Remembering

This is not the poetry of Walt Whitman,

Emily Dickinson or Robert Frost. They

and others of acclaim have long since

passed away.

More than likely you will not remember

me for anything other than my name.

Unless you should have known me as a

friend, relative or neighbor of the recent

past, even then I shall rarely if ever cross

your mind.

And I must say, that is perfectly okay.

Life is just that way. If it makes you feel

any better, I regard you as the same.

Oh, now and again in my old age I play

mind games with myself just to activate

my remembrances of the past—

Larry was my first and best friend when I

was a kid; Debbie was the girl up the street

who had polio and got about using crutches

and braces on her legs.

Mrs Eisenhower was my fourth grade

teacher at Mary Queen of Peace Parochial

School. I raised my hand in class the first

day and asked if we could call her “Ike?”

Although everyone in the world called our

President that at the time, she said, no.

Memory is a funny thing. Some things pop

up randomly at odd times; some things which

should remain emblazoned in your mind,

seem to escape.

I spent hours one day trying to remember

the name of the guy in the Army who loaned

me his suit in which I got married some fifty

years ago.

No, not Bobby, not Terry or John, Willie!

Not he either. Willie was the short guy with

a goofy laugh.

Days, I tell you, it took days. And the moment

my mind dropped that pursuit and drifted off

to something else, Boom! It hit me...Earl Foster,

Botany 500. Damned nice guy, gray seersucker

suit. I had to let my mind break away from my

silly exercise in order to remember his name.

Anyway, should you remember me for some-

thing, say an unpleasant situation or encounter

with which I was involved, and refused to accept

the blame, it’s best you forget it. And eventually

one day...Boom! My name will come when you

least expect it.

I never had a suit to loan, but there were

other things I did, some of which were never

returned. What exactly that was and your

name escape me right now. Not to worry,

eventually it will come to me. Besides, who

gives a shit. It’s too late now, anyway.

                            -30-

Chris Hanch 3-31-2020

Memory Lane, a Drive-by

Here’s what happens. You’re driving in

an old neighborhood where your now

deceased father used to live. At that time

some twenty-years before you had your

own home just about a mile away. You

knew the way to and from like the back

of your hand. You never needed a map,

never had to stop for directions. This was

a time way before GPS, but if there was,

you wouldn’t have needed to rely on that.

The roads you took to get to Dad’s were

paved one way, and indelibly etched into

your brain. For Christ’s sake, you visited

him several times a week. You knew the

street, the slope of the front yard. Why,

you could even identify the type of grass,

Zoysia, and those perfectly straight perpen-

dicular lines, the way dad mowed his lawn

every week. Gray batting, white trim, an

unmistakable facade welcoming you from

the tree-lined street. Twenty-some years

is quite a long time. Dad has been gone a

while, at rest for all eternity. You moved

away to live in another State. And now

you’re back driving along Memory Lane.

Got to be the right street. You could tell from

recognizing the stop light at the intersection

before. Older, more mature trees, perhaps?

New landscaping schemes? Another choice

of house paint? Who knows what new neigh-

bors and other owners will do? Changes,

though, all together different than the way

you remember things back when. But then,

so many changes in you too. You dropped by

what you thought might be Dad’s old place

and rang the doorbell to see…Who are you?”

the owner wanted to know. And you, turned

around and confused as hell, had to apologeti-

cally say, “Sorry, thought this might have been

my dad’s old place. And now the only thing I

know for sure is that you’re way too young,

and I am certainly not your son.” On the way

back to your car, you see a mature Maple tree

in the front yard. You never noticed the way

sunlight and shade came into play there before.

                           -30-

Chris Hanch 3-30-2020

A Communique for You Today

Confined and home alone? I have Beethoven and

Chopin who speak to me musically. And too, I am

blessed with one pup left who wiggly-tailed, warm

and cozy keeps me company.

For many of us who are restricted by age and disability,

living our lives with modified capabilities is a daily routine.

And due to the worldwide spread of the viral COVID-19

many of you who thrive on outside activity find yourselves

sheltered in place avoiding contact with the rest of society.

For many Humans whoflourish on outside activity, it is

not easy to live their daily lives this way. Now you have

some idea what so many shut-ins go through routinely

day after day. Many of us have leaned to adapt and to

explore different ways to communicate.

I read and write, listen and watch to maintain a semblance

of sanity. I relate with you and a select few on Facebook

and other sites electronically available to me. Occasionally

a phone call, and frequently the Internet to connect. I typi-

cally employ authors in print, music, movies, news and edu-

cational programs on TV.

And of course, you may have noticed there are those sub-

missions of a little poetry written daily by me to join with

you at the speed of light across our vast country electron-

ically.

I own a basic flip phone, not one of those Smart ones. I can

receive calls and texts, yes. For smarts I rely on what common

sense I have left. I let Google and Alexa handle all the rest.

