The Wisdom of Age

The Wisdom of Age teaches us to take smaller

bites out of life. As a younger man, I was often

guilty of biting-off more than I could chew. And thus,

in my time, I have quite befittingly had my share

of life jumping up and biting me in the ass. It should

then be no wonder to me that I now sit in the easy

chair of retirement, listing to one side a bit unevenly.

Chris Hanch 8-31-17

Matter Matters

I climb the stairs, walk the dog, feed my face,

Reorganize, reproduce and replace as if it really

matters. You in your everyday, and in your own

way, do the same.

Matter, the stuff of which the univers is made

from the largest most brilliant of stars to the

smallest, microbial, elemental state. Matter

matters as long as it is, as long as it does.

It matters that you give a damn; it matters if you

don’t. Matter, monumental as mountains, minute

as atoms invisible to the naked eye; motionless as

stone, matter which flies by at the speed of light.

Yesterday no longer matters unless it happened to

contain a mistake for which you now must pay. The

hammer you hold in your hand is made of matter

which will change matters you are about to undertake.

Life itself depends on matter, make no mistake. Life

matters for the living. For all others, matters may have

drastically changed. Matter is matter as long as it is,

and it matters until it no longer does.

Chris Hanch 8-30-17

Lost and Sometimes Found

Lost and Sometimes Found

I don’t know why there is a certain justice

hidden in the notes Beethoven composed.

Each day the question arises, is there true

salvation hidden in the lines I write?

Some claim it is a gift given, the light a soul

emits in the darkness of night. Why is it that

I have come to love the sounds crickets make

in order to attract their mates?

Sunlight crossing the window sill at dawn

occasionally melts the bars of my confinement.

What will it take to sever the ball and chain I

was shackled with at birth?

I have been given so few answers throughout

my seventy-years of life. There are, however,

those glorious days of revelation when Picasso

speaks to me cubistically from the grave.

Even so, I find that sometimes I still need a bit

of help with the translation.

Chris Hanch 8-29-17

Justice?

As we age, we are relegated to adjust to the darkness.

It comes as no surprise then when we are exiled to dwell

under the cellar’s dim light clinging to our memories.

I once knew a man claiming to be St. Sebastian incarnate

who had been shot with a thousand arrows of fear and

hatred in a previous life.

The President pardons a bigoted sheriff, and mountains of

contaminated soil are shoveled onto the graves of Martin

Luther King Jr. and Nelson Mandela.

Why is it we are so forgetful of our struggles at birth and

live the rest of our lives fearful of dying? Every breath

taken is reprieve from the damp dungeon of last night.

Chris Hanch 8-27-17

We Learn, Sometimes

The stalled car on the interstate refuses to

to respond to reason. The flee-infested dog

scratches at an itch which cannot be reached.

Ahab found it hard to believe that he was living

in a story larger than he. The worm made it to

dry soil only to become breakfast for the bird.

Most who live in developed countries learn to

refrigerate mayonaise after the jar had been

opened. How many times a day do we ask, why?

Ever wonder why free speech can sometimes be

so costly? Christopher, the world does not owe

you answers. The worm never saw it coming.

Chris Hanch 8-24-17

A Certain Place in Time

A Certain Place in Time

One day you awaken and consider where you

would be without the automobile or last night’s

dream which brought you here? It’s easy to end

a sentence of such thought with a question mark.

You do it without the answers several times

a day, millions of times in a lifetime of question-

ing. Where indeed would you be without the

zipper on your jeans, without tube socks to

slip on your feet? Turns out you where born

at just the right time in history. No, all the wars

have not yet been fought, and you have no need

to arm yourself, at least not today. I have often

thought about gas furnaces and electricity which

courses through neighborhoods which surround

me. There are folks who live with limited possibilities,

you know, those who awaken on a desert islands with

little or no connectivity, who have their own questions

in mind. Some even begin their day with a stroll into

the Forest of Mystery searching for two twigs of a

certain kind to rub together. A fire? Yes, of course…

sometimes.

