Hidden Treasures

My husband and I often drive without any particular destination in mind. Last weekend our excursion brought us to a very interesting spot off of Route 46 on Budd Lake. I took some photographs when I heard from a distance someone asking us if we were tourists. I found his comment amusing given the fact we live about 25 miles away. But I guess we did look like tourists as I was carrying my camera bag and holding my Nikon camera fitted with a telescopic lens.

The person was paddling a small canoe across the lake and another person looked like he was getting his gear ready for a beautiful sunny day of fishing. For all we know they could have been the owners or gatekeeper of the property. The castle is now Pax Amicus Theater. Frankly I never heard of it before but very happy we found it. The theater was founded in 1970 and according to Wikipedia “This community theater produces a full year-round season of Broadway and off-Broadway revivals, professional productions of works by Shakespeare and Edgar Allan Poe, a program devoted to children’s theater, and special events throughout the year.” The most curious find of all was the various statutes dedicated to different people. It seemed surreal to me that along Budd Lake there would be a castle. “The Castle was built in the 1940s as a cinderblock synagogue. Later, it was owned by the Knights of Columbus. In 1978, it was turned into a theatre through the addition of a small stage house, two cinderblock turrets out front, and a fake-gothic facade. It sits at the end of a winding road on the shores of Budd Lake, perhaps 30 miles from Pennsylvania, and is surely one of the damnedest things one will ever run across. A sign over the front door reads “Pax Amicus”-“Peace, Friend.” I would love to know more about the people mentioned on the plaques. As a child this kind of place fascinated me. I suppose it still does. I hope that someone recognizes this hidden treasure and could give us more information. And if you never knew about it, you need to check it out some time.

Statue in front of Amicus Castle

Statue at Memorial Park in BUDD lakeeither thinking or cryingGeorge Stults PlaquePax Amicus Theater 2Pax Amicus Theater

Shaping Up

Shape Up

 

I tried shaping up the other day

I stretched and stretched

and flipped and flopped

to get rid of the muffin top.

 

After three hours of sweat and tears

I convinced myself

I could not keep up

because of all my years.

 

So instead I went to my drawing pad.

Painting is what makes me glad;

no point in being sad

As you can see I did shape up after all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Hair Pill

His boss was not pleased that he had come to the big presentation without preparing anything in advance. He forgot to shave and his shirt looked like he had slept in it the night before. Little did anyone know that he had not slept at all. His presentation was supposed to sell a product that has been approved by the FDA as a miracle hair growth pill. Finally someone has discovered the perfect combination of vitamins and herbs that guarantees hair grow almost immediately after taking it. Hard to believe, right? Well Harry decided that his presentation would be somewhat of a reality show. A show and tell about this miracle pill so he decided to try it himself. As it turned out the pill kept him up for two days. He was prepared in a way. He tried shaving many times the morning of the presentation but every time he looked in the mirror his beard and mustache grew back in. The pill had given him insomnia as well. He tried calling his boss to tell him about what had happened but could not reach him in time. He had no other choice but to walk into the presentation room looking like wolfman. Harry set up his laptop and started explaining how the product works. He had recorded a series a clips that clearly showed when he shaved as he set up a clock in the background. He pointed out the time and the members of the meeting could see he was telling the truth. Harry’s boss congratulated him. Unfortunately, no one would backup the product. No one wanted hair at the cost of loosing sleep and having to shave every five minutes.

This is in response to prompt posted on Today Author   https://wordpress.com/read/blog/feed/23173364

On Success

“To laugh often and much; to win the respect of the intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the beauty in others; to leave the world a bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to know that one life has breathed easier because you lived here. This is to have succeeded”

Thirty years ago I had the privilege of sending off an extraordinary 8th grade graduating class to high school. I used this quote by Emerson as an opening to my farewell speech. At the end of the ceremony, I was approached by some students who told me they would not forget me. Well, I did not believe them at the time. Recently, destiny has allowed me to bump into a few of them who recognized me right away. I must confess, I had to look deep to try to see the faces of those 12 and 13 year olds to recognize them. One of them, recited the quote and said, “Remember me, I never forgot what you said at graduation and I often think about you.” Then the memory lightbulb sparked; this was the student that told me he would never forget me. I became very emotional. Now that I am retired I think about many of my students. I remember the bright ones of course but I also wonder about the ones that struggled the most.