Until we meet again, be safe and keep the faith. Nothing, not

even evil viruses and incompetent presidents last forever.

                                -30-

Chris Hanch 3-29-2020

The Wave

The wave reaches you in the stadium packed

with 70-thousand cheering fans. You stand

among them, raise your arms and extend your

hands.

A friend you haven’t seen in years runs up and

embraces you. It has been a long time no see.

Two lovers kiss in the park on a warm and sunny

spring day.

A business associate extends her hand sealing the

deal. You take hers into yours and shake. It’s a

customary sign of trust.

Grandma greets her grand kids with big, loving hugs.

It’s naturally what grandmas do.

Beer and pizza at a local pub with friends after a hard

day’s work.

A student in class has a question about the test. You

being the caring teacher you are, bend over the desk

and explain.

It’s rush hour and the bus, subway or commuter train

is packed, you shuffle about, and squeeze in to find

a place.

Beethoven’s 7^th Symphony is playing at the concert

hall tonight and you were lucky to get tickets.

The kids are attending Taylor Swift at the auditorium

a few blocks away.

These are signs of normal times, and with a deadly

pandemic sweeping the nation, you and your loved

ones are sheltered in place at home praying for the

return of the good old days.

The president promises soon, the pandemic will

miraculously evaporate. Had God himself made

that statement you would hesitate.

When the call comes for normal activities to be

resumed, you fold your arms and say, “Okay, but

you go first.”

                           -30-

Chris Hanch 3-28-2020

Unprecedented

Unprecedented. The use of that word has

become unprecedented today. The spread

of the COVID-19 Virus is unprecedented; the

number of infected spread around the world,

those hospitalized and the resulting deaths

are unprecedented.

The 2-trillion dollar relief bill passed by

Congress is unprecedented, The rise and

fall on the Stock Exchange is unprecedented.

Unprecedented—the frequency of the word

unprecedented used by the media and medical

profession to actualise the unfolding situation

globally is damned unprecedented.

Unprecedented—Adjective. Never done or

known before. That word has gone viral, is

used profusely to describe that which is

currently taking place on our planet, in our

country, regionally and locally in our com-

munities today.

Not to say this sort of pandemic has never been

recorded in history before, but for the living, few

if any affected before by such unprecedented events

remain.

The New Normal which is infecting the world today

will soon overtake and eventually sweep the use of

unprecedented away. Until the next time when un-

precedented shall be rediscovered, reinstated and

liberally spread worldwide again.

                          -30-

Chris Hanch 3-28-2020

2020 Census and Me

Census is completed. I have been accounted for

nationwide by number, nomenclature and name,

ethnicity too—white male of Greek decent I have

claimed. That about does it in 2020. I’m good for

the next ten years.

From here to there, the only thing I anticipate

changing is my age. But not so fast, I am not

expecting to live that long anyway. When you

happen to be seventy-three, a lifelong smoker

and caloric consumer of junk food as I am, the

plausibility of reaching eighty-three seems not

only farcical but physiologically unlikely.

(As of late I’ve been poorly situated physically.)

So, go ahead and define your Congressional lines

to include me still tenuously engaged in my place

and time, still a living and breathing yet somewhat

faltering member of society, same address and

phone number, though, same basic color of skin

with assorted, new, blotchy, age spots to report.

Oh, and given my age and waning physical and

mental conditioning, it is worth noting that I am

not half the man I used to be, should that be a

consideration in your Census-taking redistricting.

In any case, I am thrilled to report to you (as pre-

vously alluded to above), I still have an adequate

pulse rate and heartbeat. And for all it’s worth, at

this moment in time, whatever the game being

played, you can still count me in.

                                              -30-

Chris Hanch 3-27-2020

Stupid, I Say

Ever look at something you have been

looking at all your life, and suddenly realize

how stupid it seems. A word on a page for

instance, a simple word like, cough, doesn’t

spell like it sounds. “Coff” makes much more

sense phonetically. I picked up a dollar bill

today and thought to myself, how ridiculous

is this paper money thing. George Washing-

ton, Lincoln, Benjamin Franklin, Hamilton

and Grant, a silly illustrated face and printed

denomination—1, 5,10, 20, 50 and so on (all

things being equal), allow you to buy and

indeed survive in our egalitarian society.

It’s ink on paper, folks, with nothing sub-

stancial behind it except a fictitious, super-

ficial idea. So and so says this here Benjamin

can buy that there doohickey I want to own.

Gimme! Gimme! And I want a Lincoln and

3-Washingtons as change. Don’t give me any

of those copper things either, they just add

extra weight to carry around, and are a pain

in the ass to unload. On second thought, I’ll

be paying for that with my debit card today.

No actual paper money needs to be exchanged.

