The Branding, Pen and Ink with Acrylic Paint, circa 1982.

An Accounting

So, this is what it has come to... and where?

For me presently, to arrival at the station of

old age—enfeebled arms and hobbled legs.

Wrinkled skin, brittle bones, hair diminished

and gray, the mirror reminds me each and every

day, having over past years given the best and

worst of myself away. The best rewards me with

a fondness font of memories; and with the worst,

I am in regretful shame compelled to pay.

I have a mental drawerful of receipts to remind me.

Chris Hanch 2-28-19

Lakota Woman, Pen and Ink, 1986.

Something About Similarities

For the most part, the chimpanzee could

have done what I have done with my life.

Eat, work, play, reproduce, throw fits of

rage, and sleep.

Similarly, the tree does what it was created

to do. And it comes as no surprise that all

creatures great and small need sunshine,

nourishment and fertilization in order to

sustain life.

For what it’s worth, a chimpanzee or a tree

unlike me, can never tell a lie. However,

when emotionally angry, the chimpanzee

and I could rip your ear off, causing you to

holler and cry.

And unless by chance it happens to fall on you,

the tree not so much. Wouldn’t you agree, turning

leaves in autumn are such a beautiful sight?

Chris Hanch 2-26-19

Gandhi, Pen and Ink, 2009.

Off Broadway

I picked up the ticket waiting for me at

the Will Call Window about half-an-hour

before the show. This wasn’t a Broadway

play I had come to see, but admission

this time for me was free. (I never pass

up free as an opportunity.) I smiled and

nodded to those I squeezed through in

the isle as I made my way to my assigned

seat. I settled into my chair elbow to

elbow between two strangers I had never

known before. It’s okay, though, we’re all

in this thing together for better or worse.

The house lights went down, and the cur-

tain rose to the musical overture. A stirring

beginning to what turned out to be a fine

play indeed. And I could tell by the rousing

cheers, whistles and applause, the audience

agreed. After the play, I got to go back stage

for a cast and crew Meet-and-Greet. What

was the play about, you may be asking?

Well, it was the life story about this guy and

gal, an ordinary couple, could have been sort

of like you and me, except more interesting.

In the end, it didn’t turn out so well, as hap-

pens in real life sometimes. But what the hell,

did I mention the price of admission was free?

And the actor who played the male lead in fair

measure, standing together face-to-face, was

considerably shorter than I happen to be. It

was all a dream, though, and upon awakening,

as with much of life itself, most of the finer

details were lost on me.

Chris Hanch 2-25-19

That Adam and Ever Thing, a Do-Over

Eve, here’s a box of crayons and a sheet

of paper. Draw me a picture, one of those

with a house and smoke coming from the

a chimney.

I’d like to see trees and a happy family in

the front yard.

Color the sun yellow and make the sky blue

as I had intended in the Beginning. I’ll leave

the rest up to you.

It’s your first day, I know, so take your time,

then give it to me when you’re through. I

need a picture to hang it on my refrigerator

door.

Now, put the apple down and get started.

Adam, sit over there and wait your turn.

A House? You know, four walls and a roof,

and maybe shutters on the windows too.

(And thus, with some tactful explanation to

get things going in the right direction, things

may well have turned out differently.)

Chris 2-24-19

Lakshmi, Hindu Goddess of Wealth and Prosperity, 2010.

Oh, the Humanity!

Yes, I do believe each and everyone of us

is unique in our own way. And yet, con-

forming to nature in our humanity, we all

share common characteristics and traits.

Unlike other species, we rely upon anthropol-

ogists, historians, psychologists and poets to

sort out and explain our inherent and learned

behaviors.

It is somewhat perplexing for me to realize

that Shakespeare with his uncanny wit and

wisdom had us pegged hundreds of years

before we were born.

Seems clear to me that our grandiose egos give

us far more credit than we rightfully deserve.

I’ve got license to carry a chip on my shoulder

too. Mine happens to be concealed just below

the sleeve.

Chris Hanch 2-23-19

Chair Beside an Afternoon Window, 2012.

Promises

Let’s think about all

the promises ever made:

God promised the Jews;

the politician makes

promises to his or her

constituents; mom and

dad promise to a needy child—

promises kept, promises

broken, and promises

never met. So many

promises, promises made

to you, promises you have

made. The general

promises victory on the

field of battle, but at what

cost, he refuses to say.

The emcee promises a

rollicking good show. The

contractor promises

satisfaction guaranteed.

On TV, Rolaids promises

to relieve heartburn

and gastric indigestion.

The marriage vows are

made then broken. Some

will swear to God on a

stack of bibles. Whose

promises to believe?

