The Coat That Warmed Three Hearts

Copyrighted@RobMason2012

                    The alarm sounded its usual six in the morning wake up call. Yet on this Monday morning, It seemed particularly shrilling to Sarah’s ears. “Mondays”, she thought to herself. “I hate Mondays.” The routine was always the same. Get herself ready, wake up Josh, get him ready and then out the door to daycare and then to work. Sarah hated her dead-end, low paying job. But when raising a kid alone and with little education, it was the best she could do for now.

Having become extremely efficient from several years of experience, she had Josh awake, dressed and fed in forty five minutes flat. Then she had a few more minutes to fix up herself and out the door to catch the seven fifteen bus. They usually arrived at the daycare around seven thirty. After a few greetings and some small talk, Sarah was kissing Josh goodbye and then was off to work. It was a long walk and she was thankful that spring had finally arrived along with some warmer weather. The city bus went right by her place of employment but did so five minutes too late. Sarah knew she could never be late. Never! So like every other day, she began that long walk to work.

Past the old and decaying buildings that were once a vibrant down town core, Sarah’s daily trek took her through parts of the city that most would not even think of walking through. The streets were filled with abandoned cars, garbage, furniture, and of course, the homeless. Here, the criminal element did their deeds as the dues were paid and favours were exchanged. The police never came down here nor did any of those who distributed food and clothing to the homeless. The name of this place was Avenue End because it was the end of the line for many. But it was the quickest way to work and ensured that she was never late. And she could never be late. “Besides”, she always thought to herself, "Nobody messes with the Crazy Mama Bitch” anymore. Sarah always chuckled to herself when recalling the day she earned that nickname. But at the time, she was absolutely frightened for herself and her son.

Sarah was a single mother. Pregnant at nineteen, she opted to keep her baby in spite of the odds and as well as having no help from the father. She didn’t even know where the father was. And that suited her just fine. It was a hard life but Sarah endured it and always clung to the hope that somehow, her and that beautiful little boy would make it. She had dreamt of being an editor of a fashion or culture magazine one day. Those dreams seemed lost lately but she never regretted her decision to keep her baby. She had explored the idea of going to college full-time or even taking night courses but there was just not enough money. Even with special grants and the help of social services, she would never be able to make ends meet. “But someday”. She always told herself. “Someday, I will give my son a better life.” The previous year, the daycare workers went out on strike for just over a week. Sarah had no choice but to bring Josh to work and enrol him in the daycare across the road. It was more expense than the government run daycare she had and it also meant that she had to bring Josh with her when she walked through the old part of town. For over a year she made that same trek no matter the seasons and endured the endless taunts, propositions and rude gestures from the drug dealers and the punks who had nothing better to do but hang out and harass people. And there was that one very frightening moment which led to her being nicknamed the “Crazy Mama Bitch”.

While pushing three year old Josh in his stroller on the way to work, Sarah encountered a group of ruffians who seemed intent on pestering her. They surrounded her and her son and began with the taunts and sexual gestures. At first, Sarah never said anything as she tried to push past them and get out of this part of the city. The group of young men refused to let her pass. After a few minutes the loudest and crudest of the bunch tried to grab Sarah. She kept avoiding him and asking them all to leave her alone. But then he did the unthinkable. He leaned towards toward Josh and put his hand out as if was about to touch Sarah’s son. There were no thoughts of a plan. She had no comprehension of consequences. In fact, Sarah did not think at all. She simply reacted to protect her son. Sarah was all over this punk in an instant slapping and punching him wildly and with everything she had. And she was screaming at him the entire time. Afterwards, Sarah could never recall what she said or how many times she hit him but she did remember him screaming at her, “Calm down you Crazy Mama Bitch!” The entire neighbourhood was watching as this punk tried to save face after Sarah’s pummelling. As she began to calm down the young man seemed to get braver as he moved towards her again. Sarah responded with another lunge at him swinger her fists all the while. He backed away again, rather quickly. No one else in the group seemed to have any desire to take on Sarah. As the group began to move away from Sarah some of the onlookers were taunting the group and especially the punk who got Sarah so agitated. As he kept walking away he was shooting the finger to everyone while continuing to call Sarah a Crazy Mama Bitch. That nickname stuck and no one harassed Sarah after that.

One morning while walking the same streets to work, Sarah noticed these same punks pestering an elderly homeless lady whom she had seen on the street many times. When they pushed her to the ground, Sarah ran towards them yelling, “Hey! Leave her alone you bunch of Punks!” A few others came running as well. The group of males took off running and never stopped until they were out sight of the would be rescuers of the helpless old lady. Sarah was first to arrive and began to help the elderly lady to her feet. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” she asked. “I’m okay” replied the lady getting up slowly. “Thank you for stopping to help me.” “I’m just glad you are ok” said Sarah up righting the elderly Lady’s shopping cart. “Where is your son? I haven’t seen him with you in such a long time”, the old lady stated. “I like children. I have a few of my own you know but they are all grown up know.” “He is at daycare” Sarah replied. “I drop him off there before I go to work.” Instantly she was reminded about work and how she couldn’t be late. “Well….If you are okay then I better get to work before I’m late.” The elderly lady was reaching into shopping cart looking for something. “Just a minute my dear, I have something for you for helping an old lady in distress.” Sarah, now really worried about being late for work, tried to protest any gifts but the old lady was insistent. Eventually she pulled out an old, multi coloured winter coat. It looked hideous and was full of holes. She handed it to Sarah as proud as a Peacock. Again Sarah tried to protest but the old Lady would not take no for an answer. She finally accepted the gift and let it be known that she really had to get going or be late for work. The old lady leaned in close to Sarah and said, “I know it doesn’t look like much, but on a cold winter day when your hands get too cold, the pockets in this coat are especially warm.” The old lady smiled coyly and then told Sarah, “And with warm hands, you can do anything!” Sarah thanked the old lady once more and then was off to work. She was practically running so as not to be late.

Sarah detested this ugly looking coat. And it seemed awfully heavy. She contemplated throwing it in the trash but decided against it. She wondered if the old lady might need it back when the cold weather returned. Once home, Sarah wrapped up the coat in plastic, threw it in a box in the closet and soon forgot about it. The days passed on in routine and Sarah and Josh made due the best they could as they always did. Money was sparse but love was in abundance. And it sustained them even on the days when Sarah really wished she could provide more for her son. “He deserves better” she would tell herself. The summer passed by quickly as did autumn. The northern winds had begun to blow and soon winter was in full force. As she did every day, Sarah dropped off Josh at daycare and headed off to work. She had no idea that her life was about to become drastically different.

On her way to work she noticed that the old homeless lady was nowhere to be seen. In fact, Sarah had not seen her for quite some time. She decided to stop and ask a few of the girls standing on the street corner if they had seen the old lady lately. Sarah was devastated when hearing the news! The old lady had died the previous week. As Sarah continued her trek to work she could not stop thinking about the old lady. She was such a nice lady and the news of her death upset Sarah very much. Throughout the day she could not stop thinking about it. Finally, the work day was over and it was time to get on the bus and go pick up Josh from daycare. As Sarah gathered her things, she realized her winter coat was gone. She searched everywhere and asked everyone but the coat was nowhere to be found. Sarah came to the conclusion that someone must have stolen it. She had no choice but to brave the cold until she and Josh were home.

After Josh was put to bed for the night, Sarah began to wonder what she was going to do for a winter coat. She had no spare and no money for another coat. She suddenly remembered the old ripped coat that the old lady had given her. She detested the thought of going anywhere in that hideous old thing but Sarah knew she didn’t have a choice. She went to the closet and took the coat out of the box. It was the ugliest thing she had ever seen. And it still felt so heavy. Sarah hung it up for the morning and readied herself for bed. While lying there she began to sob hysterically. She just couldn’t deal with things anymore.

