Thursday, January 31, 2013

The Park

The Park

Marble sized for giants - whose
Muscles lugged huge stones here ,
Epoch sung through harmonic echoes ,
Waiting with hammer and an ear ?

Glacier droppings thawed to earth
In retreat of Ice Age nights ,
Was Hudson Bay their place of birth
Under Aurora Borealis lights ?

Bare footed , shirtless , agile
Rock climbers scout to find
Cave caverns and weathered fossil
Prints of what beastly kind .

Zig zag stairs to the tower ,
Which commands a southern view ,
Potts's dream , factory power ,
Blue collar through and through .

They board to ride steel ribbons
Through fields of yellow and green ,
Their voices join track rhythms ,
Up hills , blue skies , at pleasures dream .

Round and round swiftly sweep
Four roller shoes , they in circles flow
To ebony platters etched needle deep
Of organ music for their graceful show .

People recreate at Nature's door :
Wooded oak hill of ringing rock ,
Pavilion roofed with hardened floor ,
Strengths of family from human stock .

At " This Wonder Of The World "
Which Ripley took time to note -
All the Twentieth Century unfurled -
May memories stir by this that I wrote .

( Ringing Rocks Park , Lower Pottsgrove Township ,Montgomery County )

Ronald C. Downie

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Diabetes

Diabetes

My plea :
Do not allow yourself to come under the spell of Diabetes whatever you do.

Type 1 diabetes may be beyond your control since it is an early age onslaught disease.

Type 2 diabetes is a somewhat controllable disease especially in its early stages.

Diabetes (Type 2) is a begetting style disease which slowly gathers momentum as it subtly debilitates bodily functions often ending up in an earlier death. If death seems not to loom early, the debilitating daily bodily functions makes the afflicted wonder if a living death is any better than a dead one.

I can attest to the primary symptoms of diabetes :
(1) Increased thirst,
(2) increased hunger,
(3) increased frequency of urination.
These symptoms most often culminate in obesity that proves intractable. Overweight and diabetes go hand and hand in the struggle for graceful aging. They are mutually exclusive with that trip we call the good old life.

I'll turn 78 in a week having for twenty-five years weathered all the complications with diabetes. I'm still plagued, but seem able to put up with all the damned discomforts that grind at my everyday life. I shoot myself with insulin every night, I watch what I eat, nearly stop consuming alcohol, and stumble around with a walker or a cane. I hope my liver and kidneys are still viable. My eyes are suspect, teeth are horrible, and my feet and legs swell indiscriminately. I have no stability when I stand or walk since I've encountered
Charcot Foot with corresponding nerve damage to my feet.

My most pressing problem these days is the increasing severity of neuropathy in my hands, the hands that I use in one finger typing blogs on my iPad, the same hands typing this that you're reading. The loss of sensation in nerve endings has an ever far reaching debility in almost anything that I do, like picking up a glass, or a fork, or a spoon, anything.

My plea is that you don't get into a battle with Type 2 diabetes. Believe me, it will be a God Send for you, if you do all the things right that I did wrong. Read up on diabetes and follow the instructions. Good Luck !

Ronald C. Downie

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Gain Mastery

Gain Mastery

When in a crush of many misled men
Our World shutters of horrible deeds,
A counter is born by all strong women
Who bear our children, birth new seeds :

Then, fresh generations gain the wheel,
Trims the sails, set the compass to steer
Vessel into clear waters. Then they feel
Gaining mastery is something not to fear :

And then, we of a lesser state, find comfort
In understanding life on Earth gains in merit
From vitality pent up with genes of the sort,
Wishing for a more perfect union, to inherit.

Be these, the dreams to set aside our own misery
Of discontent or discarded woes, gains its mastery.

Ronald C. Downie



Monday, January 28, 2013

Changing Drivers

Changing Drivers

Into the emancipation of thought,
Innocently born, clambering escape
From the drudgeries of ordinary

People, an exceptional person
Emerges through ingenuity and
Spunk to become a public leader.

But the crucible holding their future
Spills, from time to time its holdings
Onto written pages, seers construct.

Fiction or oracle must pass inspection
Of those of inquisitive minds and such
Feelings that poetry or prose reveals.

The drumming which holds the beat,
The strings that arc to heaven's door,
The woodwinds which carries the tune,

The voices that peel away at sadness
Are pent up in a discordant population
Struggling for their chance at survival.

To them, nothing rises to challenge
A way of life long lived, well satisfied,
Tempered by experience, uncontested.

Miracle of the mind forgotten, ordinary
Life forces decisions to be crudely made,
Unexamined, rather than knowledge based.

