Picture story of New York highlights: Trains, subways, limos and more...

Echoes from Without
by Laurie Kolp

Silent dreams
Silent echoes
Echoes of sin
Echoes within
Within the secrets
Within the rules
Rules to make
Rules to break
Break speed
Break dreams
Dreams destroyed
Dreams honored
Honored victims
Honored heroes
Heroes in darkness
Heroes in light
Light in flight
Light of hope
Hope and scope
Hope reborn
Reborn promises
Reborn city
City sincere
City of fear
Fear then faith
Fear souvenir
Souvenir shops
Souvenir junk
Junk graffiti
Junk throughout
Throughout the subway
Throughout my mind
Mind over matter
Mind behind
Behind the scenes
Behind New York
New York City
New York scene
Scene on Broadway
Scene of obscene
Obscene peddlers
Obscene gestures
Gestures from drivers
Gestures of kindness
Kindness within
Kindness without
Without the realms
Without doubt
Doubt
Without

Haiku
by Laurie Kolp

Worm taints big apple-
sweet surprise, this foreigner
in New York City

On Beginnings

This morning we drove Katie to the airport and put her on a plane.  No, we did not let her fly alone; she went with six girls and one chaperone, all converging with one goal in mind- Peter Sklar's Beginnings Workshop.  Six months of mixed anticipation, careful planning and diligent preparation have finally culminated on this big day, Katie's birthday.  It is the first time she will venture out without us.

Last night I reminisced about the first time I left Katie at Mother's Day Out.  She was two-years-old.  I was getting ready to have Andrew and thought Katie might enjoy spending a few hours with kids her age.  I reluctantly dropped her off that first day and proudly watched as Katie put her arms around the screaming children and offered comfort.  I was so amazed...was leaving Katie going to be that easy? 

I drove around the block and then snuck back inside to check on Katie.  I peeked through the window and saw her sitting on the assistant's lap, listening to a story.  A sense of relief swept over me as I tiptoed back to the car.  The next time I dropped her off was different, though.  Katie cried and did not want me to go because she knew we would be apart.  Now Katie was leaving for a week, and I would be the one crying.

As you can guess, I have been frantically trying to get Katie ready while swimming in these mixed emotions.  What if she gets homesick?  What if she hates it?  What if she picks up negative behaviors?  What if the kids are mean to her, or the instructors ignore her?  What if...

I won't entertain you with the horrible thoughts I've had about Katie flying without us; you can probably guess what they are.  My poor father tried to alleviate my fears by offering a book for me to read by Greg Iles.

"What's it about?" I asked.

"Well, this huge airliner lands safely at an airport and then they find all the passengers dead...even the pilots."

The look my mother gave him could have melted ice. 

"I don't want to read a book like that!" I said.

My mom piped in, "Of course she doesn't.  I'm so sure, why would you even bring that up to a mother whose child will be flying without her?"  (More mean look).

"I just wanted her to know that the plane landed safely without the pilots, that's all."

Some difference this is between men and women, huh?  I heard men are like waffles (very matter-of-fact/compartmentalized) and women are like spaghetti (emotions and feelings wiggling all over the place), but that is a post for another time. 

As Pete and I watched Katie disappear through security, my heart raced.  I looked through that window so similar to the one I stood behind when she was two, and I did what any good spaghetti would do- I knocked on that window with both fists, hoping for one last wave goodbye.  I heard Pete mumble as he pulled me away, "It's time to go."

Parameters
by Laurie Kolp

Two-hundred pages of guidelines to read
All of them detailed like some sort of creed

Six months of preparation for one short week
With deadlines, physicals, monologues to speak

Label belongings and follow these tips
All caps, black ink on two-inch medical strips

Seven pairs of long pants, two jackets a must
Maybe a cold front will hit New York in August

Dance clothes, shorts, t-shirts, underwear, oh my
Socks, shoes, towels, pillow, sleeping bag to fly

40s outfit and accessories from head to toe
The “time capsule dance” party a fun show

Speaking of shows, the final day an Off-Broadway
Culminating the week in a musical stage play

Just a few parameters to follow precisely
Important tasks so the workshop runs nicely

Don't run out of gas!

