Friday, March 12, 2021

Brothers share a common bond. As such, they try to support each other in good times and bad.

 

At times, the right thing to do may be to let your brother stand on his own two feet to address his problems. However, in doing so, you always maintain your . . .

 

 

Brotherly Love

  

I wondered

what my ten-year-old brother had done,

as he sat at the kitchen table

with tears in his eyes,

a pained expression on his face,

and his fists clenched.

He seemed to be muttering

something

under his breath.

 

As I stood in the doorway,

I thought about approaching him,

but the look on his face

frightened me,

so I froze,

and did nothing.

 

Then he started

to bang on the table,

with such force,

it rocked back and forth.

 

“They’re coming to get me,”

he screamed.

“This can’t be happening.

Stop it! Stop it! Now!”

 

I wanted to yell,

“Who is coming?”

But I didn’t have the courage

to do so.

I just remained

silent.

 

Then his eyes met mine.

I started to look away,

but knew

that wasn’t the right thing to do.

 

So I moved toward him,

put my hand on his shoulder,

and tried to comfort him.

He stared at me,

In a way

that made

my twelve-year-old body quiver.

I shook in fear,

expecting the worst.

 

But it didn’t happen,

as I thought it might.

He grasped my hand,

held it tight,

and pulled me toward him.

 

We embraced—

an expression of love

that made us

both feel good.

And then we parted,

without uttering a word.

 

I never asked him

what had traumatized him,

and he didn’t talk

about the incident.

 

Neither of us

told our parents

what had occurred.

We laid the episode

to rest

and went on with our lives.

 

Eight years passed.

I sat beside my parents

and watched my brother,

dressed in cap and gown,

as he walked to the stage

in the high school gymnasium

to receive his diploma. 

 

He shook hands

with the principal,

who handed him

his treasured document,

and walked

off the stage.

 

As he came toward me,

he had tears in his eyes,

a pained expression on his face,

and his fists clenched

around his diploma.

He seemed to be muttering

something

under his breath.

 

Then he dropped the diploma

on the floor

and began to shake uncontrollably.

 

“They’re coming to get me,”

he screamed.

“This can’t be happening.

Stop it! Stop it! Now!”

 

The memory

of that day

eight years ago

returned

in the high school gymnasium.

“This can’t be happening,”

I moaned.

 

My parents sat stunned

at what had occurred.

They clasped hands

and said nothing.

 

My brother’s eyes

met mine,

as they had

at age ten—

pleading eyes,

begging for help.

 

I started

to move

in his direction.

but heard voices,

echoing in my head.

 

“You can’t help him.

And if you try,

you will never

see him again.”

 

“Never?”

 

“Yes. Never!”

 

Unable to move,

I whispered,

“I love you.”

 

Eight years later,

I began

my internship

at Monroe State Hospital

to become

a psychotherapist.

 

As I sat

next to my mentor,

a patient

entered the room.

Our eyes met,

and he murmured,

“I love you.”

 

 

Copyright © 2021 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

Monday, March 8, 2021

Our environment often wonders if it will survive. It questions whether or not the people occupying its precious domain will destroy it.

 

Confusion exists on land and water. Both nature and man wish for a time when all are . . .

 

 

No Longer Lost And Confused

 

Once a little raindrop floated

from the sky and landed

in the middle of a gentle pond.

It rested on its surface,

at peace with the world.

But then debris

tossed from the shore

and pollutants

coming from all directions

landed and vied for position,

creating putrid smells and turmoil

in this once tranquil body of water.

 

Shaken by this turn of events,

the little raindrop quivered,

and felt lost and confused.

The sky blackened and rumbled,

as if angered by the disorder

below in the rippling waters.

Distressed, the little raindrop

spun in circles around a lily pad,

and sought protection

from the eerie presence above,

while trying to avoid the pollution flowing,

without mercy, about it.

 

Tortured by the situation,

the little raindrop prayed for help

and the return of tranquility

to the water and land

surrounding its new home.

It wondered if people understood

what their carelessness and insensitivity

was doing to a once marvelous planet.

Would they be willing to change their ways

or was all hope lost?

 

But then, a wisp of light

filtered through the dark clouds.

bringing hope and the possibility for change.

Governments, leaders of private organizations,

and service clubs,

made efforts

to improve environmental conditions. 

 

These entities promised aloud,

“Clean water, a basic human right,

would no longer be denied.

By 2030, the United Nations goal,

safe drinking water for everyone,

would be achieved.”

 

Organization members committed

to creating healthier communities

by supplying

clean water and sanitation facilities

to lessen pollution

and to prevent the spread

of infectious diseases.