Leaders must weave their way through clutter
Left behind in the wake of earlier disciples.
Is pandering to get reelected a baton passed on,

Or, for the better good of all, a banner's made ?
Needed, exceptional people, those who will grasp
The reins, control the team, then change drivers.

Ronald C. Downie


Saturday, January 26, 2013

What - Never Ending

What - Never Ending

What blots the sun, bloats the moon;
What from a seance gains us sense;
What tricks the heart as if at run ?

What causes short breaths to heave
From a chest that wrenches above
The climaxed tourniquet of flesh ?

At dawn of eternity, life's river spawned
Of an ionic maelstrom, primal ooze fresh.
Joining cells abound - Jehovah yawns -

"In a twinkling of an eye", green mould, us,
Lusting past reason, while rutting in acts of
Desire, yet will and wisdom woefully wanting.

Ruinous the occult of carnal appetites
Transcending an entire life bent mainly
On nocturnal pleasures of human flesh.

Hopefully not forgotten is pure, true love
Since penetrating passions will never end,
But subsiding with age, memories drift on.

Ronald C. Downie

Thursday, January 24, 2013

I Feel Slighted

I feel slighted.

You see, the tea party people along with their way out wackos, the gun totters who, bent on secession, pledge to take their assault weapons in hand to ward off our government from in acting responsible gun regulations, have stated, that until really challenged, they'll fight to the death to keep their 100 round clips. I just don't have that same arrogance of ego.

But, I do believe, our Congress is doing me and those who think like me a more terrible injustice by their inaction than they are in planning to enact gun control. Global warming is a more onerous threat to all life forms on earth than is the whole gun control issue. If Congress continues to pander to the minority vocal who insist on believing a scant few percent of hired scientists believing there is no problem ; rather than, listening to the vast majority of the active scientist who tell of a World heating up, all life is really in trouble.

For the few, rather than a majority controlling the acts of government is not what our founders anticipated. Slowly evolving the World's climate is heating up with dire consequences to ocean heights, to droughts, to famines, to plagues, and to super storms. If the few, who can hold up action for strictly political purposes or even financial gains, wag the tail of congressional action rather than the majority in either house then we and the rest of the World will suffer. The few must be circumvented from ignorantly working their will which could put the World in dire straits. The tipping point is out there and once reached there may be no going back. Our descendants are faced with being guinea pigs in a harsh, inhospitable World.

I hope, those who think as I do will become more vocal and join your voice with mine keeping World climate change out front and prominent.

Ronald C. Downie

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Only Knowledge

Only Knowledge

When, looking into the mirror of hope
I find far too many so deep in despair
Who willingly slough off a need to cope,
Leaving them vulnerable, requiring care :

Will it be an epiphany that grabs the scene ?
Without something like that, what's then ?
Do spots disappear, stripes fade, does fat lien ?
From nagging disappointments, hope comes when ?

Realizing a personal attitude becomes the key
To unlocking the potential energy pent up now
Awaiting release. Learning wisdom's wise old plea,
"Only knowledge sets Man free", showing him how.

History records, rewrites episodes sad or proud ;
While shunning facts, destiny floats on as a cloud.

Ronald C. Downie








Tuesday, January 22, 2013

When Lashed Together

When Lashed Together

When rolling swells from humanity's wake
Rocks life's boats, tethered safely at ready.
Sailors seek rising tides for sailing's sake
As Moon mass draws up sea waters steady:

They look to stars and charts to map the way
Off shoals, between buoys marking channels.
Seeking guidance demands society's say
About norms in living, choosing panels:

Panels representing will of people
Who, when lashed together, become stronger,
As bricks and mortar raise up a steeple
To tower cities with shadows longer.

Bundling together sticks will give it strength,
But, bundling thoughts takes wisdom its full length.

Ronald C. Downie






Monday, January 21, 2013

Martin Luther King

Martin Luther King- Celebrating His Birthday

From the bayous to the mountain tops Doctor King promoted non violence while urging his followers to march in unity which expressed their discontent of having to live their lives as second class citizens.

Martin Luther King followed Gandhi and Mandela in moving the World toward "A More Perfect Planet".

* A Special Day At Second Baptist *

A tall steeple spires Pottstown's highest hill
Above strong walls of matched field stone.
Within, tone pitched voices heavenly trill
At Second Baptist, their soul's spiritual home.

Are there shadows dark enough to hide
A light within shining from deep inside ?

Below, in the valley of the Schuylkill River
Arched trees gracefully mark her gentle banks.
Finally, she's clean, clear flows this life giver.
Man's new conscience commands our thanks.

