Part 1

Do you ever grow tired of talking to people?
Making conversation?
Defending what you say?
Making a statement with absolutely no intention and
Having others twist, turn, or jack it up
So that it becomes something more?

I do.

I am.



Part 2

Do you ever sit in a room with others giving safe answers?
“I don’t know.”
“That’s crazy.”
Then after lounging in the conversation safe room
Getting accused of being grumpy, distant, or a terrible communicator.

I have.




Confusion reigns where loyalties are concerned,
Family, friends, hangers on,
I never quite know where everything rests,
What side of the fence to be on,
To straddle or to choose.

Whatever the right play,
It’s on my values, my beliefs, things important to me,
I can’t support the orange one,
His values do not align with mine,
I hope we come to our senses.

Still though, confusion is there
As I wonder where I fit in those groups,
In, out, mostly out as auto-tune has ruined country music,
Temperance has awakened my sensibilities, and
Ambivalence has calmed my need to fit in.

Truth is, I hate talking on the phone,
Not big with email or texting,
Can almost always sit in silence
Without much effort at all.
That’s why today was tough.

I’ve been sitting in my cocoon
Unable to muster the strength
To make the phone call I needed to make.
My friend’s father passed away,
I needed to call his mother.

She’s always called me her other son,
And like my mom, she’s been there for me
Able to yell at me without fear of me coming back
Like sons do to their mothers,
Able to teach me different lessons than my mom.

I’ve been lucky to know good women,
My grandmothers, strong and independent,
My mom, flexible and nurturing,
My wife, always giving me a necessary ego check and perfect partner,
And then, my other mom, lover of life.

To the end she stuck by her man,
He to her as well,
She making sure his final days went in dignity,
He making sure his final breath,
Was taken while she took a much needed rest.

I worried about calling her,
It had been so long since we last talked.
Would she be too upset to talk?
How wrong is it to call only in tragedy?
Would she even answer an unknown number?

Perhaps the fates lined up just right,
It was like I was back in the trailer
Getting lectured about what time to be home,
Where I was sleeping, and that we better not
Wake everyone up.

She told me stories and shared feelings
About how much I meant to her, how much she loves her son,
How Albert used to talk about me
And I started crying because it seems like
People just don’t share those things enough.

Heck, I’m struggling to type this now,
I was worn out before we talked,
Stupid life, schools, jobs, all the clutter in life
Was jamming me up so badly.
Thank G…, no thank Linda, I made that call.

She made me feel better with that mom’s way.

I very nearly cried today.
I fought it back, but they knew.
You know how
That masculine code is, it came into play,
That place where emotion is okay
As long as it’s the ass-kicking
Domination kind, right?

Today was different,
We won our last game and
As we realized that this was it,
I got emotional,
Thinking of how much this TEAM
Carried me,
Just an awesome bunch of kids
Who understood what friendships are,
Who showed what hard work is,
Who were simply fun to be around,
Wins or loses,
Because each day, we played as a team and got better,
Just as we set out to do back in November.

I’m so thankful to have been a part of their growth,
Their spirit something that carried me forward, as well,
And I’m not ashamed to say
That they made me cry
For this is what I’ve always hoped for as a coach
To be part of team
Players, coaches, managers, and parents
Who got it,
That wins and losses are icing, playing time is but a number,
But relationships and improvement are the greatest tasting cake,

And I’ll take that slice every single time.

I wipe my eyes to you guys,
Team on three…

1, 2, 3…

Maya Thomson (Soccer, Eight Bars Parents)

My mother has lost it.
She must have snapped something
During a downward dog.
I love my coach,
I guess I love my mom, too,
But it’s different,
Lately, I also hate her.

“How are you complicit in creating the conditions you don’t want?” Jerry Colonna

The yak herders gathered, gave big governments a finger, and got back to it.
They took their herds to the mountains,
Letting the yak experience their wild thing,
While the herders caught up with their old friends.

A bunch of adults logged onto social media threw convention out and got back to it.
They dropped their phones, drove their own cars, and talked to each other
Letting their friends know how much
They missed each other’s company.

The herders realized the world was changing,
Embracing the debt ridden ways of the other side of the world neighbors
They realized there was no money to be made herding yak
So they begged governments for assistance.

The bunch of adults began feeling withdrawal
A pineal pain from not staring at their phones for hours.
Their social stimulation waned
So they told their friends, “later,” and they’d hit them up on Facebook.