Facebook Friends

 

So many so-called friends.

There is the man who plays the piano

and performs live weekly.

There is the punster who posts his

humorous innuendos.

There is the retired teacher who loves

to line dancer, an artist woman who

does caricatures, another who mainly

molds in clay.

There is the couple from India, and the

retired, jovial, TV personality.

There is the poet and photographer

from England, and the transcendental

Goddess of Love.

There is a mini-world of color, race,

cultures and sexual persuasion.

There is the woman who has lost two

of her children, the proud Jewish woman

who loves her jazz and blues.

There is the author of crime and criminals

books, and his sister who is an attorney.

There are several ladies who are

originally from Germany.

And there is a man who still lives there.

There is an old Army buddy of mine

who reminisces about old times.

There are my grown daughter,

a grandson and son.

The religious race car driver is there,

a few who like my posted poetry, my

writing and photography.

There are some of my co-workers from

times gone by, folks from various walks

of life.

There is the proud gay artist and poet

from Denver, several cat and dog ladies

who love their pets, a grand daughter

and son-in-law of mine, friends I have

not heard from in quite some time.

There are two still listed of whom I

know are deceased way before their

time (RIP).

The is a niece and a nephew, daughter and

son of my deceased brother.

(My how things have changes over time.)

There is the Hispanic lady and her family,

and a hundred or so others I have failed to

mention.

There are relations of my deceased wife

and so many more, friends from my

many previous lives.

I am there most days as I age and my time

rapidly ticks away.

Some will pass before me and some shall

pass after.

And likely I will be unfriended by

some, and it really won’t matter.

For those of you who have stopped to read

this, who are not specifically or generally

implicated here, forgive me. I ran out of

Facebook time and space today.

                       -30-

Chris Hanch 6-16-2023

One Off

Got to thinking today

(as a reformed adult, not

an unusual activity for me).

Comparing the universal

scope of things, the size

of Earth versus the sun,

the mass of one atom

pitted against Mt. Everest,

a sneeze buried in a

hurricane, the concept

of a god as relates to the

scope and might of the

cosmos, you know, side

by side relationships

which the human mind

conjures up occasionally

when allowed free-time

to wander aimlessly.

Ever consider

the trillions upon trillions

of stars out there in the

literal universal ether

not one of which has the

instinctive or intuitive

power of an ant.

Then place you and I into

the equation. We could

shoot a billion bullets or

atom bombs into the sun

and it would virtually

have no discernible effect.

And the plausibility is,

it could take one well

placed pin prick to do

us in.

The question then arises,

mind over matter or matter

over mind, an inquisition

we humans are faced with

every single day?

Is it a curse or a blessing

being you and I every single

days of our lives? In our

minds, believer in a higher

power or not, here we are

with that which neither star

nor atom, regardless of size

or scale possesses.

Ah, the human psyche and

ego, all those choices to be

made. Good or evil?

We are everything and yet

nothing all at once. A caution-

ary thought, my friend: Be

afraid, be very afraid, or

should you as one of a kind

in body and mind choose

otherwise.

                  -30-

Chris Hanch 6-15-2023 

Which One of Me?

 

 Don’t wish to begin all over again.

Once is enough to convince me.

People, some folks, perhaps not

you or me will say, this life of ours

is anew each day.

It is this way, we grow into old age.

Come to think of it, I do recall making

that claim several times before along

the way.

I have repeated the process so many

times. And I’ve littered the pathway

behind me with so many clones, it’s

hard for me to differentiate which

reality to claim.

Guess you’ll have to live with one

or two of those fellows you have

come to know.

Now move along, there’s nothing

new to see here. I have accepted

the process although at times I have

disagreed vehemently.

If you are one of those who had

met me previously, did I ask you

to pull my finger? That was the silly,

disgusting one of me. But the look

on your face still makes me laugh.

                     -30-

Chris Hanch 6-14-2023

Up Front

Around 1956, I was 9-years old

and my father, a WWII veteran,

gave me his personal (military

issued) copy of Bill Mauldin’s

Up Front.

This was a witty and sarcastic,

editorial cartoon account of

American Gi’s life on the Euro-

pean battlefield.

For me, that lifted my cartooning

from a Mickey Mouse and Donald

Duck form of cartooning to a more

tongue-in-cheek, satirical approach

and style of rendering which would

influence my characterizations well

into adulthood.

Also, it instilled in me a profound

respect for the US Military which

a few years later inspired me at

seventeen to enlist in the Army

which so many of my peers in

the 1960s had rejected.

One simple-seeming act of

giving from my dad had a

profound influence on my life,

helping to form in part the

person I would become.

Thanks, Dad. 1924-2014, R.I.P.

                      -30-

Chris Hanch 6-13-2023                      

Today, on This New Day

 

Today, on this new day given me,

at first glance, I see nothing new.

Faithfully, yesterday’s pain has

followed me along with fond

and faded memories of earlier

days.

Today, on this new day given me,

I have no place else to go, no wishes

and dreams for the future which lies

ahead of me.

Today, on this new day given me

given my advanced age and waning

physical and mental state, maintaining

with that which I have left in me

is a blessing.

Today, on this new day given me,

I am still grateful for what I had and

what I used to be, all the properties

and activities which got me here.

I have been more fortunate than so

many more whom I have known.

Today, on this new day given me,

I shall relish in the thought that I

still have a litany of choice words

yet to say. “Zyzzyva,” has the unique

distinction of being the Oxford English

Dictionary’s last word. I can’t ever see

any need for me to use that word. So,

at least for today, as I live and breathe,

I’m okay.

                           -30-

Chris Hanch 6-12-2023

21st Century Prognostication

 

Seems to be that the the 21^st Century is

flying by more rapidly than centuries

before. And mankind is on a fast-track

to either annihilation or revitalization.

If our experience in the 20^th Century

was a harbinger for that which is to

come, as a surviving and threatened

society on the brink of extinction,

for the common good of mankind, we

have a lot of ground to cover, some

serious considerations and revolutionary

adjustments to be made.

                             -30-

Chris Hanch 6-9-2023

Nowhere Man

 

Woody was a quiet man,

an unimposing man who

who kept pretty much to

himself, one of those who

rarely speaks, and only a

few words when spoken to.

Today, Woody needed a

ride to work as his car

was in the shop for repairs.

And the day before he had

asked a fellow co-worker

for a lift.

Otherwise, he was a man

with nothing much to say,

no questions or answers to

investigate or explain.

It was uncomfortably

strange seeing a man of

fifty or so who seemed

to manage getting this

far in life pretty much

on his own.

Woody was a gray

haired, medium

sized guy who usually

fixed his eyes straight

ahead. He rarely turned

to the side when spoken

to by the person next to

him wanting to engage

in small talk conversation.

How about them Chiefs,

he asked Woody? Do you

like to fish? I went to

Bennett Springs last week

and caught me some fair

sized trout. Ever been there?

The co-worker tried to strike

up a conversation, but got

only “Nope” for an answer.

He finally gave up,

figuring Woody may

be one of those autistic

Rain-man-type persons

like he saw once in a

movie.

It was a long 30-minute

drive to work that day.

“Have a good one,” the

driver bid Woody when

they got to their work-

place destination. “Pick

you up right here at 5.”

Woody nodded his head

and got out of the car.

He made his way to the

door, and opening it he

disappeared as he does

every day, Monday

through Friday, five

days a week, no antici-

pation, no complaints.

Just another routine day

packaging finished goods

in the shipping department.

It’s a living, the co-worker

figured, not a hell of a lot

to say.

-30-

Chris Hanch 6-8-2023