In Case There Is

It keeps recurring, the losses and the gains.

It’s a long bittersweet song with the same

refrain playing over and over again. Life

and death, the irrefutable act keeps hap-

pening, what is lost is somehow regained.

Some claim there is a god to thank and

blame. Some rely on a continuum, we keep

trying life until we somehow get it right.

There is a plan so grand I don’t understand.

Get over it, they say, it simply works that way.

Consider this, we are but a link in an inter-

changeable biological chain. And where it

all leads, no one can rightly say. Still I grieve

the losses and applaud the gains. Now,

personally. I don’t see a heaven which may

await us in the end. But in case there is, I

believe dogs should be allowed to enter

before man. If you ever had one as a best

friend, surely you know what I mean. And

a time ago, based on the merit of loyalty

alone, Mark Twain has also agreed.

                  -30-

Chris Hanch 12-29-19

Between Now and Then

Between now and then

is the link, the connecting

element between the be-

ginning and the end. Now

is where I am presently,

then a place I could be

relatively, the before and

after, if you will, of where

I have been or shall be.

It’s a matter of locality,

you see, given current

positioning. Confused?

Indubitably. In the begin-

ning, I was before now,

and I shall have been in

the end. That which has

taken place between now

and then is somewhat of

a conundrum, placing you

and I juxtaposed in relative

proximity. Two steps this

way and you come before;

two steps that way and you

are after. And I being situ-

ated in the middle am rele-

gated somewhere in between

the now and enigmatic then

which has either happened

or yet to begin. Who can say

what has already occured or

shall take place then? So there,

now you have it. Some days,

now and then, I seem to

comprehend. Next time I’ll

discuss, Before and After,

a side-by-side comparison—

Me as I once was; me as
I am now.

Chris Hanch 12-28-19

Low the Possibilities

Must be the bulbous red nose,

possibly the made-up eyes

and turned-down lips

which glower a frown.

Or could be the right-side-up

paint to simulate a smile.

Might even be the baggy

patchwork outfit which

sags and drags. Such a

bedraggled figure you make,

no mother would either claim

or appreciate. That’s the

ticket, isn’t it—you’re the

bawdy, freakish specimen

out for laughter, pity or fright.

Why, even children cower and

cry at the sight. Ever been

labeled a clown? Lose those

gigantic floppy shoes, and

undo that bawdy bespeckled

tie. What mystifies and beats

the living crap out of me is that

you had to go to school to learn

those ridiculous and pitiful traits.

And to think, with a measure of

BS and some lies thrown in here

and there, you could have gone

to Washington D.C. and made

the big bucks instead.

Chris Hanch 12-27-19

The Sea of Universality

Got to thinking what could be?

What of the solar system, the sun

and all its planets? I breathe in

deeply digesting all my imaginings.

And then I take in the magnitude

of the Milky Way in its entirety.

Next on the menu of mind and

matter, Andromeda, then Triangu-

lum and Centaurus, all light years

away. Light, the speed and brilliance,

the splendor and shining of it in the

night sky mirrored in my eye, the seen

and unseen beyond my exploded

envisioning. Can’t help feasting on all

the possibilities as the cosmos like-

wise consumes me, the insignificant

grain of sand I am stranded here Earth-

bound, lost in the forever expanding

Sea of Universality.

Chris Hanch 12-27-19

There Comes a Time

There comes a time. Hard luck some claim, a bad

run of it. Sure, but why now, why me? Some will

question entreatingly. A harsh reality, you come to

understand, but nonetheless a fair interrogatory.

Bad vibes. I’ve tried my best and yet the fates

are not on my side. Why this, why now, why me?

And should a response come out loud and with

all honesty, Life says, it’s time, your turn. You’re

not the first or the last, you see. Happens to every-

one eventually. Get over it; don’t take it so personally.

And still pleadingly you decry, Yes, but why?

Chris Hanch 12-25-19

The Need

Drip, drip, drip, day after day.

I seek to see no new faces today.

Needn’t meet and greet customers

or passersby either for I am retired

and have nothing of consequence to

say. I feel more fortunate than most

that way. Drip, drip, drip, time slowly

drips away, day after day. We all pay

with our youth, so to say. Easy peasy,

breezy, sleazy, Humpty Dumpty, fiddle

faddle, brick-a-brack come what may.

Drip, drip, drip, faucets, damned leaky

faucets piss me off. I’ve got one of

those. Must call maintenance, the

only face I need to remedy the in-

cessant dripping today.

Fa-la-la, La-la-la-la!

Chris Hanch 12-23-19

Sometimes and Then Again...

You’ve seen one sunset…

screw it, that’s all you get.

The owl hoots, who? And

the feathers point to you.

Trees in the forest yesterday are

the same trees in the forest

today, plus or minus one or two.

Some lines rhyme, some lines

refuse submitting to conformity.

Raccoon wear masks to conceal

their identity.

What’s good for the goose is

good for another, no matter

the gender.

The 2 by 4 inflicts splinters galore.