All those presidents and statesmen can remain

bundled up in a bank vault just in case. In case

of what, you say, inflation, devaluation? It’s

friggin’ paper, man! And not even worth the

paper it’s printed on. Now, I brought up that

debit card thing...They say for all of this buy

and sell thing to work, you gotta have faith,

man...How stupid is that? Consider the word,

“knapsack?” What in hell does a “k” have to do

the sound of that? How’s a guy like me suppose

to believe anything you say?

-30-

Chris Hanch 3-26-2020

Upon Awakening

Upon awakening it takes a moment or so to dust off the

dreamy nightscape from my mind.

It takes a move or two to reawaken my pain. I am somewhat

quieted as I sleep motionless in place. But, Pain, you never fully

release the one you invade.

At my age you shall remain with me for the duration.

I can hope and wish for better days to come, but Pain,

although quieted at times, you’ve got my name.

So, back to the beginning, I started out to say something

else about awakening. I am up, eyes wide, adjusting my pace

with ample surety, and it hits me—

this day is burdened with a new reality: The world is sick with

a defiant viral disease.

For now and perhaps many more months to come,

there is and shall be no cure.

We are at war with an invisible enemy, one which separates

and keep us apart.

And once my mind is awakened to that fact, it will obsess

my thinking for the rest of the day.

Tomorrow, and who knows, hundreds of tomorrows hence will

likely be the same.

Could be the Second Coming of Jesus has been delayed.

Or if I believed, perhaps he’s on a respirator in critical condition

at an intensive care unit in New York City pleading with the

Father once again…

"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

I’m a little squirrely and unsure when I first awaken in the

morning. But I do know for sure the damn virus is out there

for real.

                                  -30-

Chris Hanch 3-25-2020

Mad as Hell!

I’m mad as hell!

My mother used to correct

me when I was a child.

Dogs go mad, people get

angry. Today, long after

Mom passed away I have

a thing or two to say.

I’ll let those angered prim

and properly speak for

themselves. Let us all

take the scientists, med-

ical professionals and

virologists seriously

and separate socially.

In order to stop or re-

tard COVID-19 viral

pandemic, we must all

hold fast and shelter in

place. Screw Trump's plan
to release restrictions,

and to pack the churches

on Easter Sunday.

The facts indicate your

consideration now to

stay the course will save

far more lives. And Mom,

bless your soul and may

you rest in peace, but

right now I’m snarling,

growling, teeth bearing,

foaming at the mouth,

rabid Mad.

Our economy will

recover, many of those

now and soon to be infected

will not. Mad, I tell you, I’m

stark raving Mad!

             -30-

Chris Hanch 3-25-2020

Inside These Four Walls

So what is left to say?

Inside these four walls

the music plays.

Dust continues to

gather, on furniture

and shelves.

TV is at the ready

24-7—The news and

weather under

constant change.

Inside these four walls

one dog rests between

my legs, the other curled

up napping in his bed.

Books are arranged side

by side waiting to be read.

The refrigerator hums

in the kitchen, chilling

food enough for a week.

Inside these four walls

lamplight shines an

incandescent yellow glow;

the clock advances

minutes and hours,

night and day.

Alexa, what is the

weather for today?

Inside these four walls,

a safe haven for now,

and here I stay.

For how long,

who can say?

I have nowhere to go,

and no one to see anyway.

Outside a viral pandemic

runs astray.

Inside these four walls,

I am marginally secure,

but far from reassured.

I shelter here in place,

the sword of Damocles

suspended tenuously

overhead. And these

four walls are paper thin.

-30-

Chris Hanch 3-24-2020

Last Rites

In times such as these, I think of my vulnerability.

Never when I was young and capable, strength of

an ox, and will strong as steel, would I entertain such

a loathsome notion—

one slip and fall could immobilize me and end it all,

home alone and helpless to recover on my own.

At times I have resigned myself to the inevitability of

such a fate.

On the refrigerator, a pink legal document hangs—

Do Not Resuscitate!

No hospital or nursing home for me. I’m serious, leave

me be. But one worry, one concern remains for me—

rescue and care for my two small dogs.

The older one, Apollo, needs to be taken out frequently

to pee; the younger, Carmen, is trained to go inside on a

doggy pad if necessary.

No dog pound or shelter for either, please. Euthanize and

cremate if need be. Should I be found comatose, and

if legal, do the same with me. No Last Rites or memorial,

for neither my pups nor I are ordained religiously.

                               -30-

Chris Hanch 3-24-2020

until we meet again

wash your hands

socially keep your distance

at least six feet

sneeze into your elbow

stay at home

avoid crowded places

and I might add

elbow bumps only

(is that the one

you just sneezed into)

no handshakes

no hugs

no french kisses

no fondling

or sex

and lest we forget

text me

and i’ll text

you back

all my best

xoxoxoxo

till we meet

person to person

on the street again

-30-

Chris Hanch 3-24-2020