ric booth - poet, writer, speaker

Written in 2005 for my mother on Mother’s Day.

The Lighthouse
by ric booth

my life in review, some ups an’ some downs
so many tears, laughs, smiles, an’ some frowns
my very first swim, i screamed myself horse
’til you took my hand, now safe back on shore

pain paid a visit to us one cold night
you led us out and away from our plight
grandpa an’ grandma they drove us away
as everything’s changin’ by us you stay

strange town an’ strange school,
strange house an’ strange bed
i could not explain, so nothing was said
does nobody know? does any one care?
afraid, i look up and find you right there

storytown, my first rollercoaster ride
we screamed as we fell, i thought i would die
so frightened an’ scared, we whipped up an’ ’round
then i saw you watching up on firm ground

but grandpa died and my heart almost burst
when i saw father, my pain just got worse
an angry young man so mad and confused
you reached out to comfort, i just refused

at graduation they called out my name
my trophies were many, my pain still the same
all proud and conceited i stood for my bow
seeing your tears, i remember this now

when i lost first love, i wanted to quit
no one took notice of me in my pit
yet you saw right through, you knew right away
told me of a love i would find one day

some who i knew were doubting an’ upset
my haste they said i would live to regret
i had found my bride an’ while everyone’s mad
in you i found comfort, you even were glad

thought i had made it, claimed to have it all
family. career. ’round my heart a steel wall
then dad just died, he just wasted away.
i hated my god. still by me you stayed.

when my child’s life hung by a thin thread
many would judge me, you reached out instead
then i found the love you told me about
drowning in pain, He’s the only way out

sam’s graduation they called out her name
my trophies are trash, my life’s not the same
on my left was father smiling an proud
an’ you were there too, i know now just how

i saw a lighthouse here only last week
those pillars of light that all sailors seek
in the midst of their storms tossing around
they search for that light high up on firm ground

you are His lighthouse, so strong an’ so tall
life’s toughest storms you stood fast through ‘em all
when i saw the light shine out from your eyes
i did not know it was Jesus inside

those dark places He shines blotting out sin,
some things i have learned since letting Him in,
few know His gospel. few even find Him.
fewest of all, those daring to shine Him.

84 years ago today my step-dad was born (May 9, 1924). He died 20 years ago at the young age of 64. I have shared on this blog about my relationship with my step-dad. Yes, he was abusive. It was always his way or the highway. Actually, it was just his way. So, I think if any of my regular readers were to describe my step-dad, that description would be pretty negative. Today, on his 84th birthday, I thought I would color in some more of the picture.

My dad was a WWII vet who got kicked out of his house at 16. His dad, who he referred to as ‘that lousy drunk’, no longer wanted to support him so dad learned very early on how to take care of himself. He never had the chance to finished high school. He never went to prom. He never went to graduation. He always used to joke that the only thing he got for his 18th birthday was a draft notice from Uncle Sam. We all laughed but I do not think he was joking.

He never spoke about his time in the US Navy during WWII. His ship was in the Pacific. He was indoctrinated into hating and fearing the Japanese. He referred to the Japanese people as Japs. He, no doubt, held the entire nation responsible for all of his pain. When I did a report on WWII in high-school I asked him if I could interview him.

“What do you want to know?”

This was his way of saying, “I would love to sit down and talk with you son but there are some things that are just too hard for me to relive. We can start but I may not be able to finish.” Of course, at the time I did not realize this.

He told me one of the things his ship would do is pick up survivors. And partial survivors. Partial? Yes, if there’s enough left to send back.

ok.

Then he told me about the time they picked up “a whole raft full of Japs.” He said there were 20-some Japanese sailors stranded in the ocean. They took them on board, stripped them naked and had them stand on the deck under armed guard until they reached an island with US military on it.

“W-w-why did you strip them?”