I ask. Are there shadows dark enough to hide
A light within beaming bright from deep inside ?

Up there, somewhere on mountains high
The heavens open, down strong rains pour
Streams, creeks, and rivers from the sky.
Water flows for all, for rich and the poor.

Say, are there shadows dark enough to hide
A light within glowing bright from deep inside ?

Not all rivers flow deep from recent rain water.
Thought streams and brooks of want flow also
Carrying dreams for humanity's peaceful order.
We are immersed in life regardless the weather.

Who could light dark shadows which tries to hide
An illuminating message from the heart inside ?

King ! Why King could ! Yes, Dr. Martin could :
Spark a flint, light a candle, could ignite a flame,
Have a dream, a dream that inspired all who would
Listen. Spread light, sing out, Proclaim ! Proclaim !

There are no shadows dark enough to hide
A bright light radiating out from deep inside.
Proclaim ! There are no shadows so dark to hide
A spiritual blessing sent from the Lord On High.

Ronald C .Downie.

Note : Written for and was read at a special service honoring Dr. Martin Luther King held at Second Baptist, January 20, 2003.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

It All Depends

It All Depends

It all depends :
Upon your dreams
Behind closed eyes,
Drifting in and out,
Nodding off and on
Until total emersion.

Subliminal are images
Beyond the conscious
Activities of the day.
Retreat, or attack,
Go far away or return,
Be of a party, or not.

Immersed in reality,
Tempered by hot fire,
Clothed for deep cold,
Hair finely brushed,
Bathed in redemption,
Lost in a wilderness.

Finding one's own self
Throwing off shackles,
Demanding of mental
Strength deeply internal,
You gather up yourself
For life's universal battle.

You ask, "Who am I ?"
And, "Why am I here ?"
Paging your remembrances :
Being in and out of faith,
Does science make its case,
Who pulls Heaven's strings ?

You think the unthinkable :
Do we pass only once through
This conscious state of life ?
No beginning, so is there no end?
Am I bound up in this body forever,
What is my next form to be?

How these questions are answered
Before an Endpoint of active life
May make a tremendous difference
To those you lovingly leave behind.
But, my friend, the dismissed, to you
Clouds await your element's arrival.

Ronald. C. Downie




Saturday, January 19, 2013

Long Night's Activity

Long Night's Activity

When, in the wake of dreams unfulfilled,
Looking back, reaching for past memories,
Stirring hidden hollows, hiding strong willed
Thoughts left for a long night's sleep pleasantries.

Then, with tossing and turning, sweat arrives
From body heat captured by layers of covers,
Deepened sleep slacks as the mind's eye drives
Piercing nerve endings toward thoughts of others :

And then, over and over we relive day's events,
Real or are they derived of fiction or of facts ?
A deep night's sleep would have provided vents
For the escape from rewind or rewrite of acts.

Into this netherworld of super active long days
Take deep breaths, relax, mellow, chill out plays.

Ronald C. Downie




Thursday, January 17, 2013

Hope Is Eternal

Hope Is Eternal

When we reserve our pent up energy,
Like a coiled spring's release, waiting.
How may acts provide spontaneity
Of cause, if freedom's not awakening ?

Then, purpose trumps the lethargic malaise
Controlling action, spiriting motion.
Directed energy moves in strange ways :
Creates leaders, stirs masses into action.

And then, the World has a chance to endure
Shiftless rouge dictators, "hope's eternal".
Through education the path is secure ;
No knowledge is the hidden criminal.

The burden falls on each person's shoulders
To maximize minds, be informed soldiers.

Ronald C. Downie





Tuesday, January 15, 2013

A Tribute To Martin Luther King

A tribute to Martin Luther King on this day of his birth.

From the bayous to the mountain tops Doctor King promoted non violence while urging his followers to march in unity which expressed their discontent of having to live their lives as second class citizens.

Martin Luther King followed Gandhi and Mandela in moving the World toward "A More Perfect Planet".

* A Special Day At Second Baptist *

A tall steeple spires Pottstown's highest hill
Above strong walls of matched field stone.
Within, tone pitched voices heavenly trill
At Second Baptist, their soul's spiritual home.

Are there shadows dark enough to hide
A light within shining from deep inside ?

Below, in the valley of the Schuylkill River
Arched trees gracefully mark her gentle banks.
Finally, she's clean, clear flows this life giver.
Man's new conscience commands our thanks.

I ask. Are there shadows dark enough to hide
A light within beaming bright from deep inside ?

Up there, somewhere on mountains high
The heavens open, down strong rains pour
Streams, creeks, and rivers from the sky.
Water flows for all, for rich and the poor.

