Category: POEMS (Page 19 of 30)

My last Post #613 described the concept of a Love Bank, and the types of transactions involved. I thought it deserved a poem:

Love Bank 

A new account,
No interest rate.
The currency,
Up to your mate.

She’s the banker,
And the IRS.
Avoid depression,
Just say yes.

The lobby is open,
And never closes.
Your first deposit,
Might be roses.

Founded on love,
And happiness.
There’s no security,
And no address.

It’s better than,
A Piggy Bank.
Won’t hold a penny,
Mark Or franc.

Every relationship’s,
A twisting rollercoaster.
And for signing up,
There’s not even a toaster.

Your statement swells,
With every kiss.
And every Anniversary,
That you don’t miss.

A good back-rub,
Might pay double.
It really beneficial,
To stay out of trouble.

When taking a shower,
Don’t leave a puddle.
And ask her if,
She’d like to cuddle?

A dinner date,
Means extra points.
When you take her to,
The fancy joints.

Show her you care,
If the lawn needs mowing.
This helps to keep,
your balance growing.

Try to avoid,
A surprise withdrawal.
After you forget,
That promise to call.

Other women?
A sure disaster.
You’ll lose value,
Even faster.

Put it in the Love Bank,
And never take it out.
Keeping mama happy,
Is what it’s all about.

She’ll keep close track,
Of the remaining amount.
And if it gets to zero,
Will close your account.

Copyright 2018 johnstonwrites.com

At the end of yesterday’s post, I referred to putting points in the “Love Bank.” I was going to include a link to provide a little better explanation of what I meant, and realized that I hadn’t really written much about it in this blog. It was a simple little “game” that my wife would tease me with while we were dating and into the first few years of our marriage. There was no game board or playing pieces, just a scoring system that only she knew. In basic terms, if I did something “good” for her, then love points would be deposited in my account. The goal would be to get this mythical Love Bank as full as possible. I’m not sure that there was ever a way to completely fill it up, or even add another bank, but if the levels got too low and approached empty, it would be time to make a major deposit. Gift buying certainly added to the levels, as did helpful deeds, thoughtfulness, and general kindness. To be honest, it was mostly about showering her with gifts, doing my share of housework, and staying out of the dreaded doghouse. The fact of the matter is that no matter how big the deposit, I was never really safe and secure. However, it was her subtle way of saying that I might be “on thin ice,” and she needed attention!

I’m sure I earned some “Love Bank” points these past few days by being on my best behavior during our trip to D.C. to meet my wife’s daughter’s boyfriend. I would probably earn more if I were to buy her a Lincoln Limoges Box, for example, to celebrate our run/walk to the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. I’m definitely losing points by not dressing up more when I go on Date Night, Movie Night, or outside the house in general. The status of the Love Bank will come up in conversation between us on occasion, but not the fixture in our relationship of the early years. I’d like to think that our love is growing better with age, and here’s a poem from several years ago where I incorporated her “Love Bank” concept at the very end:

 

Some Things Get Better With Age

There is improvement,
As time works its magic.
Some just get better,
Make life fantastic.

Wine in the barrel,
Grows in flavor.
Giving us its nectar,
To enjoy and savor.

As time passes by,
Its value increases.
From inside each grape,
More flavor releases.

Roll out the barrel,
We’ll have some fun.
Vines growing rich,
From days in the sun.

Then aged in the dark,
Throughout the years.
Awaiting a toast,
Exclaiming “Cheers.”

I think of us,
When thinking of wine.
Our love getting stronger,
Like a thick old vine.

We’ve grown it together,
Share it each day.
It’s our love potent,
And it’s Grade A.

When I squeeze you,
It oozes from your pores.
It should be bottled,
And sold in stores

Money in the love bank,
Too high to gage.
Our love is growing,
Better with age.

Copyright August 2016 johnstonwrites.com

 

Here are some other excerpts from other poems throughout the years where I made mention of the Love Bank:

 

St. Lucia is around the bend,

Feelings for you will never end,

Your every need I will attend

Our budding love bank I will tend.

 

A ball park frank,   

With those damn Yanks.                                                                           

A growing love bank,

With each other to thank.

 

Another month together passed,

Our hours together go so fast.

We try to make these moments last,

With our Love Banks growing vast.

 

Finally, here’s an excerpt from a poem where I had abandoned her for a Nike basketball game here in Portland. Nothing takes points from the Love Bank any faster than leaving her behind when I go to a sporting event!

 

After abandoning you,

For Nike’s Phil Knight.

My Love Bank account,

Is dangerously light.

 

I am truly incentivized by collecting points, if Marriott Reward Points provide any example. The Love Bank idea would probably work better if I knew exactly how many points were given or taken with each transaction. As it stands now, I just have to guess, and it’s probably “running on empty.”

