Before you die, give thanks and apologize.
Give thanks to those teachers who inspired you
and believed in you, and taught you, anything.
Don't just think it. Do it.
If they are still alive, call them.
If you can't or will not call them,
write them a letter.
When I was 10 or 11, Officer Paul Claffey came to talk
to the young Boy Scouts in my home town.
He said "Be good, be careful and don't get into trouble.
You are young now, but as soon as you turn 16,
you will have a permanent, criminal record that will stay
with you for life"
I was arrested 2 months before my 16th birthday, on May 13, 1964
for Grand Theft Auto. It was not my first time.
I survived the juvenile detention center and solitary confinement
and went on to do well, marry, have great jobs, a great family,
and then I decided it was time to make the call...
I called Officer Paul Claffey. His wife answered and said he had retired.
I asked to speak with him.
We talked. I said "Thank you for trying to help us kids and thank you
for helping me. I am sorry for the trouble I caused in town. I am doing
fine now and I wanted to call and say thank you.
He thanked me for calling and we said goodbye.
I could not have done that if I waited too long
to call and was told that he was dead.
Writing from the heart now. Pulling up old writings from as far back as the 1980's to save them. Not sure who will; read this blog but maybe someday my grandchildren will.
Monday, November 19, 2012
The Red Line to Ashmont
There
was a time
When
I saw the ring
That
attracted me
To
much bigger things.
It
may have been
A building tall
With
corporate names
On
marble walls,
Or
a bigger ship
In
port that day
One that would take me
Far,
far away.
I
grabbed that ring
And
held it tight
I
rode that train
Through
darkest night
I
wore the clothes
I
walked the walk
I
took the money
And
I talked the talk.
Now
years later
I
see I was blind
To
better things
And
simpler times
I
needed it then
I
do not now
But
there was a time
When
I would not bow.
I
am a better man
Though
I rationalize
I
believe in myself
And
that’s the surprise.
The
ego’s gone
The
man remains
A
better man
With
growing pains
But
still…at night
While
I ride the “T”
I
think of that time
When
I was him, not me.
Then
I remember…
There
was a time.
F.Thomas Crowley, Jr.
11/14/2012
On the Red
Line to Ashmont
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Poetry Month_April, 2012
April, 2012
Poetry Month - Write A Poem a Day! - Keep a Poem in Your Pocket!
Gak in Pain - Medications: Oxycodone, Gabbapenten, Lorazepam
The results?
Sunday, 4/1/12
Young man's dream
Made real as a man
No doubts, no fear
Spring forward!
Monday, 4/2/12
Pain can kill
Dreams die young
Forced smiles
A grimace covered.
Tuesday, 4/3/12
Share a Life
Make it longer
Alone we wither
Avoiding others.
That was all I did. Pain injection on 4/25/2012, second on 5/9/12
FTC
Friday, February 17, 2012
Proud Black Woman
I found this painting in our home in Maine. It is a striking, inspiring image of a proud, young, black woman. The artist signed the painting "E JAXON" . I would like more people to see this painting.
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