjoy collecting peacocks when she worked for the NBC affiliate. A Limoges box, on the other hand, is a bit too pricey for our $50 limit on this type of whimsical collecting. When she left NBC, she gave them all away, except for the Peacock Limoges. She now works for FOX, but the budget meetings, especially the early arrival, had her in a bad mood. As a result, she did not think the Fox Limoges was funny, plus apparently I had already given her a “Hunting FOX.” This is one of the predictable casualties of too much in a collection, despite the fact that I keep a list. The search function failed me, as I failed her. I sent it back for a replacement, but here’s the poem.

Fox and Hen

It used to be peacocks,
But those days have passed.
It’s amazing how many,
Of those we’ve amassed.

Now the channel has changed,
And it’s time to start anew.
The FOX transition,
Is two years overdue.

With the Valentine display,
Full of porcelain hearts.
The collection of foxes,
Now officially starts.

This box an exception,
To the less than $50 rule.
But the HEN on the clasp,
Makes this one cool.

The FOX & Hound,
Was an early rendezvous.
Back when I was quickly,
Falling in love with you.

Your love of Broadway,
As I learned to know.
“Light in the Piazza,”
Our first FOX show.

The Fabulous FOX,
For Spamalot, too.
Like the Jersey Boys,
“Can’t take my eyes off you.”

You have A FOX coat,
But fur it’s not.
Unlike those that I,
Paid Bill Wallace a lot.

You’re my FOXY Lady,
I’ve always thought,
A vixen of beauty,
That I finally caught.

Maybe you’ll see me,
As your “Fantastic Mr. FOX?”
While our love story continues,
Through another Limoges Box.

FOXES mate for life,
Let’s hope that’s true.
Now twenty for us.
With many more due.

That night at Eddy’s,
Opportunity Knocks. ‘
In a FOXY “Tan-T,
Red Sweats, & White Socks.’

We met through our work,
And it led to play.
You’ll join me in retirement,
And we’ll cruise away.

Throughout your career,
It’s been your tradition.
I know you’ll continue,
To OUTFOX the competition

Happy Valentine’s Day,
To the love of my life.
You’re a proud mother HEN,
And my FOXY LOXY wife.

The are references to several famous FOXES in this work of silly rhyme, including The Fox and Hound – a now shutterd Indy restaurant, St. Louis’ Fabulous Fox Theater, Chicken Little’s Foxy Loxy, and the George Clooney movie, The Fabulous Mr. Fox. There is also a reference to a poem that I wrote for her after that first “date” 20 years ago, and her love of Broadway shows. Ironically, I had also bought advance tickets on Fandango for a movie last night at the Regal Fox Theater that I forgot to include in the poem. As it turns out, the weather was bad so we couldn’t drive downtown to the movie. Just as I thought that I had made another foolish purchase, Fandango kindly issued me a credit. As we discussed, it did not make sense to spend $50 on an Uber ride for a $20 movie (Senior Citizen discount). I might not have been able to even hire an Uber, considering their lack of availability this morning.

With a new Limoges box on the way, a new poem to write, and the real Valentine’s Day yet to celebrate in Phoenix, I still have a chance to make this right. Let’s just hope that the budget meetings go well. At least she’s there in plenty of time, while I’m trying to be as constructive as possible in her absence.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Nobody #824

January 29, 2019 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

There was a car dealer in Indianapolis, Indiana that did his own commercials. “Nobody will sell you a new Buick for less than Bob Catterson Buick….No-o-o-body” He’s listed as one of 15 local celebrities that only a real Hoosier would know. Several of them were heavy television advertisers with a sales gimmick like “No-o-o-body.”

Every once in awhile when I’m experiencing a bit of writer’s block, I like to go back through some of the poetry written years ago. It could very well be that I’ve already posted it, so forgive any redundancy. This one’s from ten years ago, and for some reason I might have been feeling a bit overlooked and unappreciated in life. Or maybe it was from hearing “No-o-o-body” too many times?

Nobody

I am Nobody,
Just humble old me.
So if Nobody’ s Perfect,
Then I can’t be.

Yes, I am Nobody,
And Nobody loves me.
So I must love myself,
It’s plain to see.

