She’d move along in measured paces wearing sensible shoes
from down the street by the park where Washington met Lafayette,
and the giant oak we’d worship and play kickball beneath
Each weeknight, the umber circle on her right shin commuted
from a city bus to the front door of my suburban childhood home
Sometimes I’d watch the moving bullseye grow from a dark dime to a darker quarter
Grandma and her mole would always arrive on time for supper.
And after working a full day at her paper factory job, she’d retire to her bedroom,
watch Perry Mason, smoke Parliaments and knit something for somebody
But every July 4th, after the dinner dishes were cleared away,
we’d enjoy the illuminated night sky, we’d eat red, white and blue cake,
and we’d sing Happy Birthday to Grandma
An oldie but goodie🌹 (from left to right) my grandmother, my mom, my uncle
Happy Birthday, Grandma ❤️
His friends called him Bill, the rest — Vito
I remember other men gathering ‘round him at parties
Women telling him what a handsome figure he cut
He smiled in that tall, broad-shouldered frame
His eyes were as piercing as his deep voice—
terrifying as a child
remarkable in my adulthood
I believed any criminal in my father’s path
would immediately surrender themselves
to this larger than life FBI man
Judicious and fair with or without his law degree
His life stories from working an ice truck at seven years old
to duking it out on a golf course at seventy
were mesmerizing in detail, entertaining in delivery
The temper — he possessed a fierce one
No patience for silliness
but all the time in the world for family
I reflect often on his driving force
his charismatic personality
his soft side
Not a day goes by when I don’t miss him
HAPPY FATHER’S DAY to all you wonderful fathers!❤️
Can’t recall what was going through my head in 2016 when I created this image.
I wish I could remember.
This piece once vaguely reminded me of John Baldessari’s artwork in the 1980’s—placing bright adhesive dots on random faces in photographs.
Since last year, the mask-like shape and those sad brown eyes have taken on a life all their own.
Honored and thrilled to have my creative nonfiction piece, “Inside My Mother’s Mouth,” published in the elegant and smart, Hippocampus Magazine.
Always honored to share a glimpse into my beautiful mother’s world. I dearly miss the person she was for all those amazing decades.
Click the image (or highlighted text) to read onward. Visit, Hippocampus, and take in all the fantastic stories there…
This piece was written before the Covid-19 axe cut deep. It seems so long ago now that I visited Millie daily and helped her with the morning routine.
I hope you’re all continuing to manage during these difficult days. Stay safe.❤️
Thank you for stopping by.
my poem “The Iceman’s Helper” was inspired by my father’s wonderful childhood stories, and the inset photo (my dad Vito W between my grandparents, Vito D and Grace). For Vito❤️
While my darling daughter was checking out my ‘Published Writing and Art’ page, she informed me that many of the links no longer connected to the published pieces. In an effort to correct this, I went through the entire list and connected each piece to its corresponding blog page, as well as re-linking to the journal or site where each was published. This is the one that got away. It was published back in 2017, by ‘Miracles Magazine’ (A generous friend who still works for the magazine had asked me to submit work). I’m re-posting my poem, ‘Bessie’s Echo,’ so the link can be updated. Thank you.
in the distance
faceless proclamations bounce back and forth between the rush of cars
would’ve been herds of cattle trotting for lunch bells ‘cross the road
a yellow Adirondack chair on my front porch, I drink flavored seltzer from a tumbler pretending it’s Dom
spotted bovine hooves
only echos now like dairy farmers spirits loading Bessie’s milk on old Erie railroad cars
bound for the city
retired clanks and clatters float toward the bright sun that once fed fat cows golden grass
with bright yellow bellies flit by my front porch saying their good nights
cropped portion of a sketch drawn about ten years ago, someday I must redo this little sketch, the dang eyes are lopsided!