Not a fun place, but this is what our Dads, Uncles, Grandpas, Mothers,, Neighbors-- hard working Americans-- did. The aftermath of World War II ushered in an era where farmers struggled to make a living; while industry offered financial security and the opportunity of a fresh start in the suburbs. For us Baby Boomers, this is part of our story--a tie that binds--and a tie tack as proof.
Welcome to my blog, a playground where I enjoy lingering to exercise my literary voice. May these words, poems, essays, inspire you to exercise your own "author within."
Monday, March 14, 2016
The Diamond
My father, Stanley James Harris, gave 29 years of his life to the Diamond Shamrock, fka the Diamond Alkali, until 1976 when they rolled up the bankroll and headed south, leaving in its wake hundreds without employment, an environment rippled with toxic waste, tens of thousands with lung and genetic disorders, and a burden on local, state, and federal taxpayers to clean the lake and scrub the land. My mother, grandparents, uncles, neighbors, fathers of classmates worked there, too. Nearly everyone in my hometown was related to or knew someone who worked there.
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
Winter Clings
By Katherine Harris Szerdy
Single solitary snowflakes drop
pause
slide
A lovely dance paced against the backdrop of
a Pastel sunset.
A scattering of gentle silent spinners
float playfully like downy milkweed
Flit here, flit there
Sassy
Syncopated
as though they had wings and conscious intent,
Lighting upon the fence post until
A slight breeze resumes their choreography
Down
Down
Down
to the dried leaf of last year's hosta,
Gliding to the ground like a downy feather of a baby sparrow nesting in the birdhouse I built with Papa last spring and
Nailed to the trunk of the old oak
Whose bark, if you stare at it intently
Resembles an old Iroquois chief winking
As winter clings but springtime claims
Its territory
Its time.
Copyright 2016 by Katherine Harris Szerdy
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