Poems, Personal Stories, and Observations

Archive for January, 2026

Paper Snowflakes

Today, I’d like to ruminate on the power of good memories, at least one, from my childhood.

I will start in the present time. Yesterday, with two of my grandchildren, we made paper snowflakes. It was fun not only for me to show them how, but to watch their eager attempts to create their own. One is 5 and 1/2, the other is 3 3/4 years old. I had to help with some aspects, but they were able to use (safety) scissors fairly well. The older grandchild morphed into making confetti, which further on turned into a wild throwing of paper, and when cleaning up (sweeping), it got wilder. They started adding jackets, socks, boots, mittens, and toys to the paper piles. [Not sure I handled that well, but they had fun.] The younger grandchild was a lot better with scissors than I expected. I made some snowflakes, too, and we taped them on the wall.

None of this would have happened unless someone had showed me how to make snowflakes. In this case, it was my older brother. After perhaps 63 years, I still remember that he was the one who showed me how. Later in life, I often made paper snowflakes in winter, even though much of my life has been lived in the San Francisco Bay area, where there rarely is snow. But they’ve often provided much pleasure and joy.

There are a few lessons that I think are valid to draw from this:

One, children remember time spent with them, doing something together. I suppose these can be positive or negative things.

Two, we can influence children for good or evil, positive or negative.

Three, spending time with children in a positive way is more important than buying them things. Playing with them and interacting, praising them for any positive accomplishment, can be a great encouragement to them. (Some toys that they can interact with creatively on their own, are very useful, though. In general, I avoid most battery operated toys.)

Four, time spent teaching something positive is never a waste.

So, let them know you’re interested in their life, what they are doing, and encourage the good things. Sometime, even when you’re tired or exhausted with the children in your life, make the effort to interact. [But, I would add, if exhaustion is a pattern, get helpers and find creative ways to overcome that.] This can apply to other relationships. It is well worth it.

More Crimes of My Youth

I was about eight years old. It was probably just after Halloween, and I went over to my neighbor’s to play with my friend Joey. Maybe we were comparing our candy hauls, or he was just showing me his. I don’t know what possessed me, but when he was out of the room, I took one of the candies: An orange wax candy harmonica, a real prize. (They are making a comeback: see https://woweewaxwhistles.com/.)

I’m not sure how I got away with it, but I took it home, and presumably ate it.

But, I DIDN’T get away with it. His mom confronted me at some point, and asked if I’d taken it. I had to confess, “Yes”. The consequence was that I had to pay for the candy or buy a new one. That one smart mom prevented me from ever becoming a future thief.

Tenth grade: I was about 15. Again, who knows my motivation (just trying to prove I was grown up? boredom with school?), but I played hooky several times from class. Once or twice, it was biology, and another time I think it was geometry.

Eventually, my conscience caught up with me. Did I hear something about honesty in church? Did I already know deep down inside that it was wrong? Something caused me to confess to my teachers and to say I was sorry. I still suffered the demerits in my grades; however, the teachers did not hold it against me personally, and were actually quite kind.

How good it is to confess our sins!

Too Much of a Good Thing

My paternal grandmother Anna always kept a candy bowl full of Hershey’s Chocolate Kisses on a table in her home. It was a cut glass bowl through which you could see the tasty treats, and I imagine that sometimes the light would catch the cuts in the glass and make it glitter. Sometimes, mixed in, were the mini candy bars such as Krackle or Mr. Goodbar. Grandma also sometimes had available bags of chocolate chips, in her kitchen. I visited grandma perhaps once a week, in my younger years from age eight to 24, I think.

I’m not sure of the clinical definition of an addict, but, in some way, I’m probably a chocolate addict, to my detriment.

So one week, grandma, for whatever reason, gave me a whole bag of chocolate chips to take home, I think the six-ounce size (could it have been 12?). I’m not sure what I was thinking (or not thinking), but I ate the whole bag within an hour or two, not likely aware of possible consequences.

Soon enough, I began to have terrible stomach cramps. My mom took me to Kaiser emergency in Richmond, California. I recall the green walls of the hospital and the examining table. At first the doctor was puzzled, not sure of the cause of my discomfort. He started to talk about appendicitis and possible surgery. Somehow that sunk in to my dense mind, and/or he asked me what I had eaten recently.

When I told him that I’d eaten an entire bag of chocolate chips, then the doctor understood. My mother was very angry, more at my grandma than me. I don’t know if she had it out with my grandma or not.

Needless to say, I’m very careful these days about how much chocolate I eat.

Restoration

[Inspired by recent observations of furniture restoration,
 restoration of old homes, and boat repairs.]

Sand the nicks and fill the cracks,
Stain and varnish, maybe wax.
Smoothing, repairing, filling holes,
Some furniture — renewed from old.

Abandoned home, so full of junk,
Rats and mice, and smelly stuff.
Maybe gutted to foundation;
Now begins the restoration.

A leaky boat; it can’t be used,
A hole-filled shoe; it’s been abused.
A crack-ed window lets wind in;
Repairmen will transform these “sins”.

So take my soul, O Lord, renew
The parts that have rejected You.
Renew, refresh, and cleanse, until —
My soul with You is one again.