Since Google recently changed Blogger’s interface, Post to Blog, the program I once used to post to this blog, no longer works with it. I have trouble using Blogger’s new interface to post to this blog. For this reason, I’ve switched to a different blogging platform powered by Wordpress. This is not only better for me but will make things easier for you, my loyal readers. You don’t have to jump through hoops to leave a comment,, and I can more easily post directly from the new site. This blog will still be up, but I won’t add any more posts to it. Please visit me at my new blog, http://abbiejohnsontaylor.com/blog
Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author of
We Shall Overcome
and
How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver
http://www.abbiejohnsontaylor.com
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Dad Speed
My father loves to drive fast on the highway. He also feels the need to pass every driver he encounters, even if it means going over the speed limit. One day, he and I were driving from Sheridan, Wyoming, over the mountains to Thermopolis where I was about to receive an award for my years of volunteer service to nursing homes and other senior facilities. After several unsuccessful attempts to pass another car on a winding mountain road, I said, “Dad, there’s plenty of time. Take it slow.” I often heard him giving this advice to my younger brother when teaching him to drive, but coming to him from his daughter who never drove a vehicle in her life, he ignored it. Maybe I’m exaggerating, but it’s a wonder we made it in one piece.
With Father’s Day just around the corner, I thought it fitting to post the following prose poem from How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver. This was inspired by an incident that happened while Dad and I were driving home from Colorado. Warning: this poem contains some strong language.
Speeding
I’m sitting in a car going over ninety miles an hour. “If I stay behind this car, I won’t speed,” Dad says. “It’s going under the speed limit.” But the car in front of us turns off at the next exit. The speedometer climbs.
“God damn it,” he says, as he slows down. “I just want to get home.”
“So do I, but I want to make it in one piece.”
“Fuck you! I’m tired.”
“And you don’t think I am?” I want to tell him. “You don’t think it’s exhausting, speeding down the highway with you, watching you fiddle with the tape deck and consult a road map when both hands should be on the wheel, your eyes glued to the road?” Hallelujah! We’re home at last!
What do you remember doing with your father? Please feel free to share your memories by leaving a comment below.
Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author of
We Shall Overcome
and
How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver
http://www.abbiejohnsontaylor.com
With Father’s Day just around the corner, I thought it fitting to post the following prose poem from How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver. This was inspired by an incident that happened while Dad and I were driving home from Colorado. Warning: this poem contains some strong language.
Speeding
I’m sitting in a car going over ninety miles an hour. “If I stay behind this car, I won’t speed,” Dad says. “It’s going under the speed limit.” But the car in front of us turns off at the next exit. The speedometer climbs.
“God damn it,” he says, as he slows down. “I just want to get home.”
“So do I, but I want to make it in one piece.”
“Fuck you! I’m tired.”
“And you don’t think I am?” I want to tell him. “You don’t think it’s exhausting, speeding down the highway with you, watching you fiddle with the tape deck and consult a road map when both hands should be on the wheel, your eyes glued to the road?” Hallelujah! We’re home at last!
What do you remember doing with your father? Please feel free to share your memories by leaving a comment below.
Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author of
We Shall Overcome
and
How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver
http://www.abbiejohnsontaylor.com
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
A Sighted Person’s Mistake
Summer is the season for street reconstruction. Being visually impaired, I’m always concerned about stepping in wet concrete or ending up in the path of an oncoming bulldozer. When I read in the paper about a woman driving into wet cement, I was refreshed in the knowledge that people with good eyes also make such mistakes. This inspired the following poem from How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver.
On an Adventure with Her Grandkids
She drove into a mound
of freshly poured concrete surrounded by orange cones,
was sited by police for not following signage.
Her insurance company will be billed.
The blind aren’t the only ones who blunder.
Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author of
We Shall Overcome
and
How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver
http://www.abbiejohnsontaylor.com
On an Adventure with Her Grandkids
She drove into a mound
of freshly poured concrete surrounded by orange cones,
was sited by police for not following signage.
Her insurance company will be billed.
The blind aren’t the only ones who blunder.
Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author of
We Shall Overcome
and
How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver
http://www.abbiejohnsontaylor.com
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