He told me stories of concealed weapons, how they were trained to kill with their bare hands, and the whole kamikaze spirit of “the Japs.” Then he said, “Once they were naked and huddled on the deck we saw they were just a bunch of scrawny little boys. They were smaller than you! I think if one of them had farted, we would have killed them all right there!” Then he laughed throwing his head back.

Little boys. Like me. I was 15 or 16. Littler than me? Really? I was probably 130lbs. Dad was 240 lbs.

When they arrived at an island, they turned the naked, skinny, dehydrated, and terrified boys over to some other US military group and watch as they were march off to somewhere inland. He said, “We were laughing and joking about our big prisoner catch when we heard gunfire.”

“W-w-what happened?” asks little Ric.

“They probably shot ‘em.”

I think I may have caught sadness or guilt or grief or pain or fear or something in his voice and face. My jaw must have dropped or my eyes widened or something else that gave away my shock.

“They were goddamned Japs!” he defended.

That was the end of the interview. No more details. We never spoke about his WWII experience again. I did not complete the interview assignment for high school. Until now.

As I grew I began to see this interview as a turning point in my understanding of my step-dad. A man who by age 19 knew this world does not give a crap about you. A man who believed physical weakness spelled certain death. Was he fearful that I would be chewed up by this dog-eat-dog world? Did he at some level inside his broken and torn heart feel he needed to make me tough?

Years later, in one of our last discussions in this world I was complaining about work. At that time I was proposing doing something very different. Many people came out of the woodwork to raise their objections and tell me (and my bosses and my clients) it would never work. Lamenting and thinking out loud I said, “Its crazy. I don’t know why I’m even bothering. Some days I just want to say fine, forget it, do you’re way!”

I was 28. Dad was 64. I was 160 lbs to his now 140 lbs. He leaned forward in his deck chair as I took another sip of my beer.

“Don’t ever give up Ric! Never! You stick to your guns. Stick to your guns!”

And I saw that face again. Visible tears this time but still the same face. He made me promise him that I would fight. For him, these were not metaphors.

Two months later, dad was gone. My company gave me an award. Some Steuben crystal collecting dust somewhere. The men and women at that company never really understood why I ’stuck to my guns.’

www.bbbistroannapolis.com

It is Poetry Open Mic Night at the bb bistro (link and pic to the left) in Annapolis this Friday night. This is usually a LOT of fun! The cafe food is good and the homemade cookies, peanut butter and chocolate chunk, are excellent! The staff is very friendly and helpful. The setting is cozy and personal.

Here’s the skinny on Friday from Rocky Jones:

Ernie Wormwood (the featured poet) lives in Leonardtown, Maryland in the USA. Her poems have appeared in Rhino, The Antietam Review, The Little Patuxent Review, The Arabesques Review, and in Primal Sanities, A Tribute to Walt Whitman. In 2008 she will have work in The Innisfree Poetry Journal, Flights from the University of Dayton, the anthology Poem, Revised from Marion Street Press and in Poetic Voices Without Borders II. She recently appeared on Grace Cavalieri’s program for the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C., The Poet and the Poem, which can be heard at http://www.loc.gov/poetry/poetpoem.html

Ernie is yet another great writer from southern Maryland. She mixes great passion and great eloquence in her poetry; I have been a big fan since I met her at a bookstore in Leonardtown where she used to bring poets
together for group reads.

BB Bistro Poetry Nite, Friday, May 9, 6:30 - 8:30
112 Annapolis St.
Annapolis, MD
410-990-4646
DIRECTIONS PAGE: http://www.bbbistroannapolis.com/directions.html

This past year the Gospel Rescue Ministries, http://www.grm.org, celebrated 100 years of transforming lives in Washington, DC. I volunteer far too few hours with these amazing people in their School of Tomorrow, where I teach ex-offenders how to double-click, drag-n-drop, and cut-n-paste. But most of all we teach them how to see themselves as God sees them. Everyone who stays through the year-long recovery program leaves trained, employed, housed, and most of all, supernaturally transformed. Lives are forever changed because hearts are forever changed.