The alarm rang and Sarah rose to the normal routine. She instantly thought of that hideous coat and was already in a bad mood. She was embarrassed to be seen in the coat when dropping Josh to daycare. She was in an out hardly talking to anyone. Although she hated the coat, she was at least happy to have something warm as the temperature had dipped below minus ten degrees. Even with her gloves on her hands were still cold. Sarah slipped both hands into the coat pockets only to find that the lining inside was ripped. Her hands went all the way to the bottom. Both her hands felt something at the bottom of the coat and she was now curious as to what these objects could be. Sarah pulled her hands out of the coat pockets, took off her gloves and reached back into the pockets to pull out whatever was down there. What she pulled out stopped her in her tracks! She pulled her other hand out of the pocket and just stared at what she now held in both of her hands. Reaching once more into the pockets she felt even more. Sarah quickly stuffed everything back into the pockets, turned around and ran as fast as she could back home. Once there she emptied everything out of the coat wherever she found the liner ripped. She fell to the floor and began to weep! What Sarah had found at the bottom of the coat that made it so heavy was money. Lots of money! She began counting it. When she was done she had counted fifty three thousand dollars!

Sarah sat at the table excited and yet nervous. She had never done this before and was not sure what to expect. She did not really know if anyone would even show up. But the lineup out the door and down the street had answered her question with absolute clarity. As she was introduced, there was a thunderous applause and then that lineup of people started to move towards her eagerly. It had been four years since Sarah found the money in that ugly coat given to her by a homeless lady. Along with government grants and loans, she was able to quit her job and go to college. Sarah graduated and took a position as Junior Editor at a small but prestigious culture magazine. Today, Sarah was at a book store for a book signing for her first novel that had just made the New York Time’s Best Seller List. The first person in line for an autograph was a very young lady who was there with her little son. Sarah signed her name and then closed the book. But before she returned the book to the young lady, she took a moment to look at the cover. She smiled and thought of that kind old lady who had changed the lives of both she and her son. Handing back the book to the young lady, Sarah smiled and thanked her for the support. She spent the rest of the afternoon signing over two hundred copies of her best selling book that she had appropriately titled, “The Coat That Warmed Three Hearts”, by Sarah Chapman.

What Smile Is This

Another one that got missed for the last book.


Copyrghted@RobMason2012

I present drenched in the refreshing
A preposterous pleasure
What comfort is this
One I must surely not deserve
Where is that darkness on a sunny day
I feel no more from frigid
Why did depression abandon me
I cannot fight
What I cannot feel
Where is the loneliness crowding
Alone with myself
And this spirit itching to fly
Who sent me these Angels
Now there are always expectations
Never expecting too much
No one was ever disappointed
How do I live this way
What am I to do now
I made final preparations
And came the eleventh hour
It was written in stone
Then I smiled

Little Heroes

Brody took to the field pumped and ready to take care of business in the bantam division city wide soccer championship. Today, the two tops teams with identical records would put it all on the line for the trophy and for the bragging rights for another year. This was Brody’s final year in the Bantam Division and he wanted that prize that had escaped for him for the past two years. He was on a mission.

Brody was taller and bigger than most of the kids his age. On the field, the other players found him intimidating. Brody, while always displaying sportsmanship, had learned to use that intimidation factor to his advantage. The truth be told, Brody was not a very good soccer player. And he was well aware of it. Brody was awkward, couldn’t run very fast and was really not that strong. And his skills with the ball were minimal at best. But he was a smart player who understood the game well, and he had learned very quickly to compensate for his shortcomings. In fact, Brody had become so good at hiding his inabilities that he quickly became recognized as one of the top players in the league. Everyone liked Brody and wanted him on their team.

Brody’s team won the kick-off and were immediately on the offensive. His position was halfback and he played it well. He knew what area of the field was his to cover and he rarely strayed from it. The ball came into Brody’s area and he was on it and already moving up the field. Knowing the other team’s players would catch up to him easily, Brody waited until they were almost on top of him before making an abrupt stop. The two opposing team players went by him as he stopped, turned sharply and headed across the field laterally. Spotting one of his forwards on the move, Brody moved the ball up field in that direction. It wasn’t a great pass but then again, it didn’t have to be. He kicked the ball way ahead of his teammate who would chase it down and move to strike on the net. To the unsuspecting eye, Brody was an awesome player. Unfortunately, Brody’s teammate chasing down the ball was Daniel. He kicked at the ball while falling at the same time and forcing the ball out of bounds. The other team would now take possession. Daniel was younger and smaller than Brody. In fact, Daniel looked like a scrawny, sickly kid and he frequently tripped over his own two feet. He was not well liked on the team as he routinely made mistakes and no one really wanted to pass him the ball. No one but Brody that is. Daniel never wanted to play soccer. He never wanted to play any sports. He was quite content reading his books about whales and dolphins and looking at pictures of underwater animals. But his parents mandated that he play at least one sport in the summer time. So Daniel chose soccer. He was aware that not many on his team liked him and he often heard the remarks they made about him after he screwed up a potential scoring opportunity. And he screwed it up almost always. He never understood why Brody kept passing him the ball and wished some times that Brody wouldn’t pass to him at all. But nothing like that ever phased Brody. He ran over to Daniel, helped him up, patted him on the back and said, “Good try Daniel”.

The game was close throughout the first half and both teams were tied at one goal apiece. Brody played his position well and spent the second half, being in the right place at the right time. He made passes to open players, prevented lose balls from escaping the offensive zone and evened joined in on a rush or two. As an opposing player came down the field with the ball, Brody went up to challenge. The other player put on a burst of speed down the sideline and Brody was well aware that he needed to take away the outside lane because he knew he did not have the ability to stay with this speedster. As he moved to take away the outside lane, Brody anticipated the other player would try to cut to the middle for some open field. Brody waited for it. He was patient and never tipped his hand. As soon as the other played made his cut, Brody stepped up, took the ball and headed up the field. He saw, Kyle streaking up the middle with a chance to split the defence and lofted the ball in that direction. Kyle was the leading scorer in the league and he was also fast. Kyle chased down the ball and was the first to get control of it. Brody’s pass had been placed perfectly allowing Kyle to use his speed to split the defence and send a rocket into the top right corner of the net. With just under two minutes to go in the game, it looked like Brody was finally going to get that trophy.

The other team was desperately moving the ball up field as the time ticked off the clock. Brody noticed one of his teammates out of position and adjust himself accordingly. He was all alone now covering two positions and the other team recognized it and headed in Brody’s direction. Brody knew his job was to guard the other player already in his zone. But if he did that, the ball carrier had too much open field and would get close to striking on the net. But if he moved to challenge the ball carrier, he would leave the player in his area unguarded. For a moment, Brody didn’t know what to do. But out of the corner of his eye he saw Kyle streaking across the field with considerable speed towards the other team’s player moving the ball. Instantly Brody turned and ran as fast as he could towards his own net. Just as he did, Kyle was approaching the ball carrier who was forced to kick the ball up field towards the open player Brody had been guarding. With a bit of a headed start, Brody was able to chase down the ball first. His anticipation had paid off. He wielded around and kicked the ball as hard as he could. He didn’t care where it went as long as it went in the opposite direction of his net. They were out of danger and the clock was ticking towards the end of the game.

One of Brody’s teammates chased down Brody’s wild kick and was moving up field. He made a few sneaky moves and found himself moving towards the other team’s net with only a few players left to get around. Kyle was also up field and moving fast. Nobody noticed that scrawny kid named Daniel who was also forward and right in the thick of the action. Kyle kept moving and calling for the pass. It finally came. But before it reached Kyle who was now positioned to score, Daniel stepped up to kick the ball. But he tripped over it instead. The ball squirted out behind him and was fielded by the other team who moved it down the field as quick as they could. They came with speed and with numbers. They overwhelmed Brody and the two remaining players on the defensive and scored. With just under thirty seconds to play, the game was tied. Several of Daniels’s teammates leered over at him and one even shouted, “Way to go Daniel!” The game ended in a tie and now a shoot-out would decide the champions.

