I Was a 12 Year Old Rock Star

The eagles have landed. The work around here is nearly finished. Although things are close to being taken care of, an episode of frustration to some extent, took place yesterday. Does anyone have an older relative that grew up in a smaller town. Mother is not only an 1/8 Polish, her ability to engage in conversation fairly well begins and ends in a social aspect. We, on Father’s side, were mostly English for 200 years going back to 1682 Mass-of-two-schetts(?). So when I asked her if the electric air compressor had a built in auto-shut-off mechanism, she had no idea what I was talking about. I can’t see up close anymore without bi-focals. After being on my knees, I let old girl know that I wasn’t quite certain about the process of operation, but had at least several tire gauges. I went back inside. Later she mentioned that the neighbor had helped her. (A slow leak!) Four weeks later or so, I look out the back door and she’s crawling on her stomach towards me! It would seem that she still didn’t know how to fill a tire. Three weeks ago Mother wanted help again. After I asked three god-rotten times, “does the lawn mower have an auto-drive mechanism”, she had no idea. She still doesn’t know how to freakin’ talk about anything technical, and tried to utilize the “auto-drive” mechanism to make it up the hill by herself yesterday! Suffice it to say I wanted to know if she would just wait ’til next fall (ha, ha) to mow the lawn. She tore herself a new one on the elbow! Anyway here are some of my “English” style of poetry/song lyrics. In a shattered focus of a midnight’s dream, from deals that mattered or so it seemed, Spin twists in tattered sifts of a twilight’s stream, now reels a frightened aspect, so well and sharply gleaming, From a dark and tarnished fading of a limelight’s glow, in failing to have forecast such haunting frailty, That surely did now show, a lack of strength and stature, a sharp weakness is so deemed

To seek out faults and fancies, a conscious merely streams, to take hold of mighty virtues, And grasp to all that means, my seeking in the low tide, to hold to what is true.