The new school year will begin soon. I could not believe it when he told me his daughter would start college this year. The best thing was when he told me he had written Emerson’s quote on an index card and slipped it into his daughter’s wallet to remind her about what it means to succeed. He thanked me for the inspiration and said, “You have succeeded.”

I want to wish all new teachers who will start their journey as educators of young people a wonderful and fruitful school year. Hopefully one day a student will walk up to you and express the sentiment my student did when you most needed to hear it.

Thoughts on Poetry

“Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt,

and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.”

                                           –   Leonardo da Vinci

Magic Touch

“Love, the poet said, is woman’s whole existence.”

                                          – Virginia Woolf

Wet Hibiscus

“Poetry, she thought, wasn’t written to be analyzed;

it was meant to inspire without reason, to touch without understanding.”

– Nicholas Sparks

O

“Poetry is Life;  life is Poetry”

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Melba Christie

Six Months Old

August 16, 2015

 

Our hearts leap up when we behold

Our granddaughter’s bright blue eyes

She captivates just about everyone who sees her

As does the rainbow in the sky

 

Our hearts leap up when we behold

Our Josephina Joan

She’ll never know how much joy she’s brought us all

Since the day that she was born

 

Our hearts leap up every time we hear

Her sweet and hearty little chuckle

It’s all that abuela and abuelo need

To make their knees go a buckle

 

So has it been for six months now

So will it be forever and ever

Josephina Joan,

You are our precious little treasure.

 

Happy One Half Year!

Love,

Abuelo and Abuela

His Song: The Wanderer

He was the wanderer

described in the song sung by Dion

The song with the 12-bar blues.

 

No doubt our Willie broke many hearts too

there was not one girl he would cling on to

for he lived life without a care,

He’d take any bet and any dare;

and used his two fists to get respect.

There wasn’t much you could expect

from this wanderer.

 

His big brown eyes wooed the girls every single time

for no reason nor was there no rhyme

they’d never knew what hit them

when he’d decide to leave them

 

A song with lyrics not perhaps

all politically correct today

a macho kind of song

chauvinistic at best people would say

 

 

Willie lived only the present

no worries,

no commitment,

never in one place for too long

he was a wanderer; never took a rest.

 

I hear his song now and then

and think about what would have been

for my crazy wanderer friend

he lost his life on the go one lonely night

when he hopped into his brand new 1962 Chevy Impala

Not necessarily to go to any gala

but to roam around the world

as he shouted, “that’s right”

 

He was a wanderer

Happy as a Clown

Content to roam around the town

And I wish

he were still around.

 

chevy

The Wanderer By Dion

 

Existance

Blue Ecstacy

Existance

Where we are

by far

defines our existance.

But where are we really?

Are we here, in the now, in the present?

Or are we not in existance?

Are we in our own imagination?

A figmant?

I like to think I am

inside this painting;

going around in circles

without a worry,

the universe embracing me

until I become a wave.

what is a poem?

Melba Christie at Poemattic:

DSC_0150

A poem is defined as expressive language. It is an art form that allows for free verse. Poems are musical and rhythmic and uses sounds and imagery to convey meaning. Poems use metaphors and similes and they can create a very intimate conversation between the poet and the reader.

The following is a poem about poems.

Poems are words a poet collects

to convey messages hard to forget

or to tell a truth so there are no regrets.

Poems are stored in the heart and soul

of poets waiting for their muses to call

Poems flow like rivers through the mind

and words can be sweet and sometimes unkind

And if there is a cause

that needs to be fought

A poem can manage

and never be caught

without a deep thought

to stimulate thinking

elevate the spirit,

and comfort the soul.

 

Originally posted on Melba Christie at Poemattic:

Poetry Poetry (Photo credit: V. H. Hammer)

A poem is defined as expressive language. It is an art form that allows for free verse. Poems are musical and rhythmic and uses sounds and imagery to convey meaning. Poems use metaphors and similes and they can create a very intimate conversation between the poet and the reader.

The following is a poem about poems.

Poems are words a poet collects

to convey messages hard to forget

or to tell a truth so there are no regrets.

Poems are stored in the heart and soul

of poets waiting for their muses to call

Poems flow like rivers through the mind

and words can be sweet and sometimes unkind

And if there is a cause

that needs to be fought

A poem can manage

and never be caught

without a deep thought

to stimulate thinking

elevate the spirit,

and comfort the soul.

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