Say, are there shadows dark enough to hide
A light within glowing bright from deep inside ?

Not all rivers flow deep from recent rain water.
Thought streams and brooks of want flow also
Carrying dreams for humanity's peaceful order.
We are immersed in life regardless the weather.

Who could light dark shadows which tries to hide
An illuminating message from the heart inside ?

King ! Why King could ! Yes, Dr. Martin could :
Spark a flint, light a candle, could ignite a flame,
Have a dream, a dream that inspired all who would
Listen. Spread light, sing out, Proclaim ! Proclaim !

There are no shadows dark enough to hide
A bright light radiating out from deep inside.
Proclaim ! There are no shadows so dark to hide
A spiritual blessing sent from the Lord On High.

Ronald C .Downie.

Note : Written for and was read at a special service honoring Dr. Martin Luther King held at Second Baptist, January 20, 2003.

Monday, January 14, 2013

Outing Truth

Outing Truth

Sundays bring out a number of - my goodnesses :
The grunts certainly watch football winding down,
Women cling to their TV's for The Golden Globes,
Oldsters ready themselves for Downton Abby 3,
Sixty Minutes delayed an hour for football's overrun.

It was 60 Minutes' first segment that caught my eye -

Finally someone took blinders off the idea of work :
Seems the new dynamic in manufacturing is the return of industry from China or other countries back to USA for production here. The problem hidden within this decision is that the return isn't predicated on our superior workforce or their inferior workers but by something else.

Robotics is the new buzz word. The union of the cyber world with the mechanical world. A robot performs what a person or a few persons did previously but the robot works 24 hours a day, 365 days a year without lunch or breaks. It needs no vacation, nor holidays, nor unions but maybe it will need a shot of oil or grease every few months. When bought, this sophisticated unit pays profits to its owners : day in, day out ; year in, year out.

The March of Civilization has left in its wake : Iron and Bronze Ages, Wars and the Dark Age, Renaissance, as well as, the Crusades, an Industrial Revolution and an Information Age. Now we enter a new era, that of robotics, in an unprecedented amount ; in a number which will alter the very concept of work and people we once referred to as workers.

The return of work to these shores is not based on putting people here to work but to make more profit for the owners of businesses, the owners of the robots. Owners see an advantage in saving shipping costs and see an advantage in a more stable economy here which is still the number one consuming nation. It is still, "the dollar stupid".

"The Sixty-Four Thousand Dollar Question" remains : what in the World do we do with all the idle people unable to secure a decent paying job? Work, as once defined, no longer can suffice. To educate the masses has significance but not enough to alter the longer term effect. It is no longer - one person pitted against another ; to the victor goes the spoils - but, man competing against a robot to do a repetitive job, loses every time, period.

Work must take on a new paradigm. Society, I believe, has to embrace the concept of work as encompassing anything which adds value to the whole of our living experience. For instance, just cleaning the streets and sidewalks of every urban environment would add value. Eradicating poison ivy, another. Add kudzu or any other non-indigenous species controlled, that would certainly add value to the lives of all. There are countless other examples, there has to be millions of more jobs to busy the growing populous.

Now, the biggest question of them all, how does society pay a living wage for this, so called, make work, work? An army of accountants would be kept busy shuffling numbers to justify wages. The purists, the rich, the pull yourself up by your boot straps would rail against this notion. They, in the mean time, would have been spending money on contractors hired to build walls and fences around their properties. Modern day cloisters would sprout up like motels once did to comfort a set free mobile nation.

How long do we have to filter all this out? It's scary to think our Congress, as impotent as it has been in recent years, would be able to formulate a works program equal to the task. This may have to be a bottom up initiative rather than top down. What do you think?

Ronald C. Downie

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Painted Brick - Blah Facades

Painted Brick - Blah Facades

When painted brick and blah facades
Of downtown building's past hurrahs,
No longer cloaks Pottstown in dress
Of trees tall shading sidewalks the best.
A return of shoppers is merchant's talk
Yet to happen, to be fulfilled, their walk.

Studies pile high our manager's desk,
Editorial writings overflow his journal.
Citizens resolve that the ultimate task
Is to plant a seed, to nurture that kernel.

Which sprouts the voices of discontent
That quickly grows groups who question.
Where are those leaders we voters sent ;
In closed halls, locked, executive session ?

What ? Build a brand new Borough Hall
To fix the ills of lean, dry, tough years ?
While town's shoppers all sent to the Mall
As high taxes drive weak elderly to tears.

We're left with bills for little done
To stem the rising tide of disrepair.
Wake up- speak out - decay hasn't won !
Don't throw in the towel of utter despair.

