MEMORIES of my COUSIN BOB -- and the RED PLASTIC SCISSORS

Memories of My Cousin, 
Bob Kirk:  a personal reflection

Part I.  The Red Plastic Scissors

I have no memories older than this one -- a gift from my cousin, Bob.  I was no more than 2 years old.  He was in his early twenties.  My mother was his Guardian; and Bob lived with us when he was in college.  I know it was no later than 1948 or 1949, because Bob moved out when he and Jeanne got married; and we moved across the street in 1950.

The "boy's bedroom" had dark maple bunk beds for my brother and me.  I can vaguely see a desk and a single bed. I guess that would have been Bob's bed.  I remember Bob sitting in the chair at the desk, graciously letting me try to cut his hair with a pair of red plastic scissors.  I'm not sure if the scissors were sharp enough, but I do remember that both of us were laughing.  When you've been on the planet for only a couple of years, it's a big deal when you're allowed to do something new like this.  I'm sure Bob had no idea how special that moment would always be to me.

After 64 years, I finally got around to start writing this thank-you note to him ...  and another 6 months to finish it.  My mother always told me to slow down.  (Bob, please tell her I'm OK.) 

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Part II.  More Memories of Bob -- some big, some small.  

• I remember being puzzled about Bob's last name being different from his brother's.  This was long before Bill Shatner decided to become a Kirk, too.
• I remember when Bob took me on my first airplane ride, sometime in the late 1950s, perhaps 1957 -- on a twin-engine plane with propellers, probably a DC-3, Mohawk Airlines from Boston to Rochester, NY.  It was nighttime -- and pouring rain.  Back then, planes didn't just roar:  they whined and rattled, too.  The flight  was awfully noisy, very dark, quite turbulent and terribly exciting -- but not scary, because Bob was there.
• I remember the house on Seneca Parkway in Rochester.  I recognized the street 50 years later, when some of my NY "family" bought a house a few doors down.  
• I remember a compliment that Bob gave me in that house. Bobbie had tripped over the cord of a big ceramic lamp, which was on the end-table next to my chair.  The flying lamp would have crashed on or near her.  Only a skinny kid could have made that diving catch behind the chair.  I was surprised and pleased to hear such a loud, enthusiastic "Fantastic catch, Vinny" from Cousin Bob.   
• I remember being delighted to learn that Bob was bringing his family back from Rochester to the house they bought on Front Street in Weymouth. 
• I don't remember if I ever thanked Bob for splicing the mast on my first sailboat, the first time I somehow snapped it -- half-way up.
• I remember being impressed by Bob's oil paintings, and those by my own Dad -- and I listened when they talked at the Cape with Van Coleman about technique and composition.  
• I remember, when many a Christmas morning was winding down, the joy of realizing that there would be more fun in the afternoon, when the Kirks arrived like gangbusters.  Sometimes, I didn't realize it until the door burst open.  Suddenly, the day had new life.
• I remember thinking that my Cousin Bob had the ideal family -- better than the Nelsons -- and I confess that there were one or two times when I would have preferred it to my own.
• I remember how Bob told me, as an adult, about his remarkably successful battle with arthritis.  He got me interested in Hatha yoga; and it has helped a lot.  That was one gift from Cousin Bob for which I did express my thanks to him.

Thank you, Bob, for all the inspiration that you gave me through the years.  We miss you here -- but I do believe that you and Jeannie are together again.  I also believe that if we could see you now ... Well,  there's a song about that.*  Please tell  Fr. John that we miss him, too -- and ask if he read what I wrote when he crossed the bar not so long ago.**  You do have Wi-Fi there, don't you?

With Love,
     Cousin Vinny

    

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*   Click HERE  or Google "If You Could See Me Now - Don Moen".
** Click HERE or Google "Meus Deus Pater".

A FATHER'S LULLABY: There Will Always Be Dragons to Slay

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Lucid, Vincent There Will Always Be Dragons to Slay (A Father's Lullaby) + MP3 (human interpretation) / MIDI Voice, Strings ensemble Celtic / 2010 V. J. Lucid © All rights reserved Make a donation to Vincent Lucid Powered by Free-scores.com

Olivia's World

 With photo credit to Lisa Hawthorne and apologies to Andrew Wyeth.

(click to enlarge)

JUST BE YOURSELF

I found it hard to talk to girls:
A freshman, only five foot three.
No words emerged, if she had curls.
"Just be yourself", my Dad told me.

Did he think I'm someone else?
What he meant, I wasn't sure.
I didn't talk to madamoiselles
Til I became ... a sophomore.

Girlfriends came and girlfriends went,
But I let no one get too close.
Though I became quite eloquent,
I hid behind those clever jokes.

Eventually I met the one
Who loved the man behind the mask.
We were wed and raised a son.
For my advice, he didn't ask.

I gave it to him anyway.
I let him fall; I watched him grow.
"Just be yourself", was all I'd say.
That's all you really need to know.

ON BEING MISUNDERSTOOD

Others don't understand,
because they don't hear,
because they don't listen,
because they don't care,
and, here's the main part,
because they think it's about them.

For them to accept you
just the way you are,
you must do the same for them,
with compassion, without judgment,
and, here's the hard part,
even when there is injustice.

ON LIMITS AND LIMITATIONS*

First, a note.
My son is now grown.
However, "just because they've left doesn't mean they're gone."
This is the first of a series of poems about things I tried to teach him -- or that he taught me. The non-verbal lessons didn't become poems until long after the fact, when I had gained a better view. To read the others, wait a week or a year, return to this one and click on the label below entitled,
"teach the children".

fuf

ON LIMITS AND LIMITATIONS

Find your own limits and push gently on them.
They will protect you and strengthen you.
Let them move slowly due to your effort.
Don't try to break through, lest the damage become irreparable.
Limits need to be flexible - not brittle, nor staunch.
The next time you reach them, you may find them stretched a bit.
Like new shoes that were a half-size too small for you,
they will serve their purpose even better than before, for a while.
Don't expect others to move or remove your limitations for you.
Find your own limits and push gently on them.

THE OTHER SIDE

I'm too old to be young again.
I'm in too much pain to run.
Who needs another mountain, when
You just climbed over nine or ten?
Why re-fight those battles won?

I hear the children as they play
With laughter and exhilaration.
They submit to what the grown-ups say,
When they know there is a better way.
So, each day ends with aggravation

There is no need for sweat or speed
With music, art, or pen and pad.
I'm quite content to sit and read.
Bones won't break, mistakes don't bleed.
See? Not so young is not so bad.

MOSTLY GROWN: A Sonnet

  

When I was just a scrawny pup

So-called grown-ups would question me

"Sonny, pray tell, when you grow up --

What the hell are you going to be?"

I wasn't sure -- then in a wink

Some fifty years went up in flame.

I'm mostly grown, so let me think

Just what it was that I became.

Degrees and titles were conferred

     as I achieved so many goals,

But values changed as I matured.

I hope a few of all my roles

    will be remembered in the end:

Son, Brother, Husband, Father, Friend.