Drinking Alcohol taught me how to fly
Then it took away the sky....

Thursday, March 31, 2011



 "How are you?"


"Are you really fine?"

"Well, now that you ask...."

"Ahaaa! Then you are NOT so 'fine'?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Oh, I'm needing some new gossip.
Besides that, you look just TERRIBLE"!

"Do I thank you for that, or..."

"No, simply tell me, is anything bothering you?"

"Yesss......Y O U !!!

For MORE FLASH 55, go see

Wednesday, March 30, 2011



How empty of me, to be so full of you!

This is a poem of simple love

It is not another
Just about lust
It is about..oh..being not too near
But, Umm..close enough to hear

Our minds churning, turning
Two hearts beating, burning
No form, formality
Only true reality.

When here or there
As I grin and bear--
Desperation, Separation,
Reparation too is on the menu.

But soup is before dessert
This, forever--
Soup before dessert

Sometimes trust looks out from
Its hiding-places, dark, secret presumptions.
Once lost, hope is gone, to all but God alone,
And us moving from presumptions to resumptions?

"When again will she trust me?"
Is the familiar cry
And answered by
"Not before you're TRUSTWORTHY!"
(Oh, My! Ohhh MY!)

So? Let's rejoice!
Each of us is a Masterpiece
Created by THE Master,
By chance? No!
By God's CHOICE...........

God is Eternally Sculpting

Unceasingly carving, chipping away,
While each one, with our free will
Has a 'right' to invite Him to stay...

 Only one soul-life, mine--I can save.
WHEREVER you go--or I shall be
Let us continue to grow, change, behave
In ways good or not, but differently

Is society concerned with my sobriety?
It would be only if I HAD none...
As if my life had stayed undone.

A falsehood: obsession--
Time for confession
Untie me, set me free
Unbind Thee...now, see?
LOVE, newly risen
Nevermore a prison

Thus I discovered, uncovered
This, to find and remind
(As Janet Jackson--yes, SHE!
Sang these words just for me--grin!):

"How empty of me
To be so full of you..."

Ah! The simplicity.
Ah! This, how true!

For us Peeps
Love...and PEACE!

Lagniappe: One of my (bad) habits--order dessert first.
THEN eat (less?) food! Cannot understand 
WHY I keep gaining weight--grin!

Tuesday, March 29, 2011


"Genuine poetry can communicate
before it is understood." - T.S. Eliot 


Long have I felt inadequate, reading wonderful rhyme-phrases
(--or is it phrase-rhymes?) penned by Bloggers I SO admire!
Even to the point of frustration, and once I took an oath to never
Try this type of writing myself--even though I LOVE it.

It is the same with fine art works, especially (Ugh!) "Modern Art".
I become like the guy who loved music but could not play a fiddle.
Opera lover who could not sing.
Or the intellectually dead "...but I don't 'underSTAND' it!"

Who the fuck fully 'understands' ANYTHING?

However, in the realm of classical music I am fulfilled.
One day, fifty years ago, I played solo in Carnegie Hall.
A rehearsal was called for 10 AM
I got there at 8 AM


I stood on that stage, played duets with Heifetz, trios with Kreisler
And Rachmaninoff, quartets with others of the greatest and most
Well-deserved fame.

I played (actually) the first movement of Beethoven Violin Concerto.
With full orchestra accompaniment (in my head--grin!)

Yet I was alone--not another soul--in that beautiful auditorium in Carnegie Hall.


(This, in winter 1961)

It has been a wonderful life. Maybe tomorrow I will 
expand it, By attempting once more to write a rhyme.

Sketch of outside Carnegie by artist:
Enrico Miguel Thomas

Monday, March 28, 2011





I have found that "THERE"
is no better than "HERE"..
When my "there"
has become "here"
I will simply have obtained another "there"
Which will again look better than "here".


The country of Tibet is at an average elevation of 16,000 feet, 
(That's 3 miles!)
It is not a candidate for a tidal wave, right?
Ya just never know, Peeps.
Fossils of sea creatures, have been found in the rocks up there.
It WAS under water once.

(My guess is that the internal combustion engine was responsible
for global freezing, melting, whatever. One thing is certain.
Boat building enjoyed a few good eons of business.
There...not here--grin!)

