Environmental Attitude

Environmental Attitude

 A cat explores her habitat.

"What's that I see upon the mat? A pin, you say?  
How very strange,

I didn't plan to rearrange

the furniture.  Well, never mind, 
one never knows what one will find."

A dog explores his habitat.

"Oh, where's my Boy?  We need

to chat.  Aha, I see him over there,

let's go, Boy!  Come on, off that chair!

New chair, you say? I didn't see,

'cause Boy is here to play with me."

Cats and the New Age

Do cats have chakras

and theta waves?

Would cats do yoga 

if so inclined?

Do cats make contact

with altered states?

Should cats be raising

their consciousness?

No - cats have no need

of "new age" ways,

'cause cats have been there

and done it all!

Poems

POEMS ABOUT LOSS

III :  The Lament of the Milk-Fed Veal Calf *

Veal calf, veal calf, what do you see?

I see my mother being taken from me.

Veal calf, veal calf, what do you hear?

I hear my mother cry out in fear.

Veal calf, veal calf, what do you feel?

I feel around me a cage of steel!

Veal calf, veal calf, what do you smell?

The wastes of other calves and mine as well.

Veal calf, veal calf, what do you taste?

The only food I’m given is a milky thin paste.

Veal calf, veal calf, why don’t you move far?

I’m chained by the neck to a wooden bar.

Veal calf, veal calf, how do you feel?

I feel so sick without a decent meal.

Veal calf, veal calf, why do you shake?

I’ve had no exercise, my bones might break.

Veal calf, veal calf, of what do you dream?

Of sunlight and green grass beside a cool stream.

Veal calf, veal calf, what do you see?

I see the slaughter truck coming for me.

     * Although there have been some improvements over the past thirty years in how veal

     calves are raised and treated, about half are still housed in crates in severe confinement,

     taken from their mothers at an early age and fed a diet designed to make them anemic,

     so that their flesh will be pale and soft.

National Veal Boycott2.jpg

POEMS ABOUT LOSS

I :Welcome to America, Little Boy

“Where are we going, Mama?”

I asked you and held out my arms

and you picked me up and cuddled me.

Why are we leaving Papa and Maria behind?

Mama said “Shh. We’ll see them soon.”

I held out my arms to her but she turned away.

Then I said, “Mama?” and

she came back and hugged me.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

“I’m tired, Mama, pick me up!”

Mama said “you must be a good,

strong little man, chiquito.

Now I’ll sing you a song

while we walk, okay?”

I was good and I nodded my head,

but I was so very tired.

We walked a lot and lay down

by the side of the road when

we had to sleep.

I missed my room and Papa and Maria,

but I was good and didn’t say anything

and ate the food that Mama gave me,

even though I didn’t like it.

After a long time of walking, there was

a lot of noise and big men were shouting at us.

I was scared and held onto Mama’s leg.

Mama said “be strong, little one, hold my hand.”

We walked where the big men told us to

and there were a lot of people around us.

All I could see were their legs.

Then one man crouched down and

smiled at me like he was angry.

I didn’t smile back ‘cause I was scared.

He held out his arms to pick me up,

but I didn’t like him, so I asked Mama

to pick me up.

She bent down to pick me up,

but the man took me instead.

He started to take me away, so

I held out my arms to Mama, but

she didn’t come to me.

She turned away, even though

I called to her.

“I’m a good boy, Mama, don’t go!”

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

“Mama, I'm holding out my arms.
Mama? . . . where are you?"

Memories of My Grandparents

Australia, Memories


We had Grannie and Pa on Mum’s side and Grandma and Da on Dad’s side.

My memories of visits to both sets of grandparents have faded.  We didn’t go often,

usually only for extended family gatherings around the holidays.

Grannie was very stern in appearance.  Like many people in the 40’s and 50’s

she seemed to be about twenty years older than her chronological age.

Both she and Grandma dressed very demurely, with dresses or skirts, stockings

(and probably corsets)  I never saw either of them in pants.  This was unheard of in their society.

Grannie was a very proper English lady, transplanted to a more relaxed (read “less

refined”) Australia, on the insistence of her husband and his brother, who had

encouraged them to migrate from Liverpool, England.  She raised Mum to be polite, 

unassuming, quietly spoken  and perhaps rather diffident.  In other words, a proper English lady.  On the other hand my Grandma was first generation Australian and by nature and

upbringing much more assertive and outspoken (read “unrefined,” according to Grannie.)

The story my mother told was that the first words Grannie heard Grandma say were uttered 

in annoyance to one of the children before Grandma was aware of Grannie coming through 

the garden gate:

“Get in here, ya little devil, or I’ll smack ya bum!”

The relationship between the two went downhill from there.  Grandma always felt that 

Grannie was judging her and finding her wanting (as indeed Grannie probably was!)