 

 

Today, I’m back to being my homebody-self, after four nights of making Marriott my home-away-from-home. I’m not back on the road again for 38 days, perhaps a new retirement record. I try to keep that 80/20 blend of 20% travel (See Post #323) versus the 80% comforts-of-home, meaning I’m usually gone about once a month. We’ll be home the entire month of August, as I celebrate my 67th birthday. Our next trip is to Austin in early September, our former home prior to moving to Portland.

This past week, I spent two nights in Chicago and two nights in Washington D.C., as part of my coast-to-coast-meet-and-greet. In the process, I met a new relative, a new granddaughter, and a new boyfriend. As you spend time on the road, you also meet hundreds of what I call “service friends.” These are people that you may only meet once in your life as they shuttle you from place to place, serve and prepare your meals, entertain, check-you-in-or-out, clean-up after you, answer your questions, and pump your gas along the way. Some I remember better than others like India James, who waited on us at Joe’s Stone Crab and the Shucker Brothers who served us oysters at the Doukenie Winery. There was the guy who played songs in the background, the bartenders who made my martinis, and those who hailed the cabs. They all took a little bit of my retirement savings, as I tried in my own small way to help them eventually get to a point where they can enjoy retirement like me. Some, I realize will never get that chance. A few dollars went to the homeless, but most of it was in exchange for assistance. Hopefully, I can continue to be generous in my giving, but it’s still disturbing that they are often not compensated by their employers.

Over these past few days, I saw one of the best baseball games of my life in the company of my nephew, my son, daughter-in-law, and three grandchildren. The Cubbies won in the bottom of the ninth, after innings of frustration. I got to learn a little more about my suspected birth-mother while sharing time with an 85-year old woman whose daughter is a proven blood-relative via DNA testing. She is the first blood-relative that I’ve ever met, as I hope someday to meet her daughter, as well. I also met Ben, “the boyfriend” of my wife’s daughter nick-named “Ro.” I jokingly referred to the two of them as “Benro,” after getting to know him for the first time, and noticing that they are becoming an inseparable couple. It seems like a serious relationship, that I hope continues. We enjoyed several meals with them, and they drove us through Virginia wine country. I wrote them a poem to give them a hard time about some of their tasteless, healthy snacks that they prefer, and I prefer to avoid. I also learned how uncoordinated I’ve become in old age, after trying to catch a Frisbee after years of not touching one. Finally, I learned how . Iboard games have become with this next generation, as hundreds mobbed a tiny store that was advertising a used game sale.

While spending time with Benro, one last observation that I’ll add is that my wife seems to tiring of my “retirement uniform.” (See Post #150) It typically consists of a dry-fit Columbia shirt (short or long sleeve depending on the weather), blue jeans, sporty socks, and black “old man” shoes. She has always known me from the business world as a dapper dresser, and is obviously not impressed by my newly found casual nature. She’s more than just hinted, as we actually shopped for shoes in the airport Johnston and Murphy store during a several hour delay on the way home. I’ll need to pick up my “game” in the future when I travel, and avoid “homebody wear” when I’m on her arm. Unfortunately, so will Ben, who also prefers to wear comfortable Columbia styles. Right now, he can do no wrong, while I’ve apparently lost some points from the “love bank.”

 

Benro

We got to D.C.

And all got Crabs.

Arrived a bit late,

Via planes and cabs.

.

Met Ben at Joe’s,

After checking in.

Marriott Points,

Free room again.

.

Miranda’s man,

My Columbia twin.

I’d just been to see,

A big Cubbies win.

.

With Mom in town,

For a first impression.

Not so unlike,

An interview session.

.

A few martinis,

And a bottle of wine.

Helped all of us,

Enjoy a good time.

.

We felt your attraction,

That magnetic draw.

As we tried to explain,

The re-generating claw.

.

After starting day two,

As seminar suckers.

We were glad to meet,

The Brother Shuckers.

.

Live music, Lobster rolls,

Chocolate, and cheese.

Wine Country fun,

Despite toll fees.

.

We tasted wine,

And bought more snacks.

Once I tried,

What you guys packed.

.

A mental note,

For future reference.

Cardboard pretzels,

Seem Ben’s preference.

 

Frisbee bruises,

From poor coordination.

Then back in the Capitol,

Of our great Nation.

.

The wait at the Wharf,

Worked out as it should.

The food was quite good,

Once back in your hood.

.

A run on the Mall,

The Market for brunch,

Kitchen gadgets and games,

We spent a whole bunch.

.

Our flight on delay,

So National Parks.

Glad that you two,

Are generating sparks.

.

My favorite game,

Is word formation.

