Source: Creating my version and borrowing some words from Clement Clarke Moore who wrote the original, "A Visit from St. Nicholas" from the 1983 version of The Random House Book of Poetry for Children.

'Twas the night before Poemas, and all through the House of Usher
All the creatures were stirring, and even a tell-tale heart to flutter.

The black cat was hung by the tree with care
In hopes he will come back with anger to bear.

The Masquerade guests were settled in their rooms
While Prince Prospero had visions of “Red” gloom.

Annabel Lee in her sepulchre and I in my neckerchief
Will just settle in our kingdom by the sea for a chilling wind to meet our death.

When out in the cemetery there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my grave to see what was the matter.

Away to the mortuary door I ran.
Rousing it open, hoping not to be jammed.

Seeing Montresor beaming with a brick in hand
Gave me the knowledge Fortunato was left in the catacombs walled up very grand.

To what my clouded eye should appear,
But a rather large carriage with eight corpses so dear.

With a dark somber driver just so,
I knew quickly it must be Edgar Allan Poe.

More rapid than ravens his corpses they came.
He rang the bells, yelled, and called them by name:

Now, Morella! Now, Berenice! Now, Helen and Lenore!
On Glendinning! On Roderick! On Madeline and M. Valdemar!

To the ominous gates! To each gravestone!
Let Poe be! Let Poe be! Let Poe be known!

As a fog arose in the early morning dew
Swarming around them entering the carriage they flew.

So up to the drive the horses clopped in tow
With the carriage full of books and Edgar Allan Poe.

And then, as the moon beamed, I heard on the porch
Each step as they climbed not even a lurch.

As I pulled away from the window, I turned around
Through the front door Poe came in as mysterious as a cat not making a sound.

He was dressed all in black from his head to his toe.
And his clothes were all dirty as if he was walled up by a foe.

A ton of books he flung on his back.
He looked like a literary peddler opening his sack.

His eyes – how they darkened! His face, how morbid!
His eyebrows were winced like he had to tell us something to forbid.

His mouth was drawn almost like a frown 
And his mustache was black serving as his facial crown.

The candle he carried cast an amber glow.
The ominous light encircled his head’s features to show.

His eyes began to brighten, and he nodded his head
Allowing me to know I had nothing to dread.

He recited a poem as he started to work 
And filled all the stockings with his books not wanting to linger or lurk.

And placing his hand upon his heart
He bid me a Dupin “adieu” and walked to the door to part.

He jumped on the carriage with his corpses around
As he was rapping and tapping on the door to count all eight to be found.

As the horses moved the carriage away from the house’s door
I heard him exclaim, “Have a Macabre Holiday” with his raven uttering, “Nevermore!”

In celebration of the glorious fruit of summertime…

The Perfect Tomato

Red, robust, firm fruit

Waiting for the knife to slice.

The cut, juice flows free.

The Perfect BLT

Toasted, grainy white

Leafy green, bacon, mater

One more piece, savor.

“Allitomation“

Scarlet, scrumptiousness

Salted so simply sans skin

Sweet, seeds Better Boy.

Starving Tomato Artist Limerick

There was a tomato with a brush

Who wanted to paint his crush.

Running out of red ink,

Not making a stink,

He squashed a cherry tomato into mush.

Oh Tomato!

Oh tomato! We relish in your joy of juicy delight!

How you connect the sandwich and the salad

Of every hungry human creating a meal so valid.

The fruit of the heavens! So luscious and appealing!

A fruit yes!  Some say a vegetable too.

Your mouthwatering goodness deserves its own food group.

During the Christmas season of 1977, I was obsessed with all things Wonder Woman. The tv show of the same name was televised each week where I was glued to the picture tube waiting to see what adventures Lynda Carter as Diana Prince would go on to help save the world. My friends and I would play outside pretending to be superheroes all the time. I would switch between Wonder Woman and Super Girl, but I always came back to being Wonder Woman if my older friend didn’t try to overrule me.