Along the sidelines, Brody tapped Daniel on the shoulder and said, “Don’t worry about it. We all make mistakes. We’ll beat them in the shoot-out. The coach reiterated Brody’s words of encouragement and for a moment, Daniel felt somewhat relieved. As the coach chose the players for the shoot-out, Daniel hoped that he would be one of them. He wanted to score just once so that his teammates might like him. But he wasn’t picked. Only the best five were going to get the opportunity to be heroes. The coach first picked Kyle, then Brody and then three others to shoot. Kyle was of course, an automatic choice since he was the league’s leading scorer. And course Brody was picked because everyone thought he was also one of the best. But Brody had only scored three goals that year. But he was usually involved in making the great plays that led to the goals by others. It was time for the shoot-out to begin.

First up was Kyle. He made no mistake and fired a rocket into the net. The other team’s player missed. Brody prepared for his shot. He knew exactly what he was going to do. Everyone thought that because he was big that he would kick it hard and high. But he really wasn’t a very good shot. He took a few more steps farther back than usual and waited for the referee’s whistle. When he heard it, he ran as fast as he could towards the ball and brought his foot back as if to wind up and blow the ball by the goal keeper. He did exactly the opposite. As the goalie moved to his left anticipating a high and fast ball, Brody tapped the ball along the ground towards the right corner. It just slowly rolled in to the net for an easy score. Everyone thought Brody was brilliant. Every player after that scored but since Brody’s team had one more goal they were crowned champions.  After the celebrations and awards, there were hot dogs and drinks for the kids and lots of fun events. There was even the annual shoot-out competition. Brody decided to enter the competition for the first time.

Kyle usually won this competition and was expected to do so again this year. Nine players entered the competition including a scrawny, sickly looking kid named Daniel. He was eliminated after the first round. One by one each player was eliminated until there were only two left. They were Kyle and Brody. Kyle had just blasted kick after kick into the net while Brody had to use every trick he had to keep fooling the goalie. But he was now out of tricks. Kyle was kicking first. He blasted another rocket that beat the goalie easily. But it hit the top cross bar and bounced away. Kyle had missed. Brody had decided to just aim for a corner and kick it as hard as he could. As he was about shoot, he heard a voice yell out, “Come Brody, you can do it!” It was Daniel urging him on. Even after being eliminated in the first round, he was still there to cheer his teammate on. Brody kicked the ball as hard as he could. It wasn’t a great shot but it was good enough. He scored!

Later, as Brody was leaving for home with his parents, he saw Daniel and his parents heading for their car. “I’ll be right back Mom, I just have to say bye to Daniel.” And off he went. “Hey Daniel, wait up”, Brody shouted. Daniel and his parents turned and waited for Brody to catch up. “I think you forgot something Daniel” Brody said, handing Daniel the Shoot-Out trophy. “But this is yours Brody. You won it”. “But you tried just as hard as I did Daniel. And I probably wouldn’t have scored that last goal without you cheering for me. So we both won it so we both can share it” Brody replied. Brody spun around and ran back towards his waiting parents. He turned around and yelled back to Daniel, “See you at the Awards Banquet next Saturday”. Brody never saw the look on the faces of Daniel's parents. Nor did he see the look in Daniel’s teary eyes at holding his first trophy ever. And Brody did not notice the group of coaches who were standing nearby talking, and who had witnessed what had just transpired.

The Banquet hall was already abuzz from all of the players and their families. The kids were running around like a pack of wild animals while the parents just chit chatted with each other waiting for the ceremony to start. First there would be a dinner, then the handing out of the awards and then a dance for the kids. Brody was excited as he walked in. It was almost time for dinner to begin. He looked around for some of his friends wondering where he was going to sit. He knew that somebody would save a few seats for him and his parents. Just then he heard a voice calling his name. He looked over and it was Daniel. He had saved a few seats for Brody and his family. After dinner the coaches started handing out the awards to all who were chosen. Daniel didn’t receive any award. But he never expected to. Then there came the moment for the MVP award. It was the most prestigious and had been won by Brody’s teammate Kyle, three years in a row. One of Brody’s coaches from a previous year had been selected to hand out the award. He first explained as is done every year, what the MVP trophy is all about. He then went on to say the following…

“For the past few years, one player's name has been submitted over and over again for recognition. This young man has been given consideration every year for the MVP award because of his dedication to the game, his sportsmanship, his attitude towards the concept of team, and for his ability to make the players around him better. And each year he has fallen just a few votes short of winning this award. But this year he could not be denied. When this player’s name was submitted for consideration for MVP, he received unanimous support from the committee. I am proud to announce that this year the league’s Most Valuable Player is…Brody Schuyler!”

Brody was stunned. He heard the cheers and applause. He felt Daniel slapping him on the back in congratulations. He saw his parents clapping and smiling with pride and yet, it all seemed out of focus. He finally pulled himself together to get up and receive his award. As he did, Daniel stood up and kept clapping. Then Daniels parents stood up. Then his parents stood up. And as Brody walked toward the stage to claim his trophy, everyone was standing and cheering. The coach shook Brody’s hand and they both stood and posed for a few pictures. Before letting go of Brody’s hand, the coach leaned down and whispered into Brody’s ear. “Maybe this trophy will make up for the one you gave to Daniel. Well done!”

Brody and Daniel became the best of friends and remained so all through high school. Ironically, Brody lost interest in playing competitive soccer but helped Daniel, who became good enough to make the high school team every year. And Daniel helped Brody study for tests and improve his grades. By the end of high school, that scrawny and sickly looking kid had bulked up and filled out to a strong young man. In his final year, Daniel was offered a full soccer scholarship to the University of Southern California where he was part of two NCAA championship teams. He also graduated with honours, receiving a degree in Marine Biology and moved to Costa Rica to work with Green Peace in their efforts to study and protect marine life from extinction. Brody graduated university also with honours, and returned home to open his own accounting firm. They remain close friends to this day.

Many people wait all of their lives for that one life altering event that will define them and point their compass in the direction of their destiny. Perhaps it is those lesser moments of life that define us and help us choose our path towards our fate. Perhaps it begins with congratulations even when one has faltered. Maybe it is a trophy earned that is given away to someone who has yet to come into their own. Perhaps it is the right person, at the right time there to witness your good deeds. Maybe it is in accepting a seat from an outcast when one is already saved by those more popular. We search throughout our lives looking everywhere for the answers that we believe will guide us. Perhaps we are the answer and have just been asking the wrong questions.




~Rob Mason

Mean Season

Mean Season

Relieved in another work day done, I stepped outside of the comfort of my dry, heated work place to find clumps of snow so large and falling from the sky that I was in disbelief. Although having a personal distain with Old Man Winter, I could not contain my wonderment and awe from these crystal clear snowflakes falling from the sky and changing a once amourous landscape of colourful colours to a blanket of frosty white. The first snowfall of every winter seems to transport me back in time as memories of my childhood wash over me and that familiar, yet always new feeling of being reborn. Forgotten, if only for a brief time, are the everyday frustrations of another day in the life.

Sitting there, my mind darts from one thought to another toiling in the trivial while the truck slowly warms. Then I am off. The trek home to my city will be a long one. It always is. As with my personal story, my work too avails the life of a gypsy. I take my place with the rest of the home bound mob rushing to embrace whatever waits for me if anything at all. I routinely submit to this routine often amazed that I arrive home having rarely remembered the journey. Getting out of the city is a painstaking exercise often involving many muttered insults for those sorts on the road who should never be allowed such a privilege of driving a one ton piece of metal and rubber. With the in-climate weather, the trip home will be even more mundane today. Or so I thought.

