What do we do now?

I hope we do not think that Al Qaeda cares about the date 9-11 like we care about birthdays and anniversaries.  Our media has done this to us.  We must remain ever vigilant regardless of the date!

Timber frames go up for toboggan museum - Linda Hall-Stone - Rockland - Camden - Knox - The Herald Gazette

Timber frames go up for toboggan museum - Linda Hall-Stone - Rockland - Camden - Knox - The Herald Gazette

The Blue Boat

  The Blue Boat 

He wanted a boat

But he never knew

That the boat he would find

Would be painted blue.

It was blue on the outside

And blue inside too

He wondered why anyone

Would paint his boat blue.

Perhaps blue paint was free

On the day it was done

Or perhaps he used blue

Because it was fun.

He had 3 little girls

And they all liked blue

But they didn’t like boats

And this he well knew

So he painted it blue

To get them inside

And out to the river

To go for a ride.

The day came at last

His blue boat was through

So he called all the girls

And his wife, named Sue, too.

They stared at the boat

“Dad! You painted it BLUE!”

He smiled at them all

As they climbed in “2 by 2”

 The river was high

The water cold, too

The girls all just shivered

As their lips turned blue.

“Dad! we love the boat

And we love you, too.

But we are all freezing

So this ride is through!”

So he put it away

In his barn for awhile

And whenever he saw it

He couldn’t help but smile.

Ten years passed

And a young man came by

“That boat for sale?”

He asked, rather shy.

“Depends”. Said the boatman

On what you might do

With a nice boat like this

That’s blue, through and through.

I’d row it to town

And back again, too

I don’t own a car

And I kinda like blue.

Well, that’s just fine

This boat is for you!

I’m glad that you like it

And that you like blue, too.

            Alright then said the boy

I’ll go get my girl

We’ll take her to the river

And give her a whirl!

Hmmm.  I hope it works

Better for you.

Than it did for me

When I did the same, too.

They both came back

The very next day

Jumped in the boat

And rowed her away

The boat came back

With boy and girl too

Laughing and joking

As young people do.

They had a fine time

In fact, she rowed it too

Because her favorite color was

You guessed it – BLUE!

The morale of this story

If one needs one at all

Is to count your blessings

Whenever you fall.

God loves us all

And that means YOU!

And he doesn’t even care

If your skin is BLUE!

F. Thomas – 1/25/11

Roadtown Races

When I was 20
I lived on a barge
in Roadtown, BVI.
for awhile.

One day I heard about
the Races and had to go
It was a hot day
in December, 1968.

I swam ashore
clothes held over my head
to keep them dry
and dressed on the beach.

I hitched a ride to the Races
Thinking about free food and drink
and fancy people with
fast horses.

I walked the last 2 miles
dry, coral dusty throat
parched but waiting
for a cold one.

There were no fancy people,
no fast horses,
no food and nothing to drink
for me.

It was Sunday
and everyone from town
was there
and then, there was me.

The only white boy
in a crowd of happy blacks
laughing, singing, and having fun.
I was ashamed of my thoughts.

I turned around
and walked back to my beach
undressed and swam home
to my barge.

I never told this story before
because of what I thought
and why I did what I did
and I am sorry I did not
walk up and meet those people.

Tom Crowley, 1/23/2011
about a day back in
December, 1968
on Tortola, BVI

Snow Carvings

Snow Carvings

I thought we would miss winter this year.

There was no snow in November

And I was sorry I hauled the boat.

There was no snow in December

And I was sorry Christmas wasn’t white.

In January, we froze and pipes burst

But it still didn’t snow.

In February, the winds came

And they brought the snow.

Dusting to powder to inches to feet,

Drifts covered the dinghy.

The snow was so deep that it slid

Off the roof of the woodshed

Onto the stone patio

Where the winds carved words

I did not understand.

I tried to read them before the winds

Changed them, or me.

I thought we would miss winter this year

But now I know that I would really

Miss winter if winter missed me.

Tom Crowley, Winter, 2010-11

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