Sunday, June 30, 2019

Uncle Fred & Miss Liberty's Torch...


Happy Independence Day!

My uncle, Frederick Leo Harris, 1984




UNCLE FRED AND THE TORCH OF MISS LIBERTY
In memory of Frederick Leo Harris

Uncle Fred was an unassuming kind of guy—
a master crane operator who ran
a long-necked crane for Canger, Inc.
He never boasted about it
didn’t speak of the special skills required
or dangers or the scope
of projects he was working on

nor did we even think to ask
except perhaps to inquire, conversationally
about where he was working
It could have been Jersey
or New York or sometimes Pennsylvania
He just put on his work clothes each morning
put in his eight hours, and came home
to their three room apartment
in Paterson, every night for dinner

On the 4th of July in 1984
Uncle Fred was the engineer
chosen to remove the original torch
from the hand of Lady Liberty

That particular Independence Day
marked the start of restorations
on the Statue of Liberty, with completion
targeted for her 100th birthday, in 1986

I don’t recall our uncle telling us
about it in advance. If he had
we undoubtedly would’ve been there
with our young children
to witness his feat

He probably dressed for work that morning
just like every other day
had his coffee, drove into the city
got himself to Liberty Island
and quietly set about doing 
exactly what a master crane operator
would be expected to do

There was a special ceremony
that Independence Day
with pomp and circumstance
a brass band and dignitaries—

and in the cab of the tall crane
hunched over the controls
sat our Uncle Fred, confidently
doing what needed to be done
to expertly bring down the old torch

The honor bestowed upon him
was completely lost on our Aunt Carol—
She was at home and unhappy
because he had to work on the holiday
and therefore they had to miss out
on normal 4th of July festivities
like a parade or a cook-out or fireworks
When a news reporter called
to ask her some questions
she let him know exactly how she felt
and what she said was directly quoted
in the newspaper the following day

It wasn’t until she saw a picture of him
standing next to the old torch
on the front page of the Paterson News
that she realized the illustrious way
he spent the 4th. Suddenly
she became overcome with pride
and fussed over him to no end
even though, I’m certain, Uncle Fred
could easily have done without
anybody fussing over him, at all

The original torch is on permanent display
in the base of the Statue of Liberty
with a plaque telling of its removal
and the statue’s restoration that followed
It includes no mention of our uncle’s name
which, surely, would not have bothered him

but we know, and we’re proud
and this poem is written to keep
that special memory of him alive

Maude Carolan Pych





Sunday, June 23, 2019

Summertime Sky Dancers...

It's officially...
Sum-sum-summertime!!!

Photo credit: pbs.org
SKY DANCERS

There's something happy about butterflies.
They flit-flitter as they flutter by,
flying flowers against the azure sky.

They alight upon the milkweed, and then
they circle, soar and alight again,
toe-dancing on pink petals in the glen.

Ever dwelling in hue and sweet fragrance,
in garden splendor, they flicker as they dance.
Pollination is purely happenstance.

I delight in their overflow of joy.
(They wouldn't even know how to be coy.)
A flame of mirth! A whirligig! A toy!

Do they recall they once were grubby worms,
remember well their dark and squiggly squirms?
Reborn, now grace and beauty each affirms!

This almost seems to be sheer fantasy,
sky dancers as enchanting as can be,
springing from blossoms right in front of me!

So, merrily a-nectaring they go,
reaping and sowing sweetness in day-glow…
Seems they have learned what all of us should know.

In contemplation of their simple ways,
I wish to add their ballet to my days,
to sky dance Heavenward on wings of praise!


Maude Carolan Pych

Sunday, June 16, 2019

A Father's Day Tribute to My Dad...

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY, DADDIES!

The following poem is in memory of my father,
Frank H. Walsh...

Frank H. Walsh
This photo was taken on the day
my parents were married.