Two pictures at the top have very little relevance--I simply liked them! Both from Google "images" 

Facts about Tibet are from L M Boyd's "Curiosity Shop" a huge accumulation of strange but true "little-knowns" in our universe

Sunday, March 27, 2011


The "Cloud Of Unknowing"
...a favorite of mine, 
has become part of my opinion, 
of which everything expressed here...IS!


Whether a poem, painting, phraseology of theology, the internal combustion engine, a Wagner Opera, architectural structure, sculpture, or a 'black hole' in outer space, matters little. I need know nothing about it, except how to paint or draw it, play it, compose it, fix it, preach it, carve it...and/or ENJOY it! My attempts to understand it will only fall short of real knowledge.

After all these things are gone--everything, even us, them and those--what is left will be but one attribute, one mark, one characteristic, and that one has forever been and is being given, received, sent, wanted, needed. It is used for supporting, healing, nurturing, helping...well, it is  L O V E !

To understand love is not possible. To give without selfish motive, to graciously receive, to let this simplest, yet most profound love of my Higher Power shine through me is a goal. The real and true goal is to come closer to that Higher Power, GOD, in learning his will for me, and seek His help in how best to serve.

"Our intense need to 'understand' will always be a powerful stumbling block to our attempts to reach God in simple love, and must always be overcome. For if you do not overcome this need to understand, it will undermine your quest. It will replace the darkness which you have pierced to reach God with clear images of something which, however good, however beautiful, however Godlike, is not God."

"And so I urge you, go after experience rather than knowledge. On account of pride, knowledge may often deceive you, but this gentle, loving affection will not deceive you. Knowledge tends to breed conceit, but love builds. Knowledge is full of labor, but love, full of rest."
---The Cloud of Unknowing, 
Anonymous  c. 1375 AD

Saturday, March 26, 2011


Sometimes we remember how we met people, sometimes it remains a mystery. I cannot say how Linda and I met--blogging, of course!  I believe that when two or more meet--no matter the venue--and are still friends-in-contact months and years after, that the chances are good that for whatever reason, God had a part in it. I have learned oh! in so many instances, never second-guess God!

Linda and I have been blog-friends since late in '08 or at least by 2009. Attracting me was her blog header, a painting of a farm scene. From the first, I admired that painting--over months I noticed it changing, the colors, the farm animals, the barns, the yard, the fencing, the  pastures. It reminds me of the farm where I spent my youth.

One day Linda wrote to say she would give me a print of that header which I so loved.  She sent me this beautiful Farm Scene, and I'm blogging Linda today:

(Picture taken at night, no flash, low light. 
I may replace it with daylight photo...
I do not like my flash pics.)


This picture just arrived last night at 9 PM, and it will not be hung in my (new) gallery until I move, in a couple weeks. So I just laid it out on my bed to show you "THE FARM". Enjoy Linda's work HERE. Please visit her. She is bedridden much of the time, and in pain.


Thursday, March 24, 2011



On the highways and during a downpour, have you ever noticed a group of bikers stopped, congregated, in the dryness under one of the overpasses? Chances are--and experience has shown me--that they are not group-riding, but separately sought shelter. The most wonderful feeling of comradeship happens. Immediate connections are made, experiences traded, drinks shared. Introductions not necessary. Spirituality occurs as a separate person among us. This is true. I have felt it. Many times.

On my Suzuki scooter I have traveled to spur-of-the-moment, randomly chosen AA meetings from Naples Florida to Virginia (twice) and I must tell you this. The moment I walk into a meeting room (actually before that, outside among the smoking crowd). although a stranger, I've been greeted as an old friend who has simply been away for a few years. (Not unlike those rain-caused 'mini-biker-conventions' of between 4-11 participants.)


The questions "Where ya from? Oh, I've been there. Do you know Jake M?....etc". Thoughts are triggered, and traded are some brief descriptions of past drunken exploits, how we drank so many years, to oblivion, the massive amount of hurt we generated, causing disruption of SO many lives, families.

A strange biker--a BIG fellow, I think that was his real name, "Big Guy"-grin!--related to the rest of us, in a quiet voice with only the pouring rain as background music. "I remember looks on the faces of my children, as they gazed into the face of their father, looking seeking, needing some sign of love. Staring back at them through eyes as empty as a clean blackboard, as if I did not even know who they were-- Daddy. Me."