It is understood, and

goes without saying,

that the airline promises

a safe flight across the

ocean, provided the

weather is fair and the

pilot is not hungover

(blurry-eyed and near-

sighted), seated invisibly

behind the closed

cockpit door.

Chris Hanch 2-22-19

From my King Radio Period, 1974-1981.

There Comes a Time

Years ago, it was my mother at age fifty-nine.

Some said she was far too young; others said

it was her time. Then years later, it was my dad

at age eighty-nine. He lived a good long time,

more than most. Still later, my second wife at

seventy-four, somewhere in the middle. She

had a hard life, but may have survived more.

Last month, it was my younger brother, five

months shy of seventy-one. With all his ailments

over the years, each day bought him time which

never was on his side. In April I’ll turn seventy-

two, and who can say? In the waiting room I

sit today. The receptionist calls out a number

and summons, next. I check my ticket and

turn to the person beside me. It’s okay, I tell

them, you go ahead—age before beauty.

Everyone hates a smart ass. I do believe I deserve

some credit. You can’t say I didn’t try.

Chris Hanch

White Water, Eldorado Canyon, Colorado, 2008.

Buyer Beware

Carvana, a new way to buy cars, they claim on TV.

They invented the car vending machine. Wow, imagine

that, buying a 25-30,000 dollar car online, and in person

unseen—no tire-kicking, door-slamming, no tactile

touchy-feely, no new-car smell!

What the hell? It’s kind of like choosing a love interest

or prospective spouse using the internet. What you see

is likely to be a photo-shopped, bait-and-switch, game of

deceit. I prefer the old-fashioned, touchy-feely approach,

even should it result in a well-deserved slap in the face.

Besides, what if the auto vending machine should jam?

The friggin’ thing is way too large and cumbersome

to shake. What if you push the wrong button and get

one with peanuts instead? Don’t you just hate when that

shit happens?

Chris Hanch 2-19-19

Mt. Garfield, Grand Junction, Colorado, 2008.

Confession

Fortunate am I that for my unrecorded indiscretions

and sometimes streaks of stupidity, I was rarely caught

in the act or prosecuted for some of my less than stellar

deeds. And with that, notwithstanding, I was awarded

The Good Conduct Medal for my service in the Army.

Some would claim, that is perfectly okay. You’re only

human and bound on occasion to make mistakes. Yeah,

but there was that time when...Oh well, forget it. I accept.

And some 50-years later throughout my civilian life, I

can say with certainty that there have been circumstances

where I have faltered now and again. I’ve been known to

have done too much of this and not enough of that. Some

things never change, I suppose, that is of course, until

they do. To that point, having managed to make it through

(guilty in some cases), I am damn lucky indeed to be here

speaking to you as the unindicted me. How’s it going

with you?

Chris Hanch 2-18-19

Ralph Castle Gas and Auto II, Longmont, Colorado, 2001.

The Before and After You and Me Continuum

Make no mistake, we all have these thoughts.

It’s only natural that we consider them our own.

You and I are not alone, yet we turn around and

no one is there. In our place and time this reckoning

comes to us often randomly and unannounced. We

have been here before, but cannot rightly recollect

when, and may dismiss it merely as a déjà happening.

Possibly it could be the connection between us and

generations past which are seared indelibly into the

unconscious memory. I could go on and on with this

theory of mine about lineage, but it’s a plaguing puzzle-

ment which for the most part remains a mystery. Each

preformed piece within us is beyond our comprehension.

Each cell in our body conceals the secret, each electrical

impulse which courses through us concedes to the real-

ity of who we are. Consider the continuum which runs

through all that ever was and that which is to come. This

is neither an anomaly, nor a one-off phenomenon, my

friends; I am you and you are me. And the deeply-seeded

memory programmed within us is the exquisite and inex-

tricable, everlasting energy from the birthstar of our creation.

Chris Hanch 2-17-19

Memorize

Memorize until you get it right.

The fledgling bird leaves the nest

walloping its wings, and try after

try eventually takes to flight. The

young student is given an assignment—

Learn the Gettysburg Address word for

word until he can accurately recite.

As the bowler practices his delivery,

as the pitcher on the mound throws

his optimum fast ball to achieve a

called strike. Memorize it, over and

again until the practice becomes

automatically seared into the mind.

The lioness shows her cub how to

hunt. Get it right. Your life depends

upon the stealthy hunt, proper timing

of the run-down and then the pounce.

As for me potty training worked, and

thus far in life has served me well.

“Four score and seven years ago..”

is as far as I can recollect Lincoln’s

famous offering. Even he, I believe,

had it written down in front of him

to serve his memory on the day he

gave the Address.

Chris Hanch 2-16-19

Fancy Dancer, Kansas City, Missouri, 1977.