Chris Hanch 8-22-17

Proclamations

We live in a day and age where tee-shirts and

ball caps are all the rage. The place you vaca-

tioned years ago, your favorite team, player

and logo, a product slogan, some obnoxious

and ridiculous saying, all silkscreen imprinted

front and back for the world to see. Not me. I

shall not advertise my social, political or per-

sonal preferences. I refuse to display on my

person some wealthy professional sport’s figure

name. I would be ashamed to don a ball cap which

proclaims, “Make America Great Again,” as the

idiot who made that a slogan a touchstone for his

repugnant campaign has neglected to realize and

relate that all the attributes of our already great

country was never lost or relinquished in the first

place. No, those mobile billboards of ignorance

and personal preference shall never work their way

into the wardrobe I choose to wear each day. Were

I to select something, however, that one thing I

should feel least embarrassed to exhibit publically,

it might be the word, “Nuts!” Others may then have

their opinion about my intentions to relate—Is it

pistachio, pecan, perhaps cashew he promotes or is

his a broad, sweeping social outcry covering a

poignant proclamation of disdain due to the course

taken in our democratic society today? “Bullshit”

may be a more descriptive and emphatic declaration,

but certainly not appropriate for children under the

age of eight.

Chris Hanch 8-21-17

Morning Routine

Here there are no practical answers to find.

You might try the self-help section at your

local book store. Or, Google it should you

be so inclined.

Likewise, there is no story here to tell. I’d

refer you to the local library which has on its

shelves many renowned authors who know

how to spin a tale exceptionally well.

I shall not attempt to review history. The only

date which comes to mind is 1066. And, most

will agree, the Battle of Hastings is of little

consequence for the likes of you and me.

For a laugh, I would suggest Comedy Central,

Stephen Colbert or SNL. For you see, dear

reader, none of the above am I either inclined

or predisposed to tell.

This is merely my routine morning exercise

where I slip on a word or two, like a soft and

supple pair of kid gloves, hoping for a comfy

fit of thoughts, and just the right size.

Go ahead, you try these on…

Chris Hanch 8-20-17

A Pronounced Deficiency

So sorry if I seem in a hurry

today. I feel compelled to rush

what I’m about to say. No, I’m

not in any particular danger of

which I am aware, although I

am of an age when at any given

time now, failure of my vitals

could conceivably occur. You

see, each morning left to me

in this life of mine, I try to say

in a written way something of

value, passing along to you,

hopefully, a tidbit of worth.

However, be that as it may, I

need to speed up whatever

I find at the top of my mind

today. For you see I have been

pressed by this message of

a pending deficiency which my

computer has deemed urgent

for me to heed—its battery has

but 10% energy remaining in its

optimal capacity. Oh damn, now

it’s only five. For now, my friends,

I bid you a temporary farewell.

I shall return soon provided that

the infrastructure of my personal

physicality does not falter or fail.

And until such time, I remain

hopeful that this inconvenient

delay shall not render me obli-

vious of that which I was pre-

viously about to say.

Chris Hanch 8-18-17

Cat and Mouse

The cat bats the mouse around, yet refuses to ask for forgiveness.

There are those, although they be far and few between, who search

for poetry in the isles of Walmart.

The groundskeeper mows grass knowing it will need cutting again

next week. Had Martin Luther King been allowed to speak longer

his message may have reached us sooner.

A shoestring breaks, and the athlete throws a perfectly good pair of

shoes away. If life made a lot of sense to us, we’d all be candidates

for induction into the World Serious Hall of Fame.

Why do so many have to endure so much pain? It is doubtful that

even a 9.5 on the Richter Scale of Quakes will realign our mind-set

to acheive a more acceptable shape.

A premium is paid to display certain products on the end-cap of

every isle. You happen to prefer certain brand names, and you’re

willing to exhaust the better part of you day searching.

Whitman spent a lifetime applying his voice in a unique way to

linguistically embellish the ordinary and mundane. For the cat,

it’s all a game; words don’t matter. Mouse, he isn’t playing …

He sees this batting around thing as serious business.

Chris Hanch 8-17-17

You and I, Everyone Alive and Able

You and I, everyone alive and able to

read these lines, have waited billions of

years to get here. Many stars ignited and

have gone dark in the passage of time.

Names and faces we will never know

blazed all these trails which lead back

to the first breath of oxygen inhaled.

How many days must we awaken to the

blindness of our captivity? Darkness then

light, no wonder we carry such fearful-

ness in our hearts and minds. Some find

prayer helpful; others find a large stone

and cling to it for dear life. Every story

turns out to be the same. This theme we

are living shall go on into eternity, long

past the idea of you and me. Consider this,

who shall be born to replace us? Who,

indeed, will remain to mourn our passing?