I am Nobody,
Only Nobody cares.
I’m very giving,
Because Nobody shares.

I am Nobody,
But Nobody knows.
Can Anybody guess,
Where Nobody goes?

A knock on the door,
Only I am there.
So there’s Nobody home,
If Anyone should care.

Is Somebody out there?
Anybody but me.
Because I’m Nobody,
Or would you disagree.

Someday you’ll know me,
I’ll be Somebody.
I could be Anybody,
But today I’m Nobody.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Blisters and Pimples #818

January 24, 2019 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I’m not really sure why I wrote today’s silly poem? With my sedate retirement life, it’s not as if I’ve been chopping wood, raking leaves, or performing any other activity that might lead to blisters. I also haven’t had one in years as the result of even running or walking. Blisters can be seen as badges of honor after a tough workout or hours of hard manual labor. I don’t even have any rough callouses on my hands to prove that I’m a hard worker. I do, however, remember some nasty, painful blisters from years long past.

As far as pimples, this is more of a teenage problem, but we as adults occasionally have to deal with this unexpected visitor. The older you get, the less likely the occurrence, but you’re never really free from these embarrassing skin irritants. They also usually “pop-up” at the worst possible times, perhaps stress related. As a retiree, I’m not faced with much stress anymore. However, I still can’t just leave a pimple alone – I have to constantly touch it and this simply prolongs its annoying presence.

Blisters, pimples, cold sores, and boils are some of life’s cruel tricks. You can in many cases prevent friction-related blisters by wearing gloves and extra protection, but you simply can’t avoid the rest of these skin anomalies. Blistering can also be the result of extreme temperature, chemical exposure, crushing/pinching, and medical conditions. Fever blisters, dermatitis, pemphigus, chickenpox, herpes, impetigo, and eczema are not as easily avoided. However, given an option of two of the less serious varieties of a blister or a pimple, which evil would you choose?

Lesser Of Two Evils

I’m just a blister,
And not here for long,
It just goes to prove,
You did something wrong.

I popped up unexpectedly,
And ruined your day.
Something you did,
Rubbed the wrong way.

It’s a bit sore,
Soon I will go away.
With everything you do,
I will get in your way.

A Band-Aid can cover me,
But the pain is still there.
You could have avoided me,
So next time beware.

I’m just a pimple,
And not here for long,
Wherever you go,
You’ll take me along.

I’m big and I glow,
I’ve ruined your day.
You can’t explain why,
And I won’t go away,

You didn’t pick me,
So don’t start now.
I’ll just get bigger,
As space will allow.

Make-up won’t help,
Only time makes me heal.
A zit on your nose,
Doesn’t have much appeal.

Blister or Pimple,
I’m an unwelcome guest.
I come for a visit,
Under protest.

Either way, I’m annoying,
But if you had a say.
You’d take a blister,
Any old day.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Treading Along #811

January 18, 2019 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I continue to “tread” along after another morning on the mouse wheel, keeping my 3,673 day running streak intact. At least, I was able to read another few chapters of The House Next Door by James Patterson. I’m nearing the end of the second in the trilogy of crime stories. It kept my mind off the fact that two days ago I got dizzy during my morning run and staggered uncontrollably before stumbling to the pavement. I ended up in the ER without any answers from attending doctors on why this happened? The last two days, I’ve spent on our upstairs treadmill in case it happens again.

I remain convinced that it was inner-ear related, affecting my balance, but my wife claims I’m in self denial. I’m taking Mucinex and squirting Afrin up my nostrils, hoping to relieve an annoying sinus headache that I’ve experienced since the incident. I refuse to believe that it’s anything serious:

I’ll live many more years,
If I had to bet.
Despite this set-back,
I’m not Dead Yet.

Life goes on…regardless. I have my weekly “Leadership Meeting” today, and my wife has a rare three-day weekend. Coincidentally, she did have me complete some paperwork on a life insurance policy that she took out on me. It was a work perk that she signed up for a few months ago. Ironically, one of the questions was “have you had a stroke or TIA?” I answered NO, since there was no evidence of either and numbness or speech was never an issue throughout this ordeal. At least, I’m now worth something if “yet” finally happens. Hopefully, it won’t!

