The Visit

“I saved these just for you” she said.
“I knew you’d come one day to find them.”
Bending to her bureau drawer,
the moonlight swept across her face
and there ‘neath tattered wings I saw
a form familiar.

She picked up bits of ivory
with her musing fingertips
worn now from the years.
A smile, soft and lovely,
graced her frail and shallow face
and flash-backs
just like shreds of lightening . . .
flooded me.

“It was you, wasn’t it?" I gasped.
“All the while it was you . . .
tiptoeing past my bed
like a thief who’d stolen jewels.
I thought that I was dreaming . . .
swore I saw those wings . . .
yes, and that fairy scent you always wore.
You lived with us back then, Grandma,
and all the while . . . I thought that thief was Mom!”

She bid me, “Close your eyes and open up your hand.”
and as if I were standing small again . . . I anxiously obeyed.
Then she dropped them,
my tiny ivory tooth buds saved since childhood
toppled in the center of my palm,
"treasures, jewels" she said . . . her memories.

And there we lay that evening
recalling heart-soaked lullabies
rocking in the dark
till all the breath of all the years
dissolved into my arms
and the long cord of Grandma's love
~ wrapped my heart with gold.


Joanne Cucinello 2010

We Are Never Alone

This morning, I was remembering a certain Sunday long ago when I was young, sitting in Church and feeling quite alone. The priest that day ended his sermon with these words from Isaiah 49:15 . . . "See, I will not forget you. I have carved you in the palm of my hand."

The image, those words conveyed, gave me such comfort . . . and continues to stay with me throughout my life, especially through difficult times . . . reminding me always of God's faithful love.

It was my Dad who made that image so real for me . . . that day sitting at the kitchen table. He was tired, working three jobs to support his brood of five, all alone, after my mom had left. Dad was an optimist, tomorrow would always be a better day. We were alone together that particular morning. My brothers and sisters were still asleep. I remember asking him if he wished we were rich. He smiled with affection and touched my cheek. Then he took out his worn brown leather wallet and wanted to show me how rich he really was.

Out came five folded little papers he'd kept safe through the years, one small note of affection from each one of us and he let me read them. Dad was all teary eyed and said something like . . . "See, these are my jewels . . . you kids. I'm the richest man on earth." I knew then, that in his own simple way, my Father had carved us in the palm of his hand.

Moments of love, shared at a kitchen table, little notes of affection saved close to the heart . . . small, but present remnants we have each passed on to our own children, in hopes that they will never feel alone, so that even when we're gone . . . . they'll remember how much they were loved.

What Will We Do?

What will we do
to save our children
from the monsters that hide
not under beds
nor in the shadows on the wall
but prowl the streets
and wait for the yellow bus
and that one last lingering child
who dillydallies
jumping over puddles
skipping down the road
singing silly songs
she only learned today?

What will we do
to hold back mothers and fathers
from taking the law into their hands
when we ourselves have decided
to join them?

How do we turn this world
upside down and inside out again
and will it ever, ever end . . .
the sacrifices of the innocents among us?

What will we do
when the seas dry up
and there is no more salt
left for tears?
What will we do
when poets are no longer needed?

Joanne Cucinello 2009

Kids Don't Learn Respect . . . Unless You Teach Them

I remember back then when my brothers and sisters and I were young. We could be a wild bunch at times,the five of us, but that was only allowed inside our own home. When our parents took us to visit we were warned way in advance to quell the rising fear of . . . Oh my God! Ciro and Marian are coming with the five kids!!
One Aunt in particular, my mother's older sister Aunt Mary, was pretty well to do and had a house that looked like a museum. It stayed that way even with her three children living there, thanks to her diligence and fanaticism. There was a long four cushioned sofa against one wall in her living room, just long enough to seat five children and that's where we were forewarned to sit and mind our manners . . . or else! And we did just that until compassion overtook her and she bought us cookies . . . but WATCH the crumbs! Why were we so obediently mild-mannered on family outings, you might ask? Because we knew with certainty that my mother meant business when she said "This is not our house. Do NOT embarrass me!"
When I had my own five children and they were small, I passed on the warning too. Behind the issue of embarrassment was the greater core of Italian-American family life . . . RESPECT! You respect your elders, your parents, your teachers . . . and last but not least . . . YOURSELF. My children knew very clearly what was expected of them from early on. No, they weren't perfect, but they learned respect. I remember my young son Brendan's astonishment when a schoolmate who came to our house one afternoon, walked right up to the refrigerator, opened the door, and grabbed something to eat for himself. Before I could say anything, my seven year old said "What are you doing?" The boy replied nonchalantly, "Getting something to eat, why?" And Brendan sternly said in his little gruff voice, "You better put that back. This isn't your house and you didn't ask!" The boy turned around and saw me standing with my arms folded and sheepishly returned his booty back to the fridge. Then Brendan said, "Mom, I think Adam's hungry." I asked the boy if he'd like something to eat and he shyly shook his head yes and I fixed them both something nice to eat. Adam started smiling again. The next time he came to our home he remembered that we don't starve hungry children here and all he had to do was ask.
Another time, a different friend came over and used the bathroom. When he came out, Brendan was next in line to use it. He walked in and ran right out pulling his friend back into the toilet in a panic. The boy had peed all over the seat and decorated the wall also and just walked out. I heard my son warn him that if his Dad came home and saw that mess he'd be very angry and he won't let you play here again. And then he added, "You have to aim inside the bowl in our house."

It's called . . . Respect. It's called . . . I CARE!

Allowing and encouraging children to grow and explore their world is a task that does not come without responsibility. Respect for oneself and others begins at a very young age, but those values taught and supported through childhood continue throughout one's life. Children need boundaries and when they're in new and unfamiliar places they need to know what these boundaries are. Do unto others as you would have them do to you is a wise lesson to learn early in life.
Children can't grow up alone or in households where no one ever has time for them. They learn respect from their parents first. It all goes back to the beginning. Kids need to play and have fun, to be free and be loved. It's not about restricting their good times. It is about learning how to live, give, and share the world around us and discover what joy means.

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