Grandma held onto the belief encouraged from early childhood, that she was a musical prodigy.  She had played the piano all her life and as a young woman had held musical performances in England.  In spite of that she always had an inferiority complex when it came to her English relatives and that made her even more outspoken and brash.  Her husband, my Da, adored her and cossetted her through her many illnesses, both real and imagined.  She seemed to us 

kids to be a bit of a prima donna.

While Grannie would never dream about talking about the trials of pregnancy and the 

pains of childbirth, Grandma frequently tried guilt trips, reminding her children of the 

sickness they had caused her by being born.  Her facial expressions frequently

reflected her annoyance and ill health.

On the other hand, Grannie seemed to quietly put up with a lack of attention and

caring from her husband, a minister absorbed in his work and the adulation of his

female congregation.  She always looked calmly aloof, in control of her emotions,

dedicated to her role of providing meals and household comforts to Pa.

Memories of Growing Up in Australia

HULLO* READERS,

I left Australia, with my first husband, in the mid 1960's, to come to America for maybe
a three week vacation, or, if one of us was lucky enough to find a job, for maybe a year or two.
Fifty years later I'm still living here, without the first husband, who died too young, but with my
second husband, in the Appalachian mountains.
This is my account of a long life of memories and impressions of Australia and America.

My early childhood to my early adulthood as a young bride was spent in Sydney. In my 20's

my husband and I came to the U.S. so the rest of my account is set here.
Since I'm approaching my second childhood now, the memories are more sporadic and fainter.
(Darn it, should have done my memoir 10 years ago when I could still access most of my mind.)
However, I do still have some distinct images and impressions, so here goes.
The first few stories come second hand, from Mum's memories.

IN THE SEA

As a toddler I loved water, of any kind, baths, showers, rain, you name it. One day we'd spent several delightful (her word) hours digging holes in the sand, paddling in the waves at the edge of the sea.  Newcastle, a town at the edge of the Pacific Ocean, was our home at the time and she loved living there on
a hill, while my father was away in the army. She had dried and dressed me and was packing up our picnic things when she turned back and found I'd
disappeared.  Panicking, she searched the beach for one heart-stopping
moment till she saw me happily paddling again, fully clothed, in the waves.



HYGIENE

Mum always impressed upon me, from the age I could walk and talk, that it was very important to
wash one's hands before eating.  As I was generally an obedient child at that time, I always tried
to do that. One day we were out doing our shopping (marketing) and Mum was going to give me a sweet (candy) for being a good girl.  Before she could stop me I had squatted down and washed my hands in a puddle on the footpath (sidewalk.)

DO AS I TELL YOU!

This story that Mum told shows me that my mother was a very sensible parent.

My Grannie was visiting one day when I was five and I decided to help Mum get our afternoon
tea ready. I had gone to our icebox (early version of a refrigerator) which was kept on the
verandah (porch) looking for some biscuits (cookies.)  I found them and came back into the
kitchen, leaving the icebox door open.  Grannie saw this and told Mum to tell me to close
the door.  Now that I was four and becoming quite independent, I hated doing what someone
had told me to do, so I said "no," of course.  Grannie became indignant at this insurgency and told
Mum to slap me for being bad.  Instead, Mum calmly insisted with her "request"for some minutes, saying "yes"every time I said "no!"  Finally, I very grudgingly obeyed, but slammed the door
shut to express my annoyance.  Grannie became indignant again and told Mum that she
should slap me.  Mum told Grannie that I had, in the end, obeyed, but it was healthier to allow
me to let off steam.  Whenever I had a tantrum because I didn't get my way, Mum would hustle
me out to the back verandah where I could lie down and drum my heels on the floor till I was
exhausted and pliant again. She always said if I had to yell and drum to let off steam, at least I
should do it where I couldn't disturb anyone.  Sensible woman.

 

OBEDIENCE

“Do what I tell you to.  Shut that door!”

Mum said one day when I was four.

I said “No!”  Mum said “Yes.”

Grannie said “smack that naughty little child.”

Grannie said “Do what your mother tells you to.

Shut that door!”  I said “No!”

Mum calmly said “Yes, yes, yes, yes!”

Cowed at last, I slammed it shut.

Grannie said, “Naughty girl should be smacked,”

But Mum said “No, she did obey at last,

she’s grumpy and needs to let off steam.”

Mum said, “Go outside and yell if you want.”

But I grinned at her and I said, “No!”

* see https://forum.duolingo.com/comment/5236783/What-are-some-differences-

between-American-British-and-Australian-English

Sacred Grounds, Sao Paulo, Brazil

POEMS ABOUT LOSS

II:  Missing You.

Your need for my company pulled at me.

Used to cats, not dogs, I was annoyed at first,

but soon you became an expected and

welcomed constant by my side.

We talked to each other while we walked

each day.  I felt you understood my thoughts.

Your liquid brown gaze never wavered,

telling me that you sympathized.

I didn’t know how much I would miss you,

how your dignified, patient presence would

place a permanent paw print on my heart.

I look forward to hugging you when
we meet again in the beyond.