The truth of the matter is . . .

Saturday, October 29, 2022

When the unexpected occurs, we don’t want to appear too anxious. Then what should we do?

Should we wait for a cue that might not come? What if we don’t act fast enough, on . . .

A Bright Summer Day

I couldn’t believe it when she appeared before me,

as I sat relaxing under the garden tree.

She looked at me in a bashful way,

on this beautiful, bright summer day.

My eyes met hers, shining and blue,

and she smiled at me and I didn’t know what to do.

A friendship might be possible, I’d say,

on this beautiful, bright summer day.

Was this a relationship meant to be—

one where we’d blend our hearts and souls perfectly?

She acted in a manner that took my breath away,

on this beautiful, bright summer day.

White, puffy clouds floated overhead in the sky,

moving in circles, but I didn’t know why.

Then the marvelous being just wandered away,

on this beautiful, bright summer day.

Friday, October 21, 2022

We select a profession that will help others. We focus on helping them travel down life’s sometimes-bumpy highway.

However, we may find that this isn’t always easy, because

People Are . . .

As a psychologist, my focus is on people—who they are, what they do,

and how they navigate through life.

Sometimes what I observe makes perfect sense, but at other times

it causes me considerable strife.

One of my patients didn’t take anything I said seriously and turned

everything into a joke.

She quipped, “As a therapist, you must understand ‘people are funny’

and, from you, a laugh I’m trying to provoke.”

Another patient attempted to impress me with how extraordinary he was

and there was nothing he couldn’t do.

He was so arrogant, he frustrated me beyond belief and I said, “Yes,

some ‘people are amazing,’ but one of them isn’t you.”

Well, as you can see, my job isn’t easy, because people aren’t always willing

to work with me, as they should.

In another situation, the husband, during a Couples Therapy session, yelled

at his wife, “You know, ‘people are world changers,’ and if you’d let me be

the boss, our world would be very good.”

While these sessions didn’t go as planned, the most disturbing ones occur

when “people are unreasonable” and resist the chance to get their life back

on track, as was the case in the following tale.

A woman entered my office, looked at me with a menacing glare in her eyes,

and said, “This is the last place I ever wanted to be and I don’t need your

help, but my probation officer told me if I didn’t come, I’d have to go to jail.”

Under these circumstances, I thought it might be time to stop being a

therapist, but I didn’t feel I had the fortitude to do so.

But “people are unpredictable,” and when a client came into my office late

one afternoon, to my surprise he viewed my credentials hanging

on the wall, and said, “Do you know your license to practice expired

a month ago?”

Shocked, I thought he was either being funny or possessed amazing ability

to see what was not apparent to me.

He changed my world that day in an unpredictable way and made me think it

wouldn’t be unreasonable to become a retiree.

Wednesday, October 19, 2022

Life can be crazy. Things happen that can’t be explained.

You try to make sense out of what you’ve experienced, but are left with the question, could it be . . .

Unbelievable But True?

“Oh, my God!” I screamed from my den, loud enough to rock my wife

out of bed.

“What are you yelling about?” she asked. “You’re going to wake

the dead.”

“Maybe they need to be awakened to help me resolve the problem

I’ve discovered.”

“Problem? Couldn’t it wait until I woke up?” she sputtered.

“Is it so important that you have to act like a fool?”

“All right, if you listen to me, I’ll try to keep my cool.”

“That’ll be a first. You always overreact about small things.”

“Oh, come on! What’s small to you is important to me—like helping

that injured little bird I found in our yard use its wings.”

“Well, I’m awake now, so explain your dire situation to me.”

“Okay, but you’ve got to keep an open mind and listen carefully.

“You know those twenty books of my poems I got printed for the family

the other day?”

“When you brought them home, you said they looked great

and were done in the appropriate way.”

“Yes, they seemed to be perfect, but then I noticed something freaky.”

“What? You saw ghosts jumping off the page and they made you feel creepy.”

I ignored her response and said, “I picked up this one and everything

was as it should be.

However, the next one felt peculiar, like something strange was happening inside,

but I didn’t have the courage to look and see.”

“Get to the point already,” she stated, in a way that made me quake.

“Can’t you just pay attention without interrupting me?” I asked. She

didn’t answer, but gave me the weirdest headshake.

Then a piercing look in her eyes made me cringe and I wanted to run

from the house.

But before I could do so, standing before me was a six-foot mouse.

She’d transformed into a creature I couldn’t believe and I just stood there

frozen in place.

“Those are my books, for my family, and I can do anything I want with them,”

she exclaimed, as she stared straight in my face.

“The pages are all crinkled and wrinkled inside and I’ll tell you why.

If you gotta go, you gotta go, and doing it in the book was the right place

to try.”

“You peed in the book, but that’s a God awful thing to do.”

“Did you want me to do it in bed and let it flow all over you?”

“But you’re my wife, not a mouse, and a weird one at that.”

“Well, would you rather I was something else, like maybe a twelve-foot cat?”

No, this can’t be happening, I thought. A huge cat stood before me in what

must be my ridiculous dream.

“Life can be a mystery,” she said. “Things are not always what they seem.

But if you put your nose in the book, you’ll see what I’m telling you isn’t

a lie.

So do as I say, and give it a try.”

“No way will I do that and you can’t force me to.”

I couldn’t believe what happened next and I had no idea what to do.

A shower poured from the heavens above and bathed me in stink.

The cat, now a mouse again, smiled and gave me a wink.

The next morning I awoke and slowly opened my eyes.

There on my wife’s pillow sat my poetry book, now titled—

“A Cat And A Mouse In Our House: The Great Surprise.”

Saturday, September 24, 2022

I decided to enter a poetry contest. But I didn’t realize this might become a team effort.