Demand that your group voice is heard
By elected servants who loudly promised
Your needs and that your town be served.
It's up to you to keep all of them honest.

Ronald C. Downie

Written 22 years ago when a new borough hall was first seriously considered but misappropriation of borrowed funds stopped the effort dead in it's tracks. Now we have a new Borough Hall but the ultimate conflict between those in charge and those who pay taxes continues on. The problem remains : can the vocal activists keep up their energy so change will happen in their engaged civic life time ?

Hope being eternal, the stars seem to be lining up in favor of real change finally happening. Activists and administrators are talking with each other rather than at each other.

Each side seems to know that real problems exist and, if each is willing to forgo old differences that created former positions cut in stone, I am totally with them. Let's pray !
O

Saturday, January 12, 2013

The Last Hurrah

The Last Hurrah

When crippling becomes the coin of the realm,
When cane and walker ease some wiggly wobbles,
When a chair only substitutes for comfort in a bed,
When death creeps beyond all horizons of hope,
I challenge myself to keep writing, by plugging away;
Writing is cathartic, essentially cleansing, healthful.

I write for myself, as my number of followers, shows.

We organize our mind's eye, to envision, to synthesize
A subject so it unfolds for our own inward emotions :
As sure as waves embrace all shore lines, ebbing and
Flowing, with moon inspired tides, crashing or baying,
Oblivious to only, but Nature's Law. Our wants are left
On paper for all others to per rouse at their pleasure.

I write for more than myself. Readers are my targets.

Does an artist wish only his art to replicate his vision ?
Does a potter wish only his vessel carry cool water ?
Does a dancer wish only her movements to spin ?
Does a writer wish only his words to tell of the past ?
The human instinct is toward expansion, fulfillment of
The unique essence of egressive folds in the brain.

Why do I write ? Why do you read ? Who are we ?

I am compelled by an internal clock to record myself.
You are drawn to see my written thoughts exposed.
Mine is a must, yours is by chance, our's different.

Ronald C. Downie




Friday, January 11, 2013

Bonnie Lea Downie

A Birthday Wish for my oldest daughter.

Bonnie Lea Downie

"My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
My Bonnie lies over the sea,
My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
Oh bring back - bring back,
Oh bring back, my Bonnie to me."

Whether by verse or song these words ring
As mellow today as they ever have.
From a heritage steeped in Scottish lore
You, my first born, carry this mantel well.

Your first day on Earth was in cold winter,
And like all birthdays, it's the same each year,
The date won't change, but the weather could.
Bundle up, wear a hat, scarf, boots, warm socks.

Each day that advances, adds a minute
To day's light, looking toward equinox.
Later in the spring, accelerating,
For birds, bulbs, and branches sweet of flowers.

The inevitable march of seasons
Ushers forward a sweet advance toward
Warmth, sunshine, and breezes full of comfort.
Years, though, may not be so hospitable.

Musical strains of the opening stanza
Are evident more on this, your birthday,
But, are with the family all year round.
May the Lords of Good Health look after you.

Happy Birthday,
Love, Dad & Connie

K

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Only Knowledge

Only Knowledge

When, looking into the mirror of hope
I find far too many so deep in despair
Who willingly slough off a need to cope,
Leaving them vulnerable, requiring care :

Will it be an epiphany that grabs the scene ?
Without something like that, what's then ?
Do spots disappear, stripes fade, does fat lien ?
From nagging disappointments, hope comes when ?

Realizing a personal attitude becomes the key
To unlocking the potential energy pent up now
Awaiting release. Learning wisdom's wise old plea,
"Only knowledge sets Man free", showing him how.

History records, rewrites episodes sad or proud ;
While shunning facts, destiny floats on as a cloud.

Ronald C. Downie








Wednesday, January 9, 2013

How Creeks Got There

How Creeks Got There

My slice of Rock Run Creek flowed north to south
Crossing Houck Road at bottom of the dirt lane hill.
Creeks wind their way through the hilly countryside
Mining easiest cuts through the more soluble soils.
They have no design other than an ease of passage,
Getting to the bottom, eroding away, seeking oceans.

On Houck Road our house perched on a south ridge
That terminated at the French Creek, St. Peters,Pa.
About four miles south. How many eons must pass
For all the eroded soils to filter away down stream ?
The valley is from ridge top to ridge top, maybe a half
Mile wide and a hundred feet deep, that's a lot of silt.

We perceive creeks as some topographic character
Designed in place like a canal drawn on a blueprint.
They're not, no way, they meander to Nature's Laws.
Gravity draws water down to its very lowest level,
Soils dilute in water while heavier particles suspend
Tumbling along lightly grinding their way, scarifying.

