Those Who Know, Know

 Today, I brought my 94-year-old friend to her doctor.  Afterwards, we went to lunch.  I have to laugh at our conversation.  I was telling her about my interaction with a mutual acquaintance of ours.  We knew who we were talking about without knowing her name.  It went something like this.

You know what's her name, the one who's always talking about living in England.

Who?

I can't think of her name.  But she's tall, maybe the tallest woman in the Senior Center.

Oh yeah.  I think I know whom you mean.

Yes, she has naturally curly hair, white.

Oh yes, yes.  I can't think of her name, either.  She sometimes works the register, in the cafeteria.

You got it.  Yes her.

Well, what about her?  

She's the one who told me that if you eat 12 grapes at midnight--one for each of the 12 months, you'll have good luck.

Well, what's her name should know.  She always wins our raffle.

The Senior Center in Winter

 The Franklin Senior Center Scribblers Writing Group is making a story walk around the Senior Center Building.  Since each sign is a limited amount of space, we decided that each of us should write a poem.  It should be seasonal and topical (references to places we Seniors would know.)  Here's my first attempt.

Over the river and through the woods
the Gatra Bus does go.
This cold weather might bring snow,
perfect for December, this I know.

My fingers and toes are cold and red.
Maybe I should have stayed in bed.
My car wouldn't start.
Calling Gatra was very smart.

I must get to the Senior Center:
Bingo, Cribbage, and other adventures
beckon me out and into the cold
for activities, food and friends to behold.

Poetry Success

Horace Mann Middle School Principal, Rebecca Motte

Guilt trips, twisting arms, calling in "I owe you's", advertising or whatever, worked.  My Favorite Poetry Project was a huge success.  All my readers showed up and were wonderful.  Better--the audience was overflowing.  I, as moderator, was facing the audience and I couldn't get over the attention the people had, even the sixth-grade students.

Afterwards, I was in the library to just kill time until the time for my "writers' group, the Senior Scribblers, and I could hear people in the hall discussing the event.  Praises were sung!  Everyone loved it.  The favorite seemed to be the sixth graders reciting Maya Angelou's Caged Bird.  And no wonder they were a hit.  They recited, not read their poem.  It didn't hurt that they were cute, either. Two teachers were there and they recited, too. Everyone else read theirs.  All were excellent.

The last person to read was Principal Rebecca Motte from the aforementioned school of sixth graders.  Her poem was I Am by Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 

I know not whence I came, 
I know not whither I go; 
But the fact stands clear that I am here
In this world of pleasure and woe.
And out of the mist and the murk
Another truth shines plain –
It is my power each day and hour
To add to its joy or its pain.

Apropos, is it not?  More than her poem being a concluding statement, it was her introduction that remains with me.  She pointed out how interconnected this community of Franklin, MA is.  Here at the Senior Center, we had representatives from the Middle School, the High School, Dean College, Municipal Government and the local citizenry.  All the entities have frequently invited each other for other events.  Last Monday, for example, the Senior Center was invited to participate in a sociology class at Dean College.  Seniors have also taken courses at the college.  Middle School students come to help us seniors with technology needs.  There is so much more.  This is what community is and I am so blessed to have been a part of it today.