The following poem is a fictional endeavor that reveals some insight about the dangerous mix of guns and bullies amidst our country’s current culture of open anger expression. While I have been inspired to create this work by the tragic events of the recent, Las Vegas shooting, I do not claim authenticity of the ideas presented. Having experienced the angered backlash of bullies in the past, I find it appropriate to attach the following video from the late and great Tom Petty – “I Won’t Back Down”

BULLY BOB GONE HAYWIRE

Bully led mindsets rain bullets of hate

Cold boasts of no feeling for victimized fate

Delusions of glory no time to see Mom

Stay blind to regret he delivers death’s bomb

Set rules to win power whose life he can screw

Imagine no end to his acts of blood spew

Feed nightmares that protest this city of sin

No point in false game when one’s money can’t win

Spread fire and fury few question this villain

Our country enraged let’s gets on with the killin’

Spin personal gain in quick triggers of lout

No time for compassion in hubris bound spout

As feathers comply with the power of winds

In bully bound glory his life care rescinds

Mack appreciated his role as the defensive play caller on a winning football team. He felt he had truly earned this honor by enduring eight years of violent, gridiron battle. On game days, he would always look forward to adding maximum energy to each testosterone-filled collision that he encountered on the field. Off the field, Mack’s incessant scowl would similarly offer evidence that he “cut” others little slack.

Last season, Mighty Mack had begun to notice that his mind would stray otherwise from the field of action.  Much younger men than him seemed to rule with gladiator bravado, having less concern for the brute physicality of this game. In fact, he now sensed that time might be running out for him as a dominant presence in this competitively demanding career. Cortisone shots in his aching shoulders before each game would ease the physical pain but could not silence such mental anguish. Recent stories about early onset, brain disease among retired players added to his increasing anxiety.

During training camp, Mack received cold news that he had been traded to a new team far from his home state. Allegiance to the past meant little now as he pondered how his value in this new environment was measured to be no more than the late round draft choice that he was offered for so dispassionately. It seemed that family and friends suddenly meant more to him than his exorbitant salary.

Predictably, Mack could not will himself to be silent under such circumstances. He knew that any attempt to “dog it” on the field would bring immediate calls to “cut him” during preseason. If personal protest was needed, then it made sense to make opening day the target. The stage would now be set for Mack to go AWOL from his new team and send a message of defiance against such disrespect of his talents

On the eve of the first game of the regular season,  Mack knew the familiar, road game ritual. Team meetings would end early and a player curfew would take effect overnight. With each player banished to their hotel room, Mack would now scurry out on the street without being watched at midnight. Booking an early morning flight on his I-phone, Mack would soon escape from his inner pain by finding refuge at home. His mind would finally find peace in this vital form of protest.

Boisterous Mack would never again play the game of professional football; the game he truly loved. The bone-crushing hits that he had endured as a player would mean a future life of stiffness and pain. Yet Mack would find new success in raising two children successfully, staying married , and later passing the bar to become a dedicated lawyer in this country. Past glories on the football field seemed so unreal to him now to be replaced by the sweetness of a much more settled mind.

Green Oasis Illusion Find Cool Breeze In Mind
With Skin Drenched in Sweat In Sun Torrid Felt Grind
No Signs of Juice Power Slows Life To Plain Bore
As Victims Mark Time Until Power Restore

Your Home Or In Mine Lets Chat Closely For News
Pole Conveys Converge To Ease Desperate Blues
Let Us Count Ice Cubes In Hopeful Plot Dream
Set Free From Self Anger In One Mighty Scream

Wide Swaths Bring Land Chaos Routines Run Amok
Gain Eyes For New Wisdom Quit Passing The Buck
Be Kind To New Homeless Give Aged Your Time
To Ease Them From Lonely Seems Surely Sublime

Gaze Trees Felled By Wind Brings Fresh Notice Of Space
Time’s Hourglass Runs Down You Survive With New Face
Extreme Acts Of Nature Fear End Of Life’s Rope
Global Warming Reigns True We Must Broaden Our Scope

You expect a rational human would comply with orders to evacuate their beachfront home on an exposed, barrier island lying directly in the path of a hurricane monster. Yet our dubious hero in this account saw himself as no ordinary human and did not fear such catastrophic outcomes. No one it seemed could envision then that this self proclaimed purveyor of doom could be taught a cruel lesson of mortality as the approaching stormr drew closer to the densely populated portions of South Florida coastline.

“Dare-Devil Dave, as his condo neighbors called him, never liked the attention of others. He had lived his secluded life as a lonely hermit, now, rarely showing his face, to surrounding residents in this beachfront high-rise. Unemployed for two years since the state government layoffs abruptly ended his career as a lifeguard, Dave seemed downright adamant that the government or anyone else for that matter could ever be trusted by him again. He would merely scoff at the throngs of evacuees nervously heading off the island today and assume his role as the “Lone Ranger” of his beloved, sandy turf tomorrow.

On Sunday morning, the initial squalls of the hurricane approached ominously from the south. Being unfazed that these storms would soon intensify to category 5 status, Dare -Devil Dave ventured out to the end of his favorite fishing jetty to watch the encroaching storm. Chugging his morning beer, he soon grew drowsy. As the alcohol began to take effect, his glossy eyes could not focus well nor could he maintain his normal balance on the jagged rocks below.

With heavy crosswinds from an approaching gale now awakening Dave from his idle stupor, he now frantically set his sights on returning to the jetty shore. Misjudging his distance and direction back to the beach now, he would be blown by a sudden gust tragically into the foamy darkness below. As he flailed helplessly in the wind blown surf, this misguided beachcomber would soon find his watery grave tragically alone.