One Friday night in December, probably December 16th, 1977, we went over to the neighbors’ house around the corner to eat dinner. They always had fish on Fridays, fish they caught that is, and would invite us over periodically. The couple were my parents’ best friends and their back yard, catty cornered, backed up to one of the corners of ours where just a fence separated us. Each day after school, the two matriarchs would have coffee together, switching up houses every other day. To make it easier a few years later, my father built a ladder that draped over the fence they used to go back and forth as the coffee connection. This particular night, we walked around the corner.

Dinner was had by all and very tasty because I was picky, but I loved fried fish. One of the ways my father tricked me into eating it was telling me I needed to eat fish because it would make me smarter; it was brain food. Well, it worked, and I have loved fish ever since. All I could talk about during this Christmas season was what I had asked for from Santa, which was Wonder Woman everything: a costume, a lunchbox, a coloring book, a doll, her tiara, her cuff bracelets, and her golden lasso. My neighbor friend was crazy about Superman, so he understood. He really hoped I would get my wish to receive all these things, especially the golden lasso so we could catch imaginary bad guys and make them tell the truth.

I remember after we ate, we hung around, my friend and I played, and we watched a little tv, and then we walked back around the corner to home. We entered through the front door as we always did. When I came into the living room, something seemed different. The Christmas tree was there on the table and no decorations had been moved, but there was a new item placed on the ground close to the tree. I ran over to see what it was, and I couldn’t believe it. It was a golden lasso and a pair of Wonder Woman’s cuff bracelets. I was so excited I could hardly speak with wonder in my eyes and a smile so big it was like a beacon of happy lights. My father and my mother were also amazed in wonderment of where these mysterious items had come from and who had placed them there while we were gone. I responded to them, “It must be Santa,” but then I questioned myself as soon as I said it, “but why would he come here this early to bring me these? Why not wait until Christmas?” They explained maybe he thought I had been so good, I deserved them early, but then we found a note on the ground that we didn’t see when I first noticed the cuffs and lasso. The note simply said, “For Carmen.” It wasn’t signed; that was all the words written on it.

Immediately, I went into detective mode questioning everyone. Was it really Santa? Or, was it someone trying to be sneaky to surprise me? My parents and my brothers all denied leaving those under the tree. I called my friend and he denied it as well, but was so excited for me. I took the note and compared the writing to each of my parent’s and my brother’s handwriting with no luck. I remember wishing I had a fingerprinting kit to find the culprit. Or a video camera in the house to catch them red-handed. No one would admit to it, so I concluded it must be Santa.

Christmas came and went that year, not really talking about who left the lasso and cuffs. My friends and I would continue to play superheroes, and with those items, I would always be Wonder Woman, feeling strong ready to catch those who were plotting evil courses towards humanity.

Forty-two years later, I still don’t know who left my Wonder Woman treasures that December eve so long ago. We truly never talked about it ever again. It was the acceptance of Santa or someone special left those there for me, and that was that. It was a Christmas I will never forget, and I will always treasure because it made me feel so special. It gave me wonderful memories of my father and mother who most likely were behind the antics of that mysterious night. One never knows what magic Christmas can bring.

I have been working on this piece for over a year now, adding to it, reviewing it, and editing it until I was finally happy enough to add it today in this month of gratitude and thanks.  I hope you enjoy!!

Growing up as a child in the 1970s, many toys were offered to girls such as Barbies, baby dolls, and Easy Bake ovens.  The Barbies were all blonde, and the baby dolls were all blonde.  I can remember seeing actresses on TV on different shows I would watch who were blond: Farah Fawcett, Suzanne Somers, and Cheryl Ladd, just to name a few; additionally, I would watch old movies with my mother where iconic blonde actresses would be on the big screen: Doris Day, Betty Grable, and Marilyn Monroe. The list could go on and on.  For me at such a young age, there was nothing wrong with blonde hair, except that I was brunette and the toys and the women who I saw in entertainment were all blonde.  There were brunette actresses, but the blonde actresses became more of the focus of whom were the starlets.  Once I heard the phrase, “blondes have more fun,” I was convinced I needed to change my hair color (I had no idea what that phrase meant then), ridiculously at the age of 6.  My mother put lemon juice in my hair, I’m sure now to appease me, and let me go out in the sun for several hours where I would come in and my hair would be lighter.  It was shinier, and it seemed “blonder,” so I was somewhat satisfied.  My rational and deductive reasoning at this young age was that if toys were blond, popular actresses were blond; therefore, I needed to be blonde.