Travelling along at a snail's pace, I approach an intersection with a red light. While waiting for the light to turn green, my attention is caught by a person standing alone on the medium separating the masses on their way to their safe havens of comfort. Initially, the figure is hard to identify due to the heavy snowfall. But as eyes adjust, I see it is a woman bundled up to brave the cold and holding a sign to oncoming traffic. Squinting, I try and focus on what her sign reads and then instantly feeling deeply saddened when reading the words, "Homeless Can You Help?" I have seen this many times before and still with that uneasy feeling every time. It is as if I am suddenly aware of my own personal failure to know I live in a world that could allow such a thing. At that moment, all that weighed on my mind dissipated and was immediately replaced by what I can only describe as a feeling I would give anything to never have to feel again. The light turned green.

I know what I need to do. I know what my responsibility is. Yet some sort of defence mechanism takes hold of me as if justifying what I am about to do. “She is a drunk. She is a drug addict. She is lazy and a useless drain on our society”, I told myself.  I didn’t have much to give. I would have more and would give more if family law had not defrauded me to serve their collective and convenient agendas. “It is not my fault”, I stammered out loud! I was worried about next month and the month after that. I was confident that such reassurances of my limitations to help would ease my pesky conscience. It did not. I drive on by and continue on my way home. A home Depot parking lot is to my right. Then there is a Walmart. Then I pass a gas station. And even a beer store and I contemplated purchasing a six pack for after I arrived home. But I just drive. I even tell myself that because I care, that is more than most. I stopped short of patting myself on the back for at least caring. As with many brief moments of our lives, I was confident that this moment would be swallowed up in collage of meaningful and useless memories and then soon forgotten. I was soon to find out that I was to be mistaken.

The days and weeks went by and I found myself thinking about that woman. Each time I drove by her it seemed easier to just drive by her. Everyone else did. And as it always does, the holidays seemed to silently creep upon me and then suddenly jumped up in my face reminding me that I had too many obligations to tend too with too little time left. When leaving the grocery store one night, I slipped a five dollar bill into that little red pot for the Salvation Army. As I did my thoughts were of that woman. Maybe she would be the beneficiary of that contribution. I truly believed it would ease my conscience. It did not. I put a five dollar bill in that little red pot every time I walked by it. And I walked by it often. Eventually I put more into that little red pot during Christmas than I would have ever given that woman had I originally stopped to help her. As of yet I still have not come to terms with what that says about me. Perhaps I am afraid of the truth. And fiction seems to always have a way of making more sense.

Weeks later and while driving home from work one day I did not see that woman. In fact, I never did see her again after that. But I wondered about her. But I did not want to know what happened to her unless it was a happy ending. We humans can be odd that way. We are the most evolved species on this earth and yet, that basic instinct of caring for another too often escapes us. And to this day I think about that woman more times than I wish for. And I'm not yet sure what that says about me. I am hopeful that it means that there is hope for me and perhaps for our world that one day we will solve this solvable problem.

It is a frigid December night when I finally find that balance of emotions that allows me to add this story to my collection. The patio window rattles and shakes. Outside the snow is falling and an unusually strong, angry northern wind rips across this sleeping town. The temperature well below freezing and everyone I know will be snuggled in warmth. Another mean season has arrived. I look out the window sipping on a glass of wine but I see no one about. Yet I know they are out there. It seems that to be out of sight is to be out of mind. And for that I am sometimes grateful.Top of Form

Bottom of Form

Convoluted

There was one more poem I wanted to include in the last book but could never remember which one it was. Thus, I could never find it. As always seems to happen, when I was looking for something else recently, I finally found that poem. Of course I never did find what I was looking for this time. Perhaps I am suffering from the early stages of "Some-Timer's Disease".

Copyrighted@RobMason2012




I am the sea
In times aimlessly adrift
The stars guiding direction
And stars reminding
At the mercy of passing storms
I am washed away
Then brought back with the tide

I am the wind
I go where I will
Swept up and carried away
Descending
Churning up the landscape
Gentle or raging
I am always in season

I am fire
Unpredictable
An animal always is
Compensating for frigid
A necessity
Careful if fanning the flame

I am earth
A broad settling of dust
Creative
In constant motion
At the mercy of the elements
Then reformed

I Believe

I believe that the roses blooming
Is the very reason the birds are singing
And a sky of blue means everything is okay
I believe in the roads twisting turning
It reminds us of that restless churning
We kick our feet and soon off to find our way
The sun will fade and the moon will rise
It happens every single time
The ones that live the ones who die
We can't change when its our time
And I believe in the ones still lost
Ten thousand miles and paying the cost
Every step is a step closer to finding home
I believe in much brighter days
And everyone lost will find their way
No one who walks this earth should walk alone
We stand and draw a line in the sand
Find ourselves through helping hands
We can close our eyes but we still see
Still the best things in this life are free
And I believe in that loving touch
If everyone could just feel that once
The memories left can help us through the pain
I believe in two hearts to one
And that love is meant not just for some
Searching for that one who wants what we can give
And through the failures still we try
We search for love until the day we die
Along the way we learn some things
Who can know what tomorrow might bring
And I believe

Cryptic Without Cause

Copyrighted@RobMason2012

From collisions of life and death
Conclusions are never binding
Alternated with many realities
Not all is purged with perception
Then formed is an insurrection
Colliding thoughts in conflict
Nothing to clarify an ambiguity
In between continues cascading
The threshold is impassable
Either side presents intolerable
Constant calamity accumulates
Only time seems to be in motion
Caught between the seasons
Tides never ebbed nor forwarded
Steps not taken are frantic
Like a pendulum
Not swinging and not in balance
The portal remains open
For how long who can say
Indecision is a cause for concern
When two choices lead to pain

Like You Like Me

Copyrighted@RobMason2012


She dreams at night
What else can she do
She is a little like me
And a little bit like you
Wanting things
But are never found
Not on this night
Not in this town
She peers at faces
Stares at the floor
Trying her hand
At every locked door
Some she opens
Some remain locked
Time keeps ticking
Tick tock tick tock
That open road
She still can dream
But the hour seems late
You know what she means
You know what she wants
You want it too
She is a bit like me
And a lot like you

An Iota A Shred And Morsel

Copyrighted@RobMason2012

Tripping over good intentions gone bad
Stumbling on the slippery slope
Situational defines the bigger picture
On the brink yet never over the edge
When the eyes no longer give a clue
Emptied is a spirit once vibrant
A facade for a smile appeared genuine
Tears shown are most often not seen
An iota cannot define dignity
A shred can never avail self worth
A morsel is meant for hanging on
Never costive is never adhesive
The ties binding for fear of being alone
When alone the truth must be faced
The reality paints that bigger picture
Or are we intended to create collectively
Three parts despair is always despair
One part hope is to play the fool
The living never care about the living
And the dead have no time for regrets

The Road Home

     Where once he heard soft whispers on the wind, the voices now calling were deafening to his ears. Perhaps it was an epiphany that destiny had predetermined. Perhaps it was an illusion born from desperation. Or maybe it was simply time for the native son nearing the end of his journey to return home.

     For too long these voices called to Kevin and for too long he procrastinated what was truly in his heart. For he was a New Brunswick boy and he knew where he belonged. And yet here, there was always a constant tug on his shirt that he neither embraced nor rejected throughout his latter years. There was never a day that dawned when Kevin would not rise and immediately compare the sunrise to the beauty of his hometown. And every sunset had him dreaming of his toes in the sand and the taste of salt water along the shores that were once his.

     He had few possessions and so within a matter of days Kevin was packed and ready for the final leg of his journey home. Detesting goodbyes, he told no one of his plans and just slipped away on an ordinary Monday in June. Toting a used and worn duffel bag, Kevin took one last look at the his empty apartment that he had been forced to call home for many years. Like a waterfall in the springtime, wave after wave of emotions came cascading as he closed the door one last time, then stepped into a taxi that would take him to the bus station. Yet Kevin was not heading home to New Brunswick. Instead he hopped on a Grey Hound bus heading west. Three days later, he stepped off the bus in Victoria, British Columbia ready to see for the first time, everything that he knew he would see for the last time. And time was not on his side.

