Every Town, An Island

What if every town was an island?


All shopping done right here

No money being spent away

No corporate takeover fear.

We would have to eat at Donna’s

“Coffee, eggs and ham” for you?

No Starbuck latte’s sold in town

We’re fine with Donna’s brew.

You need a car? See Frank in town

At “Smiley’s Lot” on Main

I traded in my Jeep (still there)

It only leaks in rain.

The banks would have to go along

And lend us what we need.

We’d pay them back with wages

Earned at “Barney’s Grain & Feed”.

Barney’s wife works in the store

Where we shop for chicken thighs

From “Tilly’s Free Range Chicken Farm”

Not quite Tyson’s size.

The money stays on the island friends

There is no place else to spend it.

Besides it all comes back again

To those who spend and lend it.

We’d have to find the leaks for sure

Like buying stuff “on line”

Instead of at the local shops

Like “Mabel’s Five and Dime”.

I guess it will never happen

But we could make a start

By buying local first instead

And shopping with your heart.


F. Thomas Crowley, Jr.

6/10/10

Don't Ask. Don't Tell

There comes a time

You know it well,

When you want to ask,

But hope they won't tell.

In years gone by

You wrote your List

to Santa Claus.

He seldom missed.

But something's different

You ponder, alone,

"Should I send my list

from my IPHONE?"

You go to sleep,

perchance for dreams

of Christmas Past

While youth, it seems

Has passed you too

when Santa came

and reindeers flew.

The world has changed

But not your heart.

You want to believe!

A brand new start!

Once Mom and Dad

Told you stories true

of Jesus' birth

and Santa, too.

There's still time!

You need not ask

about how it worked

in Christmas Past.

Keep the dream alive

You know it well

If you don't ask,

then they won't tell.

F. Thomas Crowley, Jr.

12-16-10

Camden, Maine

The Lie

He was fine, just fine
no problems here.
Happy to be alive
Nothing to fear.

Others much worse
He avowed and believed.
Yet deep inside
He was proud and bereaved.

Two tours of duty,
He would have gone back
Except for that bomb
And that last sneak attack.

He was only wounded
The others had died.
His wound was nothing
It was on the outside.

"Call the VA"
His wife had suggested
"I'll be just fine
once I am well-rested."

The shadows grew darker
Nightmares persisted.
He kept them a secret
Treatment resisted.

His family was worried
He wasn't the same.
One night he just lost it
Calling dead buddies by name.

"John! Over here!
Crawl out of that Hummer!"
"Warren! I'm coming!"
They all died that summer.

Fall in the clinic
They covered the scars.
Home the same winter
Finding peace in the bars.

Marines don't complain.
They get things done.
Wounds are a weakness.
The Lie had begun.

No one to talk to
Who'd understand?
I still have my body
I am still the same man...

Who enlisted at 18
And grew with the "Corps"
Bigger, and stronger, and better
Than I was before.

I believed it then
But now know in my heart
That I need help.
Where do I start?

The VA at Togus
Was where I began.
I am not ready yet
But it's a good place to stand.

I'm taking my meds
And I'll give it a try.
I'm still a Marine
Proud to say "Semper Fi!"

A Navy Vet from Togus - December 10, 2010
F Thomas Crowley, Jr.

Fishy's Wedding_Part 1

The day started out in the usual way for me at this time of my life and considering where I was at the time. The sun was already up enough to heat the oily canvas tarp over my head that I had propped up with an oar after I fell asleep the night before. The smoky, wet heat had woken up the other guests on board and I could hear their faint, scratching and shuffling as they woke up hungry, too. Rats. Large, brown, hairy Norwegian sea rats. I dropped the canvas, smashed it with the oar and, just for good measure, pounded the sacks of shells and fish bones all around me to keep them away as I got ready for my daily swim to shore to retrieve my clothes from their hiding spot under the concrete dock of the Customs House. I certainly had no idea at the time that I would be attending a private wedding at the nicest hotel and resort in the harbor that evening.

Tom Crowley, Roadtown, Tortola, BVI, November, 1968

Road Rules: India vs Maine

Road Rules: India vs. Maine

In the July 2001 issue of Downeast magazine, there was an article about driving in Maine. It then suggested some fine points about driving tips. Having just returned from India, I decided that a “point-counterpoint” approach might be amusing.

To be careful, I called Downeast Magazine and asked for permission to use some of the information in this article. They said, ”no problem, just give the credits”.

If you are from Maine you will be fine driving in India However, you may find yourself more on the side of the cow than the other drivers.

Lets compare the Rules of the Road!

Maine -

It is OK to turn right on red, after making a complete stop

India –

There are no lights, red, green, yellow, nothing. Just honk your horn many times and turn at any time. Continue to smile and wave at everyone.

Maine –

Please use your turn signals.

India –

There is no need to use turn signals. Simply watch the person in front of you to see which way they might turn. Then, go around them, honking enthusiastically.

Maine –

Pedestrians have the right of way. Especially in Wiscasset when they are heading for Red’s Eats or in Camden where there are more crosswalks than pedestrians after Labor Day.