I also loved superheroes! In 1976 for Halloween, when I was 5, I went as Wonder Woman in one of those store-bought plastic costumes that tied in the back with a mask.  The Wonder Woman TV show debuted in November 1975 and I loved it.  This gave me a role model to look up to whom I could relate with because she was a brunette.  Lynda Carter portrayed Wonder Woman in a way that gave me hope to become a strong woman who could do anything.  This led me to pretend to be other superheroes for Halloween in consecutive years such as Supergirl (even though she was blond, I portrayed her as a brunette) and Dorothy Gale (to me she was a superhero).  The next year in third grade, I knew I wanted to be something even more amazing, which I will describe in a moment.   Jumping to the fourth grade, I was Batgirl.

After my first Halloween where I went trick or treating as Wonder Woman, my mother handmade all my costumes for me.  She always made everything with love and fidelity just so the costume was as authentic as it needed to be.  I pondered what I wanted to be in the fall of 1979 and it hit me…a memory so strong and “force”ful brought me to my decision.  I thought back to May 25, 1977 when Star Wars came out in theaters.  I didn’t get to go the day it was released, but I will never forget sitting in that theater and seeing it for the first time as “those words” ascended the screen (I went back to the theater and saw it 3 more times: that’s what we did back then before movie prices skyrocketed).  I had to be Princess Leia: she was strong, caring, smart, and the best part, she was part of sci-fi.  She was a hero of mine and I knew I wanted to fictionally become her in costume, but also represent her qualities in life.  Carrie Fisher portrayed her perfectly, and for that, I thank her.  She gave us a super hero young girls could look up to for many positive reasons since Lynda Carter’s portrayal of Wonder Woman.

In my youth, unfortunately, that was the only Halloween I was sick, strep throat that is, and I ended up dressed in my costume passing out candy to other kids (don’t worry, no fever that night).  Don’t get me wrong, I had fun, but I am pretty sure that is why I don’t have a picture from that year (My hair was short, so I had to wear a brown headband with yarn-covered sponges on my head for the buns my mother made – they looked awesome – and I still have them).  The nice part was that I felt better and was able to wear that costume the following Friday to a Halloween party where I won a best costume prize (the prize really should have gone to my mother).  From Wonder Woman and Princess Leia, it seemed that the tide was turning and now brunettes were making a comeback.  Around first grade, my parents bought me a Lt. Uhura doll (being a Starfleet officer for Halloween as a child would have been great.  Unfortunately, I didn’t get that chance until adulthood) that I loved. My first brunette Barbie was in 1978 with Fashion Photo PJ and I could not be happier.  I realized at a young age that many people look up to and think of heroes who look like themselves.  I was already a very nerdy, sci-fi, super hero, all things creepy loving kind of child, so I didn’t really get picked on very often, but I was different.  Fortunately for me, I was who I was, and I was not going to conform.  Having these heroes gave me empowerment, mixed with my father telling me I could do anything, to be me and go after whatever I wanted in life.

I am empowered today for many reasons.  I learned many years ago, it doesn’t matter what color your hair is, what your height is, what your weight is, what matters is who you are inside and what you do with your intelligence, your skills, and your talents for others.  I am extremely happy my parents also helped me to realize at a young age not to care what others think of you because it helped me be me, which is a hard lesson for many to realize.  Ironically, my chestnut curly locks are a thing of the past.  I am now blond due to the natural changing silver and white hints creeping up through my roots where I feel the need to blend them with honey tresses, still clinging to my youth for a few more years.  Princess Leia, thank you for giving me the reassurance to be strong, to be persistent, and to be motivated to go for everything in life I have wanted.  The buns of empowerment are still strong with you…you will be truly missed.

 

Graduation is in the air for many young individuals right now, and it brought me to reminisce about my own experiences in high school.  I am proud to say I was a Valedictorian and I wanted to share my speech from my graduation night.  I think that I have become a much better writer over the past 29 years, but I am still proud of this endeavor.  One of the pieces of literature we read in Senior English was Macbeth, which I loved.  Macbeth’s soliloquy gave me inspiration to add into my own speech.

