Good Fortune

My little pup, Carmen, has found a spot near the door

She will occupy each time I leave the apartment. And

No matter how long I’m gone, she lies there waiting

Patiently for my return. Now, I don’t claim to know

Exactly what she is thinking, but I assume she believes

Her settling down in that comforting and customary

Place has something to do with an assurance that I will

Be coming home, and hopefully soon. And placing fate,

Chance or habit aside, at this point in both of our lives,

And as the best of good fortune would have it, I always do.

Chris Hanch  8-31-15 

Images from Faces in Focus

The Winds of Change

Had my father been killed in the war, and had my mother been

Born to poor farmers in the rice paddies of the Mekong Delta,

Had the arrival of the A-train in New York been running 5-minutes

Late one day, had the lioness missed her prey on the Serengeti

Plains, had the corn crop in Nebraska succumbed to a late hailstorm

Before the harvest, had the lone goose lost his flock in the fog dur-

ing the winter migration, had a certain sock been dropped on its

Trip to the laundry, had one child failed her math test at the school

Year’s end, had the old man died one day short of his ninety-fifth

Birthday, had the ship-wrecked shipmate survived, had the wind

Blown 2-kmph stronger out of the south on the Steppes of Russia in

May, half a world away, had the Big Bang, 14-billion years ago, errup-

ted one day late, had a young woman said, no, on her very first date…

I may have never been born to speak of all this today.

Chris Hanch  8-29-15

Then, There are Those Days

There are those days, most of them in fact,

When I never give a thought to water pumped

And pressurized leading to the faucet, when I

Pay no attention to the AC stream of electri-

city which with the flick of a switch pours

Light into the room. There are those days I

Never notice the dumpster of trash being

Hoisted and hauled away. I take it for granted

That my shoes will be there resting beside the

Chair when I’m ready for my walk. Some days

I fail to give thanks for the sun’s loyal return,

Though I need its burn to warm and feed me,

To lead me in the right direction for the day.

The heart beats and I breathe automatically.

I turn the key in the ignition and damn, the

Car won’t start. I realize then, that is the least of

My worries. Am I grateful? Usually not. I’ve be-
come accustomed to the routine of having it all.

You were expecting me to say something

Profound, weren’t you? Well, as it is with

Most days, I won’t.

Chris Hanch  8-28-15

Revival

A number of years ago I took this photo in St. Louis. In nearly 40-years of photography it remains one of my favorites soley based on its imagery content. A couple of years ago I had a mishap which ruined some of my very precious originals (this one included). I had an old copy of a copy of a copy which I tried to revive to an acceptable state. Because the scene speaks volumes, I wanted to share it with all of you. Hopefully you too will see the value of its soulful and heartfelt intent.

Statuary

Not in big city plaza or in small town square,

No, neither in a National Park nor even on the

estate of the wealthy will they erect a bronze

statue of me.

I never made war or stood tall in defense of one.

I never led thousands to slaughter in some legen-

dary charge; nor did I ever lead a country or a

people out of the bonds of tyranny.

I will not stand stiff and patina-covered in the

courtyard or halls of some prestigious university,

lauded visually as a pioneer of nation, discoverer

or innovator in science or government.

No not me. I shall not be idolized, memorialized

or cast dignified and larger than life at a stadium

portico for children to gawk at in awe and admira-

tion.

Copeland did compose a Fanfare for the Common

Man, but that’s about all one can hope for without

being honored specifically by name. No fortune nor

fame do I seek or deserve.

For my life has been droll comparatively and

comprised of lackluster and piddling deeds.

And for an image of me to wield a sword or

ride on horseback would be comedic travesty.

Just ask anyone who knows me. There isn’t a

suitable pose I could strike which wouldn’t cause

a passerby to laugh. No, in this lifetime, bronze

And I were never meant as a viable match.

Now I’m just guessing, but I suppose pretty much

The same goes for you.

Chris Hanch  8-27-15

From Faces in Focus

The Views

I am not here to climb the mountain;

some others are made to achieve that

rarified lofty elevation.

Likewise, I am not here to marathon

that winding terrain of miles; my legs are

accustomed to more leisurely activities.

I can see the altitude in your eyes, however;

and I judge that you have come a long, long

way indeed to see the horizons in me.

Correct me if I am mistaken—The views from

here are breathtakingly spectacular.

Chris Hanch  8-24-15

Academics

While at an appointment the other day, the doctor asked me if

I had ever lost my balance and fallen over? I must admit that I

was somewhat taken aback as I told her, no.

But given my years, I suppose it was an appropriate wake-up call

for me getting used to some new things happening as I grudgingly

proceed with my graduate studies for advancing old age.