Anyone can suffer a stroke at any age, so it’s nothing to be ashamed of, yet I refuse to believe that it could happen to me. I run to help prevent it from occurring, but you can’t outrun what’s in your genes. It’s the mystery of life that’s locked inside you, and is often more powerful than eating right or exercising more. I go back to the doctor in a few days, and hopefully after that visit I’ll be able to get off the treadmill and hit the streets again.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Christmas Recap #789

December 31, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

The Mary Poppins Returns movie was really the start of our holiday this year. I even sent my grand kids on Christmas morning. Travel back to Indiana included overnight stays in Hammond, Indianapolis, Mishawaka, and Chicago, plus brief stops in Rochester, Elkhart, and Scipio. Every year I try to do a poetic recap of the week, after posting “you had to be there” details in previous blog articles. Unfortunately, my 97-year old mother in law bears the brunt of some of my inside humor. We’re lucky to still have her in our lives, but she requires a lot of special care. My wife’s daughters each traveled with a male companion for the first time ever, while I continued to unlock some of the mysteries of my adoption. Here’s this year’s version, if you’re interested?

Christmas Recap

In and out,
Through O’Hare.
The weather gods,
Were very fair.

Midnight landing,
Infiniti to drive.
Hammond sleep.
Flick High Five.

A Merry Ninety-Eighth,
For the “Big Z.”
Cole and Nora’s first,
Twenty – you and me.

Fancy wallet and phone,
Your Opal ring.
And some extra,
Wine to bring.

Megan and Miranda,
Bring Mitch and Ben.
We’ll see next year,
If they come again?

Half-Sister saga,
Genealogy chart.
New uses for,
A shopping cart.

Scipio cabin,
A few tears,
Finally an answer,
After 67 years

Harry and Izzy’s,
District Tap.
Puccini’s pizza,
After a nap.

Freddy’s Finale,
Zanna crumbs.
A touch of snow,
Finally comes.

Main Street Grille.
Ten-year streak.
And all those Depends,
Should stop any leak.

Texas Roadhouse,
Zoe’s smile.
I hadn’t seen Judy,
For a while.

I can’t believe,
It’s been a week.
And wife speak,
Should not seem Greek.

We’ve spread a lot,
Of Holiday cheer.
So, Mary Poppins,
And A Happy New Year.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Lombard Street #783

December 23, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

With plans to be out of town for Christmas, we decided to unwrap our gifts early rather than pack them in our suitcases. One of the traditional gifts for my wife is a Limoges box, dating back to when we first got together 20 years ago. Normally, she has a Christmas display of them, but they’ve been stowed away for a couple of months while some interior painting was being completed in our condo. It wasn’t until a few weeks ago before she finally was able to get the “12 Days of Christmas” porcelain figurines out of storage. This was long after I bought her gifts. As I result, I did not buy a Holiday-oriented box, but rather something for her travel collection.

My wife’s youngest daughter is moving from Washington D.C. to San Francisco in March for a position at Stanford hospital. Everyone is excited about the move, including her Portland-based sister and our aging schnauzer Tinker who developed a special bond with her as a young pup. We’ll be in driving range of her new home, and Tinker may just get to go for a visit.

I thought that it would be appropriate to gift my wife this year an artist’s rendition of Lombard Street, the most famous crooked street in the Bay area. Included in the intricate details is a tiny trolley positioned at the top of the street, affording tourists a view of its twisting curves below. Naturally, I included a poem hidden inside the hinged box:

The Streets of San Francisco

The San Francisco,
Crooked Streets.
Golden Gate views,
And Ghirardelli treats.

We’ve been there,
Together five times.
Twice it’s included,
Tasting Napa wines.

But in the future,
We’ll be there more.
Knocking On,
Miranda’s door.

The Stanford job,
Brings her West.
Closer to her,
Mama’s nest.

Sisters nearer,
Tinker thrilled.
A California.
Dream fulfilled.

Miranda’s moving,
Near The Bay.
But it’s our Limoges,
That’s packed away.

It didn’t appear,
Christmas would come.
So a Santa Limoges,
Seemed rather dumb.

This crooked idea,
Resulted from that.
When you weren’t sure,
Where “12 Days” were at?