 

And so, today,

a new glow upon the water

portends a brighter future.

No longer lost and confused,

the little raindrop breathed a sigh of relief

and believed it would one day

be at peace again.

 

 

Copyright © 2018 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

Thursday, March 4, 2021

Newspaper publishers are moving in the direction of forcing us to read their papers online, by significantly reducing the size of the hard copy we have delivered. For some of us, this is not desirable. Computers are a part of our life, but not our whole life.

 

The paper I subscribe to has gone in this direction. The most recent change made caused me to respond, as seen in the email letter below.

 

 

To Sacramento Bee Management/Editorial Staff:

 

When I picked up the paper this morning, March 1, 2021, I saw three words at the bottom of the page, “To Our Readers.” The opening statement, “The Sacramento Bee is refreshing its comics and puzzles offerings beginning today," took me by surprise. Although I am not a puzzles aficionado, I do love the comics. Turning to the comics page made me ill. “Refreshing" is the wrong word. “Destroying" is more appropriate.

 

I am a poet and writer who spends many hours creating poems and stories to post on my blog. Therefore, at other times, I want to be away from the computer. I enjoy holding the newspaper in hand and reading it every morning. I hated it when you canceled the Saturday paper. I follow the comics diligently and enjoy how their creators make social commentary come alive in a way that has meaning in everyday life. The comics make a point about how people think, interact, and try to navigate the myriad of obstacles life places before them. In many respects, they are an educational tool that some readers might dismiss. But one needs to look below the surface to get the true meaning of what the creator is saying.

 

The comics have now gone from over one and a half pages to one page, reducing the number of individual strips from 33 to 18, and increasing the single box comics to twice the size. Doing this eliminated some of the very good strips, including “Jumpstart,” “Mutts,” Beetle Bailey,” “Blondie,” “Crankshaft,” “Frank and Ernest,” “Drabble,” “Grand Avenue,” “LuAnn,” "Hi & Lois,” “Marmaduke”, and “Dennis the Menace,” all of which make comments about life that touch both our minds and hearts.

 

As a reader of the Bee for over 24 years, I have become more and more disappointed with the content in recent years. There are still people in this world who enjoy reading the news, a decent sports section, and the comics, while holding the paper in hand and sharing its contents with other members of their household. The paper keeps getting less in the value and scope of its contents, while the cost keeps rising.

 

I encourage you to rethink what you call an effort to "refresh your newspaper," because you have not achieved what you set out to do.

 

Best regards,

 

Alan Lowe

 

Ph.D. in Educational Psychology/Counseling

Retired College Psychology Instructor, Counselor, and Administrator 
Poet and Writer

slolowe@icloud.com

https://slolowe44.blogspot.com/

 

 

Please Note: In today’s paper, it indicated that changes would be made because of readers’ comments. One of the new comic strips included in the “refreshed version” was removed and replaced by “Jumpstart.” The number of strips did not increase.

 

I also received a reply to my letter from the Bee this afternoon. It attributed the recent changes in content focus to the need to address issues related to the pandemic. I agree that providing this information is important. However, the response did not clarify why other topics no longer appeared, causing the paper to get thinner, and why the Saturday issue was discontinued and the cost of the paper increased. Instead, it suggested I set up my access to the eEdition that will provide me with the Saturday experience I was looking for, additional comics and puzzles, as well as 40 pages of news, sports, and features. The response missed my point about preferring a hard copy edition that provided me with this information.

 

 

Copyright © 2021 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

Friday, February 26, 2021

As a college freshman, if you choose to live in the dorm of the college you will be attending, it is common practice not to meet your roommate until the day you move in.

 

This person can be great and become your closet friend. On the other hand, this individual may turn out to be one big “pain in the ass,” as may be the case in . . .

 

 

Roomies—The Date

 

     I walked across the beautifully manicured campus at Midland College. It was Monday, May 3, 1985. Blue skies and a warm sun created a wonderful backdrop for the tree-lined hillside. My name is Jason Fitzpatrick. I’m a sophomore majoring in Business Administration.

     My life is almost perfect. My grades are good. My family supports me—with both love and money. And I have plenty of friends, but . . .

     Yeah, there’s a but—no girlfriend. I’d love to have one. And I’m not very picky. I don’t care if she’s gorgeous. Though she does need to be presentable. Smart would be nice. . . . Witty, . . . yes, that would help. And, most important of all, she has to like me.

