My Uncle John had a great sense of humor. He was kind and generous, one of the first to offer help when it was needed. He had a real soft spot for children and they for him. As a young adult, I met a friend's Uncle John. He seemed to have the same characteristics as mine. I wrote this poem for our Uncle Johns and for all the Uncle Johns in the world, even if they go by a different name.

The Best Uncles

The best uncles are Uncle Johns.
I don't know if it is in their genes
or in their name or just coincidence.
Uncle Johns are funny.
They make you laugh.
They take you special places,
like to the golf course
or out for frozen custard.
They forgive you
when you spoil your aunt's birthday surprise
even if the rest of the family
reminds you about it annually.
They ask you to ride along to the store
just to spend time with you.
When you get hurt during summer vacation,
they make up a special golf tournament
to help you forget you can't go swimming at the beach.
If you ever get the chance to have an Uncle John-take it.

I never thought I would write poetry and now writing it is a passion. This adventure started about 2 1/2 years ago after the loss of a friend. After her memorial service, I inexplicably wrote two poems and decided to share them. During almost two years, I wrote only about a half dozen. I was "waiting for inspiration". I finally came to understand that I did not need to wait; I needed to work. In the last seven months, I have written more than 20 poems.

The first poem I am posting is one of the original two. The second is more recent and deals with making the decision to take this journey wherever it leads me. I have come to realize that all of this is another gift from my friend Cynthia.

The Garden

The garden was planted, out of love,
to surround the home of hospitality.
It became overgrown when the gardener
had to fight a different kind of weed.
The garden was restored, out of love,
by the friends the gardener had cultivated.
She left, too soon, to work in eternal fields.
The friendships she planted remain-perennials.

(In fond remembrance of Cynthia Gabel)

New Dreams

New dreams play in my mind
like a movie marathon of some kind.
They call out "Make us come true.
We are what is best for you."
The doubts creep in.
Is this a journey I want to begin?
I remember Grandma Moses' art.
She waited until her 70's to start.
You're never too old to make a change
and let new dreams extend your range.