Think of your daughter,
Closer next year.
I thought this might bring,
Some Christmas Cheer.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Sick Days #770

December 12, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

My wife is taking a sick day today from work, so I guess I’m having one, too. The dogs are excited because they know that when she doesn’t get dressed for work, they typically get a long walk (Schnauzerthon). They’ll be disappointed when she doesn’t get up at all, but are currently content with her company in our bed. They certainly haven’t been in to see me. I think I understand how she feels, I was having the same symptoms that caused her to come home early from work yesterday.

I rarely missed a day of work in my career. In fact, I can only remember one occasion where I stayed home to work the phones instead. I think it stems from missing out on a perfect attendance certificate in the first grade. I just didn’t know until then that there were incentives for being perfect. Plus, I didn’t like having to explain my absence or the thought of calling in. As a result, I always tried to make an appearance at the office, even though I might end up in the Emergency Room later. This happened at least twice with kidney stone problems. Although these are not contagious.

Perfect attendance somehow didn’t apply when I went to college. Professors didn’t take attendance and I would often sleep through early classes. I managed to pass the tests but occasionally would get caught missing a pop-quiz. The problem was that I was not necessarily there to learn, but knew that I needed to get a degree (the incentive certificate). Both of my parents earned degrees and expected the same from me and my sister. I never cheated but deprived myself of knowledge and badly misused the hard earned dollars of my folks. I also made a lot of friends, but not in the classroom.

Other than self-esteem, education never played much of a role in my career. I spent many years in sales before naturally evolving into management roles. I suppose I could credit the college experience with my people skills, but my parents deserve the biggest honors for the manner in which they raised me. I don’t ever remember my dad ever staying home from work. He was also a stickler for punctuality, These two basic fundamentals go a long way in achieving success.

My wife is much more practical when it comes to being sick. Admirably, she doesn’t want to spread it to the office. As a responsible manager, she protects their overall welfare. I guess I was just taught to just show up, and in the process probably made others sick, as well. My insensitive philosophy always was that “somebody gave it to me.” I also tended to frown at people that didn’t show up at the office, skeptical of their Ferris Bueller ways. However, in the world of outside sales you can rarely track each activity and the bottom line is always what they deliver in the end.

I’m driven to perfection, as evident in maintaining my daily running streak that reached 3,636 consecutive days this morning. It’s something that I simply have to do every day, and has become a part of my purpose in life. This means that even if I’m sick or injured, I have to find a way to run at least one-mile. On the majority of days, it’s 3.1 miles – 5k a day. To me, it’s the same as “an apple a day. It keeps the doctor away.” Also, I’ve found that if gimpy or sick at the start, I feel much better once it’s done. ‘The Streak” has spanned both my working and retirement days these past ten years and an essential part of my being. There are no sick days on this personal quest!

Sick Day

When I see you,
Suffering in bed.
I’m thinking it should,
Be me instead.

You don’t deserve,
To feel this bad.
And as I watch,
I’m feeling sad.

Cough and cold,
Fever and chills.
Upset stomach,
Doctor bills.

There is no need,
To update the will.
But nursing duties,
I poorly fulfill.

You’d likely starve,
To rely on me.
At least my services,
Are mostly free.

I’ll keep our pets,
From bugging you.
And run some errands,
For you, too.

No, you can’t,
Go out and play.
Because you’re taking,
A paid sick day.

But your boss feels,
You’re trying to fool ‘er.
She thinks your name,
Is Ferris Bueller.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Waking-up #767

December 9, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

Getting up each day is by far my biggest hassle in life. Every weekday the alarm goes off at 6 a.m. and it’s rise and shine. Most weekend days we don’t set an alarm, but it’s just as hard to get-up without it. In fact, I’ve found that regardless of what time it is, or how long you’ve been asleep, it’s always a painful experience. To make matters worse, in old age my bladder causes me to roll out of bed at least three or four times every night, but at least there’s that consoling thought of getting back in right away. (Probably more information than you wanted to know!) The only end of it is the end, so I wrote this short humorous poem:

Alarm

Under the covers,
There’s a certain peace.
But with the alarm,
It’s soon to cease.

Snug and warm,
Pillows all around.
But then you hear,
That mournful sound.

Regardless of the time,
It’s hard to rise.
That on-your feet moment,
I truly despise.

