Patchwork Prose and Verse
For the month of September, Rattle’s ekphrastic poetry image was the piece below by Frahn Koerner. Find more about the artist here.
What Will Tomorrow Hold?
one foot in
the portal of now
a fluttering
of new life within
stirs, forms,
timestamps passage
into a future realm
what will tomorrow hold?
Sometimes the most write-down-to-the-bone writing challenge comes from friends in a writing group: Let’s all write a poem about what really annoys the hell out of us, one among us says, throwing a gauntlet right at everyone’s feet. And don’t hold back. Tell everyone how you really feel. Write down to the bone, as Natalie Goldberg would urge.
I got my sass going and pulled out my pen and my notebook and let my mind go to a time I really wanted to jerk a knot in someone’s neck. It didn’t take long to feel my blood boiling in memory alone. That’s what writing does when it takes you back to the moment you need to just let something go or deal with it.
I’ll tell you what annoys me: when someone flippantly tells another person to smile. Especially when someone doesn’t know the personal burdens people are carrying, whether the directive comes from someone at work, a stranger in public, or anyone else who crosses a personal boundary and doesn’t know the challenges others are facing. It’s the most insensitive way to treat others, and seems to be a trademark habit of those who feel especially narcissistic and entitled.
I’ve had it happen to me on multiple occasions on the heels of my father’s death when the lines of grief had set in and seemed to hold a strong presence on my brow, but never more stinging and offensive than the time right after I’d gotten the phone call from the veterinarian that there was nothing more they could do for my beloved Schnauzer Fitz, and that I needed to begin thinking of a time when I could bring him in for his final appointment. Someone who professed to be “an expert on reading body language” walked by on the way to refill a coffee cup and said, “Smile. You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
As a matter of fact, I did have the weight of the world on my shoulders. And in that moment, for a “professional body language reader” to be so careless with that astute observation yet offer that remark, I wasn’t sure whether to cry, scream, or slam my computer shut and run out of the room. So I decided the best approach was to feel pity for the self-proclaimed professional heartless creature seeking caffeine. To be so filled with the gift of body language literacy and so devoid of sensitivity, the caffeine was clearly not the wake-up call needed.
Here’s a thought I wanted to share with the oblivious coffee drinker: use your body language reading gift with the utmost stewardship and assume someone might actually be distressed if they’re throwing off that vibe. It does no one any good to have a gift and not use it for good. Think of it like gun ownership, because it’s similar and can be worse: you wouldn’t show up to a sharpshooter’s competition waving a gun like a drunk Otis on Andy Griffith. Use your weapon to protect, build bridges, and help heal, not to kill. I can’t imagine that my late father, in his pastor days, would have ever looked at anyone with a distressed look on their face and inhumanely told them to smile. And I don’t expect people in positions of leadership to lack the lick of sense it takes to figure out the obvious and remain oblivious. It reeks of a football coach with so much lingering head trauma that when an injured player is writing in pain, they tell the player to get up and shake it off.
This got to be such an obvious thing with this particular coffee drinker that all those who’d been flippantly told to smile began sending messages of support to each other. Imagine the day I walked by a desk in an RV dealership and saw the sign: Director of Smiles. I tried to grab it and hold it up for the picture, but it was adhered to the desk. Someone before me must have tried to steal it. Now, it has become the regular image we share when someone has been told to smile.
Director of Smiles Tanka
Director of Smiles,
the sign reads, reminding me
my natural face
is who I am, not some fake
show of my humanity
I think Leigh Elena Henderson (I adore her and her expressive eyes that can carry on a full conversation all by themselves) gets it – – check out her viral Tik Tok on HR Manifesto.
A lot goes into a Gotcha Day – for both a rescue organization and a family adopting a dog. And sadly, for those who make the choice to surrender a dog they can no longer care for – sometimes through no fault of their own, and sometimes because they are heartless. It’s not my place to judge either, but instead to open my heart to the little victims who do not understand why their circumstances have changed. I left early yesterday to drive to a dog park halfway between my home in Williamson, Georgia and a foster’s home in Canton, Georgia to meet and adopt a miniature Schnauzer who had been surrendered to a rescue organization here in Georgia a month ago. We met at Sweetwater Park in Austell to determine if this was the right match, and I followed her to Hickory Trails Park in Canton to sign the papers once I knew he would get along and that my current dogs would accept him as a brother. I was part of the matching service, where someone shares exactly what they want in a dog to the adoption organizer and they start the search for the perfect match.
They say your dog of today is sent to you by your dog of yesterday, and I believe it. I believe my Fitz got across the Rainbow Bridge and knew how badly my heart was aching. I grieved him properly, but I hung onto this: I’d adopted Fitz from Schnauzer Love Rescue as a mid-life miniature Schnauzer in the range of 5-8 years. Dogs that are classified as “senior dogs” are some of the most challenging dogs to rehome, and Fitz was no exception. Rescue organizations know that it is also much harder to adopt solid dark-colored dogs because they do not photograph as well for cute pictures. Fitz came to us with ailments ranging from bad teeth that would lead to painful CUPS (Canine Ulcerative Periodontal Syndrome) and a badly broken but healing leg they’d somehow managed to save and road rash, which indicated he may have been thrown from a moving car. I’d followed Fitz, named Henry at that time, throughout his journey with his foster mom, Nancy Delf of Cumming. She kept me updated at every turn until the day Fitz was ready to join our family. And when he was, I had no hesitation signing the dotted line and pouring my whole heart into loving my Fitzie. I knew he was long past puppy stage and that he would have a shorter time with us, but I also knew that I had the love I needed for the little black Schnauzer who would become my soul dog in a matter of weeks.
