Thursday, December 27, 2018


You know, as we get older and older we're fraught with aches and pains almost on a regular basis. It's no picnic but it is what it is and it got me to thinking. You run into somebody you know and what's the first thing they ask after the hello, "How are you?" It's a polite inquiry. Some do really care about you and that little question is sincere, some are just being polite.

My husband and I walk the Fox River Mall every Monday through Friday, starting out at Penneys (in the catalog department) and going to the other end (Sears)and back. Everytime we walk through Penneys if we pass a clerk we're greeted with, you guessed it, "Hi, how are you?"

For the most part people expect you to say, "Fine, how are you?" And there you have it. Nobody wants to hear, "I'm finding this walk really painful and I can't wait to sit down and take a pain pill or when I got up this morning I was so stiff I could hardly put one foot in front of the other." And in asking how they feel, we don't want to know their details either.

My point is that life is too short to spend any time complaining. It doesn't change anything anyway. That old adage, "Grin and bear it" is a good one.
So put a smile on your face and be thankful to be alive. God is so good.
Celebrate that He cares for you. Things could certainly be worse.

by Patty Lynn

So many with their greeting
Add this, "So how've you been?"
Though tempted you say, "oh, I'm fine,
How've you been lately, friend?"

And he responds, "Oh, I've been fine.
'Twas nice to see you, friend."
And so it goes, for we all know,
Complaining's where it ends.

For no one really wants to hear
Your laundry list of woes,
The aches and pains that bother you
From head down to your toes.

Besides complaining does no good,
Won't change the situation.
But fortunately, there's one whose glad
To hear each aggravation?

Your Lord above who loves you so
Is always poised and ready
To hear from you, no matter what,
His care is strong and steady.

He knows exactly how you've been,
Is glad to hear your voice.
He can effect improvement, too.
He's always your best choice...

To share your triumphs, sorrows, too,
Your trials and tribulations.
He understands just how you feel
In every situation.

Take comfort, He knows everything,
Today and, yes, tomorrow.
He's always there, to always care,
Through happiness and sorrow.

So when you're asked, "So how you?"
Though maybe you think, "Crappy!"
Just smile on through, that's what you do,
Say, "I'm just fine and happy!"

THE MELTDOWN - Written November of 2012

The other day when I was spending the afternoon with my grandsons, I experienced, first hand, the dreaded meltdown.  It was relatively unexpected as I had just picked them up from school.  I was sitting on the couch with Ian who was really showing his excitement.  You see, his first pair of tie shoes had arrived in the mail & he could hardly contain himself.  As the most independent of the twins, Ian always wants to master something new. He makes this perfectly clear reiterating his own personal mantra, "I want to do it myself!"  I get a kick out of this as his mom was the same way, never wanting any help either.  So I suppose we can conclude that independence begets independence.

This darling little cuss informed me from the beginning of this episode that he didn't need any help from me and that he knew how to tie his shoes himself.
As he struggled to make the two loops, his method not mine, I offered to take the other shoe and step by step walk him through the process.  I was told in no uncertain terms that my help was NOT needed but as he attempted to put one loop through the wrong little hole, well, you know what ensued.  He pulled and the bow he expected fell apart did he.

After inconsolable crying and flailing about saying that he should just know how to do it, no practicing required and so on and so on and so on, I told him he would have to calm down if he was going to make any progress and to let me know when he was done. I then suggested having a snack and watching a program and forgetting about tying his shoes for now and sure enough, he got into Grandma's applesauce and the storm was successfully quieted.  The following is a poetic attempt at telling Ian's story.

by Patty Lynn

"It takes some time to learn new things."

That's what his Grandma said.

But wanting so to tie his shoes,

Her grandson cried instead.

The boy was inconsolable.

He couldn't catch his breath.

His Grandma couldn't calm him down,

His sadness had such depth.

The instant skill of tying shoes,

He thought he just should know.

To try and fail, no option this,

And practicing, NO GO.

So Grandma said, "Let's have a snack,>

Forget the shoes for now.

I'll sit with you while you calm down.

Then I will teach you how."

Reluctantly, the boy agreed

And in a little while,

He ate his snack and calmed right down,

And then said with a smile,

"I'll watch you, Gram, and do the same.

"I'll watch you, yes, I will.

I understand I have to LEARN

To tie my shoes with skill.

"I'll practice 'til I get it down

And someday soon I'll be

An expert who can tie my shoes.

That Velcro's not for me!


You might recall that last year about this time I told you of our generous neighbor across the street who continues to shovel us out whenever it snows.  Additionally, he was there this summer helping us with our 15 bags of mulch when he thought we could use his help.  And he was so right!
We haven't had a lot of snow yet this season but we know we can depend on our snow to be removed.  That's one worry we can check off our list.  We always remember his family at Christmas and I include a poem as well.  Thi is this year's offering:

By Pat

The two of us feel blessed to live exactly where we do
And doubly blessed we’ve come know a family like yours, too.
Who’s always there to lend a hand whenever one is needed,
Who doesn’t wait for us to ask or come because we’ve pleaded,

Who helps us out, who understands that age, at best, is limiting
And we, as years continue on, find strength, at best, diminishing.
But you’re the kind of neighbors who step in when jobs get tough
Are willing and so able that you’re there when it’s too rough…

For older couples who may try but sometimes don’t succeed
To do the things that must be done, you understand our need.
You see us keeping on our tasks, we do the best we can,
Though sometimes, all our efforts can’t complete what we began.