And Benro makes,

A great combination. 

.

Copyright 2018 johnstonwrites.com

 

 

It was a hectic morning at the airport, after a motorcycle-car accident delayed my arrival. The shuttle was no where in sight, but I wasn’t worried because I had already printed my bag tags and TSA PRECHK boarding pass. However, the bag tag wouldn’t scan so I had to wait in line, only to be informed that my bag was too late to put on-board. It was still over a half-hour until departure, so I scampered through security to discover that my printed pass wouldn’t scan either. Also, the mobile app indicated that I would need to return to an attendant to re-print, and any access to a digital one was blocked.

 

Back at the Alaska ticket counter, we were already having unhappy discussions about re-booking a much later flight when I asked for a new pass and headed back for a second attempt with TSA. Once I finally got through that obstacle, I was about to be the last to board, when uniformed security officials pulled me aside and asked to check my laptop and phone. Finally, I got to a seat that was already taken.

 

My blood pressure is now back to normal, and I’m on my way to O’Hare, possibly without luggage. I will probably not be able to change clothes as anticipated for my 4:30 meeting with a relative in the Chicago suburb of Plainfield. I also apparently forgot to kiss my wife goodbye in that hectic time frame when I suddenly realized that the flight was an hour earlier, and bolted from the house in a bit of a rush. She did not know all of this was happening all prior to getting out of bed to go to work.

 

I woke up with the John Mayer song, New Light, stuck in my mind, and wrote a poem about it during my 4:30 a.m. run. (See Post #606). I get an occasional “ear worm” after listening to the radio, and find myself repeatedly singing it throughout the day. Rhyming words also roll around in my head, so I need to jot them down whenever I get the chance. That’s been the case, while I’ve been running these past few mornings.

 

My wife and I had a great weekend together, but I kept her up the night before with my snoring. It was the subject of yesterday’s poetic post #605 that was conceived during my morning run. We had gone to a Plate and Pitchfork dinner with friends who then spent the night. The Breathe-Right strip must not have worked, so I ended up on my back sawing logs. It was not the wine that caused this snoring problem, as is sometimes the case. The dinner hosts were stingy with the grape juice, spending too much on pitches about buying wine and feeding the hungry. We were happy to make a donation, but could have done with more plating and less pitching. The chefs were among our favorites, but some of their guests prepared mediocre dishes. We dined in the middle of a berry field, and the hot sun was hard on my eyes. It was our second outdoor culinary extravaganza of the week, but unlike the first event, the wine servers were asleep in the back. At least we couldn’t hear them snoring!

Here’s another poem that I wrote, inspired by the John Mayer tune, New Light. I’ll provide more of an explanation in my next post today. The classic journalism tease!

Catchy Tune

Over and over,
I hear it inside.
Is there a doctor,
That I can confide?

“There’s nothing in there,”
The nurse used a scope.
It won’t come out,
Even with soap.

It’s not like some pest,
Crawled in my ear.
It’s just a song,
There’s nothing to fear.

I’m not even sure,
Where it came from?
It’s just a tune.
I continue to hummmm.

Where did it start?
This much I know.
I was just listening,
To the radio.

Can you hear it?
Or is it just me?
And If you could,
You’d surely agree.

It was catchy,
Caught my attention.
How it got in there,
Is beyond comprehension.

I’ll sing to myself,
Then play it again.
My mind is a jukebox,
With a record to spin.

Don’t need a quarter,

Or punch B-23.

It repeats itself,

All for free.

 

One more time,

Don’t ever stop.

No replay to push,

Or needle to drop.

 

No album to buy,

A download was made.

I liked what I heard,

And within me it played.

 

Does it hurt?

No, I’m not in pain.

It’s just a favorite,

Stuck in my brain

 

It’s not contagious,

Nor is it a germ.

I think they call it,

An inner ear worm.

 

copyright 2018 johnstonwrites.com

I think we’ve all had one of these nights (This is what my wife might say about me, if she could write poetry):

 

Sleepless

What’s that noise?
Keeping me awake.
I think we’re having,
Another earthquake.

I look over,
You’re on your back.
I think our bed,
Is under attack.

I’m not quite sure,
How much I can take?
I reach over and give,
Your shoulder a shake.

You roll over,
There’s a moment of quiet.
The next thing I know,
You break out like a Riot.

The thunder roars,
I cover my ears.
Grunting sounds,
From Prehistoric years.

I’d much rather sleep,
With a rattlesnake.
Use a Breathe-Rite strip,
For Heaven’s sake.

You were once,
Everything I adore.
Now one of us,
Should go next door.

Please be warned,
Next time you snore.
I may just shove,
You to the floor.

