Describe a phase in life that was difficult to say goodbye to.
Goodbye to selfishness . . .
Welcome Transformation

Describe a phase in life that was difficult to say goodbye to.
Goodbye to selfishness . . .
Welcome Transformation


Write about your first computer.
It came into our home, without fanfare or fuss.
It was a tool to be shared by all of us.
We could multiply, we could divide,
By moving the colored beads from side to side.
It was compact and mobile, that was a plus.
Our first computer was a five row abacus.
Create an emergency preparedness plan.
Having an Emergency Preparedness Plan is prudent, practical and swell.
For the moment in which we need it, is a moment we can’t foretell.
My plan is a work in progress, a document that lives and breathes.
It’s safely stored in the refrigerator, between the baklava and Cheddar cheese.
Should disaster strike when I’m far from home and my plan remains safely there.
I’ll not be concerned, I have the first step memorized: I fall to my knees in prayer.

What profession do you admire most and why?
The profession I admire most and let me tell you why.
The well-rounded, just git’er done, universal, regular guy.
He can tell a joke, modify a street car and trap a bison for live-release.
He can repair most any broken thing by applying some elbow grease.
This profession is on the wane, its membership is in decline.
Don’t worry , the group’s international president can fix the problem without even trying.


How would you describe yourself to someone?
I’m not originally from here, I was born out of state, my parents aren’t from here too.
I am in good health, I’m a bit short for my weight, my favorite color is blue.
I’m third in the birth order, I can write in cursive, I’ve had the measles, mumps and the flu.
I do things when I get a round to it, my methods are tried and true.
I have a younger brother, born after me, of sisters we have two.
For me that’s about all there is, now tell me, what about you.

What would you change about modern society?
These times are marked by rapid technological advancement and globalization.
A rise in secularism and a focus on the individual, rather than the nation.
My recommendation to bring a change to modern society.
Let us count our blessings and become purveyors of propriety.

What are your future travel plans?
I’d like to visit Antarctica ‘cuz I hear the place is cool.
Then it’s off to visit Africa, home of the world’s largest gene pool.
I’d visit Mawsynram, India, which gets the greatest amount of rainfall.
Off to Atacama Desert in northern Chile, that receives no rain at all.
After all of this travel I am famished and I need a bit of a break.
To The City of Brotherly Love, for the world’s best Philly Cheesesteak!


Comes to mind is my favorite dish, a true epicurean delight.
Not ingredients merely thrown together, the process makes it right.
The journey begins at the butcher shop, in search of a choice pork butt.
After perusing what’s in the display case, I choose the most, bestest cut.
Then off to the Eastern Market, in search of spices bold and fresh.
I manage to gather together what makes my dry rub, simply the best.
I return home laden with the treasure of my arduous trek.
Taking a moment, I pause for a bit, on my day I do reflect.
During this respite I am reminded, why I chose to prepare this dish.
It’s for those who most deeply know me, I know it’s their deepest wish.
The dry rub is on the pork butt, into the refrigerator it goes, for the night.
The process of slow cooking meat, begins hours before day’s first light.
Two hours before sun up, while all the others toss, turn, and continue to sleep.
The pit master is up caring for the coals, as though a Sheppard after his sheep.
Coals for the cooking, coals for the smoke, each require a subtle touch.
If one is not careful in tending them, either of the coals can become too much.
So it is, with great care, the pork is introduced to the environ of this cooker of low-heat.
The pit master is a true maven of techniques proven to turn pork shoulders into tender, melty meat.
The next several hours unfold, as though choreographed, well in advance.
It’s the work of a skilled pit master, moving with purpose, nothing left to chance.
And so the skilled movement continues and slowly draws to an end.
The pork shoulder now is tender and fit to present to a friend.
The pork is pulled, the slaw is dressed, the sauce is rendered sublime.
The lemonade is poured, the corn bread is cut, now come and let us dine.
Which activities make you lose track of time?
There are many things that I like, for which I take great care.
One activity that heightens my interest is pocket-watch repair.
The crown, knurled and knob-like is more than a pretty thing.
He sets the time, moving the hands, and winds the mainspring.
The mainspring stores the energy that drives the precision gear train.
The balance wheel oscillates, defining time intervals, as though the watch’s brain.
For me the work is subliminal, yet the watch commits a crime.
Though I give freely, that watch robs me of my time.


Our Irish Setter prefers marinara on rotini,
With sautéed yellow squash and zucchini.
Our Persian cat, on the other hand,
is finicky and will demand,
There be Alfredo on the Fettuccine!