     Now there’s one girl I’ve had my eye on since the second week of my freshman year. Her name is Rachel, . . . Rachel Lebecker. She’s charming, and bright, too. Her raven hair flows over her shoulders and frames her face in a way that makes me melt. I’d do anything to have her like me. However, I don’t think she knows I exist.

     I arrived at my dorm, Simon Kravitz Hall—an impressive two-story building with over two hundred dorm rooms. Mine is Room 99 at the end of the hall on the first floor. I share my palatial suite with my roommate, Murphy, Murph for short, O’Sullivan.

     We’ve been roomies for almost two years. He’s a nice guy, but he also can be a real pain in the butt. And when it comes to my wanting a girlfriend, he’s the last fella you want to have in your corner. He doesn’t understand. He likes girls, but he says he isn’t ready to get involved. His universe revolves around making my life miserable.

     I approached my room, which is right next to the Janitor’s Closet—perfect positioning if you like the banging of brooms and mops and the clanging of garbage cans. I placed the key in the lock and entered.

     “Hey, Murph!” I yelled. “I’m home.” Home is a two-bedroom suite, with a very small sitting area in between the rooms, just large enough for our twenty-six inch TV and two lounge chairs.

     “That you, Jase?”

     “Yeah, it’s me. Who else has a key to the door?”

     “What’s up?”

     “Nothing much.”

     “You sure?”

     “Oh, I ran into Rachel on campus this afternoon. I think I said hello to her.”

     “You think you said hello to her? What the hell does that mean?”

     “Well, we passed in the hallway in Frazier Hall and I sort of said, ‘Hi.’”

     “ Did she say, ‘Hi,’ back?”

     “I think so. However, we didn’t make eye contact. And her voice was low. Well, I don’t know. Maybe.”

     “You know, man, if you want to get a girl, you have to be more aggressive. And you have to remember if you did or didn’t say hello to her. If you want Rachel, you gotta make a move on her if you expect something to happen. Now me, I wouldn’t recommend wasting time on Rachel.”

     “Why? I’ve wanted to ask her out on a date for a long time. Just haven’t been able to get up the courage to do it.”

     “She’s not your type, Jase. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

     “I can’t believe you’re saying that. She’s cute and smart. I think about her a lot. However, the timing needs to be right.”

     “What timing? You’ll be seventy-five before you act on it. Maybe you’ll run into her again in an old age home.”

     “What are you talking about? I’ll show you. I’ll call her right now and ask her out.”

     “Okay, do it! I dare you. It’s your ego that’s at stake if she turns you down, not mine.”

     “Why do you always have to put a damper on my plans, Murph? You make it sound like I’m not good enough for her.”

     “I’m not trying to put a damper on anything. I’m trying to help you by giving you a good piece of advice. By the way, why not go after Taylor Price? She’s more your type.”

     “How can you say that? Her heads off in some strange place all the time and she never smiles.”

     “When’s the last time you smiled? Had a good laugh lately? Think about it. She’s just like you. You know, uptight, a bit confused, and not so bright.”

     “Not so bright? Look who’s talking. You’re the one almost failing Math and Chem. I thought you were my friend.”

     “I am your friend, Jase. And this is not about me. Think about it, Rachel’s in a league of her own. And you can’t play in that league.”

     “Shut up Murph! What do you know? You’re jealous I might actually succeed with Rachel.”

     “Not me. Getting involved with a girl now will mess up my whole life. And you, . . . I don’t think you can handle the truth.”

     “Murph, I don’t know why I call you my friend. And I’ll show you I can do it.”

     “Do what, handle the truth or get Rachel to go on a date with you?”

     “Both, my know-it-all roommate.”

     “For crying out loud! You live in a damned dream world, roomie.”

     “Come on now, Murph. Give me a break. This crap has got to end.”

     “End? Then pick up the phone and give Rachel a call.”

     “Okay, I will. I can’t wait to see your face when she agrees to go out with me. And then I’ll be happy to accept your apology for all you’ve put me through.”

     “I’m waiting. Call her. Though you won’t find her home. Probably out on a date with a jock.”

     “Just keep it up, Murph. . . . Look, I’m dialing. It’s ringing. I can’t wait to hear her voice.”

     “All right, I’ll stand here and watch you make a fool of yourself.”

     “Shush! She’s picking up. Hello, Rachel, this is Jason. . . . Uh, Jason Fitzpatrick.”

     “See, she doesn’t even know who you are.”

     “Shut up! No, not you, Rachel. My roommate’s being a jerk. . . . Uh, Rachel, I was wondering if you’re busy on Friday night. Maybe we could go to dinner. . . . Okay, I’II wait for your call.”