India –

Cows have the right of way. Pedestrians usually stay out of the road. If you see one, it is considered polite to honk your honk several times before AND after you hit them.

Maine –

The breakdown lane is for cars that are actually broken down, not for a shortcut to the next exit.

India –

There are no lanes. A breakdown “lane” would be any area occupied by a vehicle that has not moved for several hours or a cow that has decided to stop while crossing the street.

Maine –

The Passing Lane is used to overtake other cars that might be moving more slowly than you. Please stay out of this lane if you are just cruising.

India –

I repeat, there are no lanes. Usually, seven or eight vehicles will be randomly stretched across a roadway one-half the size of Route 1. To pass another vehicle, motorbike, or gas-powered, three-wheeled rickshaw, simply go around them on either side, honking wildly, but with a courteous, respectful tone.

Maine –

Roadside attractions should be visited by using your turn signal; pulling over to the right and moving well clear of the road. This includes tag sales, yard sales, barn sales, most lobster roll stands, and any place where you can see the water.

India –

The entire country is a roadside attraction. There is no need to pull over, simply slow down, roll down your window, and visit with the nearest individual or attraction. The rest of the world will understand and honk encouragingly as they pass you on either side.

Maine –

Horns are considered rude and disturb the tranquility of the locals, other wildlife or slow moving traffic on Route 1 anywhere between Brunswick and Bar Harbor or anywhere near the toll booths on I-95. Please pretend you don’t have one.

India –

Horns are more important than brakes, turn signals, or gas. They should be used continuously, though with a distinct pattern or sequence, not unlike Morse Code. They send a series of messages that must be interpreted by the person in front of you:

1. Hello there! How’s it going?
2. I’m right behind you,
3. Was that arm gesture a turn signal or are you just glad to see me?
4. Holy cow! Ahead on the right, left or in front of me,
5. I would like to pass you on your right or left, so keep your eyes peeled,
6. I am now passing you,
7. Thanks for letting me pass you,
8. Nice car, motorbike, motorcycle, rickshaw, etc.
9. Are you turning or just weaving through the traffic.
10. Have a nice day,
11. Have a heart attack,
12. See you tonight at the _______________!!

Maine –

Road rage is not acceptable and is a clear sign that you have been in Maine less than 3 hours.

India –

There is no road rage whatsoever. Everyone is friendly and sociable with a great attitude. Heavy traffic is a good time to visit or socialize. Dead stop traffic is always a great time to meditate or practice your deep breathing.

Maine –

Always stop for cows in the road.

India –

Same rule. But, if you have any snacks in the car, share them with the cow. He could be your great-great-great grandfather.

Have fun and drive safely, wherever you go!

Tom Crowley

Lincolnville, Maine

Written upon returning from a trip to Bangalore, India.

June 23, 2001

Edited by author on 11/14/02, and again on 7/3/2011

What if Every Town in Maine was an Island?

Every Town – An Island

What if every town was an island?

All shopping done right here

No money being spent away

No corporate takeover fear.

We would have to eat at Donna’s

“Coffee, eggs and ham” for you?

No Starbuck latte’s sold in town

We’re fine with Donna’s brew.

You need a car? See Frank in town

At “Smiley’s Lot” on Main

I traded in my Jeep (still there)

It only leaks in rain.

The banks would have to go along

And lend us what we need.

We’d pay them back with wages

Earned at “Barney’s Grain & Feed”.

Barney’s wife works in the store

Where we shop for chicken thighs

From “Tilly’s Free Range Chicken Farm”

Not quite Tyson’s size.

The money stays on the island friends

There is no place else to spend it.

Besides it all comes back again

To those who spend and lend it.

We’d have to find the leaks for sure

Like buying stuff “on line”

Instead of at the local shops

Like “Mabel’s Five and Dime”.

I guess it will never happen

But we could make a start

By buying local first instead

And shopping with your heart.

F. Thomas

6/10/10

To Susan - The Angel Among Us

“The Angel Among Us”

We have an angel among us

Disguised as a neighbor.

Quick with a kindness,

Love and a favor.

No burden too great,

No event ever too small

For her warmth and affection

Covers us all.

Her door always open

Her heart open wider.

You always feel welcome

With her Jim beside her.

A sick wounded neighbor

Can expect her to call.

All birthdays remembered

Spring, Summer and Fall.

In winter she migrates

As Maine chills our hearts.

Is it the weather we feel

As our angel departs?

We cherish our Angel

But take her for granted

Like God’s gift to us:”

“Love Forever”. Undaunted.

Immigrants All - God Bless America

My grandfather came here when he was 19
He went to Cornell and studied business.
He was involved in politics all his life.
He raised a lawyer and two engineers.

My mother came here when she was 12
She came with her father and mother, a sister
and three brothers in a plane, at night
from Havana, Cuba.

She was a good mother and a good wife
to a bad man, whose father came here when he was 14
She raised three children; a CPA, a Medical Practioner
and 2 business executives.