A wondrous fluid, water, is so soft, yet so mighty;
Just look at the Grand Canyon and interpolate it.
Try picking up a handful of water and feel it filter
Through your fingers, watch water dissolve flavors
Like coffee and sugar for your early morning's sips.

And then, return to a vision of a deep valley with a
Strong stream meandering through the countryside.
Imagine the enormous power and energy needed to
Cut and carry away all the soil that at one time
Filled the valley. How many millions or billions of
Years was the span of time needed to accomplish
This grand task which works, 24/7's, 365 days a year.

Just look around you, those of you who live in these
Foothills of The Appalachian Mountains and see
Streams and valleys everywhere.
How did they get
There ? The answer is, yes, by the power of lowly
Water. Water over time flowing downhill is a very,
Very powerful, exceedingly so, a grand excavator.


Rock Run Creek is still there working away as it has
All these millennium without a break from its labor,and
Will be working away long after we're all gone. If
Only we humans had such tenacity to stick to the
The purpose of our labor. Never under estimate the
Vast power of water since you already know our
Bodies are made up of mostly water. Water is truly
A precious fluid, treat it well, it will serve you well.

Ronald C. Downie





Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Rock Run Creek

The prose of my youth written in the free verse of of an unstructured style.

Rock Run Creek

Upland creeks play peek-a-boo with us,
Quickly charging in concert with a rain,
Drying up to a trickle in summer's drought,
They drain swamp meadows trickling down.

Rock formations, stone boulders of every size
Sculpt the landscape along Rock Run Creek.
Ebbing and flowing, running water pools in little
Ponds edged in muddy sandbars ever changing.

My innocence was rudely interrupted at a pond
One spring day. Farm cats were prolific breeders
Out near Harmonyville, Chester Co. or anywhere.
How does a farmer gain control of these felines ?

Hookie and Kenny, the younger Wade farm boys,
Were carrying a burlap bag that sagged quite low
As they approached the deep pool of water where
I was skipping flat stones across it that morning.

"Don't watch, Ronnie, if you don't want to." they
Hollered. But I watched in wonder, aghast, amazed.
The bag sunk quickly out of sight, the newly born,
Sightless kittens made sounds, squirmed, drowned.

I was skipping stones across the rock strewn creek
When a stone weighted bag of newly born kittens
Sunk quickly when it was tossed in, without remorse.
Stones don't talk, but they too observe and wonder.

Ronald C. Downie

Monday, January 7, 2013

Reading's More Than A Pleasure

Reading's More Than A Pleasure

The pleasure to read, put off way too long, becomes like a drag on a boat, slowing it down while making it less manageable to steer, as it puts in jeopardy a person's desire to better find themselves. The inability to read is more like hitting an iceberg and sinking the boat rather than just putting a drag on it.

Where in the World could America get a better return on her investment then if our country would make education a top priority by pouring investments into it. It's not like a brand new program, we've had an universal education agenda in place for most of a Century here in America which now needs a shot of financing to make education truly a 21st Century accomplishment.

Americans pride ourselves in the excellence of our higher education institutions which serves those whose parents can afford their exorbitant costs or are willing to mortgage their futures by borrowing to attend. Many slots are taken up by foreign students of financially able parents.

To more and more, a belief surfaces that a higher education is but a "right of passage" of all young inhabitants of our Earth as they pass from youthful adolescence into adulthood, and, as their aptitude and attitude allows them. This passage is evermore controlled by a young person's ability to be served by money instead of by raw mental ability.

Why in the World does America eat its seed corn or eat her children or eat the future away? Because, we as a country, are awfully short sighted thinking only for today or, at best, no longer than this week. The rich are really dumb thinking this way. Their own best interest is in having buyers of products their industries produce.

These buyers have to be nurtured, growing into consumers which is the backbone of America's economy. They need disposable income to purchase goods and services. Expanding the poor is the last thing providers of good and services need unless these providers are bent on a short time run. Too often, it seems the well to do need little time to make their vast wealth, so they're only in for the short run, and those younger financiers replace them in a same short amount of time.

It once took a generation to accumulate an old time fortune, but now, ten years is a long time for a fortune to be realized. Get mine now and be gone is the moneyed's song when their interest should be in a rising tides lift all ships.

A rising tide is needed in education to bring it along in a way that truly raises the pursuit of knowledge to a level our World needs. The ability to read is the golden rule for all living beings. The increased ability to write well boarders on the true per suit of capturing wisdom.