The Great Escape

Years ago, a friend of mine, who for quite some time had been

confined to a wheel chair, told me not to give up my car. One

day you may need to escape, he warned. Look at me, I am trapped

in my disability and unable to leave. Keep your car, he repeated over

and again, in case there is the need to get away. For a time I did

keep my vehicle functional and legal should I ever have a necessity

for an urgent and speedy getaway. But the time came, and due to the

onset of physical liabilities, driving a car has exceeded the limits of

my capabilities. And from this time forward, I now find that there was

no way I could have ever driven far or fast enough to escape this old

age predicament of mine. Besides, my license has expired, and I can no

longer tolerate the lines and wait at the damned DMV.

Chris Hanch 2-15-19

Navajo Dancers, Kansas City, Missouri, 1977.

Something About Certainty

Politicians will tell

you how many years

the war has been

going on.

Count the headstones

in National Cemeteries,

the ones where flags

are planted on

Memorial Day.

Everyone has heard

about someone’s

son or daughter

who was lost.

Ask the generals

and they will say

heroes were made

and medals

were issued.

It will soon be

springtime again,

and according to the

seasons, summer

is certain to follow.

There will be

empty lawn chairs

at sundown, and

as night settles in,

crickets chirping

in the backyard.

Chris Hanch 2-14-19

Something About Love

Love hits you

the moment

you pick up

the warm

and fuzzy puppy.

It wags its

tail and

licks your face.

Let no one

make it

more

complicated

than that.

Even Shakespeare

is at a loss

for words.

And for 
the writer,
today

happens
to be one
of those

days when

word count

doesn’t matter.

Chris Hanch 2-14-19

Death and Life Everlasting

When I was seven or eight, my two brothers

and I were each given a bunny for Easter. They

were soft and white with pink twitching noses and

long floppy ears. I am sure my parents got them

for us so that we could learn how to care for living

creatures—feed them daily, handle them carefully

and keep them safe from harm. Instead of a cage

indoors, we kept them in a fifty-five gallon barrel

filled with grass in the back yard. Couldn’t have

been more than a week and we had to leave home

for a few hours to go shopping, I believe, or could

have been to visit family. It was a hot and sunny

spring day, hotter than usual in the Midwest for

that time of year. Upon our return, my brothers

and I were excited to play with our pet rabbits.

And we ran to that drum which was by that time

of day fully exposed to the baking heat of the sun.

All three bunnies had died of suffocation, and our

unwitting negligence to protect them properly.

Of course we three cried as our dad buried the

poor deceased creatures in the vacant lot behind

our house. Do pets go to heaven when they die?

I remember asking my dad. I believe they do.

We’re all creatures of God, dad tried to console

while reminding us that have a responsibility to

take better care of the defenseless. We never had

rabbits for pets again. We did, however, have box

turtles which we captured crossing our yard from

time to time. As I recall, they lived a good long

time as we kept them in the basement where

there were plenty of water bugs to eat—a safe place

like heaven, I imagined, where the sun did not shine

directly, and God for the most part, kept the concrete
floor cool and dry.

Chris Hanch 2-13-19

Lest We Forget

Don’t think it, don’t say it, don’t write or read

it as if it never was at all. Snow, the deep, blank

nothingness of oblivion on the page. Imagine

the whole world idea of it is lost. Consider Twain,

Melville, Dickens, Lorca and Neruda, Poe, Brontë

and Hemingway... And what of Shakespeare, Haley,

Angelou, Walker and Hughes, where would we be?

Lost, I say to you, never to be found in the endless

expanse of universal illiteracy. I could spend a life-

time naming the names of those who got us to our

coveted place in humanity today. Think of they

who may have transported you, who thought, said,

wrote and were read in a way which inspired you

to turn page after page. And lest we forget, let us

thank God for Gutenberg who had the good sense

to press the issue to begin with.

Chris Hanch 2-12-19

Red Rocks, Scrub Pine and Shadows, Denver, Colorado, 2007.

Something Special Today

Have you noticed the way daylight

enters through the window today?

Can you see the room where all the

highlights and shadows fall into

place? No, perhaps the clouds and

rain or snow outside has made your

world, inside and out, muted shades

of gray. Look out the window, listen,

even the silence of snow makes the

eyes somehow more wise. Yes, today,

sunshine, rain or snow lets you know,

one more blessed day. Be grateful,

each and every moment is a gift.

One day all the glory and pain shall

wash away. And what is left to say

will be up to those left alone in the

room who take notice, and under their

own power turn and silently walk away.

Don’t just stand there, don’t let these

moments slip uselessly away. Think

of it, the bright side, the dark side,

the shadows occupying their place.

For god’s sake, man, say something,

anything...Today!

Chris Hanch 2-11-19