Please remind me once again, who are you,

what is your name? Let’s hold hands

And get through this together.

Chris Hanch 8-16-17

Mindset

No longer can I run and jump. The speed

of light, the agility and might of youth have

all been spent.

The wishes and dreams of my prime, the

vitality of those formidable years have come

and gone over time.

For that which I had hoped and lost, or never

quite achieved, I must accept with a measure

of sorow and regret.

Tip me over and you shall see, the life which

remains in me now flows with the viscosity of

pure molases.

To the touch, some would agree, there lies this

undeniable bittersweet mindset, an intractable

tackiness which still clings to me.

Chris Hanch 8-13-17 

Entreaty

In the quiet design of a single ant at work, I have come

of age. There are unseen gears here which grind beyond

our ability to hear. I have come to understand that my

legacy has neither perceptibly enhanced nor deleteriously

disrupted the Universal Decree of Orthodoxy. I shall leave

this life as I entered, with my silent cries and a footprint no

larger or impactful than a speck of dust. I do pray, however,

to the Greatness of Creation, humbly entreating that every

culture in goodness and gratitude thrive. And that a bountiful

Mother Earth continues to provide, and in turn is honored

to receive the grateful and rhythmic drumbeat of mankind’s

dancing feet.

Chris Hanch 8-10-17    

Ledger of Life

Some say that with age we can trace every line engraved

into our face back to childhood. By the looks of it, those

times were harder than I had imagined. Did you know that

in a hidden recess of the mind there is an accountant who

keeps busy every day logging our ledgers with each word

we say. More than likely, you and I have been silently

grieving our losses with deep-seeded emotions mere words

cannot explain. How long can the world continue repeating

life’s lessons to us? Time’s a wasting, and yet there is so

much left to learn. I once met a woman, eighty-some years

old, who claimed at heart she felt as if she was still a teenager.

At the time, nearly twenty-years her younger, I behaved as

if I were twice her age. Hesitant at first, I agreed to walk

with her. But first, I had to grab my cane. You may be

wondering why I feel the need to share my current state

of affairs with you? Well, my accountant tells me that as of

late I have been running a word deficit, and I need to make

up for lost time. This is not uncommon, I am told, when one

grows older and lives alone. And talking with your dog counts

for some, but not nearly enough. Seems that’s about all the

verbiage I can muster today. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll have more

to say...Good girl, now let’s go get a treat!

Chris Hanch 8-9-17

One Man's Advise

I am not surprised that my first cup of coffee is too hot

to drink. I’ve gotten this far along in life being mindful
of certain constructs. Believe me when I say, nothing
thrills me more than thinking outside the box. I have at

times been accused of foolish and reckless moves, and
Lord knows for some of those I have certainly paid the
price. Shortcuts and defiance, at times, do not end well.

(The house constructed hastily without a proper founda-
tion will settle unevenly and eventually fail.) But, what
the hell, I am only human, and blazing new trails is woven
inextricably into my DNA. Be advised, for a price, there

are those more than willing to give us advise for living
our lives. But for many, one man’s formula for success
does not necessarily apply. As for me personally, each
new day begs to blow at first ever so carefully. Then

when the temperature is just right, I tend to take another
sip or two cautiously as reassurance before haphazardly
guzzling down the rest of my day. And all this wisdom I

humbly submit to you at no charge. You're welcome.

Chris Hanch 8-8-17

Choices You and I May Have Made

Each day there are decisions to make.

The ant, never having slept through the

night, always follows, never hesitates,

knows unquestionably which way to go.

You and I, indeed all of humankind, are

faced with a perplexing dilemma each

morning we rise. Below the surface of

our existence, creatures we cannot see

from our island are perpetually at work

as we contemplate our options trying to

decide which are the appropriate pronouns

to position at the center of our day—you

and me, he, she, it, this and that or perhaps

a select bundling of our preferences into

groups of them and they?

I for one have made my choices for today.

I cannot speak for them or the selections

they may have made. What say you?

