Ninety minutes of smiles

I attended poetry reading Sunday hosted by the Just Buffalo Literary Center. They held it at a glen, in Buffalo's Silo City, under at Cottonwood tree that is probably older than all of poet's ages combined. Times four. The readers and writers ranged in age from 13 to 18 and in every case - each one - surpassed my expectations. I am not an easy audience. Writing is serious business for me. And yet every participant left me moved, touched, grinning or thinking. 

Sometimes, when I'm writing advertising copy I purposely flip over my notes. I let time pass and see what sits in my memory. What holds the value of recall. These were the grains of gold that stayed in my pan:

"My voice is a grain of sand on a beach" Keira Lorelei Van Der Beck. 
"Every 10 days a country celebrates their freedom from British rule." Theo Bellavia-Frank. 
"It's easy to feel tall in a shallow pool" Nzingha.
"You are a tower of book spines" Zanaya Hussain.

I looked the author names up later, after deciding what resonated. I had access to a online collection and I am really thankful for it. There were even more pieces in the album to provoke me, make me want to read. 

The event was called Hope Blooms from Shattered Roots. It's a strong title except these young people showed strong, sturdy roots drinking in all the literary nutrients they could find. If they ever were shattered, they healed quick . . . like the young can.

Swinging my machete

 

I want to walk around swinging my machete. I like doing it and it is my right. I like exercising that right. Grocery stores, movie theater, concerts at the Town Ball Room – I want to walk in swinging and swing whenever I feel like it. My intention is not to hurt anyone.  Still, I will swing wildly and at random from my truck, through the parking lot, into the dollar store and out again, swiping back and forth and back and forth. I’m not worried about swinging near children. I tend to swing high and they tend to be short. I’m not worried about swinging my machete near old people because they are old. Why do I like swishing my machete in wide arcs as I move through life? That’s personal. What if I nick, cut or slice someone along the way? That is a matter of their personal responsibility. This is the land of freedom.  Express that freedom. Revel in the freedom. Swing your machete. Or bat or axe or even just your firsts. Don’t let anyone tell you no. They are trying to control you and that’s a slippery slope. If you let them stop you from swinging a machete, soon you will find yourself on a collective farm raising quinoa for the elites. Fight it now. Swing, batta batta batta, swing.