Boo Radley came before Fitz, and he had been abandoned in a duplex in McDonough, Georgia by a family who’d up and left, leaving him there with a supply of food and water. He was in rough shape for a one-year old Schnoodle when the landlord showed up and took him to a rescue organization. He was severely matted and trembling. They couldn’t even tell what kind of dog he was. I first saw him in the back of a van an hour after intake, and it broke my heart. To this day, he is tormented by flies who manage to slip in the front door of the house and he shakes like a leaf if a smoke detector goes into beep mode or he smells the heat of a toaster. I’m glad I don’t know his full history – – it might break me if I did.
And then there was Ollie, who came to us shortly after Fitz. He was a young stray on the streets of Cobb County, and his foster mom in Gainesville never knew he could bark until I’d sent her a video of us playing ball and him getting vocal with his demands that we throw it again in a timely fashion, his way of saying none of this dawdling between throws! This dog is serious about his play time.
Surrender stories always break my heart. My brother’s dog, Kasa, had been shot in the foot (probably trying to steal a chicken to eat) and was living under a trailer in someone’s driveway in my own county when the frantic call for rescue came. Ken had lost his beloved Feivel, and his heart was ready to love a dog again. A Brittany takes a diehard dog lover with all the anxiety of that breed (we didn’t know that at the time), but if ever there was anyone who was going to be able to give Kasa a good home, it was my brother Ken, and he loves her like a daughter dog. My late dad’s dog, Kona, was a divine gift from my mother in Heaven. I’d had the flu and was sleeping in the other room to avoid keeping my husband awake all night. A post in the wee hours of Valentine’s Day that year caught my eye between coughing fits and sleep. A school counselor in Florida going through a divorce had a 6 month old Schnoodle he needed a home for. When I met him halfway between our towns in the Walmart parking lot in Tifton, Georgia, he was wearing a Florida State University t-shirt: a sure sign from my mother in Heaven that this was her doing. Let’s face it: no one gets a 6 month old Schnoodle for free, and I’m half convinced that I was entertaining an angel unaware since the man never said one word to me during the entire exchange – – he merely wept and handed her over to me through the driver’s side window. My brother and I delivered her to our dad and told him he had 24 hours to decide whether to keep her, or I would come back and keep her as mine. And as he lay dying in the hospital years later, he called her next owner (not me) to his bedside to explain to his friend Ann that he wanted her to keep taking Kona to the dog park she visited everyday and to stay connected with all her dog friends on St. Simons Island. She tearfully accepted Kona, telling Dad, “I’ll take her, and I’ll always have a piece of you because of her.”
You can’t make these stories up.
Which brings me to the 6 year old male 13-pound Parti Schnauzer whose name is AJ. Another heartbreaking rescue story by someone who’d ultimately made the best choice for a family pet. A single mother of two sons who’d raised AJ and had both gone off to school called the rescue to say she was finally an empty nester and didn’t want the responsibility of a dog anymore; she’d rather travel, and the boys were done with the dog that she’d never considered hers – – it was theirs. And they’d moved on with their lives. Schnauzer Love Rescue stepped in and fostered the dog through all his needed vaccines and skin sensitivities, and as all that was happening, my conversation with the placement coordinator was also happening, describing the match I desired: I didn’t care about the gender or the color, I just wanted a miniature Schnauzer or Schnoodle that shared many of Fitz’s personality traits. I wanted one who’d gaze into my eyes and trust me enough to let me hold him upside down, who’d fall asleep against my chest and who’d follow me everywhere and need me when Boo Radley was in my husband’s lap and Ollie was curled up not needing anyone except to throw his ball and give him treats. I didn’t have to have a dog fast. I wanted the right dog at the right time. I didn’t see that dog on the current available dogs on the website, so the wait began.
An email came a couple weeks later. I was on the train in Blue Ridge with my husband and his brother and sister-in law for their birthday month trip to see the first of the leaves turning, and I looked down to see pictures of the match they’d made for me, with his ears perked and his nub of a tail. He was smiling just like Fitz, and his eyes resembled Fitz’s eyes in a kind of unbelievable way.
I knew it enough then to set up the meeting, but when I got there to meet him, there was a confirmation sign, this time from Dad. It wasn’t a Florida State University t-shirt. It wasn’t South Carolina Gamecock garb (my team). AJ was wearing a Felix-approved Georgia Bulldogs collar. Proof positive that this match may have had all the algorithms of the dog organizers, but also the Heavenly kiss from my parents that was even more important.
The AJ Email Came on a Train
there we were at our mountain rental
celebrating family times ~
on the train, the email came:
we’ve found your rescue match!
the wait is over
I’ve picked him up
Gotcha Day
happened….
{{{ love }}}