     British Columbia was a beautiful province that intrigued Kevin very much. From the busy nightlife, to the sandy beaches, to the mountains and endless trails, each day seemed like an adventure. Following a trail up the mountainside until he could go no farther, Kevin stood at the peak staring down at a world that suddenly looked vastly different from the world he knew. And although he enjoyed every day around such people who were very pleasant and hospitable, nothing compelled him to want to stay any longer. Kevin spent twenty two days in British Columbia before realizing that he belonged elsewhere. Pulling a prepaid ticket out of his duffel bag, he boarded a bus heading east.

     Arriving in Edmonton Alberta, Kevin was immediately surrounded by the poverty that existed in a place where people from all over the country migrated to for work. Although there were several nice parks and newer buildings, it was a city that looked old and dirty. He did not even feel safe while waiting for a taxi to take him to a motel for the night."I will find nothing amicable here", Kevin thought. He spent one night in Edmonton before again, boarding a bus heading east. Kevin next got off the bus in in Regina, Saskatchewan. The ride was uneventful and the scenery was very boring. Once again his first impression was of an old and dirty place with a few nicer buildings off in the distance. Outside the bus station he was confronted by those homeless begging for whatever they could get from a passing tourist. Again, Kevin spent one night in Regina before boarding the bus heading east.

     The next stop for Kevin was in Winnipeg, Manitoba. His first perception was not much different that his previous two stops but Kevin decided to have a look around. Again, there were a few nicer places and buildings trying hard to overshadow the old and dirty but there was also something else. Kevin stopped to have a lunch in a small cafe and was surprisingly happy with not only the food, but as well the patrons and staff there. Every thing seemed small town. And the people were friendly and never appeared rushed about life. He even had a slice of apple pie for dessert. Kevin never ate dessert! He stayed for four days before boarding a bus heading east. Although Kevin knew that there was nothing for him in Manitoba, as the bus pulled out of the station, he was glad he stayed and had a look around.

     Passing into Ontario, Kevin closed his eyes and had a nap. He despised this place and any more time spent here would be nothing more than to change buses and then carry on with his journey east. Through Thunder Bay, then Sudbury, changing buses in Toronto and so on. There were some who stared in wonderment at the hilly landscape and forests and lakes from Thunder Bay to Sudbury, but not Kevin. He looked out the window with disdain. There were some who looked out the window in awe when seeing the Toronto Skyline and all of its glory. But not Kevin. It seemed to take forever to pass through what he could only describe as hell on earth. And Kevin had lived this hell for too many years. As the hours passed, he only looked out the window to read the road signs telling him how many more miles to Quebec. It was seeming like an eternity.

     Finally, and as the sun was setting, Kevin crossed that line from hell to hope and it felt like he had finally crossed a threshold as suddenly, there was no more tug on his shirt. He felt a spirit once dormant, begin to come to life. Montreal was spectacular and Kevin was excited to explore this city and province of culture and tradition. And he was not disappointed. His french was rusty but his enthusiasm was unbridled. The nightlife was addicting and the history of this place was mesmerising. Kevin spent five days in Montreal before trekking to the rural areas and then to the Gaspe Peninsula. It was a place he had always wanted to visit. Kevin felt somewhat saddened to leave Quebec but after seventeen days it was time for him to finally face his fears and make his dream come true. It was time to go home to New Brunswick.

     As the bus passed the sign that said, "Welcome To New Brunswick", Kevin was moved beyond what mere words could tell. He stared speechless while looking out the window at a place that he could barely remember and yet, was as familiar as his favourite jeans. The next stop was Moncton and then a local charter to Saint John. It was a sunny, breezy Saturday morning when Kevin's feet finally touched his hometown for the first time in over forty years. Standing there in the middle of the bus station, he had a difficult time holding it together and holding it in. Like thunder clouds, he was ready to explode and release the pressure of so many years of misery. A few hours later, Kevin stood along the side of the road looking at the very land he once played on. The house was long gone but he knew it and more than that, he felt it. What sketchy memories remained from his childhood seemed as clear as the blue skies above him. A few hours later Kevin removed his shoes and walked along a sandy beach tasting the salt water air. The water was cold but it felt invigorating and he felt as if he had just been reborn. As elated as he was, Kevin sat down on the beach and he wept. He was finally back where he belonged. He was finally home.

     It is said that when you hail from the east coast that no matter where you go, no matter how far, and no matter how long you have been away, at some point you are called home. And there are those who speak of such voices calling that cannot be ignored. Legend has it that the wind carries these voices to only those whose time has come and must return home before the end. At the age of forty nine and on a sunny July morning, Kevin answered those voices and finally returned home to fulfil his destiny. At the age of forty nine and on a frigid December morning, Kevin passed away after losing his battle with cancer. He was not surrounded by friends nor were there any family to give comfort. Yet he died surrounded by his own kind and in the very same hospital that he was born in. Home is where the heart is. Kevin left his heart in New Brunswick until that day when destiny called him home to reclaim it.


    

Delinquent Life

Copyrighted@RobMason2012

From the upcoming book..Land Of Dying Dreams



The heart of the matter still eludes me
As it is also with matters of the heart
Delinquent in my finding of fate
Perhaps blinded by what I should not know
The beauty of this world does not escape me
Yet what we cannot hold cannot be ours
When defining scenery through colours
Some see only darkened days
Like a snowflake I present as resilient
But a snowflake will eventually melt
As with a river rushing in spring
Extremities take their toll and their turn
I believe in a certainty amid the chaotic
For some that is a blessing or a curse
We will face the adversity still to come
Knowing there is always one thing worse
On that horizon moments remain waiting
Behind remain the ones still lingering
Savour or loathe them through choice
Nothing is gained from indifference

Appreciating Ignorance

Copyrighted@RobMason2011

A sunny day
An open field
The grass almost green
His stick to wield
Happiness is found
It's the simple things
His world all around
What new moments bring
Through younger eyes
I see myself
But these latter years
I lost myself
The ignorance of youth
And what lies in wait
He cannot know
It's a long road to fate
I have so much
He has nothing
What I have lost with age
Youth gives him something
Feeling pity for him
Yet envious as well
He seems lost in his moment
While I live in hell
I am fourty four
He is only nine
I search no more
For things he might find

Beginning An End

Copyrighted@RobMason2012


The northern winds have been strong as of late but everything must eventually subside. One last gust and one last show of force, then dissipating as the sun came out warming. From a time with streets quieter and emptied, sees now a time of activity. Havens once protecting from the elements, now abandoned in a time of a renewed spirit and and anticipation. What was once old has been forgotten. What is new will be embraced until old. As it is with the seasons, everything must die to be reborn.

Familiar are now the feelings once felt before. Familiar are the voices heard. And it has been too long since those voices calling. This world coming alive and making plans. There is optimism while taking stock in what survives. For the first time, young eyes will feel the warmth of the sun. For the first time, young hearts will feel the loss of those whose time had come. Opportunity seems no longer to chance as each new generation paves its own road. A thousand journeys begin today and a thousand journeys will end. That road paved can turn rough as all must make their own wrong turns to find home. Those setting out confident and yet, nervous and those staying behind proud and yet, fearful. There is a time for those wiser to teach. And there is a time when the learners must learn their own lessons. It has been this way since the time of the beginning and it is as constant as a child's love

The quiet has now been invaded by laughter and cheers as friends and neighbours rekindle their community. Children once pent and impatient, rush to discover what adventures have been left to find. Those discoveries will be endless and not just for the young. A time for things worn and rusted to be refurbished as it is with those who have been broken and in need of mending. Like wild flowers crowding the hillside, we present as resilient and renewable. There are those who have yet to awaken. Some procrastinate rising to the challenge. Others will forge ahead stubborn and with haste. Like day and night, in sight will always be that balance.