Imagine, in one of the groups, seven single, lone riders, three (Two + me!) were recovering from their addictions, their disease, in AA! I simply looked up at an imaginary image of a Higher Power, gratefully pondering the awesomeness of these occasions. Finding myself wet, but happy, smiling, safe under the bridges at least 18 times, convinced me more than anything else that--aside from slight variants--we are all the same. We ARE all somehow connected.

The point here is my discovery so late in life--the almost unbelievable acceptance by strangers everywhere, in a market, a theater, a parade, the beach, a park, a church--oh, wait...not the church I'm remembering....


It is sad for me to report that in churches (I enjoy visiting churches--and cemeteries--on the road), especially catholic churches, I feel no real true welcome. It is as if they leave it up to God to say, "Howdy stranger, come in and make yourself at home!" The one place I would EXPECT to be received with pleasure and hospitality--is the one place I am denied it. I am these years an outgoing person, I show love and acceptance in my eyes, even I can see it! And what happens? Well, it seems to me, almost a rejection. 2.000 people in the congregation, and not one asked a biker-visitor questions like, "Are you hungry? Thirsty? Cold? Tired?

Opposite that, out on the road, Peeps (strangers, bikers, new friends at meetings) often have asked me if I have a place to sleep, and I am offered that and more. Go figure.


I am coming to believe that it is not necessarily holding tight to a prayer book, sweating to remember the words, avoiding the 'meaning', looking up at the ceiling of a cathedral, saying, "I believe, I believe! Hallelujah!"

The 'action' now for me is happening down in the street with the Peeps, working with drunks, the disabled, others overwhelmed by life. Somewhat shamefully (because I was not raised this way), I admit to feeling closer to God when spending hours in an art museum; riding my bike (speed limit, of course--grin!); sitting under a bridge in the rain; surrounded by Peeps who moments ago were strangers; and trying to 'work' these AA Steps in my life--now failing, now correcting, now making amends, now living, now loving, now helping, now praying, now meditating

ALWAYS I must remember that each of us: drunk, addict (male or female), by whatever name...was never really alone. Some of us have left an as-yet-uncounted number of people in our wakes--disillusioned, tired, untrusting, sometimes in that indescribable terror we could produce. There have been betrayals, lies, lies and more lies. Sometimes the one living with an drunk becomes more sick than the alcoholic, because the alkie has a drug to temporarily console him, while the partner frequently does not.

....well, that's about enough of this series of dimensional discussion from ME! If you read this far, you might agree.

On my scooter trip August 2010 (my second trip!), the camaraderie of the biking community was not a surprise, but rather a comforting feeling. Being an old guy out there on the road at dark midnight on two wheels, climbing a mountain in western Virginia alone was never scary--until I had inadvertently (yeah, right--grin!) cut in front of a pickup truck, with oversize wheels, and those Christmas decorations on top the cab--OK, so they are 'hunting lights', so what! Anyway, the driver tried his best to run me down. Well it WAS scary (I lied!) until I made a fast U-turn across the Interstate median (in the dark, right?)...I went south. He/she went north. Whew!

So it is at times lonely.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011


What do I mean by mental obsession and the 
obsessional character of alcoholism, the disease of lunacy?
(WAIT! Who asked that question, anyway? OH! Nobody?)

Well, as I understand it, we are all born with freedom of choice.
The degree of this varies from person to person, and from area to area in our lives.
In the case of neurotic people, our instincts take on certain patterns and directions,
sometimes so compulsive they cannot be broken by any ordinary effort of the will.
The alcoholic's compulsion to drink is like that.

As a smoker, for example, I had a deeply ingrained habit - I was almost an addict.
But I do not think that this habit was an actual obsession.
Doubtless it was broken by an act of my own will. Badly enough hurt, I gave up tobacco. Should smoking have repeatedly landed me in Naples Community Hospital,
I doubt that I would have made the trip many times before quitting.

But with my alcoholism, well, that was something else again.
No amount of desire to stop, no amount of punishment, could enable me to quit.
What was once a habit of drinking became an obsession of drinking - genuine lunacy

Message digested from writings of Barefoot Bob, 
My Friend...deceased

Monday, March 21, 2011


An artist friend, Ces, is as bored reading, as I am writing, about how wonderfullll etc., she is in life as wife, mother, artist, employed woman, artist, writer, painter, squiggler, and artist. Her work speaks for itself.

Periodically CES gives a drawing or painting to one of her readers through a "pick from a hat". Guess who won Sunday March 20, 2011...yep, me.

