IT HAS BEEN SAID THAT…

They called him the Grand Inquisitor back then…and in those days, the nickname had made him smile.

A propos The Brothers Karamazov: Jesus Christ, returned to earth 15 hundred years after his crucifixion, was also spoken to by a Grand Inquisitor of sorts:  “Thou lookest meekly at me and deignest not even to be wrought with me. But let me tell Thee that now, today, people are more persuaded than ever that they have perfect freedom, yet they have brought their freedom to us and laid it humbly at our feet. And we, .....we have brought this on ourselves. Was this what Thou didst?  Was this Thy freedom?

“And what's strange, what would be marvelous, is not that God should really exist; the marvel is that such an idea, the idea of the necessity of God, could enter the head of such a savage, vicious beast as man.” 

― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

                          Nothing like post-holiday angst!

IS THERE AN HONEST REINDEER IN THE SKY?

NO. 7, ARE YOU THERE?

CALLING REINDEER NO. 7 :

COME IN PLEASE

Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen,

Comet, Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen…

Circa 1997, and

there’s a tale to tell…

‘Twas the night before Christmas,

Dusk parted with honor:

Three Grenn boys stood smiling

[They swore they’d glimpsed Donner].

“Yet, might have been Blitzen”

I replied to this trio;

They eyed me with caution,

[I’d dampened their brio…]

‘Eight deer’ had been named so,

[In tales for the telling]…

My sons knew their trademarks;

Though not their names’ spellings.

  Dasher was headstrong;

 Dancer, a dandy;

  Prancer was flighty

while Vixen chewed candy;

Comet was lazy, Cupid too sappy;

  Blitzen chased rainbows while Donner stayed happy.

“It’s the ‘7^th’ we want to

deliver our presents!”

These three uttered boldly as Russian-steppe peasants;

“Dasher and Dancer will lose

them in transit,

Comet and Vixen are

Common-law bandits!”

“Blitzen’s been known to

discredit Kris Kringle,

Cupid has issues with

rooftops and shingles!

Prancer has dropped gifts

 all over the heavens;

Pleeeeeeeez!

Just enlist only deer # 7!!!”

It may be too late,

I did taunt with a smile:

Though, not if you snooze soon …

Don’t tarry awhile;

The very best hoof beats will

Grace our home’s gable;

Sleep, dears; dream softly…

Stay young as you’re able.

December 25, 1997

Well, if smiles could sell ad-time,

And dreams garner CLIOs;

My mantel’d be laden:

I’d have netted a trio !!!

Poem composed by Lisa Porter-Grenn

Copyright December 2013

            

Yet, I did hear him mumble as he drove out of sight…

“MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL,

         …AND TO ALL: A GOOD-NIGHT!”

WHEN CAN YOU SAY YOU’VE…

…TRULY BEAT THE ODDS?

   [ANSWER: AFTER 35 YEARS]

12-18-2013:

HAPPY 35^TH

TO MY BIGGEST FAN

[from yours!]

www.youtube.com/watch?v=qoLmmbpbpMs ‎ ‎

                                                                   XMAS 1978 and XMAS 1979

FOR YOU: THE WILL STILL REIGNS!

At 20 years of age, the ‘will’ reigns; at 30, the wit; 

and at 40, the judgment.

                                                                                 Benjamin Franklin

12-7-2013…

Our Pearl Harbor ‘surprise’

(i.e., 20 years ago)!! 

And many happy returns…

XOX, your family.

P.S. …and don’t be so ‘cavalier’ about no longer being a teenager!!!!!

WHEN LOSS IS SUDDEN…

NOVEMBER REQUIEM

by Lisa Porter-Grenn

‘Mid Fall’s unfruitful clutches,

Looms an anecdotal breeze;

The frozen, slattern sky above

Has brought us to our knees.

 Beneath the siege of rage and tears,

Breathe strains of ’63:

A man, a car, his wife, three shots…

(Where were those gods that be?)

Out from that day that conquered me,

      A child of six, or so;

I garner praise for hands of grace

      That stayed my childlike soul.

It was a school-day, some recall:

A Friday, if you will;

A place named ‘Dallas’ fell apart…

Under its weight, grew ill.

We sensed life’s wrath, the scent of death;

Bereavement rocks us still;

Hence, let all memory worn by years

Beseech us NOT to kill.

Adults who’d never shed one tear

Donned weary masks of pity,

The master of our fate cried out,

(A death knell… claimed our cities).

 L.P.-Grenn  copyright 2013

www.youtube.com/watch?v=cMFWFhTFohk ‎