This Wednesday, May 7th, GRM is having an Open House from 12:00 noon - 4:00PM and 6:00PM - 8:00PM.

I retain some short vivid memories of my childhood. I also retain a lot of general memories but this one is what I would call vivid. The few seconds of this event took place shortly after my grandfather died while sitting next to Grandma in church one Sunday morning.

Grandma was crying but her voice and her face defied her tears. When I asked what was wrong and she said, while smiling(?!), “I’m alright.” And here’s the thing, she actually sounded and looked happy. Three decades later I realized I was unwittingly looking at the grace of God within her. She had a quiet assurance that she would see Clifford again; an assurance that even she herself is redeemed through Christ; an assurance that came from walking with Jesus.

I left the church after the sixth grade. I returned 24 years later and was found two years later. I sent Grandma a letter and then went to visit her to tell her the good news! However, Grandma did not remember our short conversation. In fact she did not remember me. For 6 years of visits to the nursing home Grandma remained pleasant and loving and complete oblivious of our relationship.

After losing her husband, Grandma cried many tears and told many people “I’m alright” but in one little boy, she planted a seed. I wrote a short poem for Grandma. It is my very first Christian poem. I wanted to thank Grandma for shining Jesus, for making me feel special, and for loving me unconditionally.

Love’s Rain
(for Grandma)
December 29, 1998

Sitting next to you in our church that day,
I never heard a word Pastor Gene had to say

I wasn’t even ten but I could hear you cry
Looking in your face, I saw a tear in your eye

“What’s wrong?” I asked, were you in pain?
“I’m alright” you smiled but your tears fell like rain

I wasn’t even ten and though I knew the story
of how He came and died, I never felt His glory

Many years I lived ignoring pain and loss
before I understood and placed it at the cross

After all this time of storing up my pain,
I felt Jesus’ Love, and my tears fall like rain

Grandma will always be my favorite bible.

Before you start feeling sorry for Patti, just know she requested my skilled hands here. Apparently I can apply hair dye with the best of ‘em.

Come to think of it, as a kid I was always good at coloring and I actually enjoyed it! I’m not sure why I used past tense
Ric Booth, Hair Colorist. Who knew?

I did snag a few stubborn snarls along the way and a few weak hairs were rooted out. Survival of the fittest is my motto. She winced and screamed a little but she was watching Law & Order during the coloring process and last night’s episode was particularly gruesome. The show was gruesome! On TV!

Anyways, I found if I put one foot on the top of her head and pulled the dye applicator through the snarl with both hands, the offending hairs would eventually relent. Her hair is now a beautiful Ash-Blond and she thanked me through tears of joy and gratitude.

Ladies just let me know when you would like to set up an appointment. Each coloring application includes removal of weak hair at no extra charge. And you can watch whatever television you like. Except Lifetime of course.

looks will be enough.
please make me beautiful.

a car will be enough.
please make me a car.

a house will be enough.
please make me a house.

a job will be enough.
please make me successful.

a spouse will be enough.
please make me a marriage.

a child will be enough.
please make me a family.

recognition will be enough.
please make me popular.

knowledge will be enough.
please make me smart.

wisdom will be enough.
please make me wise.

…but

nothing will be enough.
so please, make me nothing

Actually Thursday too but I will miss the Poet-a-Tete open mic downtown this month. I am too swamped to make all three. But here’s the scoop:

Friday night IS CANCELED. at AACC, the Poetry and Lyric Performance Club will be hosting an open mic at 7:00 PM. The theme is Black History (rescheduled from the snowed-out February one on the same theme). I will read Unsettling Fear and probably a love poem or 3. Be aware, this is an adult venue with no censure; profanity and sexually explicit poetry is not uncommon here. For example, given the theme, Jasmyn, aka Lady J and President of the PLPC, may very well perform her very poignant poem, Nigger!