I notice things. I notice people. And I notice the things that people do. And it has been this way since the time of my rebirth. With my eyes opened, I see this world as it truly is. With my heart opened more, I can feel this world as it could really be. It all hinges on perception. It hangs in the balance. From black to white to grey, it dangles from a slipping knot of a fraying rope. But there is hope as long as there is still faith. And as long as grass still grows green and the sun rises each morning there can be change. I will not lead nor will I follow. My destiny lies along a different path. But I will play my part if only briefly. Yet like a child frustrated, the rules preventing a discovery of these times and places. And I yearn to discover more than that. The ingredients of the body mostly fluid. Yet with a spirit that is one part courage and three parts a fool. And that pleases me. Like a stallion chomping at the bit, I long for the reigns to be lessened so I may let loose. Never the need to win a race but so as to know how it feels to run freely.

My being reborn defines a new beginning. Yet that beginning will not last as long as the one before. Sooner days approach faster than I can retrace my steps to that point and time defining lost. It is there I left memories that remained out of focus. It was there that I saved the lessons learned. It is there and in that place that I discarded a spirit lifeless. And it is there where a life ended yet with no closure. Unfinished is chaotic and some wrongs need to be righted before the end. Time moves quickly and more so for the ones not contented. And this new season already heading towards an end.
And so too am I.

Days We Learn

Copyrighted@RobMason2012


Your dreams have not been lost
They are right where they need to be
Whenever you find yourself ready
You will find your dreams there waiting
These days are just preparations
A prerequisite you need to endure
Nothing easy ever really comes easy
If not then why would we ever dream
You have yet to search your soul
And your hands that still remain idle
You have yet to kick your feet
And your feelings you cannot define
For now is a time for healing
It is time to put your past in its place
Never a rose can be rushed to bloom
And never is this life a race
You will begin with just one step
Then one step turns into two
Every day finds a piece of that puzzle
Then finding the person you once new
With sooner days approaching
You will be ready to take each in turn
But these are days of preparation
These are the days you learn

Visiting Paradise

Visiting Paradise



Copyrighted@RobMason2011




There was something amiss on this Sunday morning and yet, I could not label it with any kind of clarity. There was nothing evidently wrong on this morning though it did not seem quite right. I had been working too much and the late hours I detested. But I also enjoyed my work and often felt useless when idle. The monthly bills had come due however, such was the same from month to month. Life was stressful at times but then again, there were more than enough moments of laughter and silliness with friends. So I was wondering why I felt so out of sorts? I did not have the answer but was fairly certain that I knew where to find it. It was time for a little trip.

I knew exactly what items to pack. A pen, notepad, camera, a few bottles of water, a peanut butter sand which and of course, my cell phone just in case. I loaded everything into my backpack and checked the tires on my mountain bike. I picked out my favourite lazy shorts, a white cut off t-shirt and decided on my blue, Bob Marley bandanna. I always felt good with this look. Wearing my sunglasses and with my eagle tattoo showing on my left fore arm, I would no doubt, be the subject of staring from a few onlookers. There were always a few who would watch me out of the corner of their eyes as to them, I presented as some one dangerous. I so enjoyed being my alter ego and always felt liberated in the anonymity that came with it. In fact I loved it! With a few details taken care of, I was ready for a return to paradise. And it had been far too long since my last visit.

It was early morning and yet the humidity in the air was already staggering. For a brief moment I contemplated the sweltering heat that I would endure on my trek back home. But I knew it would be worth it. It always was. As I picked up some speed on the mountain bike, I felt this tingling familiarity about me. "Yes, it had been too long since the last time," I thought. Traffic was light on a Sunday morning around here but not non existent. Of course, I always received a few dirty looks from some drivers who seemed to think that being mindful of a person on a bicycle was the ultimate in inconvenience. I gave no considerations to their annoying presence. I was off to my Paradise as soon as I made a stop to the local Tim Horton's. After-all, starting such a beautiful morning without a "Timmies" coffee seemed to me to be uncivilized.

Having finished my coffee I was on my way. It was a fifteen mile ride I enjoyed immensely. As I approached my favourite place I took note that there was not a soul around. That was much to my liking. It did not take long to find my favourite spot and I immediately took up temporary residence under a Weeping Willow tree. I closed my eyes and took a deep breathe. Then another. I opened my eyes and everything had changed. The branches from the Willow drooped about me and I was convinced that they would wrap around me and protect from harm. A slight breeze had them moving to and fro as the sun flickered in between their movements. It was as if the branches let in what was needed when it was needed. I could hear the rhythm of the small waves striking the break wall and it was like music to my ears. The tall grass swayed slightly in the breeze as if it had learned what we have not. The grass was not in conflict with the breeze, but simply allowed it to pass through whenever there was need. Already, there were a few sailboats and speed boats on the water as those fortunate with monetary wealth were busy enjoying the comforts of their privileged lives. I enjoyed watching the different boats go by and often took pictures with my cheap, digital camera. I noticed that one particular boat was named "Lucky Dollar." I could only wonder what interesting story and circumstance had led to such a naming of a boat. Something in my life did not seem quite right and I was beginning to realize what was wrong.

It was not long before calming thoughts were in abundance. And I was ready with my pen and notepad. Off to the west a father and son had arrived to try their hands at some fishing. I remembered this father/son, time honoured tradition very well. I stared at the little boy for sometime as he watch his Dad outfit his fishing rod with all the particulars. The memories of my childhood came cascading. And I wrote what thoughts came to me. Back on the water, the variety of boats began to look crowding. Closer to the a shore, a mother duck led a parade of smaller ones upstream to whatever end. Above, birds of many colours, shapes and sounds busied themselves as if with a purpose I was not meant to understand. A few squirrels scampered about and the tree branches continued to sway in the breeze with a low humming sound that I could believe was a dialect of its own. And I wrote whatever thoughts came to me. The minutes were moments. Those moments became memories not only preserved in my mind, but penned for all time. Suddenly, I came to realize what yearnings had me wanting to visit this place. It was paradise and for the time being, I was its sole owner.

For a few more hours, I watched, listened, and I penned whatever fleeting notions came to me on that over-easy Sunday morning. And I filled page after page. Harmony is balance. And it was that lack of balance that had me believing that something was not quite right when nothing seemed drastically wrong. Not wanting to leave, I reluctantly packed my things and prepared for the journey home. That tug on my shirt could not be ignored. Domestic chores awaited me. The domestic, robotic routine was waiting too. It was time to return to my man made, concrete world. I love this place found and I call it Paradise. And though I always feel welcomed as if two old friends rekindling their friendship, like a guest I never stay too long.

That Spadoinkler Thingy Affect

Copyrighted@RobMason2012


I heard a voice calling my name
Looking up it was a tree
He wanted his branches trimmed
But not too much
He didn't want to be naked and such
I was not impressed
He didn't like the tulips I planted
They were in the dirt to deep
He told me they sucked up the water
And at night they tickled his feet
He wanted us to talk more often
He thought we could be friends
But I didn't have time for such things
I didn't even know trees could talk
He told me I could pull up a chair
And enjoy the sweet summer air
Look up to the stars and stare
But I told him I didn't care
He was not impressed
Then Ouch I felt and Ouch I said
He had so many branches
And he dropped one on my head
Now we are friends

We Take Care Of Our Own

               Where are the eyes, the eyes with the will to see
               Where are the hearts that run over with mercy
               Where is the love that has not forsaken me
               Where is the spirit that will reign reign over me
               Where is the work that will set my hands, my soul free
               Where is the promise from sea to shining sea
               Where is the promise from sea to shining sea
               Wherever this flag is flown
               We take care of our own

                ~Bruce Springsteen

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-x8zBzxCwsM&ob=av2n



It has been with the patience of a child on Christmas Eve that I have waited for the release of the new Bruce Springsteen album (yes I still call them albums).  From the very first time I heard Born To Run, I was instantly transformed into a Springsteen fan. And several decades later, nothing has changed. Being a middle aged man who cannot afford a mid-life crisis, I do try and keep up on the last music and must admit that I really enjoy some of it. But when Springsteen plays, nothing else compares. There has been much anticipation and hype leading up to this release and thus far, it has lived up to everything we have come to expect from the "Boss" and the E Street Band.

