Trespassing with Gerald

The week went too long
January's numbing cold wears on.
The month that makes living well hard.
Call it cabin fever, or finding forever
All I know is these walls are closing in.

Sky as grey as despair, I drive
without a word
no cell phone
no radio on
As the tires hum along
through a world that stopped caring
a some time ago.


The lot is abandoned
wooden sign says the park
closed an hour ago.

But when have I ever cared
about the opinions of signs anyway.

My old work boots slosh through the
mud, each step a journey
away from this mess and toward myself.

The path sprinkled in leaves
ends at the waterfall of Rock Creek.

And there it is, as my blood runs cold.
A voice just out of earshot,
a footfall not far away.

"Who's there?" I say quietly.
Of course, who else would it be
out here, at twilight's last glow
but Great Uncle Gerald
the woods is where he always go.

I'm the young one, so I break brush
and let the old man follow close behind.

And it's been awhile, so I catch
him up on a lot.

I've got a good job in Chicago now,
been further than I ever thought I'd go.
Seen a lot since I left home.

Yeah, I've changed,
but I think most of what matters
is still in my heart.
And I've never stopped being fiercely proud
of where I'm from.

But I wonder aloud how I measure up to
him. By my age he'd
suffered through a winter in France
without enough food
and never let the flag fall.

Then he came home, had a country store
and a family.

He probably saved even more people over here
from hunger and foreclosure
than he did doughboys from the Nazis
But they don't give medals back at home, I guess.

Since I'm sure he's wondering,
I tell Gerald I'm not married yet.
A couple of broken hearts along the way.
But I'm stronger now than ever,
and I've never treated even one woman bad
just like he taught me.

The sky grows dark now
and I say with a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye

"Till next time
The lessons you taught me
help me every day, I can never
be far from your love,
even so far from home."

And with that the old flannel shirt,
the feed cap,
the wise blue eyes
fade away.

Goodbye is just as hard today,
as it was 12 years ago, when
we laid him to rest.

At these woodland meetings
he patiently listens
but never speaks.

But for all he so-called success
and 15-minute fame,
More than anything
I hope he's proud of me.

So, if you see me on the horizon
speaking softly and walking alone
please, just give me a minute
to finish my conversation
with one of the greatest men I've ever known.

Skipping Rocks on a River at Sunset

Skipping rocks on the river at sunset
on a bank away from the world
as the last rays fade from red to pink
bathing light on the water, a cliff,
an old gnarled tree,
and me.

Wearing a tan deep as oak,
an old torn up hat.
And a smile of unending possibilities.

You see, I was 17
and we were young and on fire
and I'm so much older now
six summers later.

On the river, for a moment
we believed we could have it all
and we thought things could always be this way
and we thought love came easy
and we could bottle time.

And I believed eternity
would be like her brown hair on my shoulder.

And it wouldn't be long
before friends parted ways
before death touched our lives
before her mistakes met with mine
before the first heartbreak
and final phone calls.

Before the dreams would nearly burst from my soul.

Before I risked it all
and saw my mother's tears in the rearview mirror.

And then, one day
the dreams became my life
problems, joy, and all.

As the possibilities got big
and the world got small
and the time went quick
and now I'm 24.


The breeze blows warm
for this time of fall.
As if to welcome me back
to the place that will always be home.
Where success and failure don't measure a man.
Where change comes slower, and family
is still one of the strongest words.

I walk slowly to the river
in some worn out boots
and designer jeans
while the memories are as thick
as the leaves beneath my feet.
And I speak softly of lessons learned.

Time cannot be bottled, but
should be treasured.

Everyone should have just one perfect summer,
one childhood love,
one dream that won't die.

The old lessons passed down
mean more to me now
then they did back then.

Doing good is simple
if we would only let it be.
And, always remember,
it's not up or down
thin or flush
comfort or pain
but about the journey.