Chris Hanch  8-23-15

Life is but a Dream

Life is like those dreams we have at night: sometimes we

Remember bits and pieces; sometimes we forget the story

When we awake. I have a foggy image of my past at best.

And the rest? Well, I tend to fill in the blanks with fond or

Terrifying shapes which add some drama for effect. Basi-

cally I got here repeating boring routine—you know, eat,

Sleep, Work and play. So today, my story (to hear me tell it)

Has been injected with some hefty doses of interest. In real-

ity I’ve had a few good meals, got some rest here and there,

Had a few so-so jobs and played on softball and volleyball

Teams in my younger more active years. All in all, with the

Dreams and realities not withstanding, I have managed to

Make it here, living and breathing in the waning years of my

Old age. You know how it is with dreams, the part which has

You dangling on the edge of peril, and somehow you manage

To awaken just before falling off the cliff to a certain death?

I suppose then that life is about awakening over and over again

Each day just in the nick of time. Dramatic, eh?

Chris Hanch  8-21-15

The End is Near (for Consuella)

I have a friend (even though she’s only on Facebook these days)

Who last week was alarmed when she came to the realization that

Friday was indeed only Thursday, or was it the other way around?

Old age, some of us have discovered, has a way of playing tricks

on the mind. And one of those moments struck me hard this mor-

ning as I looked into the bathroom mirror.

When you are young, the aging process is a subtle, barely neg-

ligible process which most days is not even perceptible to the

youthful human eye of denial.

Oh, a stray and errant gray hair here and there can be success-

fully eliminated with a swift and decisive plucking tweezer ma-

neuver.

But when you have exceeded the age limit of sixty-years, pro-

found changes in physical appearance are to be expected as

part and parcel of one’s daily routine.

Anyway, today I chanced looking into the bathroom mirror while

washing my hands. My days are numbered, I surmised, and I am

chilled. Oh, the darkness is calling. I feel it in my weary bones.

Time, oh time, you cruel and indiscriminant executioner; the

world is growing dimmer. And in a moment’s desperation I

looked up toward the heavens in prayer.

It was then I realized that I was not fading as fast as the vivid

imagination plaguing my head; the dimming of light was in fact

a matter of a burned-out light bulb instead.

Chris Hanch  8-18-15

Radical Change

North Korea’s Kim Jong-un has a humanitarian thought.

One day the squirrel decides he’d be better off wearing

A suit and tie. Isis throw down their weapons and make

Plans to open a soup kitchen for the world’s needy. Should

We all stand together on the first Monday of the month and

Agree that the world needs to experience some radical change,

There would still be those of us who would concede that the

Squirrel, strange as it may seem, could be on to something.

On Tuesday we could roll up our banners and all go back to work.

Chris Hanch  8-17-15    

Who Can Say?

I cannot say if from birth I was meant to walk this way

or if my behaviors were learned from an early age. Most

of us roll this way, day after day, thinking surely, no one

knows. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t.

Seems as if we are mostly a complete mystery unto our-

selves and others. I know chewing with my mouth closed,

and driving on the right side of the road were teachings

I follow to this day.

I have had an abiding sadness following me even from

before I learned to take my first step. And it took me

the better part of 68-years to learn how to limp properly

from all that weight.

Chris Hanch  8-15-15

There May Still be Time

I post these photographs, so many faces,

faces many of you have never seen before.

So who cares? You don’t know them. They

may appear pleasant or interesting enough,

but what do they have to do with you?

I’ll let you in on a little secret: Many of the

faces you see here are sadly now gone,

some of them are children no more, grown

into adult lives of their own. Some of these

faces reach back nearly 40-years in time.

I have but one rule I adhere to in posting these

photographic faces in time, and that is—not to

post any recent photos of myself. And it is in

deference to you I do this, my friends, who have

known me over the passing years.

Through my lined and graying image, I don’t wish

to alarm you with the disturbing reminder of how

old you too have grown. If you happen to be fewer

than 60-years, look often into the mirror. For you

there is a distinct possibility that there is yet some

time. 

Chris Hanch  8-13-15

Ramon (from Faces in Focus)

Earthly Routine (for Andy)

Here’s what happens: you awake, same time, same place.

Everything seems okay as it has for so many days. Coffee,

It refreshes and tastes the same. Your plans, nothing really

Special. Routine is there for you as it has been for the trees

Which line the streets—sunshine, a passing fuzzy cloud or two,

Birds flitting about, landing on branches, you know—the same.