That’s why we’re blessed because we know God placed your family
With loving hearts right where He did, you help so willingly.
It means the world to us to know that we can count on you
To help us out when needs arise, we know that you’ll come through.

And so we send these words your way, composed for you alone.
Our true appreciation this, our THANK YOU in a poem.
We pray the year ahead will bring your family happiness
And may you always know that we with you are ever blessed.


Tonight's blog concerns itself with my two beloved grandchildren, Gavin and Ian.  Because they are so special, I decided to get them something special, something personal to them and me.  I got each a chain bearing something that spoke to each one and said something different but would be something that each could look at a be reminded about the moment that I gave this gift to them. 
Gavin's was I the shape of a shield and the words on the back spoke about being brave and confident because God is always there to spur us on to accomplish great things.  Ian's was a soccer ball and around it were the words  "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me".  They seemed truly happy with their gifts and in addition, I wrote each one a poem:

My Sweet Ian

You may think this is kinda weird, “Why’s Grandma writing this?”
Well, Ian, this is just for you, my special boy, this Christmas.
I wanted you to know my heart, just how much love I have…
Within my heart, since you were born, for that’s when it began.

But you are growing up now and my love’s growing too,
So I just want to tell you how my love has changed for you.
A pre-teen or young adult is what they call you now,
That darling baby, active boy, replaced by YOU, somehow.

But I accept you’re growing up, though I sure miss my baby,
That tiny one is gone for good, no ifs, no ands, not maybe.
Yes, I can tell you more about the love I have and why,
You’re such a special, “young adult” these traits to you apply:

I’m proud of how you dig right in, stick with it till it’s mastered,
You don’t give up, you work real hard, until your question’s answered.
Most people think that you’re the guy whose only “thing” is soccer,
But I know you have other things you stay with till they’re conquered.

I see your talent growing, too, as you approach piano.
That instrument will serve you well, your interest’s deep, not shallow.
I love the love you have for it, the way you try new things
And as you do you’ll feel the joy that music really brings.

This little poem from me to you is meant to let you know
That you’re my special, unique boy, my love forever grows.
Remember that your Jesus, too, is watching from above
And seeing how you learn and grow and giving you His Love.

This gift to you, it honors, sure, your soccer in the center
But read the words around the ball remembering when you enter…
A game or something new that comes or something new you’re trying,
God’s strength will help you to succeed if with Him you’re relying.

My Dearest Gavin

This Christmas is the perfect time to tell you how I feel,
Although you’re thinking, “Sure, I know, her love for me is real,
Real big, real true, it never stops, she tells me all the time.”
That’s true I do but can’t compare to God’s love that’s divine!

But this time you’re a young adult or pre-teen, some would say,
So my love’s for the boy you were, a boy that’s on his way
To be the man you will become, a special man, I know,
My love will be a lot like you, for it will grow and grow.

I love you for so many things that make you so unique,
The way your special mind works, your creativity,
The way you soak up all you read on subjects that appeal,
I love to hear you tell me all the special things you feel.

I love the way you play your drums, your talent is amazing!
I’m well aware you have a gift, I hear it when you’re playing.
And you’ll stick with it, doing well, for many years to come.
The more you do your talent will be felt by everyone.

And so I wanted to create this poem to tell you some
Of all the things about you, dear…you’re unlike anyone!
Please read the words on the enclosed, words picked for you from me,
And if you need reminding, please read them and you’ll see…

That God and I believe in you, will love you for forever,
And since we do, you’ll always know to us you are a treasure.
There’s no one who is quite like you and always please remember
That this is why I wrote these words this Christmas, this December.

Sunday, December 2, 2018

Two Christmas Poems for the Price of One

This year for Christmas I decided to do Christmas cards.  I haven't done cards for a long time as until last year I'd send out a letter and a poem for the occasion.  Last year I started sending ecards to those whose emails I had but they have gotten mixed reviews.  I do like sending ecards for birthdays and anniversaries as the cost of the "store bought" variety is getting insanely expensive.  Seems such a waste since the reality is that the recipient opens it, reads it, says, "Awww" and discards it. Such a waste.
Well, this year I received so many "free" cards from organizations I've contributed to one or twice and had a stockpile of at least 75.  So I wrote a poem and enclosed it in the cards and sent them on to friends and family.  Tonight's first offering is the poem that I enclosed in my sent cards and the other I wrote today and wished this was the poem I had sent with my cards.  Hope you like them and

By Patty Lynn

The candles are glowing and outside it's snowing.
It looks like an old Christmas card!
The scenes taking shape, what more would it take,
Perhaps, a few deer in the yard?

The church in the distance adds its touch of Christmas
With a steeple that's lit by the moon.
As this scene comes together it's hard to remember
The dog days, those hot days of June.

The kids squeal with glee as you light up the tree
And they eye all the presents and bows.
Will their wishes be granted, would the toys that they wanted...
Be in there or will there be…CLOTHES!

All this is so typical and just so predictable
But something is missing from this.
Have you retold the story of the Babe who brought Glory
Or have you’ve been sadly remiss?

How long since you told that story of old,
Giving children and loved ones the key?
For it's His birth, you see, that saved you and me.
He loves unconditionally!!

So as you prepare for the customs you share,
Remember the “real" reason why
We celebrate Christmas, God's love & forgiveness
Came down with that Babe to supply.

