THE CARING TOUCH

Why did it happen?

How did it begin?

I once hated to be touched

By women or by men.

I felt as though every touch

Took some vital part of me

That I lost a part of being with

Each touch stolen from me.

How did it happen?

When did it begin?

I started to love touching

Wanting touching to never end.

It was a gift from my husband.

His loving, giving touch

Never made me feel diminished.

I now knew the power of touch.

I welcomed the gentle pressure

Of his warm, human hand

Saying, I love you, you’re precious

Do you understand?

It became easy to distinguish

The message of each subtle touch:

Encouragement, happiness,

I’ve missed you so much.

Now I’ve reached the golden years

And he’s no longer here

But I still cherish every touch

From those whom I hold dear.

By  Rachel Nemitz

ASK ME

Ask me if I mind growing old
 And I’ll tell you damn right!

It’s not so much the growing old

As the indignity of tearing eyes and runny nose

Bulging discs and arthritic fingers

Along with ugly growths and strange lumps.

I hate my brain’s temporary shutdowns

Before it remembers what I couldn’t recall.

These continuously progressing indignities

Show no mercy seemingly taking delight

In assaulting even the richest, brightest and most pious.

Damn right I mind growing old!

Rachel Nemitz, March 2009

Memory of Funny Days

An idea or opinion produced by thinking or awareness of past occurring in mind.

 

My friend Sue and I would sit on the sofa and visit. Many thoughts wen there our minds. We knew each other for fourteen years. Leader would find projects for us to do. Such as putting address labels on the newscaster.. Folding papers for events for upcoming events. Make coffee for classes that were being held at Senior Activity Center.

We did a lot of playing pools. We would play against the men. Two against one. Nine times out ten times we would win. Men would say we were lucky because we weren’t any good.

On Friday we played shuffle bored. We played with men. We were lucky again. Lucky ha ha they wouldn’t give us credit for winning.

I did exercises three days a week, for nine years.

 There was an originators the lounge. We had a friend called Elisabeth. She payed the organ quite well for a person who was bind. She would play old songs on the organ and Sue would sing. She had a lovely voice. She knew the words to any song you could think of. Remarkable memory. We had such good times with virtuous men.

We played cards with a man called Bob. He thought we were gonging up on him when he would lose.

Sue and I had a Japanese lady friend that would come in for exercise. She would tell us about her younger years  in camp in California . Her family was forced to live in a camp when she was little, during Second World-war (WWII). Than there is a man called Patric. He would give us some CD’s he had made we have quiet a collection of them. Some one of the radio programs. They are the sent us in the past, which bring back our childhood and adulthood.

The last two years we got slower and slower in our thoughts. I miss my funny friend sue, and those funny days   

By Mrs. G 

DAYS OF WINE & ROSES

They are not long

The days of youth and wonder

When innocence

And wonder abound.

They are not long

The days of wine and roses

How soon those care free

Days are gone.

They are not long

The days of growth and mating

When labor, home and

Family twine around.

They are not long

The days of grey-haired wisdom

One last quiet breath and

They are gone.

All our days

The love

The laughter, the sorrow

They are not long

 Rachel Nemitz, November 2010

Fort Ridgley

Ben and I are going to go back in time; we’re going to Fort Ridgley which is located between Fairfax and Sleepy Eye in South Central Minnesota. We went to the cemetery; there were so many head stones for little children, some dating back to 1800’s.

There’s a reenactment of the settlement, with tents and camp fires where they are cooking stew. Men in army caps and vests have old guns that work, called musket loaders. Ladies in long dresses, bonnets with their high top shoes, it makes you wonder how they survived in the heat of the summer with no flip flops or air conditioning.  

 

Farther down the Minnesota River you’ll see a store on a hill. It has everything in it that they had when it opened, flour, coffee, beans, spices and yard goods for the ladies to make a dress. Shovels, axes and candles for light, most of the time they didn’t have enough money for food, so eggs were brought in for trading.   

Children were always eager to go to the store; the clerk would give them a piece of candy if they had a big order.  Gardens were planted for fresh vegetables, venison and fish were their meat sources.

I could have lived there if the Indians weren't there; the Sioux Indians massacred all the settlers of Fort Ridgley.

By G. Brethorst