Watching someone you care about get lost on a path of destruction has to be one of the hardest roadblocks in life.  I am sure any Atlas on Life you might check would predict trouble ahead, but how many people actually read The Book?  Most of us probably skim through and touch on the highlights, but very few actually study it.  We have the tendency to try and find our own way.  Many of us must come to the very end of the road before we will seek help.  The hardest part is swallowing our pride and asking for help.  Until we pull over and get directions, our lives will be a vicious circle of intersecting highways.  Don't wait until you run out of gas...it may be too late.

But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. -Matthew 6:33

Shopping No More
by Laurie Kolp

When did shopping become a chore?
Long ago I shopped constantly
and charged everything left and right;
Mom and Dad always rescued me.

Malls made me feel better when there.
When did shopping become a chore?
Working, single and without care
shopping was a way to kill time.

Friends and I would set our limits
one-hundred dollars free to spend;
When did shopping become a chore?
Marriage and kids put that to end.

Now I feel guilty when I cave-
even bargains are overlooked.
Who wants to spend money to save,
when did shopping become a chore?

What is magical about age?

Is there anyone out there who feels their age?  How are we supposed to feel anyway?  Maybe there is magical formula somewhere that calculates how grown-ups should feel.  I don't know about you, but I still feel young.  And I act young.  It is not until I look in the mirror, or wake up to snaps, crackles and pops (not cereal, folks) that I know I am getting older.  I act like an adult and do my job as mother and wife, but deep down inside, I do not feel any older than I did in my early twenties twenty years ago~ OUCH.

You know what else?  Sometimes I just want my mom.  For example, when I get sick I hate being an adult.  I want my mom to take care of me like she did when I was little (husbands don't quite cut it, sorry Pete).  Sometimes I want someone else to do the laundry and clean the house, like when I was little.  Instead I just trudge along and do what is next.

I think it is ironic that children cannot wait to get older, but adults wish they were younger.  Why is that?  Is there something spectacular that is supposed to happen at that magical age that nobody knows what it is?  I am just going to try to stay in the moment, enjoy the day, NOT look in the mirror and feel what I feel.  That is what I think is magical about age...enjoying it.

Lost Marbles
by Laurie Kolp

When did you become so cuckoo?
The writing is etched on the wall,
warning signs revealed left and right,
yet you stay in this childish game.

Life is not a casino trip;
when did you become so cuckoo?
The cards are right in front of you,
this gamble you take is nonsense.

Some call it a mid-life crisis;
the convertible and divorce.
When did you become so cuckoo?
How could you discard family?

“That woman” is cheating you out
of peace and respect you deserve.
Rock bottom is paved with marbles;
when did you become so cuckoo?

Loss of Control
by Laurie Kolp

Dreams from which all hope is shattered
suffocate the mind so weak and tattered.

When will truth spring new life within
and liberate freedom from demon’s sin?

A life besieged by unwelcome change
must let go, let God rearrange.

Only then will serenity take place
a recovery from which dreams now can face.

Now I get it

Can you believe it is already August?  Where has the time gone?  Between swimming team, Taekwondo and dance team, the kid's summer activities have kept us extremely busy.  I find myself counting down the days until school starts.

I remember when I taught second grade in The Woodlands.  I was single and had not a care in the world (although at the time I THOUGHT I did).  I could never understand the teachers that were moms.   They would get to work very early on Mondays and just sit at their desk.  I would be running around at the last minute, sure to have arrived with no time to spare, and they would appear to be in some yoga-like trance.  I thought maybe they had seen a ghost, or had bad news. 

When I asked them if everything was okay, they would just smile and say, "Yes.  I am enjoying a little peace and quiet after my hectic weekend with all the kid's activities.  I have to come to work on Mondays to slow down and rest."

Now I understand.

Haiku
by Laurie Kolp

he watches his mom
wash grapes for him as she stuffs
more chips in her mouth