By Patty Lynn

Thanksgiving now is over, I mean the eating part;
I hope we'll still be grateful, all year & from the heart.
But does it all continue, throughout the year, I mean?
Do we look into our loved one's eyes or look down at our screen?

Technology's a marvel, the things we now can do,
But if the cost for humankind is ignoring me & you,
Is the whole thing really worth it, if we sacrifice each other?
Is looking down and “far away" really worth the loss, I wonder?

But this was not the reason for my poem tonight, not this,
No, rather I was going to say, it's Christmas time, resist...
The spending, if it's way too much, the eating overdone,
But rather let's enjoy it all, with loved ones, everyone

And most of all remember that Christ came at Christmas time,
Was lowly born to save the world for Heaven all sublime.
He didn't have a fanfare to announce His regal birth,
This baby had an angel choir to proclaim it to the earth.

I wish that I had heard their song, the choir that filled the sky,
And if I saw His precious face, I know that I would cry
Because each baby that I see elicits tears from me,
But seeing Him, the Bethlehem Babe, a torrent you might see.

I know a gift as that would be a gift for all the ages,
But keep in mind that awesome gift is one that still amazes,
For every Christmas that you spend with family & friends
It celebrates the Baby’s birth, the gift that never ends.

The Savior of the world was born that we might live forever,
Not on the earth but evermore with Him, our greatest treasure.
And all He asks is merely this, believe His promise true,
He came, He died, and rose again, all this for love of you!

Thursday, November 1, 2018

A COMMENTARY ON MY COMMENTARY - Previously Unpublished

I spoke with one of my 'followers' today, someone who generally comments on my most recent offering and I guess I was surprised by the reaction to my poem called, Embers. The reader felt it was a 'downer,' a bit depressing.  I know my poetry typically deals with more lighthearted subjects but, as I said in the blog's preface, I had a heavy heart about all the tragic things that have been happening in this world of ours and I wanted to express that. 

Once I did I guess you could say I made a plea to the reader to realize there are things we can do to improve the world we live in, one person, one family at a time.  I made reference to the Golden Rule, a concept that everyone is familiar with, no matter if you're a Christian or not because it makes simple sense and I think we sometimes lose sight of this principle.  To me, if you treat other people the way you would like to be treated yourself, it would be a much kinder, simpler and more pleasant world.

In closing, let me say if any of you out there felt the same about the poem, Embers, it was not my intent to bring anyone down, rather I needed to express the heaviness in my heart and point out some of the simple things we could do to make some positive changes.


Today is November 1st, 2018.  I had just published my most recent poem when I noticed that this was considered a DRAFT which meant it was never published.  So as I read this entry dated November of 2011,  I was instantly taken back to a day in the life of my now 12-year-old grandsons.  I remember this day as if it were yesterday, the two of them so sweet and innocent, and of course, how precious! If you don't have grandchildren yourself I pray that you will at some point because what those of us who do can say, unequivocally, the love you have for your grandchildren is indescribable and deep.  Regardless, I couldn't let this to go unpublished, though it will always be remembered!

Today was an exceptionally beautiful day, both because the weather was simply grand and my daughter and my two grandsons were here.  Because my one grandson, Ian, was working with his Mom upstairs, Gavin, Grandma and Sprout had some special one-on-one time downstairs.  Who's Sprout? Sprout is a hand puppet that I include in some of my Sunday School lessons and is a particular favorite of both my grandchildren. They love to have Grandma simulate a little boy's voice and engage Sprout in conversation. In the past, both boys want Grandma's attention at the same time while wishing to have her all to themselves. But today Gavin wanted to go downstairs to share his gears and gearbox with Sprout, explaining each one and what it does to Sprout's willing ears including his probing questions.

Now don't be mislead. Neither one of them believes Sprout is a real boy but they do like pretending that he is. The conversation is directed at the puppet but there is a frequent eye dart to Grandma's mouth, as well.  Today the conversation dealt with the gears, favorite foods, favorite colors, monsters, school and learning letters and sounds, and...the list went on.

It was so adorable to hear this little four-year-old, so genuine, so animated, just bubbling over with so many things and, of course, I was privileged to be a part of it. It was like having a bird's eye view of two little boys getting to know one another, discussing what they liked and what they liked to do. I've got to say it was wonderful just having Gavin to myself while Ian was doing an activity with his Mom upstairs.  Twin boys can be a handful for a young mother but they are heaven to a Grandma!


About 10 days ago I came down with a mystery illness.  I call it that because it was never given a name and so started the downward spiral.  Now I could explain what I mean by all that but today's poem does a good job of doing just that.

By Patty Lynn

In keeping with the season, all Halloween and scary,
I'll tell you of my mystery, read on, but please be wary!
You see, I've got a tale to tell, a tale that I confess...
Is one I've lived, am living now, to say the least, I'm stressed!

It's started back a week ago, when Frank had quite a scare.
He felt a little off, he said, but evidence was there...
That indicated he should see His doc to check it out
Who told him that the ER was his best & clearest route.

And so we went to have the tests, the pokes and all that meant
But all we got was, “We don't know”(so hardly time well spent.)
“We'll say that you came in today with lower quadrant pain...
But we think that diverticulitis is to blame.”

My theory is that we came home with something unforeseen,
A virulent, atypical kind of viral bug, I mean,
That grabbed me, shook me, threw me down and took me for a ride,
That caused me to feel very sick, from inside to outside.