Our victim’s fatal flaw in this story was clear. He failed to see that human beings are inferior adversaries in facing raw forces of nature. The approaching arrival of dangerous Hurricane Irma this week tests the egos of those who are similarly blinded to become wandering fools in extreme hurricane conditions. Take a beach walk, feel the pelting rain, and listen to the fierce wind whistle but be mindful that the risk of experiencing this storm’s wrath up close for you might mean your own life disaster might soon come to pass.

Extreme weather warnings linger in my mind today as South Florida faces the prospect of catastrophic Hurricane Irma coming ashore this Friday. When I taught in the stressful atmosphere of urban, public schools, such a major storm would bring great relief to me in the anticipation that classes would be closed for days. In fact, life seemed much simpler during these “trying times” as I concentrated on the mere essentials of food, shelter, and family communication at home. How secure I always felt then that our solidly built condominium seemed secure from wind destruction and our storm shutters protected our family safely from flying glass and debris.

Yet, as I drive around my community today, I note how little can be done to withstand a major, hurricane strike in “So Flo.” I thus observe many locations where damaging winds could propel loose coconuts, flimsy signs, and patio clutter through the air like Nolan Ryan fastballs in the height of a storm’s wrath. I note also how canals and lakes, already overflowing from summer deluges, invite “wave-hell” flooding in low-lying areas. In addition, so many electric power lines hang flimsily along major roads to interact opposingly with brittle, tree branches, dangerously invading each other’s designated space.

I guess it paid off well to be a teacher who spent almost his entire working life planning for every contingency of daily crisis in the classroom. As I never waited to have ample, classroom supplies available to me at all times, it would only be second nature for me to stock up on essential hurricane supplies this week. Realizing that a power outage in my classroom required a more assertive approach to handling behavioral problems with my easily distracted students, I also would seem well prepared to handle the “trapped like a rat” conditions in my home to as I wait out the storm passage and destructive aftermath patiently.

As our country seems so divided today by angry -isms in our perplexing political climate, oddly enough, hurricanes have always provided me with evidence that our community can find new will to peacefully co-exist amidst such tragedy. Anonymous neighbors suddenly bond over sheltered sites to park their car or discuss cheapest locations to buy gas. Hammer and nail banging alerts nearby residents to take proper precautions in covering their windows and doors. Stray dogs and cats suddenly disappear from the street and are taken indoors by concerned residents.

Listen to the wind roar suddenly as this passing freight train arrives in the blackness of night. Gaze intently at the slow drip of your lighted candle as you appreciate its brightness as a welcome respite from your loss of electrical power. Most of all, savor the much needed sleep needed to re-energize your mind/body in peak form as you soon face the uncertain wrath of destructive silence next morning.

My wife and I have gazed in awe at the magnificent crags and crevices of the Grand Canyon several times on our western road trips in recent years. In addition to providing endless panoramas for landscape photography, the utter humility of standing amidst such natural grandeur creates an emotional stirring in our inner souls. A revisit to the South Rim in late August, in the company of my wife’s father, thus gave us the opportunity to celebrate his 91st birthday in a truly spectacular way.

Devising a strategy to make this western vacation as convenient as possible for our finicky and sometimes cranky guest, we opted to book two, leisurely nights in a simple motor inn along the Route 66 corridor in popular Flagstaff, Arizona. We could then day trip the less than 100 miles distance to the canyon easily from there. After enduring 100 degrees + temperatures in the previous, Las Vegas leg of our trip , the cooler confines of Flagstaff, lying at over 7,000 feet elevation, would definitely be a welcome sight for all. One of our favorite western diners, “The Place” was located within walking distance of our motel as well. Think gigantic biscuits plus interesting, Route 66 memorabilia and you might understand what makes this cafe a worthy visit.

Over the years in our visits to this grand abyss, we have witnessed an extraordinary number of unexpected splendors there. A slow moving snowstorm, on one occasion, formed on the opposite North Rim and slowly encroached on the canyon as we gazed in awe at the pristine beauty of snowflakes silently falling in the distance. A rare sighting of a California condor effortlessly gliding toward its favorite rocky perch during another visit became a motivation to take birdwatching more seriously. A last glint of sunlight shining on the rim as we hiked in evening dusk once revealed startling glimpses of the raging Colorado River between steep cliff sides in the deep depths of the canyon.

To be honest, such serendipitous moments of the Grand Canyon were merely obtained through pure luck on our brief and tightly scheduled visits to the canyon in the past. So it seemed particularly rewarding that our resolve to slow down our pace to accommodate our elderly guest enabled us to relax more and thus take higher quality pictures. Several examples immediately come to mind. Riding the crowded tram ride once seemed a violation of our rugged travel independence to hike to various overlooks. Yet on on this latest visit, we enjoyed new perspectives of the canyon via the park bus shuttle with minimal, physical exertion. Furthermore, our leisurely lunch at the Market Cafe, distanced us from the crowded throngs of tourists so we could appreciate the close, family time together. Taking more time to gaze over the Mather Point vista, as well, enabled us to observe in more detail the stunning shades of color/shadow in the surrounding topography.

Sadly, the Grand Canyon was our final stop on this whirlwind summer vacation as we concluded our latest road trip with an uneventful drive through the Mojave Desert back to Las Vegas. In honor of my father in law’s  91st birthday, we treated him to a lavish Italian dinner at Carmines at Caesar’s Palace Forum Shops. As we awaited our midnight flight back to South Florida, I uploaded a spectacular photo of Grand Canyon as the newest screensaver on my iPhone. As I return home to witness my country so divided by -isms today, be assured that this image will be a positive mind distraction for me amidst such daily turmoil.