Hitting the snooze,
Only prolongs.
One of life’s,
Painful wrongs.

This is why,
In the end.
Death may become,
A welcome friend.

If some morning,
I wake-up dead.
I won’t be forced,
To get-out of bed.

Creature Features: Dogfather #763

December 6, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

Mario Puzo wrote The Godfather in 1972 that became a popular string of mafia movies. I’m re-purposing this story under the pseudo name of “Pup”zo (Or “Pug”zo), as a tribute to my life as the dog sitter. As most are aware, GOD spelled backwards is DOG, man’s best friend. I’m trying to be a better “capo” to my dogs, but I’m still struggling to fulfill the role of “The Dogfather” that has uncharacteristically developed into an enjoyable part of my retirement. Honestly, being the owner of two schnauzers was not necessarily by choice, but rather the fact that I married a dog lover. Otherwise, I would have probably never taken on the responsibility. As it is, they are often my sole companions throughout the day until my wife gets home from work. I’m sure they would rather have her by their side all day, as evidenced by their enthusiasm when they hear her car pull in the garage every evening. In the meantime, they are stuck with me, “The Dogfather,” an offer they can’t refuse!

I begrudgingly take them out at least five times a day, but in most cases I’m tempted get them back inside as quickly as possible, often depriving them of the exercise they need. They’ve learned how to stall. Tinker probably appreciates these shorter outings because old age has made her stiff and sore like her master. Tally, on the other hand, cannot get enough walks every day and mopes sadly to her “good bed” as soon as we gets back. She moves only when she hears to the words, “go outside” and reacts with vigor. Tinker is always near me throughout the day and moves only when I do (particularly if I open the refrigerator), while Tally typically remains stoic and in a state of mild depression. I used to walk them occasionally down to the neighborhood Starbuck’s, but Tinker basically drags herself along while Tally leads the charge. As a result, it’s no longer part of “The Dogfather” daily routine.

On sunny days, I will let them out on the back patio and take them on longer excursions. Unfortunately, it’s often cold and rainy here in Portland and they both hate water. I feel guilty when I’m comfortably inside by choice while they must feel trapped. We don’t have a back yard that allows them to roam freely, and neither are trustworthy enough to let outside on their own. I’m also just “The Dogfather” not the “Dog Whisperer,” so I don’t have the communication skills of my wife. She doesn’t feel like I pay enough attention to them while she’s at the office and is often frustrated that they need so much attention when she’s trying to unwind after a tough day. I can’t possibly fill her shoes as “The Dogmother.” They like her better and compete for one-on-one time with her, regardless of what I do for them each day.

I’ve never been very nurturing, so “The Dogfather” is probably an accurate description of me. Don Vito Corleone was not exactly the epitome of goodness, although he took care of the “family.” I apply the eye drops, pick up the poop, shuttle them to Vet/spa appointments, and take them on car rides. Also, I frequently administer “ham time,” but simply don’t have the patience to put on their fancy little coats every time I take them outside, as my wife encourages. To me, they are dogs but to her they are cute, furry gods and she treats them better. I’m reminded of this poem:

Oh to be a dog

In the next life,
This is my wish.
Give me a bone,
And my own dish.

Then I can snore,
And scratch my butt.
I’d be no pure breed,
I’d return as a mutt.

I’d sleep all the time,
Chew on a boot.
Then lick myself,
And smile real cute.

Woman’s best friend,
At men I would growl.
And when I was hungry,
I would just howl.

My greatest desire,
If I did come back.
Should I be fortunate,
To get another crack.

Just to be sure,
I’d have the perfect life.
I’d want my master,
To be my current wife.

Retirement is not without Hassles: Festive Stress #755

November 28, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

Festive Stress

It’s the end of November,

And all through the house.

Stress is building up,

On what to get your spouse?

While pounding the pavement this morning, I was listening to the radio. They were talking about “Festive Stress,” and how it builds-up during the holidays. By December 13th it begins to peak, which ironically is Twelve Days before Christmas. I once was very familiar with this feeling and certainly can empathize with those who currently experience this uncomfortable restlessness. It was the reason that the New Year became my favorite holiday, as a sense of relief washed over me. All the decorating, gift giving, parties, and visiting obligations were finally over. It wasn’t so much celebrating a new year as much as rejoicing that all that “Festive Stress” was behind me.

