Yesterday we went to the Houston Museum of Natural Science to see the DeVinci exhibit. Wow!
What a genius this man was! He actually had the orginal idea of so many machines like the airplane, the car, an army tank. So amazing. I was familiar with his paintings of the Mona Lisa and The Last Supper but all the machinery was awesome. The museum showed models of his many works including the wings with attached harness, his attempt at flying. Incredible. I came away wondering if there surely isn't an equal genius here today on our planet somewhere that has some solutions to the mess we are in now with the energy crisis, global warming, war, overpopulation, poverty. If you are out there somewhere, dear genius, please speak up. We need you NOW!

Starbuck poetry

The girl in the “fuck me” shoes

All heads turned including mine
as she walked up to the counter,
the girl in the “fuck me” shoes,
You know, the high heel see-through plastic ones
brightly painted toes spreading at the end.
That’s what caught my eye
but others probably went to the bleached blonde hair
framing dramatic make-up and bright red lips.
Perhaps the tight black skirt with its hem
midway up a tan and shapely thigh
caught their eye.
Under the halter top with a pristine white collar.
lay a gold and shiny buckle
trapped in cleavage of bursting boobs.
Heads turned, yes, indeed, as she picked up her coffee
headed for her Hummer parked just outside.
leaving us all to wonder
“What might her day job be?”

@Kay Cox

The other quilt in the TAACL show. This is of my husband who has been involved in the space program for over 45 years. I started to name it "Space cadet" but decided he might not accept that label so this will have to do.

A week to remember

Dear Mama,
If you were alive today, you would be amazed and I'm not sure how you would react. Down deep I think you would be elated as I think had you lived this long you would have grown to be more tolerant and accepting. I would like to think so as I know you stood along with Dad for honesty and integrity. But I do remember when I was 19 years old, I wanted to join the protests against segregation over on the Drag by the University. You told me that if I did, I needn't bother to come home again. And so I didn't. To this day I don't think it was so much that you were opposed to blacks attending college as much as it was something that "nice ladies" shouldn't do. I think you was terrified that a picture of me carrying a sign would show up in the paper. "Ladies would never attract that sort of notoriety." The only picture appropriate would have been an engagement picture or a wedding picture and you made sure that happened.

This week a black American, Barack Obama, became the Democratic nominee for President of the United States. And this was in a close race with a woman, Hillary Clinton....haven't we come a long way on both fronts. I am thrilled that this wonderful compassionate Harvard educated young man of mixed race is going to lead this country that was founded by immigrants and diversity. And to think that a woman came so close. Today as she conceded to Obama and ended her campaign she gave the best speech she had ever given in the last 18 months. If only she had addressed women in this way, who knows how it would have turned out.

All this in my life time, just such a short time it seems since blacks came to the front of the bus and joined classes at UT. All this since 1974 when paying cash for some property in my name, the male realtor insisted on my husband's cosigning. Fortunately my activist nature was never squelched...you and Dad taught me about justice and rights and I am grateful for that.
So Mama, who knows...maybe you reincarnated as Hillary or Dad, maybe you coached Obama from above...but however these two were manifested, I am grateful and am sure that you remained staunch Democrats. Maybe we will take back the state of Texas this year. A year of change and possibilities. We've come a long way, babe.

Washington, D.C.

Washington, D.C.

Well, we are back after an exhausting few days in D.C. The conference went well in spite of some major clitches with the set-up. After days of little but acronymish (space cadets speak in acronyms that I have decided is a new language--acronymish) I escaped the Hilton to wander a bit. This was what moved me to write a poem about my journey.

Memorial Day in McGregor Park, D.C.

A soft breeze cools the cement beneath my feet
as geometric shadows of nearby buildings
grow long across worn patches of green grass.
Making their way slowly, one by one they come.
With walkers, wheel chairs, crutches they come,
come to find that certain bench,
come to stake a claim on dream time.
Black plastic bags lay near torn and ragged soles
holding what’s left of a life of hard times and bitter memories.
What will the darkness bring?
Nightmares of “Nam”?
Dreams of beds and showers?
Will they sleep tonight as sirens wail down K Street?
Ducks and pigeons scurry with flapping wings
circling round the woman all in green.
Midst the clamor, a hand turned rusty brown
reaches into a bag and throws the fowl some crumbs.
She who has so little sharing what she can.
Oblivious, suited figures scurry through the park toward appointments
while engaged in conversations wrapped around their ears.
I’m an intruder in a strange land.
Do I bring anything to the table?
Can I hear their pain?
I take a seat on a fading sun-lit bench
feeling overwhelmed that here
on Memorial Day near the Wall of honor
gather the forgotten ones
lost in the “land of the free and the home of the brave”.
How did it come to this?
A dark figure stooping under his mighty load
is ranting, raving at sights unseen
as he stumbles from bench to bench.
He looks at me and I become afraid.
He shouts a greeting and I nod.
Fearful and ashamed
I walk away toward my cozy place of respite
knowing that my meal tonight will fill my belly
but will it feed my soul?