That 17 year old kid grabbed the world by the horns.
Now, with two cell phones
a sports coat for TV,
and maybe changed more than I thought he would.

I find one smooth stone
a little smaller than my palm
as I throw it, side-armed alone
as the rock skips on the river at sunset
on a bank away from the world.
As the last rays fade from red to pink,
bathing hope on the water, a cliff,
an old gnarled tree
and me, as I breath out slowly
I'm so thankful for this journey.

The Story

Such a busy world
we have climbed into
full of bright lights
glamour and lies
and potential.
Yet paved in broken dreams
of fragile hearts who came before me.

Please don't misunderstand,
this is what I've always wanted.
though not everything I'd hoped for.
And the kids I went to high school with
are all grown up now.
At the reunion, they talked of
how I really made it.

But there's always a tinge of pain
even in the greatest happiness
you can never escape.
And I guess there always will be
this side of heaven.

Something about how the air hangs still tonight
with a cold front moving in
pulls my mind to tired cliche's
that play like broken records
as they say

"time changes everything"
"the sand runs out on everyone"
"all we have is today"

But I understand the meaning
and it is this: The hands
that pen these words
will eventually turn to dust.

And we pride ourselves on working in entertainment
and I'm certainly a part of it.

But pop culture is an unfaithful friend,
or a wicked master
depending on how much soul you give.

Yet, for all of these hip parties at art galleries
nothing holds back time
which will kill these puffed up careers long before it takes us away.

And the day is coming
when we will be the punchlines to a joke
or maybe a half-remembered name in a
"back when" conversation.

On that day, when so much of what
we have lived for has dried up,
and all that's left is unfiltered life,
the kind that richess try and avoid.

On that day, I think I'll be the first to say,
"Yeah, I've made my mistakes,
but I took hold of grace,
and fell away from my pain."

Whether or not these words really mattered,
or all my plans were labored in vein,
I can see two things that count.

Carrying the one story well,
and loving my neighbor as myself.

But those can be so hard to see
in this Hollywood Storefront Industry.

So, maybe that's it
the secret
the answer
the mystery.

You and I are walking here together, tonight,
to remind each other
that it all comes down to love
and love will always be
the story.

The Story

Such a busy world
we have climbed into
full of bright lights
glamour and lies
and potential.
Yet paved in broken dreams
of fragile hearts who came before me.

Please don't misunderstand,
this is what I've always wanted.
though not everything I'd hoped for.
And the kids I went to high school with
are all grown up now.
At the reunion, they talked of
how I really made it.

But there's always a tinge of pain
even in the greatest happiness
you can never escape.
And I guess there always will be
this side of heaven.

Something about how the air hangs still tonight
with a cold front moving in
pulls my mind to tired cliche's
that play like broken records
as they say

"time changes everything"
"the sand runs out on everyone"
"all we have is today"

But I understand the meaning
and it is this: The hands
that pen these words
will eventually turn to dust.

And we pride ourselves on working in entertainment
and I'm certainly a part of it.

But pop culture is an unfaithful friend,
or a wicked master
depending on how much soul you give.

Yet, for all of these hip parties at art galleries
nothing holds back time
which will kill these puffed up careers long before it takes us away.

And the day is coming
when we will be the punchlines to a joke
or maybe a half-remembered name in a
"back when" conversation.

On that day, when so much of what
we have lived for has dried up,
and all that's left is unfiltered life,
the kind that richess try and avoid.

On that day, I think I'll be the first to say,
"Yeah, I've made my mistakes,
but I took hold of grace,
and fell away from my pain."

Whether or not these words really mattered,
or all my plans were labored in vein,
I can see two things that count.

Carrying the one story well,
and loving my neighbor as myself.

But those can be so hard to see
in this Hollywood Storefront Industry.

So, maybe that's it
the secret
the answer
the mystery.

You and I are walking here together, tonight,
to remind each other
that it all comes down to love
and love will always be
the story.