Ces wrote on her blog:
Steve E won the giveaway of The Young Lindol, a signed and matted giclee print on acid-free and archival materials. The mat measures 11"x14" with an 8"x10" window.


As the moon is so much full and high
That is when all the witches fly
And sometimes they cry

Yes...they try
To always deny
Their true feelings,

Though hidden
From  the rest of us
In beauty 

Of art, humor
And poetic expressions.

It is that most desired
And desirable
Passionate Compassion
Which a true witch experiences

Toward world's suffering Peeps
While moon's tide also weeps...
--Steve E

Saturday, March 19, 2011


 My Violin: Made by Georges Chanot, in Paris (France--grin!) in year 1856. Note the fancy chin rest, Rosewood. --Steve E

Just a quick post (My first EVER--'quick'!) Going to give my grandson a violin lesson. And I'm loving it! I have NEVER enjoyed--so I just did not do it--teaching violin. Even though I have a Masters in Music Ed,. I have HATED hearing those squeaking sounds coming out of a violin made from a cigar box. Played by a child who doesn't know how to blow her/his nose.

Today, I am thrilled, yes, honored, to go and teach a boy, age 12, a relative. He is SO receptive, actually EAGER to learn--diametrically opposed to his grandfather (me)!

I remind myself again, if I had not received help in stopping my alcohol addiction, I would have died at least 30 years ago. And never could have enjoyed this moment--today--and many others.

Love you. Love life. PEACE!

Thursday, March 17, 2011


 Sober Anniversary
For nearly twenty-five years I had sunk progressively into the alcoholic abyss of total self-centeredness, fear, EXTREME paranoia, alcoholic insanity and a life of utter chaos. Alcohol became as necessary for me to live...as air. It became my God, because whatever task assigned to me, my thought was constantly on the moment I'd be able to drink. "Soon...noon" I'd say to myself.

Following is a slightly edited reprint of my March 18, 2009 and 2010 blog post--

YEAR 1974

Five minutes before midnight on Monday March 18, 1974, I had my last and final drink of alcohol. At that moment I was infused with an opportunity available to many who suffer from the disease of alcoholism, but which comparatively few have accepted. It was a moment of choice, a turning point. I could continue to be among the "Unknowing", heading for certain and early death, or begin a second life, to be one with YOU--the minority of humans who are fortunate enough to be given another chance. I was allowed to live two complete and distinct lives in one lifetime. EVEN THOUGH I WANTED NO PART OF THIS DAMMMM'D AA CRAP!

It was very dark that Tuesday March 19th night (or so it seemed to me!) when I walked for the first time into an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting in Naples, Florida. Being  fashionably five minutes late, I was thinking, "DUMB, Steve--look what you've done now. This is the bottom of the barrel--the stupidest move you have EVER made...you sooo must really be sick!"  My plan had been to sneak quietly into the room, sit, shake, and sweat (the three s's?) in the back, and figure out how to get out of this predicament.

All I needed was a few (the proverbial "Couple Drinks, Judge--tha's all I ever had". LOL!) drinks to get me back to normal. Remember...I had my last drink just 21 hours before. (Yes, I had a desire to stop drinking--but only until after this AA meeting!) Yes, I certainly was willing to do ANYTHING to have a better life--anything...except stop drinking!

That same night though, I somehow knew that I would never drink again. And my job at the time was...BARTENDER, 6 nights a week!  I did not know how sobriety for me could happen, because nothing before had worked. I did not know that I COULD "not drink" one day at a time!

Well, a fellow came walking fast, out from that meeting, almost fell down the few steps, out into the parking lot smiling (Ugh!) and said, "I'm Jim F...welcome." Then, no questions asked, he guided me first into the meeting room, quickly past everyone. I "unobtrusively" bumped into a couple fellows, "unobtrusively" spilled someone's coffee, fell across a couple chairs on the way to--guess where?--OUT the door at the other end of the room! I was 'in and out' of AA in one minute?--grin!

Outside, Jim herded me across a small courtyard into a smaller, very smoky, very crowded room, called the "Beginner's Room". How did they know? The topic of this meeting was Steps One, Two, and Three. Thank God, when I arrived, they were already on Step TWO! I thought, one-third of the meeting must be over! Because all I wanted to do was get out of there.

Nothing did I remember from that meeting, except what they all shouted at one another at the end-not to me, of course! "Don't drink" and "Come back next week." But do you know what? That's what I heard them say. And that's exactly what I did!