My wife got involved. And this made the process of entering . . .

A Contest To Remember

As I sat in front of my computer preparing to enter a poetry contest,

my wife came into my den—my creative home.

She asked what I was doing and I said I was trying to select one

of five contest categories in which to write a poem.

The first, “What Money Can’t Buy,” I told her made me think of things

such as peace of mind, happiness, and living a loving life together.

She looked me straight in the eye and, with a wry smile, stated,

“If you purchase the expensive ring I desire, you’d capture my heart forever.”

I took a deep breath before announcing the second category,

“Unbelievable But True,” which seemed like a provocative topic

to address.

“As an example, my meeting you through a dating website was unbelievable,

but I never expected it would lead to a lasting relationship,” I must confess.

Before she could comment, I blurted out the third category, “A Very

Special Year,” which got my heart pounding.

But then she rattled off a list of what should happen, including winning

the lottery, refurnishing the house, and becoming famous, all quite

astounding.

She looked over my shoulder and saw the fourth category jumping

off the screen—“Reaching For The Stars”—something to aim

for in life.

I said, “This is where I can dream of exciting goals to attain—retiring

early, traveling the world, and not always having to please my wife.”

She glared at me and commented, “I see the last category, ‘My Most

Embarrassing Moment,’ will make you expose something in your

past you’ve been hiding from me.”

With a grin on my face, I replied, “I guess this is one category

I’m not going to select for there are certain things in my past,

I don’t want you see.”

Sunday, September 18, 2022

At times, we may be forced to deviate from the route leading to our destination. This can be troubling.

We have to watch where we’re going and pay attention to . . .

A Fork In The Road

We drove down Highway 195 on our way to Bridgerton State Park

to celebrate the end of our summer vacation.

Our kids, Miller, six, and Sarah, eight, were out of control—

yelling at each other and showing signs of frustration.

Two hours in the car had taken its toll on them,

but this was where Teri and I had celebrated our first anniversary

and we wanted to revisit the scene.

We hadn’t been back in years, but today was the perfect day,

sunny and warm, to see if the picturesque park was still pristine.

Teri buried her nose in the novel she’d been reading at home

and didn’t pay much attention to the road ahead.

So I frightened her when I yelled, out, “Oh, no!

They’re doing construction, the road is closed,

and we need to take the detour instead.”

“You’re not serious, Eddie? This could take us out of our way

and delay our arrival today.”

“Well, do you have another idea—one that would keep us on track?”

I asked. “Come on, what do you have to say?”

She didn’t answer and then Miller whined, “I’m hungry.

I haven’t eaten anything since we left the house.”

“Well, reach over and get the bag behind your seat. Mom packed

goodies for the trip. See what you can find, my little ‘mouse.’”

“I’m not a mouse, Daddy. I’m a roaring lion who wants to eat

everything in sight.”

“Okay, but for now you’ll just have to be satisfied with what you find

in the bag. Is that all right?”

An earsplitting sound came from deep inside him, as he said,

“I’ll eat anything I can with the ‘Fork in the Road.’”

His statement came out with such force, it made me shake,

and I felt I might explode.

Had someone dropped silverware on the highway? I thought.

Then what I saw blew me away.

A kitchen fork, standing under the stop sign in the road,

seemed to be commanding us to stop and stay.

But then things got weird, as Sarah blurted, “Mommy, Daddy,

look behind the fork. What do you see?”

Oh, my God! An army of cutlery stood at attention,

armed and ready to move in our direction. Were we history?

Then without warning, all four car doors swung open,

tossing us out of the car onto the ground.

The fork looked at its troops, shook in anticipation

of its wonderful find, and motioned to them to gather around.

Not knowing what would happen next, we witnessed

the strangest thing—salad and soup, meat and potatoes,

and veggies galore fell from the heavens above.

I looked at my watch. It was dinnertime. The silverware danced

and offered their service in helping us eat,

in a momentous gesture of love.

Tuesday, September 6, 2022

Do you remember the song, “Growing Up Is Hard To Do?” Well, that describes my life.

My mother was in control. She thought I needed therapy, as you will see in . . .

Busted

Growing up

I didn’t know

how to please

my mother,

and this

made her

quite disgusted.

She gave me

a hard time,

criticized

my every move,

and told me

I was maladjusted.

She took me

to a therapist

and directed me

to do

what he said,

as she’d known him

for years

and considered him

a man

to be trusted.

So I worked hard

to become

the person

I thought

I should be—

a young man

who did

everything right,

one who

was well adjusted.

Under his direction,

he twisted

my mind

in ways

I couldn’t

have imagined—

the object

of his efforts

to make sure

I was readjusted.

He made me

miserable

in ways

I hadn’t expected

and I couldn’t believe

my mother felt

with my future

he should be entrusted.

One day

he asked

me questions

that made

my head spin

and I became

overwhelmed

and flustered.

I couldn’t

understand why

I was here

and felt

his actions

made him someone

who should

be mistrusted.

Not wanting

to continue

my session

with him,

I stood up

and headed

toward the door,

with the courage

I’d mustered.

Then something

weird happened,

as he spun

out of control

and blustered,

“My being

your therapist

is all

your mother’s fault,

for she

encouraged our affair,

and since then

for her

I’ve lusted.”

Hearing

his words,

I turned,

smiled,

and said,

“I’ve recorded this

on my phone,

to share,

with the authorities,

so now

my dear therapist,

you’re busted.”

“But you can’t

do that,

my son.

I told her

this

should’ve come out

sooner,

but she insisted

that the past

be put behind us,

and I did

as she instructed.”

“You’re telling me

it was my mother

who made you

do this,

and you’re saying

I’m your son.

This is absurd.

I can’t trust

either one of you.

So you’re both

busted.”