We have come here tonight to bid a fond farewell to our school.  We have shared sports, academics, and other activities that will be recorded time we will not forget.  These activities made us strong, molded us into what we are today, and what we will become in the future.

Our yesterdays of elementary and junior high started to shape us, to give us the foundation we needed to carry on with high standards and a solid Christian background.  The paths we’ve walked have been long and hard, but they have also been short and fun.  These paths were a brief candle that lighted the experiences of high school.  They are candles which will gutter out tonight, as we use them to light the candles of adulthood.  It is an adulthood for which Elliston Baptist Academy has fully prepared us and the flame of its candle will burn bright because of the knowledge and values we learned here.

This new experience contains college, career, responsibilities, and for some, marriage.  Some of us have decided on our goals, and some haven’t, but we all know that the road to becoming a strong, independent adult will not be easy and our goals will not be easy to achieve.  But with the spirit and energy we have gleaned from these halls, I know we can earn anything we desire.  The class of 1989 has had its hour upon the stage of childhood, much of it was spent at Elliston Baptist Academy where the classrooms and extracurricular activities have prepared us for Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow…

I wrote the following short memoir about a year ago when an ad came up to enter a submission about bacon.  The people who were chosen would have the opportunity to travel and write about bacon.  Unfortunately, I didn’t get picked, but I have this fun little embellished memory to share, especially since it was Bacon Friday today.

When I met my wonderful Jeff, I had no idea of the world of the lusciously delicious and crispy pork sensation we deem bacon I would enter.  Jeff and I had been dating for just about a month when he suggested to me, “Let’s go meet some of my friends at Bacon Friday.”  Many thoughts oozed through my quizzical mind to the point of faux thought bubbles circling my head with utter glee, such as “Yay!” “Oh my!” “A weekly night to celebrate bacon!”  I calmly asked him, “What is Bacon Friday?” He jubilantly replied, “A group of my friends meet at the beer taproom every Friday where beer and bacon are consumed.  The barbecue restaurant next door cooks the bacon for us and we also bring other bacon inspired food items as well.” I could not contain my excitement thinking of consuming a plethora of bacon and more.  My first Bacon Friday came, not soon enough.

While I eagerly awaited this new, innovative experience, and to keep calm and to keep focused, I engaged myself in a bacon recipe search extravaganza each night until the evening before the big day when I cooked several strips of bourbon cured bacon and placed them in a salted caramel bacon monkey bread recipe with Jeff’s assistance.  As it baked, the aura of scrumptious pork from the monkey bread scented the kitchen like the scintillating wafts of sugary goodness my mother used to make in my younger days; however, only now innovatively adding the tantalizing twist of a meat candy to a traditional pastry.

The next day after work, Jeff and I prepared to attend Bacon Friday with our salted caramel bacon monkey bread in hand all while he was sporting his “Bacon, I am your Father” t-shirt, paying homage to Star Wars and bacon alike.  We arrived to greet jovial friends who were already sampling the myriad of bacon selections: Applewood bacon with just the right crispness, hickory smoked bacon cooked around medium well, bacon jerky, bacon dip with chips, and home-cured bacon prepared by one of the founders of Bacon Friday.  My senses went into overload as I tried each one with awesome wonder finding a guilty pleasure with each anticipated bite.  To add to this culinary wonder, finding the right refreshing beverage; hence, craft beer, to compliment either the sweet or tangy bacon flavor created a challenge to smoothly balance the mix for my palette.  I found beer with the hint of fruit was refreshing with the smoky styles of bacon and the smoky beer paired well with the sweeter Applewood bacon.  I could not help myself; I had to try it all.  After feeling filled with bacon delight, another one of the founders presented me with a Bacon Friday t-shirt for me to wear from this day forward to all Bacon Fridays.  I could not believe it; I had finally arrived in food heaven.  By the end of my first Bacon Friday, I was totally mesmerized with content, guilt, and pure love for all that is bacon.