Copyright 2018 johnstonwrites.com

I spent over 40 years in the media business, and often thought that I would someday write a sales training book. I went back through some of my files and found an outline and some excerpts. I always considered myself as being creative – an idea man. I always kidded that I was like Bill Blazejowski in the movie Night Shift. Here are some of his memorable quotes:

• “Wanna know why I carry this tape recorder? To tape things. See, I’m an idea man, Chuck. I got ideas coming at me all day… I couldn’t even fight ’em off if I wanted. Wait a second… hold the phone! Hold the phone! [speaking into tape recorder] Idea to eliminate garbage. Edible paper. You eat it, it’s gone! You eat it, it’s outta there! No more garbage!”

 

• “So there I was at the Blackjack table with all my wash ‘n’ dries… did I tell you I had the idea for them first?”

 

• “What if you mix…mayonnaise right in the can with the tuna fish? Hold it! Hold it! Wait a minute! Chuck! Take live tuna fish…and feed them mayonnaise. Oh this is good. [speaks into tape recorder] Call StarKist.”

 

I once had a artist friend of mine design a logo based on the catch-phrase “Give me a kernel and I’ll make it pop.” You can see it at the top of this post. I even wrote this poem to preface the book:

 

I’m an idea-man,
Throw me a line.
I’ll put together,
A creative design.

Give me a seed,
I’ll grow a crop.
Give me a kernel,
I’ll make it pop.

With imagination,
And a unique plan.
I’ll work my magic,
As no one else can.

Lend me your hand,
And open your heart.
Let’s work together,
Instead of apart.

Give me your business,
I’ll help you grow.
Take full advantage,
Of all that I know.

My mind is full
Of great concepts.
And with your trust,
You’ll have no regrets

So, give me a kernel,
And I’ll make it pop.
Ideas keep coming,
I can’t make them stop.

 

My career, whether managing or selling, was all about filling holes in time with ads, and using ideas to accomplish this critical task. In the radio & TV business, we called it “time-sales.” Good content was the reason people watched, listened, or read. It was my professional duty to bridge this compelling content with revenue-generating advertising, without driving these customers away. You had to somehow make the advertising as interesting as the content. It was a S.H.I.T. job, so now I’m glad to be retired, but here’s how I made it work:

20 Ways to get your S.H.I.T. together.  Selling Holes In Time. (Time is Money)

• Write It down…you’ll do it.
• Set goals regularly for your job, yourself, and your family…write them down. Writing them down is the first step to accomplishment.  Refer to your goals frequently-keep them in front of you.
• Imagine yourself in positive, winning situations – think about them before you go to bed – dream about them. The “Magic of Believing” is powerful.
• Stay out of the office as much as possible-do paperwork early or late in the day-if you’re on the streets you know what’s going on.
• Always have one big “gravy” project going that could make you and the station a lot of money. That one project can keep you going no matter how bad your day is going.
• Get plenty of physical and mental exercise – keep your mind and body sharp.
• Ask a lot of questions and most importantly, really listen for the answers. People don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.  Use the information you’ve been told.
• Reward yourself frequently for your successes. A new wardrobe item makes you feel good and look even better.
• Force yourself to be organized. Plan to be at appointments early – so you’ll at least be there on time.  If you are early, go over your presentation one more time in your mind – imagine them reacting positively to your suggestions.
• Never convert your sales into commissions – you lose your job perspective. Don’t worry about how much money you’re making – worry about finding and solving problems and the money will happen.
• Go to as many outside activities as possible. Join clubs, go to parties – meet as many people as possible.  Find out what business they’re in, but avoid talking business at social functions.  Get to know them personally.
• Conquer your fears but be patient with yourself. Keep improving no matter how good you are.
• Don’t wait – create. Put yourself in a position where you’re taking more ideas to them than they are providing you to sell.
• Accept a no as graciously as a yes. Smile even when it hurts.  Every rejection is statistically a step to a yes.
• Practice “negative thinking” in a positive way. Be prepared for all the things that could go wrong and chances are they won’t.
• Don’t take your job too seriously – keep it fun and challenging. Actions trigger reactions – send out enthusiasm not desperation.
• Learn to capitalize on your mistakes. Grow from them – they’re a necessary part of learning.
• Don’t burn bridges – the media business is a small world – your successes and failures travel like wildfire. Receptionists become buyers, buyers become agency owners – what comes around goes around.
• Be a team player – keep superiors aware of where you are and what’s “happening” on the streets. Assist co-workers in tape pick-ups, ideas, etc.  Be as good a salesperson in the office as on the streets.
• Loosen up – be a little crazy and a little lazy. Find your presentation/personality niche – many times they are things about yourself you may not like. Use them as a strength.

 

copyright 2018 johnstonwrites.com