Please Note: This 37th year has been the most difficult of my sobriety. Every mistake of mine can be turned into an experience which can help others. Any strength I've discovered in asking God to help me deal with failures can one day be given to another. Any hope I conjured will be the hope I can transmit any time to one who is hopeless. Peeps, our program works! If you wish more specifics, write me: fiddlemn@gmail.com (I am an open book, but not in the public domain--grin!)

This I have learned:  that God makes use of other people in order to work with us--and He talks with us through others--and that's how God was working in my life, in 1974...and now. I write this as witness that a completely helpless, hopeless, powerless, very sick man, age 40, enslaved to the drug alcohol (and a few other well-known pharmaceutical products) was scooped up and delivered from alcoholic bondage, and made well again.

Finally, I thank God for giving me you people, and thank YOU for giving me God!

And right here right now, blogger friends--wonderful 'Peeps' you all are--have shown me SO MUCH about how to live, how to love, and how to be of service in many ways. You have even spoken to me in your silence. Within me a heart burns with a fire of love for God, all He has created, and you bloggers. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

In an Attitude of Gratitude, Service, and Love!
Steve E.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011


In earlier days of flying, pilots used to brag--upon failure of their navigational instruments (or not having instruments)--that they flew "by the seat of their pants". In a way, this was true. I flew once in one of those little 'sit-behind-the-pilot' planes. It was constructed with a little wood, some metal, and a paper-like covering of the fuselage. Kinda flimsy, but it felt completely safe to ME!

Having been 'brutally' lied to and denied a plane ride when I was age 7...now by age 10-- I was READY! When we got up there (what, a thousand feet? Woo-Hoo!) I noticed that even a slight movement of my hips, or any body-adjustment, altered the handling of the aircraft. If I scooted in my seat one direction, we'd begin a slight turn. So...flying by the seat of your pants was NOT just a bon mot.

OKAY, that background brings me to this day. Whoever has been reading my blog for a time, knows that  I simply LOVE riding my Suzuki Bergman 650cc Motor Scooter (rain or shine, cold or warm!). A few days ago, I finally realized why. It is the same sensation as flying that itty-bitty airplane. I twitch the hip and the machine drifts the way I intended. Jiggle a little...and the bike responds accordingly. OH! the feeling of that 'personal' power! The ONLY difference is that these days when I stop. I put my feet on the ground.

The aeroplane used a different set of rules: no feet on the ground before the wheels were on the ground. Let's see...first the wheels, then  the feet. Wheels number one, feet number two. Wheels.....feet. It is a good thing I never became a pilot--grin!

"Oh, stewardess--which is first on the ground, the feet or the wheels?"


Several years ago I met in these blogs a very young newly sober mother who lives in B.C. We have not made a connection for more than a year, until two days ago. Atiyanna just commented on an old blog of mine (steveroni), to say that she is now sober FOUR YEARS March 16, 2011. I cannot tell you all how happy I am to read this news, and share it. Atiyanna Watermoon (earth name Tammy), formerly a regular contributor in our blog world, wrote that she may begin again blogging. Her blog (still 'dormantly' active) is HERE. I believe she would appreciate some encouragement to start writing again....

Recalling...I remember that Atiyanna was/is very active in AA, has a sponsor, works the steps, and I am proud to have known her--I joked in comments that she was "my favorite witch". I had never had any connection with a 'real witch' prior to that, nor since. I feel a part of her sobriety, as we ALL are a part of one another's trip to recovery.

Thank you, Atiyanna, for showing me and us--it only gets BETTER!

Monday, March 14, 2011


If you have seen this before now, go to the next blogger on your list, but if you have NOT
click THIS link -- This is educational, and seeing IS believing. Move the slider slowly for optimum effect. OK Steve...NOW do you believe in a Higher Power? Such as the ocean floor? The might of NATURE?

Please, who of us believe in prayer, now is a special time...and who of us do NOT, well...pray anyway, dammmmit! Who is going to be hurt by the longing, begging cry of a human asking for mercy for others?

This is all for today. Thank you for being here with me, I'm really shaken--not shaking.

Sunday, March 13, 2011


Think we'll ever grow up?


"The evil which men do lives after them.
The good is oft interred with their bones."

--Mark Antony: speech in Julias Caesar

Does it happen to every man, that at a certain age,
A little boy is trying desperately to break out?
To escape grownupship?

