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