Monday, December 12, 2011

Golden Lantern




Sometime in an October in a parked Studebaker on a bluff in Dana Point California, I was conceived. My vulnerable beautiful mother was fifteen, and my father, a handsome saxaphonist with chiseled features was nineteen. My mother's parents were glamorous, drank a lot and fought.


My father's parents were studious, stable and dedicated to one another. On the run from the family chaos, my mother sought solace in her boyfriend's parents. My maternal grandfather was a brilliant engineer and worked at Northrupp just after WWII designing the classified flying wing,


The Stealth. His wife, my maternal grandmother was a tall gorgeous southern beauty who liked to cook, entertain and was quite the man eater. My mother was pressured to take a trip to a doctor with her family in tow, to get an abortion yet had a change of heart. It took all of the determination that she could muster at fifteen and fragile, in order to keep her baby. It has proven to be, an interesting yet challenging beginning . My mother considered adopting me out, for my babysitter wanted me to be her daughter.


My father's parents would have none of that. Lucky for me,most of my first ten years were spent with my paternal grandparents giving me enough love and guidance for life.

Golden Lantern will always have a unique significance for me, upon seeing the street sign or hearing those visual words. it was in Dana Point that Kathryn Davis my paternal grandmother

bought and developed properties with the money she earned with her violin and piano.


It was also at the end of Golden Lantern overlooking a magnificent view that I passed through a portal of teenage passion.. Entry to this world and life, that is what Golden Lantern is to me...oh and that my conception was no mundane chore.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

... and Maya Was Her Name




Cycles of seasons complete themselves and the years unravel gracefully and sometimes not.Time is like ribbons spiraling away carrying with it souls that never came to be, and tears. A face only dreamed of, never kissed or known.


An angel of a baby girl I was never to hold...and Maya was her name. Maya was carried so gently away into the Cosmos, and Time like ribbons spiraling... I, some She Wolf howling to the stars with grief and tears , releasing her tiny soul yet guarding her shadow zealously as proof that I at one time harbored her...and Maya was her name.


I keep this sadness with love and protection in a secret place in my heart, for it is what remains. My Maya, November 22 1997.