I was / am always that kid.
Adults everywhere, always--
Well, they act so mature...
Seemingly not just going somewhere
But they know WHERE!
Somehow, in some way, I
Admire that.
(Although I do like to surprise myself!)

Then again, mostly,
That little bird which
I am, I love to be.

(Recalling my poem:
"Fly little bird
Fly with the wind.
For if you don't
You'll have sinned.......")

Tweet, Tweet
Just be.
Just me.
Who else ever?

During my earlier life
I was always--always someone else.
Full of wisdom, Power
Handsome, with good teeth!

My childlike world of
Fantasy, make-believe lasted,
Well, long--until today at least

Maybe it was / is an escape
From becoming an adult.

When little boy
Has 'grownup' day
He becomes
Astute, in a way.
So all the Peeps will say
"Isn't he fine, smart and a
Good-looking young man?"
(They--sightless ones--grin!.)

'Cause, ugly as sin
Here me be,
Finally, really me.

No more nor less than
A hunk of clay
Forkful of hay
and, to be sure.....
A bit of manure!

Man's evil lives long on its own.
Good oft forgot, as is his very bone.

Thursday, March 10, 2011


On getting old----er, what was that word?

At the end of my day, I take inventory.
Of my character defects? Awww!
Well, maybe, but I meant of 'things'.
Do I still have a scooter, violin, computer?
How about Kindle and DROID...all toys!

On what do I REALLY base
My level of acuity? TWO questions:
How many things did I misplace (lose) today?
How many of those did I eventually locate?

Happy to say, today--of those, this one rare,
I found all which had been 'lost for good'.
Before dark set in, replacing the glare, and
As God's Mural faded, I understood:

Sweet Dark, I love you! Better see, think, and feel.
With help of wonder drug--caffeine--better perform.
No! I'm NOT in bed...OKAAAY?

Darkness is more than a place to hide
More than a time to sleep
Without 'dark', where would be Mars?
Where Universes, to be discovered soon?
And tell me O Muse--about  twinkling stars, and
Oh! Oh! How would I see my sweetest moon?

"Darkness calms the light.
Darkness feeds the soul.
Darkness helps us see."
  --Audrey, in a blog comment

"Oh darkness! I love darkness. Do you know you can
see best when your eyes are closed? When everything
is dark, your vision becomes acute."  
         --Artist, Master of proses, Blogger, Ces

"Who comes from light into darkness
may be first blinded, for only brief moments."
                    --Steve E

Darkness is God's canvas
Without darkness, there would be nothing
on which to paint the morning 'skye'...

So when I stay up half the night, and
Good-intentioned People ask me why,
I say "I'll tell you--Listen, it is simple!"

(Miles afar we hear a dog bark.)

"I just happen to love the dark!"

Image: Darkness_by_kororowoxDD2 in Deviant Art

Monday, March 7, 2011



I would not post this day's happening, if it did not almost bring me to anger-- I am guilty of everything else...but not anger!

This happened Monday March 7, 2011.

It is 7 AM Monday. 80-100 people are standing out in the morning's coolness, laughing, telling stories, friendly shouts all about. Small groups of recovering alcoholics sound as if they were leaving the Do-Drop-Inn at 3  AM. Normal sounds, as I happily (really!) ride up on my scooter. After parking--I call it 'docking'--I look around the 24-Hour Club to greet any special friends. And the following happens just too often:

I spotted a new guy about age 50, ultra thin--like the cigarettes he chain smokes. He is shaking, a bit unkempt (OK...a LOT unkempt!), scared, alone. As I shook his hand (sticky!), our conversation very nearly went like this......

ME:  "I'm Steve, I'm an alcoholic! Are you new at this meeting?"

HE:  "I'm Joe, I'm an alcoholic, too. This is my first AA meeting ever."

How long you been standing here?

'Bout 15 minutes.

Has anybody said anything to you?

Nope. Only you.

Let's talk.

OK. First, where's the bathroom?
Follow me, Joe...when you come out, I'll be waiting here.

(Note: nearly 100 people drinking coffee, eating pastry,
milling about, while Joe stood there among them, shaking, trembling, obviously ill. Nobody even said "Hello!" Yet, the Primary Purpose of an AA group is to help the alcoholic who is still suffering.

This would have pissed me, except that I felt my heart soften for this man. I decided to concentrate on him.)