     “So, did she turn you down? Looks like you’re frowning.”

     “No, I’m not frowning. She said she’d check her schedule and call me back.”

     “That’s what they all say when they're preparing to blow you off. I’m checkin’ my calendar.”

     “I’m not going to argue with you anymore. We’ll wait for her call and then we’ll know who the real fool in the room is.”

     Murph switched on the TV and plunged into his lounge chair. Before he could get comfortable, the phone rang.

     “Phone’s ringing, Jase. I’ll get it.”

     “No, I got it.”

     However, before I could grab it, Murph picked it up. “Hello. Oh, Rachel. No, this is Murph, his roommate. . . . Wow, I’ll tell him. Bye. . . . Hey, Jase, she said she’d go out with you on Friday. Pick her up at her dorm at seven.”

     “See, Murph, what’d I tell you? Now what do you have to say?”

     “It ain’t over till it’s over, bro. She probably needs some time to think up a good excuse to cancel. The big ‘blow off’ will be comin’ soon. Friday’s only four days away.”

 

    

     Well, what did happen? Did Jason go on the date with Rachel or did she cancel?

 

 

Roomies—The Date???

 

     I couldn’t wait for Friday. A date with Rachel was my dream come true. But I also kept thinking about what Murph said about her canceling at the last minute.  As the week dragged on, I kept my fingers crossed that the phone wouldn’t ring.

     Thursday afternoon, when I came home after class, Murph sat in his chair staring at a blank TV screen. “What’re you doing?” I asked.

     “Can’t get into my homework and there’s nothing on TV. So I thought I’d kick back and think about what we can do tomorrow evening after Rachel cancels on you.”

     “You don’t know when to stop, do you?”

     “Why should I? It’s fun to see you squirm.”

     I shook my head in frustration and headed into my bedroom. As I entered, the phone rang. Not wanting Murph to pick it up, I rushed to the nightstand and grabbed it.

     I muttered, “Hello. Oh, Rachel. I wasn’t expecting a call from you.”

     Standing in the doorway smirking, Murph, said, “I told you so.”

     I ignored his insensitive remark. “Yes, I’ll try, Rachel. . . . No, I’m sure I can make it happen. Bye.”

     “Sounds like she’s making you jump some hurdles to keep the date,” Muph stated.

     “Well, not exactly.”

     “Then what?”

     “You do your laundry recently?”

     “What does that have to do with your going on a date?”

     “Because you’re going, too. And I wanted to make sure you’d be presentable.”

     “What’re you talking about?”

     “Rachel’s cousin, Julie, is in town, and I assured Rachel you’d be ecstatic about being her date for dinner.”

     “But I don’t do dates, man.”

     “You do now, bro.”

     I stood at the nightstand with a huge grin on my face. I’d gotten back at Murph in a way I’d never expected.

    

 

Copyright © 2021 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

Sunday, February 14, 2021

Love sustains us, as we make our way through life. It can be the reason for our being.

 

Partners share hopes and desires. They provide the strength for one another to make dreams come true . . .

 

 

In A Way Only Lovers Could

 

“I love you with all my heart,” she chanted,

her eyes shining from the passion within.

She took my hand and placed it against her cheek—

a closeness born from the mutual admiration we had for one another.

We embraced in a way only lovers could.

 

“You are all I want in life,” I whispered,

my fingers running through her golden hair.

Lips pressed together connecting two souls—

a closeness born from the mutual trust we shared.

We embraced in a way only lovers could.

 

“We love you, Mommy, Daddy,” our children shouted,

the two, a caring girl and boy, danced  in circles.

They brought joy to our home and warmth to our hearts—

a closeness born from our mutual desire to raise a loving family.

We embraced in a way only lovers could.

 

“I love you with all my heart. You are all I want in life,” we each murmured,

our eyes showing the signs of the passing years.

We clutched hands, so we wouldn’t fall as we walked in the garden—

a closeness born from the mutual support we have given each other.

We embraced in a way only lovers could.

 

 

Copyright © 2016 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

Saturday, February 13, 2021

Life is complicated. Love is confusing. We meet someone, but is it meant to be?

 

A relationship in bloom—I thought so. But as time passed. I was given . . .

 

 

My Last Chance

 

It was my last chance,

and I blew it

in a way I could not 

have imagined.

Ever since I met her

at the Valentine’s Day Ball,

I dreamed of her becoming

a part of my life.

I saw her a few times

since then, and I believed,

in my heart,

we might get together.

Then she approached me

that warm summer’s day

in late June and asked

if I would help her.