Ronald C. Downie

Sunday, January 6, 2013

Plumb Lines

Plumb Line

When the line stretches taunt, perpendicular's set,
As the tapered pear like bob seeks Earth's heart.
Plumb is a desired need for any building plans met
To assure sturdy built structures from their start.

Then, if plumb, could skyscrapers rise as would Lego
Pieces quickly snapped in place by youngsters neat ?
Surely, foundations being set plumb allows the flow
Of upper stories safely built, above a busy street.

And then, we're comfortable building walls erect.
We think of those who plan the future giving hope.
You are that person we look at, it's you we select,
You will be there, always gaining strength to cope.

Growing strong through tough times tempers each
To check plumb lines, go forward, ready to reach.

Ronald C. Downie

Saturday, January 5, 2013

Tasting Wine

Tasting Wine

Oft on a starry, starry night, I pause to
Think about the poem I'm apt to write.
Not so fast, a few words, simple it seems.
But, it just isn't so simple, it's quite troubling.
When you write you leave somethings of yourself
Behind, each or both, your heart, or your soul.
Crunching words and phrases which echo thoughts
May seem easy, but it is not, it is quite difficult.

The reading of combined words is a challenge;
A challenge worth the effort, a time well spent.
Introspection draws affect from the inner self
In ways that today seems much less important
Than yesterday. A day, which seems to linger on
As wine in a barrel does, forever aging, mellowing.
Today's juice will always intensify sharpness
In ways the sour of fresh cheep wine, tastes.

Take now. I am struggling to write on in ways
I would like to be able to freely express myself,
With garbled words, of those who write, use.
Words lay around like dead fish on an old dock.
Every size and species of the sea passes over
The smooth surface slippery now from its use.
Harvested or not the oceans continue to pulsate
In their own good time, not too different, from ours.

In verse form, the prose of my intellectual being.

Ronald C. Downie


Thursday, January 3, 2013

The Farm Yard

The Farm Yard

As a pre-teenaged young boy I spent some of my summers at my father's parents house on Houck Road near Harmonyville, Chester County. The adjacent field was part of the Wade Farm and by crossing it you would come upon a bank barn, hog pens, chicken houses, and a fenced in farm yard where centered was usually a fairly large pile of manure.

Their farm house, just a short distance further on, was built over a wet spring which cooled the cellar during the summer that kept meat, eggs, and vegetables from spoiling and where they stored many shelves of jarred and canned items. In the spring's cool water jugs of new raw milk were submersed to kept the milk safe for consumption. It was a big stone house complete with a large walk in kitchen fireplace and, oh yes, water cress grew year round in the spring ditch exiting the cellar.

The barnyard remains indelible in my memory. I clearly remember when I saw all of life's processes play out there, but especially, was butchering day. I've often suggested that teenagers be exposed to a farm yard early on in their youth so their budding education would include how animal life reproduces. The actual acts of animal rutting, gestation, and birthing known well to farm children would, in my mind, benefit the whole population of our youth. In and around barn yards all of life's episodes play out, not only, that of reproduction, but also, the harvesting of animal flesh for human consumption, and getting of milk for the public's use.

Here eggs are gathered while animal manure is also gathered up onto piles so it heated up and composted, then in winter was spread on frozen fields, where both animal feed and vegetable edibles where grown. The basic cycle of life : birth, growth, death goes on year after year around the barn yard as it has for thousands of years without interruption. The only change is in the relative scale of the individual operation.

Most memorable was butchering day. Big kettles were hung over hot fires while large hooks hung down from the sturdy bank barn upper floor beams which cantilevered out past the main stone barn wall some five feet past and about ten foot from the ground. All the available large wooden and metal tubs were filled to the tops with clean water and all the farm buckets were scrubbed clean and set aside. A concrete apron under the overhang extended out into the barnyard about five more feet more then the end of the overhang, it was scrubbed down and hosed off too.

The Wade boys were in the butchering mood this day even though it turned out to be hard work and took all day. A young steer, an huge old hog, and a rather young calf were the candidates for todays gathering. From my vantage point sitting on the main swinging gate to the barn yard, I saw the boys bring the young calf into the chute, a very narrow ramp leading from an out building into the yard. They quickly sliced the calf's neck from ear to ear with a long sharp knife. Then they hooked a chain to the animal's back legs and dragged the carcass to the scrubbed concrete apron and hoisted it up and huge it on a hook.

They placed buckets under the carcass to catch blood as they cut the belly from the chest bone to the anus and out spilled the animal's guts and entrails which they set aside in a tub. Blood drained as they sloped hot water on the inside of the carcass. Using a very sharp smaller knife one of the boys cut away at the skin while two others pulled the skin off the hide. The head was severed and set aside, later the tongue was removed and saved.