Saturday night, our church (Mid Atlantic Comm) will host a poetry open mic at The Station at 6PM. Joe is organizing this event with some rather weak assistance from yours truly. So if you can make it be sure to thank Joe. This venue is open to all ages so poets are to refrain from profanity and sexually explicit content. (If you have something that you unsure of, ask either Joe or me. Thx.)

I have convinced a couple of closet poets to come out and share some of their work. Please encourage them. I will share a love poem or 3 and maybe, just maybe, I will –for the very first time– sing a poem! Not one of my own but one of my favorites. You will not get a 2nd chance to hear my vocal debut… You may quote me on that.

Both events are free but don’t let the price scare you — there are some very good poets in our midst.

Friday, April 25, 7:00 - Poetry & Lyric Performance Club Open Mic, AACC, Arnold, MD, Humanities Rm112 (map)
Saturday, April 26, 6:00 - Poetry Open Mic hosted by MACC @ The Station, 2134 Espey Court, Suite 15, Crofton, MD 21114

It is FINALLY here! I know, I could not sleep last night either! Today is Poem in Your Pocket Day. You need to print out (or memorize) your favorite poem and then carry it around to share with whomever. It’ll be fun. Really. When they ask, “Why are you reading me poetry?” you can tilt your head slightly to the right, look a bit puzzled, and reply with, “Be…cause, it is National Poem in Your Pocket Day.” (remember to smile )

To which they’ll undoubtedly respond, “Oh, right.”

You can pick out your favorite poem or pick one at poets.org or just pick one of mine! If you choose the latter option, you have impeccable taste. Really.

So, here it is. Now when some poet freak comes up to you and pulls out some tattered piece of paper you will actually know what is going on!! (And this will shock the poet — so please be gentle.) Then whip out your little gem and slam it! And remember, you heard it here first!

Love,

Ric Booth
Saving poetry ignorant people from public embarrassment one post at a time.

[My comments] are in brackets embedded in the press release.

The Archdiocese of Washington released information regarding the Pope’s visit to Washington, DC on April 15 through 18. [Members of the DC police force are so very excited to all be able to work extended over-time hours on Emancipation Day. I am so sure ]

Today, Wednesday, April 16, the Popemobile motorcade will travel west along Pennsylvania Avenue from the White House to the papal residence on Observatory Circle. The motorcade will depart at approximately 12:00 noon. [I, however, will NOT be at either one of these locations nor at any location along Pennsylvania Ave. If you would like to share a wave with me or possibly even touch me (a handshake Bad!) you will need to come to 800 K St. NW. Look up to the 11th floor windows, 20th window on the left on the north side. Smile. Wave. Although you will not be able to see me waving back because the windows are one way. For the handshake encounter, send me a txt. Donations will be expected accepted. Duh?] Later, at approximately 5:15 pm, the Popemobile motorcade will travel north along 4th Street, NE, from the US Conference of Catholic Bishops to the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. [I will be at my home during this papal parade.] Please note that the west side of 4th Street will be available for public viewing. [Actually, I cross the west side of 4th Street 5 days a week and can attest that it is available for public viewing pretty much all the time.]

Rolling road closures will affect the following streets:
Pennsylvania Avenue from 17th Street Northwest to Rock Creek Parkway: 11:00 am to12:30 pm
Cross streets one block north and one block south of Pennsylvania Avenue: 11:30 am to 12:30 pm
Rock Creek Parkway from Pennsylvania Avenue to Waterside Drive (Massachusetts Avenue): 11:30 am to 12:30 pm
Massachusetts Avenue from Columbia Avenue to Observatory Circle (South): 11:30am to 12:30 pm
[If you work along these streets and normally like to go out for lunch, well, sucks to be you!]

[Finally, if you have a question for the Pope and you would like me to elbow my way through the crowd to do a SHOUT-OUT, just let me know. Remember to keep it short. And bear in mind, I do charge for this service. I don't actually do it, but I do charge for it none the less.]