My eyes focused on her face,

a face draped in sadness.

She bowed her head

in shame for the act she said

she should not have committed.

“What have you done?” I inquired,

hoping to get an explanation

of the actions she had undertaken,

so I could understand her plight.

But she did not respond

as I thought she should

and just looked at me,

as if I had overstepped my bounds.

“I am here for you,

if you choose to take my hand

and let me stand by your side,”

I stated in earnest.

Still no words poured forth,

as she stood her ground

and focused her eyes on mine

to determine my sincerity.

With caution, she began to speak,

her lips trembling, as she stuttered,

“I have done something awful, and

I do not know what to do about it.”

She awaited my response,

as I searched for the right words

in an attempt to get answers

and not scare her off.

But my silence had the effect

I had tried so hard to avoid,

and she turned her back on me

and walked away.

 

 

Copyright © 2021 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, February 10, 2021

Life is shaped in many ways. Some of these are expected, such as the teachings of our parents. Others seem to appear out of nowhere.

 

Sometimes what doesn’t happen has a greater impact on our life than what does occur. So embrace both the inevitable and the unexpected in . . .

 

 

Sunrise, Sunset

 

The things my parents taught me shape my life from sunrise to sunset as the years go by. Through their teachings I learned to be honest and fair, to treat others the way I wish to be treated, and to believe in myself. The seeds sown made me both passionate in my endeavors and understanding of the complex world in which we live.

 

We welcome gifts into our lives and these come in many shapes and sizes, some when least expected. The best gift I ever received was when my father put into words his feelings about me, the man. After a visit to my new home, as he turned to leave, he hugged me and whispered, “I’m so proud of everything you have done and of the man you have become.”

 

Life has its ways of delivering wished for opportunities and, to my amazement, it happened one night. A phone call in the early evening, in response to a personal ad I had placed in the Sacramento Bee, both challenged me and warmed my heart. The woman on the other end of the line said all the right things and, by the time we hung up, we scheduled our first meeting. Three years later she became my wife.

 

As I made my way in the world, I sometimes wondered what my life would be like if I were rich and famous. Today my lifestyle is comfortable and I don’t want for much, yet most would not consider me rich and famous has become an unreachable dream. Yet when I look at the plight of some of those who have succeeded in achieving both fame and fortune, I wish them luck and thank God I am not one of them.

 

With the rising sun, I try in earnest to find one statement about my life that explains the essence of who I have become. In my marriage, my relationships with friends and family, or in the life roles I choose to play and responsibilities I undertake, I have considered saying, “I am a success, I care about others, I am understanding.” But as I ponder these statements, as the sun disappears below the horizon, I hope that my accomplishments allow me the right to describe myself through the proclamation, “You can count on me.”

 

 

Copyright © 2016 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

Saturday, February 6, 2021

The world is experiencing difficult and confusing times. But what can I do?

 

I’m a prisoner in my own home. I haven’t seen relatives in almost nine months. I’m sick to my stomach and . . .

 

 

Mad And Alone

 

Well, this is upsetting.

I can’t believe

what‘s happening—

a world in turmoil.

I try to recall

the past,

when there was peace

and sanity in my life,
a time

when I could leave home

without fear.

I wonder

if that time

will magically reappear?

I had a vision yesterday

of what the future

would be like.

I saw myself

reclining under a tree

in the park,
watching children play

on the swings and slide.

I saw birds

moving towards people

sitting on benches

to peck seed

being sprinkled.

I embraced the energy

and the innocence

around me.

I pictured

a renewed opportunity

to gather

with family and friends.
I was happy

and at ease

with what was happening.

 

Then reality

hit me,

bringing me

to my knees.
I prayed

for better times

and hoped

You would hear me.

I wondered why

You let us suffer

in such unimaginable ways?

But wouldn’t You

have done

something already,

if You could?

Why is the sun shining?

For it has no purpose.
Maybe rain will come

and cleanse

the ugliness

from leaders

who betray us

and guide us

down paths
to imminent destruction,

where we will drown

in a sea

of misery,

as sad music

colors our existence—
a place where children

no longer learn

or dream

of a future

blessed with opportunities

for growth and success,
where the homeless

march in a parade

that grows infinitely,

and people die

in numbers

beyond belief.

 

Why is the sun shining?

Has something changed?

Has saving mankind

become the priority

it should be—

one greater

than securing

individual wealth

and power?

 

Has the pandemic

made us realize

what is important?
Has the pandemic

made us realize

we are our own

worst enemy?

 

 

Copyright © 2020 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.