So though they couldn’t name it, they knew what it was not,
“We know it's not bacterial, but don't know what you've got.” 
A mystery, it surely is, this nameless, faceless “thing."
But while they threw their hands up, to this I clearly cling...

That now they had to face the fact that knowing it was viral,
They didn't have a single thing, no drug or treatment vital
To offer me, to cure this thing, it had to run it’s course,
Which meant that I could now go home, believe me, no remorse!

The mystery is still just that, a bug without a name,
But now I'm home where I prefer, and no one is to blame.
I'm glad to be in my own home in jammies, not a gown.
I know I'll lick this bug from here, can't keep this good gal down!

Tuesday, September 25, 2018

What's IN A NAME?..

My house is work zone right now, so all the things I'd be doing are on hold.  Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled as we're FINALLY getting the new floors I've wanted since we moved in, 10 plus years ago.  What we're replacing is some very worn out sheet vinyl in our kitchen & both bathrooms.  Did I mention that I've hated them, for 10 plus years?
Well, I did, so we saved up the money and are now having them REPLACED with what is known as Luxury Vinyl Tile.  It looks like ceramic tile but is not hard and cold,
So, in the midst of the midst, I thought I'd write a little poetry.  The idea for the little girl's name actually came to me in bed about a week ago and I've been writing, on & off, ever since.  I certainly hope you like it.

By Patty Lynn

A little girl named Zelda has the strangest middle name.
I didn't want to tell her that, since mine is much the same.
I don't mean that my middle names the same as what hers is,
But it’s a little different so I'm laughed at by most kids.

My parents liked the sound of it, the lilting on their tongues.
It's called alliteration and this how it comes,
Each word, each name begins the same, they have the same first letter.
Now if I tell you my whole name, you'll understand it better.

My name is Patty Palentine, my middle names, Penelope.
It kinda is mouthful, but it’s sorta like a melody.
But Zelda’s name is different, her middle name's unusual.
It doesn't start with Z at all, it’s X, I'm being truthful!

I'm serious, I mean it, her names Zelda X. Zackly.
Her middle name is Xenia, it's really not that wacky...
Because her Mom just loves that name & that is why she picked it,
So think real hard, don’t judge her choice and please don't just dismiss it.

The best part is, at least to me, the thing I love about it,
(And when you hear the reason why, I know that you won't doubt it)]
Is Zelda is the happiest when she’s counting all her blessings.
We all could learn a lot from her, could really learn a lesson...

‘Cause when she counts she always starts with Jesus at the top,
Then family, friends, her school, her pets, continues and can't stop.
You see, when you are thankful, like Zelda, you're content.
So if you count your blessings, too, your time's not better spent.

Yes, Zelda lives her faith, it’s true, is grateful every day.
She shows her love and gratitude in lots of different ways.
Just think about it, ponder it, her name is perfect for her,
A thankful girl who loves her Lord, her name is made to order.

Monday, September 10, 2018

It's All About the Shoes

Yesterday I was actually looking forward to wearing the shoes I bought in May, a simple black cloth flat I had finally found that fit, or so I thought.
I had tried on over twenty pair of shoes to find them.  I'd worn them around the house so I was sure they were winners, but yesterday it was a different story.  I wore them while I got ready and suddenly it became clear that they weren't going to work.
I never thought there'd come a day when I would have to wear tennis shoes to Church! I was mortified, simply mortified!! So when I got home I set about the task of finding a receipt from May.  Impossible?  I was sure of it. From May, come on.  But I don't believe it, I went to the closet, picked up a Kohls bag & inside it was the receipt. I couldn't believe it!  So I took them back & tried to look for a replacement but lost interest.  This is ridiculous, shoes!!

by Patty Lynn

We women, we’re predictable, we all have this affliction.
Our love of shoes can't be denied, some say it's an addiction.
It starts when we are very young, perhaps with Mary Janes.
No matter it's the shoe that's IN, and boys, they just complain…

Because they think it's silly, the fuss we make about them.
They just don’t understand it all, how we can't live without them
But secretly they have their own obsession with athletics
The ones their favorite stars endorse, we girls think it's pathetic.

Regardless, girls or boys love shoes, though girls get more publicity.
The love of shoes can sometimes get to be an eccentricity.
And I confess that I grew up possessing such a bent
I had a strong desire for shoes and added this lament:

The shoes must be the current style, no matter how they hurt
And more than that must match the purse, was something I'd assert.
I grew up when those pointed toes were what the IN girls wore.
Those casual or dressed-up shoes would sometimes make feet sore.

But that was just the way it was and so you followed suit.
What was the end result, you ask, what came of this pursuit?
Well, now I'm in my seventies with feet that don't conform,
I still love shoes but these old feet are hardly uniform…

Or even the same size, that's right, so really, I need two.
The left foot is a six-point five but for the right won't do.
A whole size larger I should get, but that can be expensive;
Explaining how this came about's a story quite intensive.

How many clerks who ask if they can be of some assistance,
Are comfortable with what has been the bain of your existence?
And yet they try to help you out when really what they want
Is to be anywhere you aren't and not your confidant.

So there it is my tale of woe, with feet so hard to fit,
Just trying to find shoes that work, that is the gist of it.
A simple pair of black cloth shoes that I can wear to church
And I can say, “I've found the ones and I can stop the search!”