I no longer have to deal with “Festive Stress.” In retirement, there are no more difficult decisions to be made on what to get the support staff? Planning an office party and preparing appropriate speeches are finally a thing of the past. With family spread out all over the country, it’s impossible to get everyone together, and only my 97-year old mother-in-law requires our attention. I used to fuss over what to wrap for my parents even though they needed or wanted nothing. There was also a certain sense of guilt that I could never pay them back for adopting me and raising me as their own. They passed four years ago and only my adopted sister and her children remain from our family. I no longer buy gifts for any of them by mutual agreement. My son and his family live in Florida, so we rarely get together for the holidays because our priorities lie with my wife’s mother and travel back to Indiana. For my grandkids, I usually end up sending a small gift and money, while it lasts. I also try to make an annual deposit into their college fund that will probably ultimately only buy them a book or two!

I personally don’t expect gifts and am usually embarrassed to get one. My wife is now my sole recipient of a carefully planned gift every year. She still gets excited about Christmas and I always end up spending more than I should. Unfortunately, I no longer have the resources to buy elaborate gifts, but I also appreciate that she is still working and provides a majority of our income. This means that she’s often paying for her own gift, and hopefully will be less “needy” when she retires in four years. Her dad gave her the nickname “Sweetie Needy” years ago, so I knew what I was getting into. One of the sacrifices that you have to make in retirement is reducing your needs, and I’m more prepared for that than she is at this point. However, she more than deserves rewards for all she does to support my retirement with her career and homemaking skills. I’m lucky to have her.

Part of my “gift” to her every year is the exhausting trip back to Indiana. It typically starts in Chicago with concerns about bad weather as we make the long drive to Indianapolis. We make a stop for “Mom” about half-way and then proceed to her other daughter’s home to eat, drink, and watch them open gifts. My wife’s two daughters typically join us as they make stressful compromises with their time between us and their father’s family. It reminds me of years ago when I had to split my allegiances on holidays with multiple divisions of the family, so I feel their tug-of-war pain. I will spend some time with my college friend Peter, and plan to make a stop in my hometown of Elkhart on the way back to Chicago. We’ll have dinner with my sister and her kids, although her son and grandson will be at Disney World for an invitation-only All-Star baseball tournament. Apparently, my great nephew has some exceptional athletic skills.

Before we travel to Elkhart, my wife and I will make an hour-long side trip to Scipio, Indiana. This will be part of her “gift” to me. I’m looking forward to meeting what DNA “proves” to be five half-sisters and their mother. It may be a bit awkward especially since none of them knew of my existence last Christmas. Their father, and presumably mine, passed away under difficult circumstances 7-years ago. It has to be particularly unsettling for the mother, who was probably unaware that her husband-to-be had an affair that led to my birth 67-years ago. We’ll all be meeting at a home that he built many years ago, and hopefully we’ll all find some common characteristics that each of us inherited. My wife will bear witness to this strange “reunion” that resulted from a life-changing Ancestry.com saliva test. It might help answer some of my lifelong questions about what happened before my adoption? This is the only true “Festive Stress” that I will be experiencing this year!

It’s Holiday time,
My mind’s a mess.
I must be stricken,
With Festive Stress.

I need to prepare,
A flow chart.
And I don’t know,
Where to start.

Gifts to buy,
Cards to send.
But are you really?
A worthy friend.

Time to decorate,
The Christmas Tree.
Parties to attend,
Relatives to see.

Cold sweats,
Sleepless nights.
Jet lag,
Crowded flights.

Wreath to hang,
Lights to string.
Snow to shovel,
Carols to sing.

More mashed potatoes,
Dessert, of course.
Bad gift ideas,
Buyers remorse

Family dinners,
The office bash.
Credit card debt,
Short on cash.

Cookies to bake,
Wine to drink.
Hardly a moment,
To even think.

Candy canes,
Fruit cakes.
No more food!
For Heaven’s sake.

Bowl game talk,
For football fans.
New Year madness,
Then Diet plans.

And then it’s over,
No more to fear.
Until Festive Stress,
Comes back next year.