And then a thought, watching everyone off to work, appoint-

ments, shopping. No one is really considering this little orb of

A planet on which we live. No one can see the big picture—

Star-clustered universality, cosmic calamities, solar systems

Winding down in minute planetary variations. You are no

Cosmologist, yet you sense that there are gyrations, rotations

Unforeseen fissions and fusions, collisions, explosions, conflagra-

tions of immense proportions taking place out there somewhere.

You are overwhelmed with helplessness at all the celestial imply-

cations. You nervously sip your coffee and come back to the com-

forting geniality of your earthly routine. You see children boarding

A school bus and are relieved as you routinely go about you busi-

ness. Doesn’t it seems that kids are starting back to school earlier

And earlier each year?

Chris Hanch  8-12-15

   

From Center High School Production of Shrek the Musical

Our Inheritance

I have read the last poem in the book. What now?

Shall I put down my pen, close the lid on my laptop

And write no more? What harm would be done

Should I never say another word? The day will come,

You know, when all the poetry and all the words

Will no longer seed the brain with flowering images.

What then, you ask? Well, my friends, eternity. And

We shall inherit the endless expanse of dark matter,

The stuff of which the entire universe is made.

Gather all the stars in their glory while you can.

Chris Hanch  8-11-15

Freedom to Roam the World

I won’t claim that technology saved me, but it has come

a long way. I have grown well beyond salvation. In fact, I

am old, old in a way that I can no longer run, skip or jump.

There are plenty of young folks out there more than wil-

ling to take my place in life’s grueling marathon race. Now,

I am relegated to hobbling my way toward the finish line.

I’m not complaining, mind you, but technology, like a new

pair of Nikes, has given me a somewhat emotional fleet-

footed and cushioned assist.

I can log onto Facebook, tweet my likes and dislikes, even

extol the Googlized delicacies of my delights on line, and

all from the comfort of my recliner at home.

I can rest my aching body, and in virtual reality travel the

world, even make new friends with the light-speed power

of the Internet without so much as getting up off my ass.

Why, I am reminded of those misfortunate individuals com-

mitted to nursing homes who don’t even have fractionally

the freedom of movement as that.

Chris Hanch  8-9-15

Proof, time passes too quickly

Routine

I tell myself each morning that it is all right if I limp with

A painful hip each day. I’ve earned the right getting here

To this place in my life. It is all right if I walk the dogs slow-

ly down the same street, pass the same houses and trees.

At least we know our way and the time of day. It is all right

That I routinely eat my dinner at 6 P.M. and retire for the

Evening by 9. I am entitled to the security of my habits at

This time when the days of my life are growing shorter. It

Is all right that I am an elderly man in training for the ever-

lasting sameness which follows me more closely each day

As I patiently wait to hear the calling of my name. Not to

Worry, it’s all right. That endless routine catches up to the

Best of us eventually.

Chris Hanch  8-6-15 

Strike Three

Sometimes we’re given choices in life. In our so-called free

Society we take it for granted that it’s our right. When asked

To call the coin toss, I always choose heads. When faced with

Two directions at a crossroads, I generally choose to go left.

I have a gift of sorts when at bat in baseball, I can elect to swing

Right-handed or left. I know my power lies with the right side

Which stands clearly on the left side of the plate. It would seem

I have the best of both worlds even though chances are I’ll usually

Strike out anyway. With coin tosses and left or right turn choices

There is a 50/50 chance; batting averages in baseball are a whole dif-

ferent story. That was my reasoning for choosing non-athletic careers

To make a living. Heads!...Damn it!

Chris Hanch  8-2-15

Dreams and Prayers

Mother was not a dreamer, at least she never talked of dreams.

Never once do I recall her saying, I sure would like to visit Hawaii

Some day, or if I felt better and was fit enough, I sure would love

To Hike the Himalayas in Tibet. In fact, she never spoke of distan-

ces very far away from home. All her life was lived within a 5 to 10

Mile radius of where she was born. Father on the other hand had

More dreams than he could manage, but glued himself grudgingly

To the task of family breadwinner. The only time he left the coun-

try was during WWII when he was stationed in the Virgin Islands.

Mother and father for the most part never saw eye-to-eye, and

Rarely if ever got along. One with no dreams, the other with so

Many unfulfilled. Both, however, believed in an all-loving, all-know-

ing, all-powerful god. Both were devout Catholics who prayed every

Day, each in their own way. Neither ever heard back from him in

Their lifetimes as far as I could tell. Unfortunately, God had been

Called away by the Catholics at that time to intercede in the conver-

Sion of Russia. I cannot say for sure, but as it turned out, perhaps

Answers came for that which they were told to pray.

Chris Hanch  8-2-15