Some days it doesn’t pay to be

a carpenter.

Tweedledum, Tweedledee, the

child got lost playing hide and

seek.

In this modern day and age

all new automobiles look

the same.

Remove the meat from the

freezer and let it thaw all

day long. Oh no, not ham-

burger for dinner again.

A herd of buffalo sings the

Hallelujah Chorus on the

radio, Bluetooth for some

of you. (Handel turns over

in his grave.)

Sing a song of Sixpence then

move along. There’s nothing to

see here.

Crazy, you say? Who’s the one

who read the whole thing through?

Merry Christmas to all, and

to all a good night.

Chris Hanch 12-24-19

Evolution

Same shoulders, same hips, same knees?

Evolution which got me here in time and place

is the same evolution which shall summarily

take me away. Although I have come to realize

the changes in considering the process, I am still

amazed. That which has grown older in me has

peaked and begun to recede. I can cry, moan and

groan, curse and plead, but change is change which

will not allow me to retain the younger me I used

to be. Slumped shoulders, arthritic hips, weak-

ened and aching knees. Look at me, the victim of

evolution time has made me out to be. Mirrors,

the adversary reflecting pathetic images of the

damned wrinkled progression of disintegration

which has all too sudden come over me. Same

shoulders, same hips, same knees? No, biolog-

ically speaking, evolution has reclaimed the

best parts of the human specimen I used to be.

Chris Hanch 12-21-19

The Great Escape

Each afternoon I listen to music in my

living room, I am transported to different

places, I am renewed.

I can find a cozy position in my recliner

where the pain of my arthritis is minimized.

I lean back, lift my legs and close my eyes.

Beethoven plays classically as I’m drifting

away. I swing with the Eagles harmoniously

who bring out nostalgia of the times in me.

Peter, Paul and Mary, Seger and Dylan take

me back to a time I was only allowed to

protest and participate lyrically.

And then there’s Bennett’s musical score for

Victory at Sea, a series on World War II, I

watched as a kid with my dad on TV.

Out of Africa movie music and Ladysmith

Black Mambazo satisfy me adventurously

with their scope of the South African theme.

I can relish and savor my blues with Muddy

Waters or whisk them away with the soothing

orchestrations of Yanni.

Alexa, volume up! I escape the weight of

my weary brain as the day wears on, and

poof...magically, I'm on my way, I’m gone!

Chris Hanch 12-22-19

Some Thoughts about Thoughts

I have thoughts, and most certainly my two dogs

have their own thoughts as well. Of course they

have no idea about mine, and that is a good thing

for I often question the sanity of my thinking. These

two pups of mine have been with me side-by-side a

long, long time, so long I sometimes feel as if we

must certainly be of one mind. Foolish of me, though.

Just because they react instinctively to my every move,

how self-possessed I must be to believe they can actu-

ally read my mind. And as for me, to know whatever

it is they are thinking, one can only imagine. Likeli-

hood is, however, I’d be dead wrong. Even so, given

their unspoken thoughts and mine, for the most part,

we still manage to get along fine. But then, that’s just

me speaking my own mind.

Chris Hanch 12-21-20

Booze is the Only Answer

Booze is the only answer. There was a time

in my dad’s life when his response to most

questions asked of him would be a big grin

from ear to ear and his smart-ass retort,

Booze is the only answer. Dad had been

through a lot personally at the time—

divorce from my mom, job after job which

led nowhere, bills to pay with little or no

money to speak of. Indeed, he turned to the

bottle for some temporary relief. His second

wife, LaVonne was confused and posed her

quandary to me one day at their home when

my dad was in the bathroom: It’s beyond me

how your dad can get so intoxicated on one

beer? He’s been sipping on that one for an

hour, and he’s plowed. I, having no answer

either shrugged my shoulders and agreed,

it was mystery. LaVonne left the room to

fix dinner, and dad returned. He whispered

to me, Come here, and I followed him into

the bedroom where he opened the closet

door, reached up onto the shelf above and

pulled out a fifth of vodka. He took a big swig

and handed the bottle to me. I took a couple

of hefty gulps and we went back into the living

room. I started to feel the dizzying affects of the

vodka, and had the answer to LaVonne’s per-

plexing question. Dad winked at me smiling like

a fox who had just raided the hen house. Booze

is the only answer, he whispered to me. I was

unquestionably my father’s son and eventually

wound up getting my own divorce. And subse-

quently, I too had a run in with financial difficul-

ties. I took to drinking too. However, for me,

no matter how hard I tried, I never could seem

to find any answers in the cheap brand of vodka

I could barely afford to drink at the time.

Chris Hanch 12-20-19

What Could Have Been?

In grammar school had I payed closer

attention in class, had I done my home-

work consistently, had I studied for

tests more diligently, perhaps I could

have grown up to be what I wanted to be.