I was immediately taken with the single and video for, "We Take Care Of Own". Firstly, it is difficult to believe that this man is in his early sixties. He can't be! It was only yesterday when I was groovin to Hungry Heart and I'm A Rocker. And seeing the video, he doesn't seem that old although I have to admit, he will never be old to me. I am constantly amazed how this singer/songwriter/entertainer and performer continues to reinvent himself to always find a place in mainstream music. It is as if he is able to let time pass through him without any affect whatsoever. And along with the die hard, blue collar fans that scoop up his albums and flock to his shows as if each one will be the last, Bruce Springsteen seems to resonate with the younger generation of all music genres. He truly is timeless.

The video for We Take Care Of Our Own mixes the classic Boss videos of the past with a new creative energy look that will be amicable to music fans of all ages. In fact, this may be his best video yet. The lyrics are somewhat depressing and angry yet there is more than a hint of optimism and inspiration. In this song, Bruce once again has his hand, his heart and his soul on the very pulse of society and it's two most important shortcomings. That of course would be selfishness and greed. This is nothing new as the Boss has been singing about social injustice and inequality for the common of people for decades. Many of his songs are about the struggles of everyday people who work and dream for something more meaningful amid a society who's philosophy mandates a "What's In It For Me" attitude. And in these times of financial devastation on a global scale, this song could not have come at a better time.

There is a message and many questions asked this time around. He is asking our leaders and politicians about the promises they made to the people at every election. He wants to know when those promises will come due for those who have been waiting. "Where's the promise from sea to shining sea?". He is asking the corporate world, the CEO's, and the shareholders how much money is enough. He is asking the legal communities if they can even spell words like conscience and integrity let alone define it through conduct. He is reminding law enforcement that they swore an oath to serve and protect. And he wants them remember who they swore that oath to. He wants to know when the notion of freedom and opportunity bordered on the edge of being deemed criminal. But it is not just the conduct of the intellectually elite and self proclaimed saving graces that he questions. He wants to know what the rest of us have been doing to progress our society. And he makes it clear that we have not been doing enough. We push when we should pull, we ignore when we are unaffected, and we make too many excuse for doing nothing. In this song, Bruce Springsteen reminds us that we are decent people who have simply forgotten how to be decent.

As is rare with a Springsteen video, he allows himself to be captured in scenes that portray him as iconic and almost larger than life. And it works because he almost is. But unlike previous videos such as Dancing in the Dark which portrays Springsteen as some kind of teen idol, in this latest video the message is never lost. You read it in his lyrics. feel it in his heart and you see it in his eyes. And what makes it so meaningful is that he is genuine. For all the songs, all the videos, the concerts, the charitable causes and for all the stories told, his message has not really changed in almost 40 years. He keeps finding new ways of telling us the same thing. And for some reason, we just can't seem to understand that in the end....

Nobody Wins Unless Everybody Wins!

A Wish And Thought Away

Copyrighted@RobMason2011

Phil sat motionless in his one room apartment staring out the window. There was a full moon about illuminating the night sky and yet, in focus was only darkness. Like most, Phil believed in that promise from sea to shining sea. He had faith, believed in fate and held true to the notion that through his hands and heart, he would be happy. Phil was confident that hard work along with attributes that defined a decent man would find him in his place and time. But on this night, his life availed before him in utter ruins. And although a witness to every dramatic scene that led to this moment, Phil was unable to comprehend how that one way road had led him to what seemed like his final destination.

First he lost his marriage, then his money and then his son. And today after several years of trying to cope, he lost his job. The acute symptoms that resulted from his divorce turned chronic. The building blocks he had laboured to build had crumbled. And after following the directions of happiness, Phil found himself here, in this defining moment. The thoughts consuming him on this night were thoughts no one should dare think. And he struggled to find validation to his life. Phil was trying to find a reason to live. And for the first time in his life, this broken man looked upwards hoping for a sign to show him what to do. He heard only quiet, saw only darkness, and felt only pain.

Phil looked over at the table where he placed the days mail when coming home from his job now lost. "More bills and advertisements for things I can't afford", he surmised.  Phil was going to ignore the mail tonight but something compelled him to go through the stack of envelopes on his table. Perhaps he was hoping for a miracle in the form of an envelope. Perhaps the ultimate definition of despair is defined through desperate acts. "How could things get any worse," he muttered to himself. He began going through the mail feeling both downhearted and yet, optimistic. A rather thick, brown business envelope immediately caught his attention. He read the name of the sender on the envelope and his hands began to tremble. Phil opened the envelope in disbelief and emptied the contents onto the table. There was a thick notepad, a pen, a camera, a stack of pictures and a neatly folded piece of paper. There were over 50 pictures of himself. Pictures of him playing sports, at the local playground, at school, on graduation day, the day of his marriage, and even a picture of him playing with his son. "How can this be?" he thought. Phil picked up the piece of paper, unfold it and was in shock with what he read.

Dear Son:

It has been 23 years since you and I have spoken. But I knew that it was time. I knew that you needed me now. It would have been very difficult for me to explain why I left you. But now I believe you can better understand what I had to deal with and how it took its toll on me for so many years. Your mother just made it impossible for me to be a father to you. And now that you have gone through it, I believe you now can understand. Your life has been a happy one and for that I am pleased and grateful. Every morning I woke up hoping you would search for the beauty of this world. And every night I prayed that you had found it. For whatever of God's grace was left to me, I asked everyday for it to be passed to you. I do so again on this night.

I have never been far away and you have never been far from my thoughts, my prayers and my heart. When you scored that winning goal for the championship, I was there. When you kissed Mary Johnson at the prom, I was there. I witnessed your pride and accomplishment on graduation day. I saw the look in your eyes when you got your first job. From afar, and whenever I was able, I kept tabs on you. When work slowed down and the landlord told you not to worry about the rent until you were back to work, it was I who discretely payed the rent for you. And on that day when you took a bride, I was cautiously optimistic that you would be a better man than I was ever capable of being. And it was with extreme sadness when I learned of your divorce. Once again I hoped you would be a better man than your father. That is the wish that every father has for his son.

I have been here always and never more than a wish and a thought away. I have but one son and he has been the only reason that has forced me to survive long enough to this night when I knew you would need me. Sometimes this world slowly steals what we refuse to relinquish. And in spite of our best efforts and good intentions, bad things do happen. These are the times you are tested. These are the times when you define yourself. These are the times when you lay broken or you learn to bend. And these are the times when you vow to never make the same mistakes with your son as your father did with you. And this is the time when I intervene in your life to make sure you remember your goals, your hopes and dreams and your purpose. And you do have a purpose!

For myself, the hour is late and destiny has finally caught my scent. I will not be able to be there for you anymore. By the time you get this note my time will have come. We cannot always be what we want to be. Life is that way sometimes. All we can do is to try our best. Dreams do not always come true, but dreams can always be revised. You are my son and the father to your son. And that will never change no matter what dark times may pass you by. And dark times will pass you by. I have little to leave you as I leave this world. But hopefully I leave you with the hope that there is hope. And I leave you with these items in hopes that you will be the best father you can be when life prevents you from being the father that you want to be. And most of all, I leave you with all of my love that I was never allowed to give you in hopes you may pass it on to your son.