Chris Hanch 8-7-17

Inevitably the Mystery

We are given but three tasks at birth, one of which is

taken from us before the age of five. Another we use

over and over again. It gets us only so far, and wears

thin sometime around the age of fifty or so. We all

have our expectations. Humans are such a frail and

naive creatures. Birds and trees, indeed the oceans,

even mountains are given but one assignment to

achieve. They are the true believers, never doubting

what needs to be done. It is that third thing, the un-

discovered or ignored which so often seems to elude

us throughout our lives. And now, facing the Twilight

of Time, we sit closest to the Throne of Eternity in the

company of those who have passed. And having never

asked, the mystery is unwrapped inevitably. It should

have come as no surprise, the elders have alluded to it

so many times. Weren’t you listening? Sunset at last—

It is time to embrace The Night.

Chris Hanch 8-6-17

Just Saying

That which inspires me to write these lines every morning,

you have more than likely thought a thousand times.

Some of us make our beds each morning even though we’re

not expecting visitors to arrive.

The tree has survived decades of stormy weather. In summer

we cherish the shade it provides, and yet we never applaud.

Perhaps travel abroad will provide that exotic adventure you desire.

Morocco comes to mind. Your discover your passport has expired.

There is a reason so many of us appreciate a good grilled cheese

sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup on a cold winter’s day.

This is yet another chance for you to speak up. What thoughts are

sweeping through your mind today? Please explain?

Chris Hanch 8-5-17

Feel the Pain

Today you awake with a toothache on the brain.

(Actually, the teeth have nothing to do with what

you’re feeling, but the blame has to be placed

somewhere.)

You don’t feel like smiling, so instead of pointing

the finger at that inconsiderate neighbor next door,

your anger turns inward, and a defenseless molar

becomes the focus of your ire.

You could have kicked the dog instead, but you

realize that teeth have a tendency of rotting away

while hiding beneath the gums. Be that as it may,

you feel the pain. It is palpable and real.

There has to be a root cause for the distress you

feel. And suddenly it all makes perfect sense—

teeth do have roots hidden from view. It’s difficult

to explain, but clear enough to presume, a decay-

ing tooth is to blame.

There is this pain just below the surface, which no

matter how hard you try, cannot be brushed away.

Insufferably, you trudge through your day with a

damnable toothache on the brain.

Chris Hanch 8-4-17

Practically Speaking

When I drove a car, I never

dreamed of some day owning a

Mercedes, a Jaguar or Rolls

Royce. For me, a Chevy or Ford,

as far as price and style are con-

cerned, seemed to suit me just fine.

I’ve always considered living (and

driving) in the lap of luxury as

basically a pie-in-the-ski, hoity

toity state of mind. You can sport

your Porsche or Ferrari, but as for

me, practically speaking, even

had I the financial ability, I’d

rather prefer a cheaper more

economically feasible car,

one which starts reliably when

I turn the key, and stops on a

dime reasonably quickly when

there is the need. No, the flashy

pretense of elegance and speed

in the automotive arena are not

prerequisites for me. I’d much

rather have the financial ability

to take a friend to dinner occa-

sionally. “Damn the expense!”

I’d tell them in a reassuring tone

of magnanimity. “Get a side of

fries with that. And what the hell,

have them top that burger with a

slice of cheese. You only live once,

and this one’s on me. You did

drive after all.”

Chris Hanch 8-3-17

New Reality

You were given a plastic spoon with

which to dig. It’s okay, China is a place

you will probably never visit anyway.

You have come to believe that with

every breath you take, a lightning bolt

strikes the earth somewhere.

When the teacher called on you in the

fifth grade, you complained that there

were too many words to memorize.

It’s just not fair that the baby bird fell

out of the nest unfortunately before it

developed the ability to fly.

You stood in front of the class as a

nervous sweet rolled down your chest,

having forgotten the next line.

It was then you realized the cruelty of it

all. And this was only another beginning,

not the end.

Chris Hanch 8-2-17 

Random Thoughts for Yet Another August

It is not my duty to explain the world to you.

My mistakes will not end all the goodnesses

which bear fruit. Cloud formations take shape

and you see hope for the future. I have lived

much of my life beneath the ground. You re-

spond to Frost; I have a tough time making

my stanzas rhyme. It is right that we set aside

our differences and move on. Let's put an end

to all this madness. I have the need for uncon-

ditional love. I hug my dog in the morning

before deciding to go on. A wagging tail tells

me it’s worth it. Someone is knocking at the

door. Today, I will ignore all warnings. I have

been lied to so many times before.

Chris Hanch 8-1-17