The Last Cookie

OK, I ate it.  Guilty as charged. I ate the last cookie, something I don’t often do.  I know we both like them, so I usually leave it for my wife while she is leaving it for me.  So, as often happens, one of us eats a hard, stale cookie or it gets thrown away.  Done! Finis!

As I devoured the last remnants of mine, I pondered why I hesitated before deciding to snatch it from the jar.  I mean, it’s only a cookie.  It’s not like I just drank the last beer.  Now that would be a travesty.  Perhaps it’s because I don’t bake and she does, so I feel like they are her cookies and I simply have an invitation to share them, not finish them.  But I doubt it.  If that was so, I would never be able to polish off another meal, because I don’t cook either.

It has got to be deeper and darker then that.  Something ingrained well within my psyche.  Sinister enough to force conscious thought before performing the deed.  Maybe a sub conscious holdover from my childhood, long buried.  Was I disciplined for eating the last ‘something’ as a kid?  Did I once display gluttonous tendencies that had to be dealt with at an early age.  Or, does it have something to do with my desire to control my weight and the guilt that eating that cookie instills?

It could be any or all or none of the above.  It may be a lot simpler  then I am making it out to be.  I am giving this way too much thought.  In the end, it all comes down to why I think I ate it, and I think the only reason I ate the one last cookie is because there were not two cookies. Works for me.


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Sometimes, after a big meal, nothing beats a little nap

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Our hands
Cannot touch
Without feeling
Yet our hearts
Can feel
Without touching


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Exhaled breath shaped into words
Subtle sounds against the ear
Sworn secrets, speculation
Enhanced, betrayed, attested
Validated but by the telling
But not beyond a whisper

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I’m so sorry Mom and Dad, it had to end this way
The pain was more then I could stand, the voices every day
Dad, I give you one last hug, to Mom I throw a kiss
To not say that I love you, I would be remiss

It started with a single voice, calling me a nerd
Every day I saw him, his insults would be heard
At first I just ignored him, I’d turn and walk away
But too soon others joined him, much to my dismay

Dad you told me that I should stand up for my rights
But the voices were too many, I  couldn’t win those fights
So I drew into myself, avoiding so called friends
Dying a little more inside, praying for each days end

The principal was told about what I was going through
He politely listened, said there’s not much he could do
He said that he’d look into it, monitor my peers
However nothing ever changed, it just fell on deaf ears

The voices just got louder, never leaving me alone
I listened to them in the halls, read texts sent to my phone
There was no place for me to go, except of course my room
But I can’t spend my life in here, it has become my tomb

So today I have decided that I cannot remain
In a place I am not wanted, in a shell that’s filled with pain
Mom and Dad, don’t weep for me, my nightmare’s reached it’s end
I’m gonna go to sleep now, with these pills, my only friend

Dedicated to Jamie Rodemeyer who, at age 14, took his life to escape bullying


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Peace On Earth

P ray that there will come a day
E vil will have gone away
A ll of us will live in peace
C onflict in the world will cease
E veryone in freedom live

O pponents for their acts forgive
N egativity release

E xtend the olive branch of peace
A scend beyond the faults of man
R each out with a helping hand
T ake some time each day to pray
H is guiding light will show the way
























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But Now I See

This morning I read a post called “Perceptions” written by blogger “Butterfly Sand” about disabilities and how they can be perceived by strangers and casual acquaintances.  It bears an important message.  As such, I am republishing this post I made three years ago, chronicling an experience I had when in my twenties.  For me, it was an aha moment that has stayed with me ever since.

A while ago, my wife and I were going through a closet, cleaning out some stuff we never use.  Among the items were some stuffed animals that had sat on the shelf for years which I planned to give to the nursing home where I volunteer.  They love them.  One of the items was a little beanie baby in green corduroy with a funny face glued on it.  It conjured up some memories that I hadn’t thought about in a long time.

I was in my twenties when I volunteered to be an adviser for Junior Achievement.  For those of you not familiar with the program, it is a chance for high school students to get together with people from the business community to work as a team to plan, develop, and implement their own mock business.  I was pretty excited about the opportunity to work with the kids.

A couple of weeks before the first meeting, we were each given a list of names and telephone numbers.  We were instructed to call each person and welcome them to our team as well as answer any questions they may have.  I noticed that my list had several numbers with the same prefix, but more interestingly, the numbers themselves were pretty close.  As I proceeded to call them, I asked one of them if perhaps they knew each other. The young lady said “Oh yes, we all go to school together”.  That’s when it hit me they all attended a private school.

On the first night, the advisers were instructed to get there early so as to be available to greet everyone and help them find their assigned rooms.  I was standing just outside the door to my room when I noticed a string of six or seven students progressing down the hall in single file, each with their hand on the shoulder of the person in front of them.  They were all blind or legally blind and they were looking for me.  They were students at the Indiana School For The Blind.

I don’t remember what my exact thoughts were when I realized that I would be instructing blind students to develop and run a business, but I do know that I questioned whether I was up to the task.  However, after a “get to know you” session with all the other students, we settled into the indoctrination process of picking a business and a product.  I could not believe the enthusiasm with which they accepted the challenge.  They named their company TCB for Taking Care of Business, and ultimately decided that they were going to make beanie babies called “adorable uglies”.  This would require buying materials, manufacturing, marketing, distribution, accounting, and finance.  The next step would be to assign tasks.  Who would head up each of these functions.  I was surprised when two of the blind students volunteered to make them, while others jumped at marketing and distribution.

As the weeks progressed, the students found outlets (mostly free) for scrap fabric and beans for stuffing the beanies. One of the other teams had set themselves up as a bank, and our elected finance officer obtained a loan from them to buy whatever else we needed. The program provided some old sewing machines for teams that needed them.  Soon, we were under way.  Patterns were cut and felt faces were glued on.  The girl that was to do the stitching had operated a sewing machine before, and operated it by touch.  Another blind student filled the beanies before the final stitches were applied.  Others took samples to their respective schools and began generating orders.  One even had the idea of making them in school colors which ultimately increased sales.  Soon, we were selling everything we could make, and everyone was involved.  In the end, our team business had been a tremendous success and had in fact generated a profit.  More importantly, a lot of new skills had been learned and new friendships had been made.

I for one came away with a new appreciation for people with disabilities.  While I had immediately made assumptions about what they wouldn’t be able to do, they had shown me what they could do.  While my initial reaction had been to figure out what I could do to help them, they had focused on helping themselves.  They did not want my pity.  They wanted my support.  It was a humbling experience.

Several times during my career, I ran across difficult situations which I didn’t want to address and would ask myself “why me”.  But I only had to think of those students to ask myself “why not me”.  Funny how we can set out to teach and end up learning instead.

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