THINKING ABOUT MY DAD
In memory of Frank H. Walsh ~ 1912-1985

I went to see The King’s Speech
the other night
This started me thinking about my father
who became a stutterer
as a result of nervousness derived
from his childhood battle
with crippling poliomyelitis

With child eyes
I never saw him crippled
though he walked with a pronounced limp
one leg being shorter than the other
He wore a heavy soled shoe
reinforced with steel with a metal brace
attached that extended up to his knee

I didn’t think of him as a stutterer either
though he had great difficulty
saying what he wanted to say
stammering over, over and over
trying to get the words to spring
from his tangled tongue

To me, he was just Dad
…ordinary Dad

Looking back now, I think of him
as extraordinary and tenacious
a “can-do” kind of father
…even an overcomer

Handicaps never seemed
to handicapped him
never kept him from doing
anything he set his mind to—

He wasn’t a builder, but
he built the house we grew up in
and a bungalow next door for Grandma
did all the plumbing, electrical work
installed the drywall, spackled, painted
built porches, set the sidewalks
climbed a ladder to the roof
He built a patio with an outdoor fireplace
and a cement wading pool, too
He erected a coop for chickens
which he raised from fertilized eggs
He slaughtered them
mom cleaned and we ate them
for Sunday dinner
He also plowed the backyard
and planted a big vegetable garden

You name it, he did it
and usually did it well

He sang “Heart of My Heart” and
“You Can Have Her, I Don’t Want Her,
She’s Too Fat for Me”
without any stammer at all
danced to a rollicking “Beer Barrel” polka
with his heavy shoe thumping the floor
and I’m told he even pedaled
his bike once, all the way up Skyline Drive

Dad took us on vacations every summer
usually tent camping at Bear Mountain
or the Adirondacks or Truro at Cape Cod
setting up camp and cots mostly himself

He built outboard motor boats,
Water Lily and Water Lily II
and a blue egg-shaped camper trailer
which he hitched to the back of our car

He brewed root beer
bottled it and we drank it
even though it was flat and fizz-less
and he brewed beer beer
I can still remember the smell
of it fermenting in a huge crock
in our spare room

When I was a child
I thought all daddies did those things
And when I got married
I thought husbands did those things

To say he was remarkable
seems an understatement—
I only hope some of the stuff he was made of
has worked its way into the bones and marrow
into the blood and sinews
into the gray that matters
into our Walsh family genes

Maude Carolan Pych

Sunday, June 9, 2019

Come Holy Spirit...


Today we celebrated Shevout/Pentecost
at Beth Israel Worship Center


Pentecost 1979 is my Spiritual Birthday!

Image credit: commongoodonline.org

ACTS, CHAPTER 2

Sometimes—
when I read my Bible
I imagine myself
there, in the rumpled, dog-eared pages
where and when remarkable things
were happening

For instance—
Oh, I wish I could’ve been
in the room that morning in Jerusalem
on the Day of Pentecost
when an astonishing sound
of rushing wind came from Heaven
and filled the place with the Holy Spirit

wish I could’ve been among
the crowd of bewildered people
clutching garments and belongings
securing food baskets and money bags
amid the sound of whirring wind
wondering what was going on

I would’ve seen with startled eyes
blazing tongues of fire appear
then split and rest above us all
would’ve heard the Galileans
miraculously uttering languages
they did not know
proclaiming good news
to people of every nation

Oh, joy! Euphoria!

I would’ve heard
preposterous ridicule and accusations
that we were drunk with wine
Drunk with wine so early in the morning!

Had I been there, I would’ve seen
Peter stand with his brethren
and quote the prophet Joel
and speak of Jesus
Crucifixion, Resurrection
and call us to repent

and finally, would’ve witnessed
three thousand souls receive salvation
and I would’ve been in that number

Oh! How great that would’ve been
How exciting to imagine

but, I didn’t need to be there
God had other plans—

On another Holy Pentecost
His Spirit came to rest on me
just as surely as it did
on the early believers
in Jerusalem, that day

and just the same as they
I have been changed

forever

Maude Carolan Pych

Sunday, June 2, 2019

Irises Are In Bloom

Presby Memorial Iris Garden, Montclair, NJ
essexcountyparks.org

THE IRIS GARDEN

I delightedly strolled
along an iris rainbow
one effulgent Sunday in May
while would-be VanGoghs
painted under sunbrellas.

God could’ve made irises gray,
but He’s as lavish with color
as He is with love.

Maude Carolan

Photo credit: mfacebook.com