There are Some Days

 

There are some days

I consider my age

and I go into denial.

73, how can that be?

Some nights (as I dream)

I think I’m 25 and full of

vim, vigor and vitality.

Then upon rising my

arthritic body and

the bathroom mirror

tell me differently.

I never think about age

when I awake, not until

I try to move.

Watching TV I notice,

my, how that movie

star has aged, and

then I remind myself

I am older than he.

How can that be?

Why, it was only

yesterday…

But nowadays it is

my memory which

gives me away.

It is not reflexively

as quick and

accurate as it

used to be.

Oh and too,

patience is not

on my side.

It is said that

good things come

to those who wait.

It has been

my experience

to have waited

in vain

for a good

long time.

And…

And…

And...

Jeff Bridges!

Finally!

I’ve been trying

to remember that

actor’s name for

damn near a week.

You’re not old,

some admonish me.

I say, tell that to

my aching elbows,

hip, and knees.

And lest I forget,

go ahead, try and

convince that to

my muddled

and murky

memory.

            -30-

Chris Hanch 3-5-2021

A Worldwide View

Sitting here in place

at my computer

a thought

comes to mind:

In the 1950s the

world population

was a mere 3-billion

human inhabitants.

Fast forward to 2021

some 60-years later

and human population

on Earth has increased

to over 7-billion.

What gets to me

in my time

and place here—

all the death

and birth

to take way,

to fill and replace.

After all the years

how many people

have come and gone

between you and me…

Staggering!

Long time no see.

Missing you.

Hope you are well.

          -30-

Chris Hanch 3-4-2021

 

Legacy of Being (for Monica and Helga)

 

For the past ten years or so I have

concentrated my efforts on gathering

and documenting historical personal

evidence of my life and times.

Having been an artist and writer over

the years, I have graphic examples of

my work to share with my children,

my grandchildren and interested others

who follow as well.

Some may consider my actions as

revealing a narcissistic tendency of

character in me. And most certainly,

they are entitled to their own personal

and professional perceptions.

Personally, I consider myself a died-

in-the-wool eccentric who has been

driven to see, feel and express my life

experiences and perceptions artistically.

And too, using a diverse plethora of

styles and media, I have had an insatiable

desire to share my works with others, hope-

fully leaving a legacy for the curious and

interested progeny to come. This is one

way for a non-believer to achieve life

after death, if you will. What does a poorly

departed soul have to loose anyway?

Blast me to Kingdom Come when I’m

done. At least I shall have left a taste of

my attitude and some of my graphically

expressed impressions behind.

When I was a mere child of eight or nine

my paternal grandfather from Greece died.

As an adult, I wished I knew more about

his life and times. I am a believer that we

all carry genetic ancestral traits of our

being with us as we live and breath.

And too, I believe that each of us is

responsible for leaving some essence

form of our lives behind for future

generations to find.

Saint, sinner, thief, beggar, horse-trader,

queen or king, without knowing the

root story of our being, we are missing

the entirety of who we are.

                  -30-

Chris Hanch 3-4-21

The Greatest Need

 

I gave up a lot to be here where I am today,

money, social standing, property, alcohol,

car, fine clothing, cuisine and women, youth

and my health.

And much of that, I must say, I could never

lay claim to or had anything to do with anyway.

I have lost most of the material things I’ve

managed to garner along the way. I spent

most of the money I earned or inherited.

Even the most subtle of memories have

managed to fade in my old age. Due to

physical limitations or mental incapacity

which overtook my youth, I lost many of

my options to choose.

Not to worry, my friends, no pity do I need.

My treasure chest containing the gritty fiber

of my being still clings to every day

I breathe.

You see, life is all I’ve ever had; life is all

I find I need. Join me today in sharing our

lives we’ve been granted, the tenacious

gift of life we lead.

                               -30-

Chris Hanch 3-3-2021

You and I

 

You and I are not royalty nor can

we claim local or world wide honor

and fame. For most of us, we do not

wish that anyway. We mostly take

satisfaction from our obscurity and

anonymity.

Besides, fame comes with a certain

responsibility, and is not always what

it’s cracked up to be. (Fame can turn

to infamy coming from the critically

envious).

Instead of having our portraits hung

in the Louvre or other galleries of

notoriety, paintings and photographs

of our dogs should be on display. They

they are creatures esteemed for their

unequaled affection and loyalty.

In fact, Mark Twain claimed that if

entering heaven went by merit, you

would stay out and your dog would

be allowed in.

It is then the question begs to

answer: Given the power of reason,

a rabid attitude and self-righteous

actions, being commonly referred

to as bitches and S.O.B.s, are we

humans worthy of such honor and

adulation anyway? I think, not so

much.

                -30-

Chris Hanch 3-1-21

Letter Writing

 

When I was younger, say seven, eight

or nine, I would write a letter once in

awhile.

I never liked to write letters, but when

someone you knew wrote you, it seemed

writing them back was the courteous thing

to do, especially if they lived far away.

Calling long distance on the telephone

in those days was very expensive, and you

could buy a stamp for five cents or so.

Anyway, I hated writing letters with

all those, I am fine, how are you?

And nothing is really new with me,

how about you? Boring. For me, letter

writing was a pain.

I never really learned anything or said

much worthwhile with the few words I

managed to write anyway.

My grandma used to send letters to my

brothers and me. We were excited to

get her letters because she would include

a dollar bill in each one she sent.

Buy yourself something you like, she

always said. Otherwise, I couldn’t tell

you anything else about what she had

to say.

Even writing Grandma was a pain,

but we had to write and thank her in

return for the money she sent:

Dear Grandma, Thank you for the

dollar you sent. I bought some base-

ball cards and had money left over

for licorice. I am fine. I hope you

are too. How is the weather up

there in Chicago? We had 4-inches

of snow down here. And had a day

off of school. Write soon. Love,

Your grandson, Chris.

Friends of mine who had moved

away never sent money; neither

did I. No wonder I hated writing

them back. They couldn’t care

less if you had a day off of school.

I had better things to do than

write letters anyway.

              -30-

Chris Hanch 3-1-21

More Excuses

 

There are always excuses

for why we didn’t.

We never excuse why we did

what we did unless it was wrong.

Now I’m the sort of guy

who has a plethora of

excuses at the ready either way.

I guess you could

say I’m a poor excuse for…

and you can fill in the

blank.

Excuse me, but would you

happen to have any Grey Poupon?

That excuse I have never

used. Regular mustard is all

I ever choose to use.

Excuse me, but a

fancy dandy man I have never

been accused of being.

I’ve never ridden in a Roles Royce

or been in a commercial either.

I suppose I could say, pardon

my dirt, and you could

excuse me as being

a smart ass instead.

          -30-

Chris Hanch 2-28-21