Saturday, September 8, 2018


This summer rather than the regular once a week Jesus Time with my grandchildren, I came up with the idea of a summer project.  The one boy was pretty good at taking pictures so I had him take pictures of God's creation, you know trees, flowers, animals, etc. Once he had done that, I took his pictures a put them in a hard copy book and self published it.  He did the photos and the captions and we called it, GOD'S WONDERFUL CREATIONS. It turned out beautifully.
Then my other grandchild's project was creating a video (we're calling it a short film) entitled, THIS IS ME. In the movie we see him as a child of God, his life and interests, his house inside & out, interviews of his Grandma, his Pops and his brother, and commentary through out. He's almost finished editing & come his birthday (he's turning 12 at the end of September)we're going to have a private showing for friends & family.  It's going to be great!
So that was my inspiration for tonight's poem.

By Patty Lynn

We hustle and we bustle and hurriedly we run
Doing what is so important before each day is done.
But in our rush to do it all, we miss what God has made,
The wonders that surround us all, His handiwork displayed.

Just stop and look, you'll see it all, the beauty that surrounds us.
God's hand has made it all, my friend, His power, it astounds us!
For which of us could match such power, how could we replicate…
The smallest of His creature’s far beyond what we’d create.

And yet though we're surrounded by the workings of His hand
We're often so preoccupied these eyes of ours just scan…
What I would call, periphery, we hardly even see...
The depth and breath of what is there, though not deliberately.

We miss so much, the grandeur, the enormity of this,
The clear, unbounded, magnitude we somehow just dismiss,
And yet our God’s creation is there for all to see.
One wonders if He often says, “What fools these mortals be!”

Yes, we are fools if we don't see this world that God's created,
Because much more than these, my friend, what can't be overstated,
Is how His love surpasses all, for us it's unconditional.
No matter what, God will forgive, that’s fact, no, it's not fictional!

So never let your life become devoid of observation,
So busy that your miss God's hand in every situation.
For He is there in sights and sounds, His love's there for the taking.
Just breathe, slow down, and you will find, all things are of His making.


Friday, August 17, 2018

The Blessing of Wonderful Neighbors

Last week my next door neighbors invited my husband & me over  for a cook-out to celebrate their birthdays. They had milestone birthdays, one turning 50 the other turning 55. So...I decided to write each a poem (I know, predictable.)
Here they are:

THE BIG ’50!’
By Patty Lynn

When you were turning forty, I wrote a birthday ditty,
For that’s the year, “You're old”, you’re told, and “Lonnie, that's a pity!”
“You're over the hill, it's all downhill, this point, the forty mark.”
“The climbs not up, it's only down, the last leg of the arc”.

“The picture isn't bright”, they say, “And here's a black balloon.”
“Poor, you, your future’s only bleak, you'll sing a different tune!”
But you showed them you rose above, you proved to them they’re wrong.
Those mere 10 years were really good, you sang a different song!

That's right, stand tall, who says you’re old, why, you’ve just hit your stride.
You're living large and you’re in charge, the past you've lived with pride.
But now you've hit the big ‘50', and what’s your future hold?
It's bright, it's true, depends on you, there's no such thing as old!

Besides we've lived it, we've been there, we're speaking from experience.
We know from old, and it's not GOLD, in fact, it's marked with weariness...
And difficulty with the things that once were awfully easy,
Accepting there won’t be a time, when they will call you SPEEDY.

But 50, that’s not old at all, from this side you're a youngster.
It makes us jealous ‘cause, you see, your somewhere where we once were.
So relish every moment, dear, and savor each new day.
It's not an idle statement that Life's Short, just like they say.

BY Patty Lynn

For years I thought that we were blessed to have this neighborhood.
No matter what request was made, we knew that someone would...
Be willing to extend a hand, to help in times of need,
To show a brand of kindness that so often will exceed...

What you’ve requested since there is an empathy & care...
For one another and each need, so someone always there.
To say this is exceptional is just plain insufficient.
In many neighborhoods today, such caring's nonexistent.

For me, just that would be enough, and yet there's more to tell
Because I got the privilege of knowing one quite well.
We'd always shared the niceties that cordial neighbors do.
Her husband helped us many times, well, really quite a few.

But then his wife, my Jill next door, (my sister's names the same,)
Was diagnosed with something with a crazy kinda name.
Yes, torticollis made her neck, the muscles tense and so…
Her head turned down, her doctor said, “Here's Botox, there ya’ go.”

Long story short, it didn't help, she thought she had no options,
But then I mentioned what might be, but said, “You use some caution.”
She searched the information out, did what they call due diligence. 
I didn't know if this would work, to learn was my requirement.

Celluma is the name of this, light therapy for healing…
And skin and muscle spasms, too, and that made this appealing.
And I possessed the unit so she thought it worth a try.
We made a plan that twice a week the treatment I’d apply.

I'm happy to report that she has found her neck improved.
A year has passed though she's not cured, no longer she's consumed…
With worry & frustration that she'll never find relief,
And I have made a friend for life and that’s what I received. 

Friday, July 27, 2018


Like many of you, Frank & I had been really disgusted with Spectrum and their constant price hikes. Hoping something could be done about this, we went into the Spectrum office about a year ago with the first increase.  After a lengthy conversation that was basically comprised of what we were willing to give up, we got our monthly bill down to a manageable figure.

Fast forward a year later, the monthly bill again was raised. So, again we marched into the office and again we asked, "What can we give up this time to bring our bill back down?" Imagine our surprise when the answer was, "I'm sorry, that promotion is over."  Even though I explained over & over the circumstances, the giving up that didn't have anything to do with a promotion, all I got was that the promotion was over and there was nothing that could be done.  After careful consideration and looking into other alternatives, we made the decision to "cut the cord," and we're so glad we did.