Heaven knows what I may have become

had I taken more responsibility for my

own destiny. I suppose I considered day

dreaming about Annette Funicello,

baseball and drawing cartoons instead

of applying myself to the lessons at hand

fit me most appropriately. I remember

the day in eighth grade when Sister Anne

Vincetta scolded Bobby Tilley for standing

up in class and answering her question

as to what “italics” might be?” “Why,”

Bobby answered confidently, “They are

people who live in Italy.” Everyone in

class had a good laugh over that. Bobby

grew up and went on to become an attorney,

I found out years later. I once got to see

Annette Funicello live and in person, and

was heart-broken to see that she had a trace

of facial hair above her upper lip, and she

was about 6-inches taller than I which ruined

the romance for me. Baseball no longer thrills

me like it used to. And occasionally these days,

I still piddle around with pen and paper drawing

cartoons.

Fortunately for me I suppose, because they say

typically attorneys get a bad name.

Chris Hanch 12-19-19

At Bernard's Restaurant and Bar

Used to pull up a stool after work at Bernard’s

restaurant and bar.

Convenient for me for I had an apartment upstairs.

Drink as much as I wanted without fear of a getting

a DUI. Didn’t have to drive.

Vodka on ice was my drink, a double please, and

keep them coming until I tell you to stop, I would

say to the barkeep so long ago I forgot her name,

sweet gal, though, I’d have to say, always filled my

glass over the two-shot limit which assured her a

generous tip at the end of the evening.

Nowhere else to go, recently a bad spell

of luck at a precarious time in life, divorce and a

failed relationship after that.

Alcoholic, me? More than likely. You would be

too had you been through what I was going through.

Barbara, no Katherine, no neither of those. So long

ago, can’t rightly remember the barkeep’s name.

Sweet gal, though, kept those vodka coming. Tipped

her well when I called it a night and retired to my

apartment upstairs and hit the hay.

Next day, pretty much the same, saved a lot of money

that way, never had DUIs to pay.

Bobbie, no. Frankie, no. Damn it, a long time ago.

Can’t recall her name, sweet gal, though.

Chris Hanch 12-17-19

One and the Same

I woke up in my early seventies the

other day. I never saw it coming, the

way the body faulters and fades. In

my way of stinking thinking, this only

happens to the other guy, not me. You

are a self-centered, damned fool, my

body told me. Look at what you’ve done,

all the excessive bullshit you’ve put us

through. We look and feel 10, 15-years

older than we should. And now we have

to pay. I couldn’t care less what the brain

has to say, body sighs. I’m the one who

has been ravaged by your careless ways

and passing of time Huh, my mind tells

me, you, body, are helpless and weak.

Get over it. Good and bad, pleasure,

pain, and otherwise, we’ve crossed that

rickety bridge together. In life, there is no

turning back. Bitch and complain. Say

what you will, the time for reviving better

days has slipped away. Like it or not, you

and I are one and the same, always been

the case. Face it, patheically and inextrica-

bly tied together, we deserve each other.

Chris Hanch 12-15-19

The Tall Tower

In 1961, I remember coming to Kansas

City with my father after his divorce

from my mother. I was fourteen years

old, and was away from home now

seeing a new part of the world for

the very first time. From a hilltop

above the city at a distance, I could

see the skyline of downtown miles

away. And there was a tall tower, a

self-supporting city landmark dad

told me, that is lighted up from top

to bottom every night. I could hardly

wait until sunset. I missed my home

town of St. Louis; I missed my mother

and brothers too, but was glad to be

with my dad. I figured he needed me

to keep him company. Dad had

been with me the entire fourteen

years of my life. And as far as I

could see, he would be with me

forever, sort of like that tall tower

had been part of Kansas City forever,

like my mother, brothers and home-

town had been part of me forever,

like every place had been part of

the whole world forever, like the

sun, moon and stars had been in

the sky forever. I missed my mom,

and was sad about that, but then

I was glad to be with my dad, and

I could barely wait to see that tall

tower in the distance all lighted up

at night. I was a teenager back then.

In my youthful imagining with the

whole world in front of me, I could

see myself growing up, and becoming

old enough to live forever. At seventy

two years now, having been to places

where I have been, having seen what

I have seen and done what I have done,

seems as if I damn near already have.

Chris Hanch 12-16-19

Sometimes the Way Things Go

Everything is as it should be

and that is not always good.

You awaken each day to

change, some of which you

recognize. You have your

complaints and then again

some praise as well. You

adjust; you deny and go

on anyway. The light switch

obeys; the coffee maker

brews as it should; the

car starts and you’re on

your way. So far so good,

rarely thoughtful or grate-

ful when things work the

way they’re suppose to.

Traffic is stalled on the

freeway and you are going

to be late for work. How

quickly things change,

I hear you. I’d be pissed

too, especially about that

which there is nothing you

can do. The guy idling in

the car next to you on

the interstate this morning

has a satisfied grin on his

face. Is he retired or on

time even considering the

delay? Perhaps he’s a boss,

and can show up to work

whenever he damn well

pleases? Could be an

accident up ahead? You

are not the boss, and you

are going to be late. That’s

all you really know. And

sometimes out of control, that’s

just the way things go.

Chris Hanch 12-13-19