Tag Archives: memoir

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This fabulous painting, “Reef,” was created by my artist/writer/poet friend Richard Bledsoe. He posted it on his Facebook timeline and I commented that it had a nice “Hey, let’s put on a show!” feel to it and asked him what his asking price was. He messaged me the price privately, and I told him that was a bargain. Sold!!

So yesterday Richard and his wife and soulmate Michele met me at the Fair Trade Café, right off the Roosevelt light rail stop in the heart of Phoenix, Arizona, to transact and snack. We all had bagels. Richard and I had ours with jalapeño and hummus, and Richard and I had coffee. Michele, whose heart goes out to all animals, especially the unfed and/or distressed, fed torn-off bagel bits to the birds (Sparrows with just a touch of Ravenous Vulture). In an hour that seemed like five minutes to me, we talked about mushrooms, psilocybin, Robitussin, flies, distressed kitty-cats and birds, Mystery Science Theatre 3000, Richard’s work as an upper-echelon Small Business Accounts Complaints Department for a major financial institution, Michele’s work with adults on the autistic spectrum, painting from memory versus painting from a photo source, loss (Michele’s father and my father both died of heart attacks at 49), and my wish to include them in my Volume III of my “Eminent Poets of Greater Phoenix” series. I left rather abruptly (“Welp, got a train to catch!” and by running some I was able to board just before the doors closed) with the heartening feeling that Lifelong Romantic Love is not only possible, but manifest in this vibrant pair of lovebirds. The life that they have forged together is truly thrilling to behold.

Richard has a thoughtful, incisive blog about art, artists, art history, and art philosophy. Here is a link:

https://remodernreview.wordpress.com/

Michele has a website for her work with autistic adults. Please visit!

https://www.seedsforautism.org/

A Friendly, Self-Compassionate Reminder

December 27, 2021

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A Friendly, Self-Compassionate Reminder

27th of December.
Tons to do!! Four days!! I know
It behooves me to remember
Finish Lines of long ago.

2021 1227 marathon finish line b n w

August 19, 1984. More than a year of training led to this moment. Two steps away from crossing the finish line at the San Francisco Marathon. There were more than ten thousand finishers. In the upper right, in the crowd, the one person whose head is not turned to see who’s coming next is my friend Thomas Christopher Sing, my classmate at Glendale Hish School, later to be the Best Man at my wedding on December 10, 1988. On March 3, 1991, Tom’s wife Mary (now, alas, deceased) and I both ran in the 1991 Los Angeles Marathon.

2021 1227 l a marathon
Every Finish Line we cross is
Yet another Starting Line.
Every win offsets the losses.
Each new challenge fills the stein.

On March 21, 1993, I was a finisher in the Tucson Marathon, with a time just under 4 hours and 30 minutes. I never was biomechanically suited for long-distance running, but I measured my achievements by the effort I put into them, and I’m proud of what I have done.

Competition has its place but
Satisfaction drives contentment.
Pay attention to your pace, but
Ditch frustration and resentment.

There are still Marathons in my life, but only in the metaphorical sense. What I learned from the three literal marathons I finished, 26 miles and 385 yards in San Francisco, Los Angeles and Tucson, is that endeavors that require the deepest commitment, and the most prolonged and profound effort, yield the most meaningful and valuable results. Whatever I accomplish between now and the end of 2021 will put me at the Starting Line of 2022.

The Love that Persists for Decades

December 22, 2021

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2021 1222 letter to connie from jane

A long time ago, in a neighborhood far, far away, my parents Jane and Harold Bowers entertained friends at their house on Pasadena Avenue in Glendale, Arizona. Two of them were known to me as Connie and Chuck (or Connie and Charles, as some had it). (There were also Hank and Eileen, Tom & Marlene, Mae & Bill, and any number of others.) In the really early 80s my parents were divorced, and a natural consequence was that some long-term friendships fell by the wayside.

Be that as it may, Connie Wetzel and my mother Jane Bowers Stoneman had a deep, abiding love for each other. This was brought to my astonished attention when, a bit over a week ago, I opened one of those “hey, someone wants to communicate with you” messages on Facebook Messenger that are usually some kind of scam. But this one was no scam. With the gracious permission of Connie’s son Dan, who sent me the message, here is the message and the exchange that followed:

December 9, 2021
10:05 pm
Dan Wetzel

Hello Gary. This is Dan Wetzel. My Parents are Chuck and Connie Wetzel. Your Mom was one of the first friends my mom met here in Phoenix. My Mom has been thinking about your Mom. She remembered your name too so I looked you up here.

December 16, 2021
10:14 pm
You sent
Hi, Dan. I am sorry to say that my Mom, Jane Bowers Stoneman, passed a little over a year ago. Please tell Connie that Mom loved her with all her heart.

I remember how glad my parents were to have your folks over. And though it’s been a half a century or so, I still remember Connie’s message on the back of a paper Bingo card:

Money’s tight
And times’re hard
So this is this year’s
Christmas card.

Mom put it on the Christmas tree, she loved it so much.

Thanks for reaching out, Dan. Please give your Mom my best regards.

Take care,

Gary

10:51 pm
Dan Wetzel
I’m sorry to hear about your Mom Gary. My Mom loved Jane as well. I was young but do remember her. I will tell my Mom. Thanks Gary for getting back to me. It will touch Moms heart when I share this memory (the bingo card) with her.
Take care

Dan

10:52 pm
You sent
Thanks, Dan.