By Patty Lynn

The newest craze, I'm sure you've heard, is Cut the Cord, yes, that’s the word
‘Cause with the rising cable bills we can't go on with viewing frills
Like HBO and Showtime and the non-stop Sports and News
Has left us with the end result, the never-ending Blues.

Time Warner left us high & dry, now Spectrum’s made its mark!
Their escalating prices leave us struggling in the dark,
No explanation just a hike and say there’ll be a ceiling
But how much more will they require, I’ve got a sinking feeling…

That we cannot go on like this, you’ve heard of a “fixed income?”
When there’s no salary coming in, where will the extra come from?
We’re brainwashed into thinking that TV without the cable
Is something unacceptable, who cares if you’re not able...

To just keep paying more and more, you’ve got to have the bundle
Because within it are the shows without which you would crumble.
Since you have watched them for so long and can’t afford to miss them.
Where will you be if they’re not there, when cable won’t transmit them?

And now there was a quandary, what options do you have?
You know you don’t want paying more; that hardly makes you glad,
So what are the alternatives, is there a way to do it?
What happens if you “cut the cord” will you look back and rue it?

So then you do your homework and research the new antennas.
Can they do what you want them to, this is your great dilemma.
And so you try one that was said to be the best one ever,
With sky-high ratings, it’s top-notch, but found it can’t deliver.

You’re still determined to possess the best one that enables…
Your TV to show locals and at last to turn the tables…
On Spectrum, you don’t need ‘em, not with Prime, Netflix & HULU.
You’ve “cut the cord” on cable now and brother, I salute you!

Friday, July 20, 2018


Tonight's's been quite a while, I know, but I'm here now.  Anyway, this is the last thing I ever thought I'd write about but what prompts a poem is never predictable.  I recently heard of a new product that's been tauted as marijauna without the THC, a great pain reliever, no side effects. As far as I'm concerned, anything that would address my pain and would be better than an opioid is worth taking a look at. So I went to a pharmacy in Little Chute to get more information.  I just began limited use and the jury  is still out.
I'll let you know...

By Patty Lynn

I wonder if you've tried the thing they often call “a joint?”
You heard me right, I really need to know to make my point.
Why do I need to know, you ask, why do I need to know?
Because I never have, though once, I smelled the afterglow.

The story of just how I did is really rather comical.
The man I worked for liked to “smoke" whenever it was possible,
But since I didn't know the smell, I didn't recognize it
Co-workers said they always knew; I guess that verifies it.

You see, I cleaned the bathrooms, ‘cause I liked them to be clean.
I smelled a smoky smell in there that wasn't nicotine.
I mentioned it, got raucous laughs, they asked if I was kidding?
I told them I was serious, they thought that I was fibbing.

It only goes to show I'm not a worldly average Joe..
I've never smoked or rolled a joint so how was I know.
I’ve got to say I'm curious ‘bout pot for pain relief,
If I could ease my pain with it, my source of daily grief…

Why, you can bet I'd learn real fast just how to roll a joint.
I'd revel that somehow it worked and didn't disappoint.
That day will be glorious one, pain gone & feeling good
Medicinal marijuana should be legal, yes, it should.

But I have found the capsule kind that has no THC.
It's legal & I'm trying it and it may work for me.
So at my very “tender age" still wouldn't know the smell,
But that’s OK, maybe someday, I'll smoke it, who can tell.

Friday, June 15, 2018

The Older We Get....

It seems that as we age, health questions are plentiful but answers aren't easy to come by. This latest poem is a good example of just that.

Getting to the Bottom
By Patty Lynn

So here I sit just waiting, waiting for the doc.
She wanted to re-test me, said my BP’s not so hot.
I don't know why it suddenly became so elevated.
It never was before, in fact, “just perfect," it was rated.

“So why the change, how come,” I ask,"I need an explanation.”
“Well, Pat, it seems you suffer from old age, now that's your station!”
“Who me,” I say, “that can't be right, old people have that spot.
And I'm not old, you must be wrong, an oldster I am not!”

“Now, Pat,” she says,” your body, well, it isn't what it was.
Your BP sometimes bottoms out, you wonder why it does?”
“Of course, I do, and suddenly, why has it changed so much?
My dad, he was the only one whose BP wouldn't budge…

But Dad was grossly overweight so understandably.
So even though I'm not, we've got to find what works for me.
Now, there is something else for which I need a remedy
My balance problems getting worse & falling’s plaguing me!”

I'm glad I've finally got a chance to talk about my issues.
She's tested and ruled out so much, she’s thorough, it's official.
I'm thankful that it's not my heart, my brain, we've ruled those out,
But balance plagues me constantly, so PT is the route.”

I’ve started with a therapist, a guy I really like.
He helped me with my knees post-op, he'll know just how to strike…
A balance of what I can do and what I must accomplish,
A  way that I find doable, results that just astonish.

He put me through my paces, recorded how did,
Establishing a baseline, a place from which to build.
I really think he'll help me reach my goal of finding balance
All I can say is that I'll give an effort that is valiant.

My hope is that when the Summer's gone my balance will be better.
And I won't live each day in fear, that I will take a header…
Down basement steps or in the tub or falling in my garden,
“Excuse me hosta, lilly too, and weeds, I beg your pardon.”