Back to story:
Joe walked right behind me like would a sick puppy dog.
We took a couple chairs in the beginners' meeting. Joe, about age 50, could hardly walk. 
When one of us says "I'm Steve, I'm an alcoholic", and the other reveals himself, instant friendship arises. There occurs a certain trust and understanding between any two Peeps with a like illness--cancer, back injury, etc.

Neither of us would go to hell. We'd already been there.

During the meeting--these words from my new pigeon:
"My name is Joe, I'm a alcoholic. I been tryin' for years
to get sober, but I keep fallin' into that same rut--that pit.

I'll just go into the bar for one or two. Next thing I barely know, it is one or two in the morning, I'm so drunk I can't walk.

Joe continued: "I know now I can't do this by myself.
I've got to have help. I'm asking for help, please."

Joe has called me twice so far today, and we will meet in the morning before the 7 AM meeting. And, HEY, people! I did not become angry. I suddenly realized that God was doing for me what I could not do for myself. He sent me a drunk to help...on a day I really, REALLY needed one. Thank You, God!


a tribute


There is one among the many in every crowd, group, settlement, village, city, population, country, world, Universe. One is always that 'different' one, that 'sufferer', that 'teacher', that 'friend', that "healer", that one with which friendship happens (outside of close family) often in spontaneous fashion, seemingly as if 'meant'. (Not to confuse with "Meant for each other, etc."--grin!)

The longer I live, I find less chance in 'chance meeting'. There is a hidden design to the formation of lasting friendships. I believe everything which happens in God's world has a reason. Which reason now is time to introduce Dulce, the Peep I know.


Is she perfect? Or not
Is she sad...or glad?
Is Dulce good, or bad
Is she at least, at last

Hey Peeps! I don't know! This poet, Philosopher, Web Page Designer, English Teacher, Mother, Daughter, is who she IS. I am (sorry to say) much more judgmental regarding a wife, than a friend.


Dulce (last name withheld because I do not know it--grin!) has been to me a support I have found nowhere else. Her wise counsel has enabled me to climb out and away from demons which held me hostage for the past four years. This girl, 33 years less than my 78, has shown me light in places where only darkness held sway. My "life has taken on new meaning."

Unknown to most readers, Dulce designed my last four blogs. She has become a reader of certain books which I suggested, and a participant in the discussions of those--not to be named here. Her poetry flows endlessly and well, mixing English idiom with Spanish syntax. So meaningfully does Dulce write, that Peeps rave enthusiastically about her thought processes, and unsurpassed ability to communicate them. She is fair, honest, sensitive, and loving to her followers.

Favorite topics--as with many poets--are love, family, nature, philosophy, sadness, happiness, tributes to those she loves, and life.

The majority of her pieces are gems, book-worthy. Her two English blogs are "My Duality" and "Sweeter Poetry" (this 2nd one is "in remission"--on hold for awhile). 

I have met Peeps and made friends from around the world through Dulce's blogs. She has been my inspiration to write in verse. These nearly two years of our friendship has meant SO much to me. I can only pray she feels some of the same.

Thank you, Dulce for being my  special friend, 
for being YOU...
and for being HERE!

Love! And PEACE!  



Saturday, March 5, 2011


WHERE SHE STOPS--nobody knows

See there?
A spider-like creature
It is crawling ever-so-slowly
Across my ceiling
Above my bed
Over my head.

Where is this journey
Taking him...(name Harry)?
Taking his time...Harry.
Moving--if time had stopped
Why is he going nowhere
At last
I discovered he has not
Been one to tarry.

Harry is heading for the ceiling fan, (not turned on)
Slowly also moving around--Oh man!
Feeling again dizzy
So much to do
I should be really busy

Whole room is moving
Or is it only I?

Where fan, bug, whole world--
My Universe...seem spinning
It is the beginning of 'crazy'
My own non-sweet maze
Whirling, twirling, swirling.
It is ME going round and round
S L O W L Y...on
My own Carousel

I AM the Carousel

Yet simply a man, you know
Who still,after two long days
Lies dizzily in bed with Vertigo

Note 1.
This Vertigo is driving me to newer, sweeter insanity
With all childlike symptoms of Ring-Around-the-Rosie
Where all fell DOWN!--grin!

Note 2.
 'Spider'--a shadow of indentation in ceiling,
which keeps crawling, eventually to reach
absolutely nowhere.

Hope to be back commenting..SOON, SOON!

Top image: 
Deviant Art