my adopted grandfather / poem 103

I took Mr G. for same day surgery this afternoon, a cystoscopy — again. He was going to have ‘burned out’ more of the tumor in his bladder if it had grown back. Sadly, it had. His doctor said it was an aggressive kind of cancer. Mr. G. was taken to a hospital to spend a night since he lives alone and was not permitted to return home alone after anesthesia. I will bring him home from the hospital tomorrow.

I only know this man from delivering meals to him for two years. Since I’ve known him, his wife has died. I’ve met his Pennsylvania son and his wife. We’ve talked music, politics (we disagree), and health. He is 87 and in good health otherwise. He is kind. He is also a good conversationalist and listener, a rare blend. I can learn a lot from him. I seem to have adopted him as a grandfather.

elder

You had told the nurse I was your social worker.
Yes, I am but it wouldn’t fly in court. The nurse laughed.
I proclaimed I am your neighbor and friend.

my new creative associate friend / poem 83

We actually began communicating through Facebook. We had an acquaintance in common who we both admired. Bev wrote how much she was enjoying reading my blog. She said she liked how I wrote. Now these are perhaps the sweetest words a writer can hear. Then one time she invited me to come to her place to talk about an idea she had. We realized we were neighbors!
The idea she had didn’t appeal to me but a different project grew out of our initial meeting and getting to know one another. I hate to be so mysterious but I am somewhat superstitious about telling all before the idea is too far along. Suffice it to say, it has something to do with Maria’s and my trip to India. Seems Bev has a skill of recognizing creative projects, organizing them, and convincing others to work as a team. As far as I’m concerned, any one of these skills is special and being able to weave together all three puts one in the Goddess Chamber of Commerce!

So today I stopped by her place to check in. It was damned hot and when we got to her deck, I noticed a pool. I put my legs in to cool off. Before long, we had both changed into bathing suits and jumped in. There we were, doing our meeting relaxing in her pool. Our conversation flowed effortlessly from the project to writing to her health to health care changes needed in the U.S. We also covered music, the court system, Florida, and nature. We laugh and feel free to say just about anything. Did I mention? I hardly know her. This was only the third time we had hung out together.

I drove home with a smile on my face, looking forward to our next visit. Yes, Bev is a creative associate but she is already much more. Seems to me we have the beginning of a friendship as well.

poem

a creative project
meshes our spirits well,
I call this friendship

the 20 minute friend / poem 70

I took a guest to the Siddha Yoga Meditation Center tonight. ‘B,’ as I shall call her, is a friend of a friend but we had never met until I pulled up at her condo to give her a ride. Since our Center is small, the host/mc that evening said “I notice someone new. Welcome! Are you a friend of Phebe?” B’s answer: “for about twenty minutes.” This was the length of our ride across town. I chuckled then and later told her how clever her answer was.

poem

how many minutes does it take to make a friend?
there are those times you feel it right away.
the first glimpse of you startled me — you resembled my mother.