It's easy to get down about the things I'd like to do,
And figure that I'm just too old to learn a thing or two,
But with this special therapist who feels I can improve,
With practice, I'm determined to stay firmly “In the groove.”

Friday, May 4, 2018


Today's poem was one of those that took a lot of time.  Why?  I really don't know, it just did.  Suffice to say, it may be that it was difficult because it is so true. You see, 2 weeks ago I wearing two shoes that were the same size (what a concept!) and now, they don't fit.  My left foot is a 6 1/2 and my right is now a 7.  But rather than go into a long explanation here, this poem will tell you all about the situation.

By Patty Lynn

We've heard it said, well, most of us, the phrase that Sherlock spoke
“The games afoot!” he'd just announce, to find the guilty bloke.
But when I hear that said I think, my foot’s no game at all
If only someone could provide a major overhaul.

You see, they've got what I'd describe, a mind that’s all their own
They change their way of walking, just never know.
Now though my shoe size, 6 ½, is just right for my left
My right foot pushes forward and it really has me stressed

So what to do, I'm telling you, I see no compromise
Than buying up 2 pr. of shoes, can you see dollar signs?
But me, I’m trying to create the same, that's space enough
By buying one size larger and the other I will stuff…

With pads and such to fill the space, so that shoe won't fall off
While every day I still will pray that both my feet will morph...
Into a pair of healthy feet with perfect toes so straight
No bunions, corns or callouses, in short, they’d just be great!

“The game’s afoot?” no game at all, no game as feet evolve,
I know, I know, ‘twas mysteries, Ol' Sherlock loved to solve,
But Sherlock, I've got news for you, ‘tis the mystery of MY feet!
Why must they switch the way they walk,’twould make my life so sweet…

If I could wear a shoe that's cute, a shoe like others do
That's feminine and with a heel to make me tall, like you.
I'd be the happiest girl in town, I'd simply jump for joy.
I'd pile up all the shoes I have and with a match, DESTROY!

Friday, April 20, 2018


First, let me say that we are blessed with exceptional neighbors, there when you need help, always willing and able.  When my husband was recovering from back surgery, one neighbor, for instance, came and walked our little dog once a day Monday through Friday for weeks because he knew that the dog was used to having walks with Frank.  Now that would be a nice thing to do especially by someone who was a dog person but, come to find out, he wasn't, he was a cat person.  So I guess I'd have to say we've experienced a lot of acts of kindness since we moved here 10 years ago.  That said, I suppose this isn't the best title for tonight's blog.

For the most part, I think random acts of kindness describe a one time act, unexpected, unsolicited, and one that's a surprise to the recipient. One of our outstanding acts of kindness came last year when my husband had back surgery.  I was facing life without Frank's help.  You see Frank does so much around the house from vacuuming to what he does to help me with cleaning to garbage duty to taking the dog out for a walk 3 times a day to...  The list is so long that I dreaded being the one to handle it all.  Cooking I could handle but additionally, there was helping Frank himself.  His sister came & that was a welcome assist but she couldn't do the personal cares, things like helping him wash and get dressed, etc.

Something I dreaded was shoveling our enormous driveway and I mean shoveling.  I've never used a snow blower and although my sister-in-law was more than willing, I wouldn't let her.   After the first real snowfall, I managed to shovel a path on the deck and out to the backyard for the dog, but that was all I could handle. And then it happened...the family across the street, Dad, sometimes Mom and one or two of their long list of kids were over here first thing in the morning shoveling our driveway! And if the snow continued they came again and if was necessary, again.

That continued through the entire Winter season with one exception.  Dad felt it necessary to stop by one afternoon and let us know that they all were going on a week-long vacation and didn't want us to think they had neglected us.  Now that would have been exceptional kindness in and of itself, understanding my husband's limitations following back surgery, but we never expected that this Winter the family was back at it, shoveling our driveway every time it needed it.  So you see what I mean when I say KINDNESS, but this is kindness beyond simple kindness. To show our gratitude we always give the family some sort of gift card as they would never accept cash, but this year I wrote a poem to accompany it.

By Patty Lynn

There’s people all around the world, like us, they're in their 70's,
And all those folks, like us, have found that bodies have their enemies.
Yes, aches & pains are typical and weather plays its part,
But spines are their own problem, their failings at the heart…

Of so much that you want to do, the impact’s undeniable,
And shoveling snow’s impossible with a back that’s unreliable.
A privilege to own a home, we're thankful that we do,
But when it snows, our drive-way is too much for us, it's true!

Now I could say you’ve helped us out by clearing this expanse,
I'd even say that you're the best, whenever there’s a chance,
But that would never be enough to tell you what you've done,
This gesture’s made a difference, allowed us to outrun…

The move the two of us must face now sometime down the line,
The one that age will clearly show the one you knows not fine...
But, realistic, can’t be helped, that comes when we can't handle…
The upkeep, daily maintenance, when all of it's dismantled…

Because the two of us have found that all of it's too much.
We've reached an age (I hate to think) it's clear & must be judged...
That we're too old to do it all, we're forced to the alternative
Assisted living, senior care, we find it all perturbative…

For no one wants that kind of change, a move we two both dread.
We'd sooner stay right where we are, right in our little homestead.
I'm sure you know how much this means, postponing such a move,
And your kind gesture gives us time, believe me, we approve.