The young steer maybe twice as large was forced into the chute and he was shot in the head first before his throat was cut. It took a block and tackle to drag this dead animal to the apron and hoist his carcass up to a hanging position. The de-gutting process and the removing of his hide took longer than the first animal but it was a similar operation.

Mister Hog was even more eventful. He was almost too fat to squeeze into the chute but, once there, one of the boys put a gun barrel to its head and shot. Another Wade boy tried slicing the hogs throat but it bolted into the barnyard as two boys with long knives ran after it trying to finish the throat job. Finally, either from the bullet or the slicing the hog went down. This big fellow needed the block and tackle also to hoist him up for butchering. After the removal of the hide the boys sliced off as much fat as they could and tossed it all into a large pot hanging over a fire pit, lard in the rendering.

Into another pot over a fire went a menagerie of animal parts, spices, and different flours which eventually ended up, I'm told, as sausage or scrapple. I remember, they just threw on the manure pile any unwanted carcass pieces which flocks of birds swooped in to fight over. The carcasses were dissected into carry able sizes and taken either to the farmhouse kitchen or to the spring cellar below. A big meal was planned for Sunday when invited neighbors came to eat and go home with meat cuts they had ordered earlier.

Many times I witnessed a chicken's head cut off, but watching an ageless process as is farm butchering sobered me up at a young age. Hunters and trappers do this all the time and think nothing of it ; as do fisherman, who clean their catch at the end of the day. Thankfully humans are at the top of the food chain so we get to pick and choose what we kill so we can eat. The barnyard is a great place to learn about things in life generally hidden from modern day youngsters. Visit a working farm to see how the interdependent web of life exists.

Ronald C. Downie bs

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Lily Noelle Kurtz

Lily Noelle Kurtz

So steep up this hill, where's it going;
A path so well trodden, but by whom?
Winding, forever winding, up and up.

You, twelve years of twelve months each,
Having endured one hundred forty four
Months awaiting for this haloed destination.

Well, it has finally arrived, those teen years.
Those worrisome years when anxious parents,
On edge each evening, as they wait for dark.

Is Lily on her way home, who's she with?
Lily, she'll worry us until grey hairs arrive.
Doesn't she understand her pesky parents.

Her brothers, one off at school, eagerly learning,
The other so very busy in high school and after.
Lily's independence, small steps have yet to stride.

Whether on the track, or gym floor, or at life works,
Her independence takes its path also steep up a hill
Strengthening Lily in both aptitude and in attitude.

Every path taken may be full of stumbling blocks
As you make your way up hill, careful with each step.
Granddaughter, Lily, our faith in you prevails forever.

Arriving at the top of the teen year challenge hill,
Looking down, you'll see it starting, another path,
Up it leads to adulthood, another crowning glory.

May all our love be with you on your journey !
Happy Thirteenth Birthday !
Love, Nanny & Pop Pop


Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Dwarfs A-Plenty

Dwarfs A-Plenty

Sleeping Beauty had her seven dwarfs back in the storybook time of our childhood. Now, we have a whole lot more, 535 more dwarfs, accounting for all our congressional members which has done about the least amount of legislative work ever since its inception.

Senators run for election statewide, two per each state, no matter how large or small their state is. Sparsely populated states have much more clout in national issues per their voter than heavily populated states. The great plain states and the quite small states demonstrate this differential, they're "the tail that wags the dog".

Representatives, instead, are elected by gross numbers of citizens, nearing 800,000 in Pennsylvania, living in a state drawn district. This has been a bone of contention for a long, long time. State legislatures, each ten years after their census is verified, have the opportunity to redraw federal congressional district lines. But, when redrawn in a more favorable way for the party in power, it is called gerrymandering. This, you understand, is extremely upsetting for those in the minority and they call - foul.

Right now on this last day of 2012 Congress is fiddling while the country burns, over the cliff goes the whole country's economy because of a unwillingness for Republicans and Democrats to find compromise. Compromise has been the bulwark of governance ever since the constitution became law of the land. We seem to allow a few congressman elected into office by less than 800,000 citizens to disrupt a nation of 317,000,000 citizens. This is crazy !

Polls recently taken tell us the US Congress has an eighty two percent disapproval rating. That's about as low a rating that human beings ever get. Disapproval by more than eight out of ten people is damn bad. Tell me, where is the outrage for our local congressional legislators ? How can we continue to vote for them ?
Those of you who voted to retain your congressperson should begin to reassess you stance. You are now supported by less than two persons in ten, go figure.
As always, it's up to you, it's up to you this next election in 2014, begin now.

Ronald C. Downie