Love Always

Dad

This is no man who would be able to hold back the tears that were now streaming from Phil's eyes. He thought of his Dad and how he was made to believe that his own father had not cared enough to stay in his life. He thought of his own son Nathan. Phil picked up the phone and dialed the number. A young voice answered. "Hello Nathan", Phil said with a shaky voice.
"Hi Daddy", Nathan replied. "I just called because I wanted to say goodnight and that Daddy loves you". Phil heard his son's voice say the words that every father longs to hear.....

"I love you too Daddy."

Innocence For A Time

Copyrighted@RobMason2011

December 22, 2011

Every now and again, and when not feeling traumatized by our own trivial matters, we are gifted the opportunity to bare witness to such little and seemingly meaningless events that create circumstances that bind us all together in ways we could not know and on most days, could not care about.

Last night, and amid the bustle of another silly season, I sat for a coffee after removing myself from the robotic programming of Commercial Christmas. It was then that I felt one of those rare and profound few moments that jolted me as if I had just been hit over the head with a sledge hammer. As is my habit, I had a pen and notepad handy and penned my immediate thoughts and perceptions when a young mother and her small son came in from out of the cold. It was but less than fifteen minutes out of my day, week, month and year. Yet it will be one of the few things I take with me from from this year almost passed. Perhaps it was my negative spirit of the day. Perhaps my perception was incorrect. Perhaps I read into it more than I should have. And perhaps that little boy just reminded me of another little boy I remember from long ago. Regardless, I was there and I noticed.

I surmised the young mother to be in her early twenties at the most. The little boy was around seven or eight years old. Without speaking, she pointed to an unoccupied table and the little boy took a seat. To coin a phrase used in generations gone by, he was as "Cute As A Button". He had short dark hair and the biggest eyes I had ever seen. He was dressed in newer, brand name clothes but ironically, had no mittens or hat on such a blistering, cold night. I am not certain as to why that fact immediately caught my attention. But it did. His mother arrived at the table with a coffee for herself and a chocolate milk and donut for her son. She opened the chocolate milk, slipped a straw into it and placed it in front of the boy along with the donut covered in sprinkles of some sort. As he began to enjoy his snack, the mother took off her coat and sat down to drink her coffee. Again, no words were spoken. The mother took an electronic device out of her pocket, put on some tiny ear pieces, connected them to the device I presumed was a cell phone, and instantly became lost in her electronic world.

The little boy was enjoying his chocolate milk and donut while taking in his surroundings. He caught the attention of two elderly women at the next table who immediately took a shining to him as they began to engage him in some conversation. The one lady smiled at him and asked if he was excited about Christmas. He looked at his mother and then back to the lady. Nodding his head, he smiled an those big round eyes got bigger and rounder. She then asked if he and his mother were out Christmas shopping. Again there was a nod and another smile. He bit into his donut and some sprinkles stuck to the side of his mouth as he tried to capture them with his tongue. It was a "Kodak Moment", if ever there was one. The other Lady then enquired if he was excited about Santa Clause coming soon. Another nod and another smile. She then asked him what he wanted for Christmas. The little boy looked at his mother, then turned back to the lady and shrugged his shoulders. I don't think it mattered what the boy said or if he even said anything at all. These two elderly ladies were just delighted to interact with this cute little boy. He continued to drink his milk and eat his donut while taking in what was going on around the coffee shop. Occasionally, he would look back towards the ladies and return their smiles.

I too was taken with the young boy but at that moment, I was not sure why. I just kept scribbling some thoughts on my paper, took in the surroundings, watched this little boy, his mother and the two ladies. And I could not ignore the fact that this mother spoke no words to her son and seemed oblivious to the fact that he was even interacting with the two elderly ladies at the adjacent table. Suddenly, I had clarity. This little boy was the spitting image of my son when he was eight years old. He had the same eyes, the same smile and mannerisms. And like this little boy, he had a penchant for attracting attention and for being somewhat of a social butterfly. Through circumstances of life, I had not seen my son for over seven years and was reminded of that fact when seeing this little boy.

I found myself wondering what would happen to this young boy as I had often wondered about my own son. As I knew nothing about this boy, his mother and the circumstances of their lives, I was left with only my perceptions and instincts. And both told me that they had a tough road ahead of them. I was flooded with a continuous wave of memories and emotions of a previous life lived before dying in that life. As with all things, it did eventually pass. There were at least thirty or more stories in that coffee shop that night during my stay but none as compelling as the one I was briefly engrossed in. What possessed me to document these fifteen or so minutes of my night, I cannot say. But like a grocery store receipt, I felt the need to save it.

As it is with fate and destiny, life will always be indiscriminate for all. I finished my coffee, put away my pen and notepad, put on my coat and headed out the door. I turned my collar up, turning my back to the brisk, northerly winds and began my trek home. I cannot say how I felt in the moment. I was not happy nor did I present with sadness. But I was certainly not a man of indifference. And I found that to be at the very least, a comforting thought.

From the upcoming book, Land Of Dying Dreams

Copyrighted@RobMason2012

Land Of Dying Dreams

For some it was a year of hope
A time for the wrongs to be righted
With resolution hanging by a thread
For those who chose to hang on
Promises were the words spoken
Some waiting on kinder deeds
But availed was another purpose
And time always ticks too slowly
Imaginary crosses were no longer
Illusions often mirror the reality
Still the words profound coveted
Commonality is such a human trait
The ones bent on the solution
Those bent and then were broken
Some hanging on to a slipping knot
And some hanging on to power
Then darkness gave way to light
The dust settled as all looked around
Left wondering what had changed
Anticipated that new day dawned
Taking stock in those still standing
From a land of once dying dreams
Celebrating the righting of the wrongs
Not counting the ones who were gone

Temptation

Copyrighted@RobMason2010

Temptation:

As my thoughts wander I am aroused
Still trapped in our passionate embrace
As the morning nudges me gently
A cool breeze tempers this body once heated
The day calls forth yet I remain embedded
Still savouring a night of endless pleasures
Your essence remains upon my pillow
And a memory remains etched in my mind
The first kiss seeming accidental
The second and there was no turning back
Once cautious then with reason abandoned
And a hunger no longer left not nourished
Garments once covering found us bare
Inhibitions once hidden exposed
And longing for desires long denied
On a night when hesitations seemed dormant
Availing the secret of lust left unspoken
Yet words that need not be spoken
The consequence of a thin line crossed
For wanting when loneliness prevails

What Comes And Goes

Copyrighted@RobMason2011

I walked along the shoreline and felt the sand between my toes
Then looking back there was no trace of a footprint
Washed away by the out going tide
The sea takes what it wants and then recedes
I was reborn when embracing a warm summer's breeze
Then the coldness of this world chilled me
A life lost from a passing storm
The wind brings change and then dissipates
The sun once shined bright as brighter days I could see
Then the darkness encompassed my existence
Darker can be days with eyes opened
The darkness takes what you refuse to relent
I have touched a loving hand that once touched my soul
And now a heart that was once melted is frozen
Feelings never constant but confusing
Love a pastime for the living
And it comes and goes

Reinventing Happiness

Copyrighted @RobMason,2011
Ardith Publishing

A time of sadness but all is not what it seems
Tomorrow can find you nearer to your dreams
Still feeling hopeless when your day is done
And still feeling alone when still living as one
But for just one moment just let yourself go
Forget what you've learned for all things you know
Have trust in the face you see in the mirror
A belief in yourself and your life becomes clearer
With many friends who are there to help
In their loving arms you will conquer self doubt
Holding tight to whatever pieces remain
And now you know it won't ever be the same
Whatever is old cannot ever be new
When accepting that change it changes you
Opening your heart and more so your mind
When searching a void no telling what you find
There will be setbacks and there will be fear
Some days a smile and other days tears
These times are a test that you need not pass

Surviving long enough to find happiness at last