What you have done is so much more than shoveling the drive.
By your removing snow for us, you've cleared the way to thrive…
As happy owners of our home, postponing those concerns,
While from your selfless act for us, our neighbors all will learn.

Thursday, March 1, 2018

What's the Remedy?

The following poem needs no explanation.  It's a true accounting of everything that took place last Friday morning.  If anyone has a theory as to why this happened, please let me know.  I go for further testing next week and am hoping that I will get some answers.  I pray that I don't ever have a repeat performance!


I never thought this word would cause such fear & trepidation.
I never thought each step I took might bring a complication.
And, oh, it brings back memories of days when my own mother
Would somehow find a way to fall, what was the cause, I wondered.

But now it’s me who's falling like I did the other day.
I climbed the basement stairs and then, fell backward all the way
And landed at the bottom where the floor, it made me stop,
Bewildered why I fell at all, had almost reached the top.

I do remember falling and to myself, I said, “Oh, shit!”
Those words they would reverberate while falling, that was it.
I don't remember landing, just that I made a thud,
And wondered just what product I would use to clean that blood.

I don't know how my husband walked me slowly up each stair…
Got on my coat and to the car, just how he got me there.
I kept on asking what had happened and where we were going,
And each time he explained to me the things I should be knowing.

I do recall emergency, the lights, but little else.
I don't remember ex-rays, scans, felt I was by myself.
I guess that’s further proof that I had I suffered a concussion.
The signs and symptoms are clear-cut, an obvious deduction.

I do recall a rigid brace that kept my head from moving.
It kept on rubbing on my wound, believe me, NOT amusing.
But when they finished all my tests, were sure that I was fine,
The brace was gone, relief was sweet and happiness was mine!

My head wound was at last addressed and closed up with some staples,
And I was free, the worse for wear and with Frank's arm enabled…
To go back home complete with sling, so tender but not broken.
But still, I felt through all of it that I was in slow motion.

Now these events they all took place last Friday in the morning.
The question is just why I fell, it took place without warning.
That bothers me, of course, but even more no memory…
Of all the things that happened, tell me what’s the remedy?

Monday, February 26, 2018

It's His 70th Year

My husband is about 2 1/2 years younger than me and I've been waiting for him to finally catch up with me.  So, today is his 70th birthday and I'm happy to finally say, "we're in our 70's."  The following poem is his birthday poem.

by Patty Lynn

You've finally reached the pinnacle, the pinnacle of age.
At last you’ve joined the 70's, you know how long I've raged…
For you to join me here, I've raged, with me, to share my plight,
An oldster just like me you are, yes, youth is “outta sight”…

Because it's so far back, you see, but can you see, now can you?
Yeah, gone the days it all was clear, no matter what the venue.
But don't lose heart ‘cause you & I, we're in this place together,
Through rain or shine I'm yours, you’re mine, regardless of the weather.

And you'll adjust, what choice have you, the 70's are great!
You stayed there in the 60's for so long but couldn't wait…
To be among the peeps like me, who have this marvelous view.
You know, the view of which I speak, the forward looks for you…

‘Cause this one is a shorter one, yes, forward, that’s the way,
A shorter distance on this side, complete with hair of gray.
But you’ve had that part covered, and for some time you've been...
Aware of how time’s slower now and not like way back when…

There never was enough time to do the things you wanted
And tasks were hard to do in time and often you felt daunted.
But now your time’s in surplus and what seems hard to do
Is just because you're old now, you're not expected to…

Accomplish what you used to do, forgotten are the methods.
Besides we're different, we're excused from doing what's expected.
The two of us still do our best, but tire easily.
But that’s OK, it’s our new way, we do things leisurely.

So, Happy Birthday, Sweetheart Frank, I'm glad you’ve joined me here.
We BOTH are in our 70's but, please, don't you shed a tear.
The years ahead will still be good with limitations, sure,
Just face the facts, old age it lacks, but, honey, there's no cure.

Wednesday, February 14, 2018


It's been so long since I've written a blog post, that I ask you to indulge me one
more time with this rather silly poem.  It's at least something.  As a very wise person said, "Something is better than nothing."  WOAH! That sure is deep!  This little poem is just that, it's, well, better than nothing.

By Patty Lynn

I think it’s just despicable no poems of mine I've posted.
I haven't felt the urge to write, but still I haven't coasted,
Because I've had occasion to write poems for special people,
A wedding and a baby's birth, those things, they make me gleeful.

And since those poems were written for some special friends of mine,
I don't feel it appropriate to share them and combine…
Those poems with this my blog, you see, so this one's independent.
I know, if it was my poem shared like that, I'd be offended.

So now I've got to pick a theme and write a little ditty,
A subject you'd find interesting with rhymes that are so pretty.
I’d wow you ‘cause you'll never find another one that’s like it.
You'd say I really hit the mark and that you can't deny it!

I guess I better start my poem, in short, I'd best get started...
Before you think I'm stalling here, my good intentions thwarted.
I know it’s been a little while since I have been inspired
But rest assured that rusty me will do what is required.

It doesn't matter if it's been a week, 6 months, a year.
Before you know it I'll have made it so completely clear...
That I possess the kind of gift that's always at the ready…
To take the stage, is all the rage, my writing talent’s steady.

And you will see the majesty with which I write my poems
That makes you say there’s few like me whose work, it stands alone.
But here I am, write more, I can, but space is surely lacking.
I've filled the page, I'll disengage, in short, this poem's sent packing.