3 years of being a single parent.

19 years sober.

The 2 are connected!

I believe that over time, certain sayings or lessons prove themselves to be true. A recent favorite of mine is:

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished…

It took a while for me to wrap my head around this because maybe I’m guessing that I have this Western Christian ‘got to be helpful thing goin on!’

Whenever I loan money, I don’t expect it back, and I am seldom disappointed in my expectations.

If I help someone who doesn’t have a place to live, then I know for a fact that the probability of them leaving before being asked to go is nil, and they will not be kind in their departure.

My daughter, who loves animals, has the same qualities, and I am trying to teach her the errors of my ways and a family tradition whose time is at hand to end.

She is trying to help and rescue a stray cat, and her efforts have resulted in that cat attacking our cat.

I have informed her that I can not and will not incur vet bills as the result of her kindness.

She said, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

“Exactly.”

I was running out of something.

Like patience, love, or steam.

Maybe never had them anyway.

Just a wish inside a dream.

Getting jacked up on adrenaline.

From a haunting distant fear.

Something real not imagined.

From a time called yesteryear.

So I sat down and did nothing.

No assumptions, to let it go.

I prayed and said some words to God.

Might be best that you don’t know.

I don’t know why my baby loves clowns.
Whose painted on tears never fall down.
I don’t know what she sees in their eyes
Perhaps the line between horror/surprise…

I don’t know why my baby can’t sing.
Why carnival music isn’t her thing.
It fills my head when I’m at the fair.
Searching for clues in clowns everywhere.

I don’t know why she screams at night.
I hope it’s not why she holds me so tight.
Because I’m the type I’m weak for love.
Carnival music I rise above.

Is it the pain or is it the tears?
For some carnival crime from yesteryears.
Maybe it’s you, maybe I’ll never know.
Maybe it’s me, baby let go.

(chorus)

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the kings horses and all the kings men.
Tried and they tried but she fell down again.

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
She went to her shrink ended up at the mall.
Humpty Dumpty wanted it all.

Dennis Mantin

There’s this alley in the back lot.

Down by the tower near the dome.

She is living under cardboard.

In a box that she calls home.

The boredom overtook her.

She left the kids with just a kiss.

Growing up, she supposes.

It’s not so bad, but smells like piss.

There’s that guy who said he loved her.

He drops off food to ease his pain.

Doesn’t know what he’d do different.

If he could do it all again.

Sometimes, she does remember.

In her mind, details fade…

There’s a hero and some villains.

And a church where she once prayed.

In her dreams, there are two wolves.

One brings light, and one bad seed.

She used to know that angel.

The other she did feed.

Dennis Mantin

The Expectations were on fire.

Virtues had grown thin.

Love was hanging… worn wire.

There was this need to win.

The penalties were not known.

The lines drawn in the sand.

Emotions were hot and blown.

And nothing much seemed planned.

You took the gold and money.

I have this heart and soul.

I’m not laughing, but you are funny.

I have the kid: that’s how we roll.

My father was very careful and thorough: Only now, I can see and appreciate the brilliance in the absence of his efforts. To not have to unlearn anything is proving to be invaluable.

To have a lifetime of trial and errors without the bothersome interference of elders teaching and paving the way can now be reflected upon in a rich tapestry of original experience.

Thanks, Dad!

Everyone is guilty.

We all fall short of the glory of God.

We all want confession.

A cathartic release.

Clarity.

This is mine…

The savages we descended from; we pretend they weren’t us…

We think we are different.

This thing we call civility is questionable, at least.

Why are we so offended at our heritage?

Look how far we’ve grown.

“How tall we are, we’ve learned so much!”

Why the shame? Why pretend?

Given what they were dealing with, I can’t say that I’d have done anything better or different…

I used to visit friends of my father at a small East Coast fishing village when I was a boy…

Because I was so small and insignificant, they were very open to being themselves. I noticed that whenever someone was present that they didn’t know, they behaved differently; they were more polite and proper. The following will illustrate how they were around me.

There was a man in their village whose wife died suddenly of cancer. The man grieved a very short while and soon thereafter met another woman whom he married mere months after his first wife died. The man’s second wife died of cancer within 1 year of their wedding…

After that, they referred to this man as rotten cock.