Her grandchildren are Doctors, Lawyers, Executives,
Engineers, Housewives, Teachers, Contractors.
We are an American family in America.
God Bless America!

Thomas Crowley
Maine - May, 2010

Books in Progress

These are the books I am writing now:

1. Tom and Nelle - The Book
2. Man of Action Anthology
3. Winter Critters or "Who was wearing my clothes?"
4. The Sumps - about a family living in the sewer
5. Swans in The Creek - a story for my daughter
6. Stories about Uncle Lou - His House, His Yard, His Burn Barrel, His Chickens, His Car, His Goat, His Blueberries, His Grapes, His Sense of Humor...
7. Buzzy, Hoppy & Sammy - a story about a bee, a frog, and a sturgeon becoming friends
8. The Sargossa's - the whole story about Pietro & Isabella

The Dark Side Collection

1. Tommy, The Night Walker
2. Sleepwalking
3. The Night Train
4. Tommy steals a Car
5. Tommy goes to Jail
6. Solitaire
7. Tommy on the Farm
8. Tommy Grows Up

Haiku for Parents

Parents age quickly

Our love must grow over time

Each day is a gift.

FTC

Mothers age quickly

Their love has grown over time

Each is their gift.

Where is My Father?

"Salute to Big Red"

Where is my father?

He is not here.

He has left this world

and us, we fear.

He walks and talks

and asks us where

he lives and why

he is not there.

He tries to leave

his own house and wife

To find his mother

who left this life.

He says we are not his

we beg him stay

he hides his meds

and sneaks away.

We follow him

as he wanders

down the road

to places yonder

He stops and stares

as through town he roams

But this is not his town

so we bring him home.

"Who is that woman?"

He asks in tears.

"It is your wife

of 50 years"

"That is not her,

mine was younger.

I must go find her

not stay here longer."

We calm him down

and take him to his bed

and watch in darkness

until he rests his head.

His wife crawls in

and holds him fast

He weeps and hugs her

and sleeps at last.

Tomorrow is

another day

like the last one

We fear and pray.

We ask God's help

but know not what to ask

to make him better

or make this his last...

Day on earth

So he can rest

and meet his maker

and feel his best

Where are my fathers?

Both in heaven above.

Some day I'll join them

Reunited in love.

written by the son-in-law of a man

called "Big Red' whom he calls father.

April 27, 2010

Soon to be a "Gramps"

My grandchildren are growing inside my children
right now. As we move closer to actually seeing them
and holding them, the less and less I care about what
they are or who they are. I want them to be beautiful
but I can not control that. I want them to be smart
but I can not control that either.
However, I want them to be loved and I CAN be part
of that and I will, no matter what.

They may call me Gramps or they may call me Big Tom
but I don't care what they call me, as long as they CALL
me - all the time.

Tom "Gramps" Crowley
still waiting for something

Native Wall

There is a wall by the sea in Nassau
A native wall where you can sit
And watch other peoples boats go by
As you eat your breakfast of bread and tea.

You may swim in the harbor at dawn
And wash in salt water and sit on the wall
Until the beach opens for tourists
Who do not want to see you washing.

They come for a tan and a Kalik
And to listen to music they do not understand
And are amused and a little rude
And then they are gone.

The men who wash and sit on the wall
Are workers at the big hotels ands stores.
They put on their uniforms and go to work
Salty and tired and a little sad.

The see you and say “Good Morning!”
And mean it when they say have a nice day.
They call you “Sir” or “Ma’am”
And say “Good Night!” not Good Evening.

They go home to their small houses
And smile when they see their small children
Fresh from school in their smart uniforms
And love them and are happy to be home.

The next day, they may go to the wall
Or wash in the sea, scrubbing off
A little of themselves every day
So that others will enjoy Nassau.

The native wall watches this never-ending play
Without judgment, blame, or guilt
And provides a sheltered place to sit
Where you may think about the day to come
And all the days that have passed by.

Tom Crowley
January 7, 2010
From the Towne Hotel, Nassau

Living The Dream

Living The Dream

Is it better to dream

Or to achieve?

I have done both

And I still do not believe

That our lives can be forced

To fit in a world

Where achievement is celebrated

And dreams lie like flags unfurled.

We raise our children

To dream what they wish

Yet the schools crush the dreams

And turn genius to fish.

We make them miss concerts

Where dreamers dream out loud

While our dreamers do homework

To make mom and dad proud.

Years later we reap

What we shouldn’t have sowed

And lament dreaming visions

Where we were afraid to go.

I sit with my headphones

Over sixty years old

Listening to dreamers

As I sit out in the cold.

It is easy to say

That I have no regrets

But the truth is I am scared

As I try to forget

The dreams that I had

While still a young man

And live out my life

As best that I can.

I still have dreams

And I will ‘til I die

Oh. What the hell?

Lets give it a try!

It’s never too late

Unless you have died

So go chase a dream

And enjoy the ride

F.Thomas

January 31, 2010

Nassau, New Providence Island

sitting on a 125 foot schooner

waiting for something else...