And then this morning Dan sent a pic of a letter Mom had written to Connie, with this note:

December 22, 2021
10:10 am
Dan Wetzel
Your Mom gave this to my Mom for her birthday. My Mom and Your Aunt Peggy (your mom’s aunt) shared a birthday

Mom’s note was hard to read, so I photoedited it. As best I can transcribe, here is what it says:

11/24/1980
Monday

This piece of collectible, signed, Lalique glassware was my Sixth most meaningful material possession.

At one time it belonged to Aunt Peg, whose birthday you share.

It is my wish, NOW, that it belong to my dear, beautiful, Regal Connie/Concepcion.

With Love,

Jane

PS this feather and this wrapped box are so you will remember how much you are loved. Destroy any of it, the love will remain. Please examine them closely at your leisure.

And bless his sweet, Loving Son’s Heart, Dan Wetzel demonstrates to me, just a bit after the one-year anniversary of my mother’s passing, that the love DOES remain between Mom and her dear friend Connie. As Dylan Thomas wrote, “Though lovers be lost, love shall not.”

Best wishes for this Holiday season, Friends. You are loved.

the overarching question

November 9, 2021

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I’m in Saint Louis, Missouri, on an adventure. And when I told my friends about it, poet Perry Sams observed that both T. S Eliot and William S. Burroughs were born here. Yesterday that sprang to mind when I went on a pedestrian pilgrimage from where my traveling companions and I are staying to the majestic St. Louis Arch. Suddenly the passage from Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” superimposed itself on my closeup sight of the Arch: ” . . . To lead us to an overwhelming question . . .” And the Arch was telling me that such as question will be an overARCHING question as well.

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The Arch communicates nonverbally. It may be asking if “What goes up must come down” is valid, or if a gleaming tribute to parabolas is its own reward, or if large-scale focal points of attention may enhance a global psyche. A true Overarching Question might endure over time and cultural change.

Reader, I invite you to ask your own Overarching Question. You have lived long enough to ponder and wonder. What question keeps you awake more than any other? What issue would make you happiest if resolved?

And I further invite you to imagine putting that question to the Arch Itself, just to see what happens. It costs nothing, and, who knows, the Arch may have something to convey. It certainly spoke to me, though not in words. And it made me smile.

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last clockout at mbb

September 21, 2021

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Five years, nine months, and twenty-nine days ago I began my employ with SSP America, one of two firms that manage the restaurants of Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport. Today at 2:46 PM I ended that employment by clocking out at Matt’s Big Breakfast, next to Gate B5 at Terminal 4. I left on good terms, with the Big Boss, Tommy R, managers Maria, Denny and Eduardo, bartender Sadie, servers Jenna, Netty, and (especially) Melinda, utilities man Juan, and my cashier replacement Esperanza all wishing me well. It is a good ending.

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Here I am with Ninette, whom we call Netty. That’s my mask between us, hanging from my left ear.

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This is bar lady Mercedes. She prefers to be called Sadie. She posts wonderful pictures of her family on Instagram. She also has cracked me up with jokes that are unsuitable for children. And I’ve tried to crack her up as well. Many of the jokes I’ve told her are older than she is.

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Here is utility man Juan, who showed me pics of the coastal city in Argentina where he was born and raised. I told him today that he looks a bit like the “handsome British actor” Anthony Hopkins.

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And here is Melinda, whose skills as a server are so pristine that my own mother, the Diner from Hell, the Original Karen (OK), the late, great Jane Bowers Stoneman, would ask for Melinda by name when she was working at Lone Star Steakhouse. Melinda is known as the Finder of Stuff and is heavily relied on for that, among many other things. When I told her I’d post her pic she said, “Tell everyone that I’m the one who gave you Covid.” (Possible, but unlikely,) I may miss her most of all.

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The lady pointing at the “Usual Suspect” is Maria W, who has managed our restaurants all over the place. I have the utmost respect for her. She runs everything from 10Ks to ultramarathons and has for many years. She is hard to keep up with. 🙂

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And here I am with the Big Boss, Tommy R, who manages the managers. He is like Heimdall, Bridgekeeper of Asgard, in that his eyes see everything, everywhere. The buck stops with him. And it was to Tommy himself that I surrendered my airport badge and the Micros card with which I clocked out for the very last time.

I’m proud to have put in more than five years with SSP, and so happy to have made so many restaurant friends. I will stop by and say hello as a traveler when I plane-trip my way out of Phoenix. I wish all my colleagues the utmost success, and will miss them profoundly.

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My Improbable Big Breakfast at Matt’s

September 19, 2021

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Today, against odds, I DIDN’T clock in at the airport’s Matt’s Big Breakfast, and DID enjoy Steak and Eggs at the Camelback/32nd St. location…of Matt’s Big Breakfast.

I showed up to work, punctual as always, but when I tried to clock in the screen said “You are not on the schedule.” It had been saying that all week, because new manager Penny was still learning the ins and outs of scheduling using our Micros POS. (POS allegedly stands for Point Of Sale, but it can stand for other things too.) Today, though, by my clockin time we already had both a host and a cashier. Both were new but capable.

Penny offered to send me to Four Peaks, another SSP restaurant, to work my shift, but I told her I’d just as soon go home. And on the bus ride home it occurred to me that if I stayed on past my stop, the Camelback/32nd Street stop was a quick walk to the Camelback Matt’s. And today is Sunday, and the Sunday special is Steak and Eggs! Which I never get to have because I work Sundays! Matt’s, here I come!

And the meal was glorious. Though I don’t think it’s right being a carnivore, and fully intend to vegetarianize in the not too distant future, before he went to the Great Beyond Warren Zevon left the human race instruction to “enjoy every sandwich.” That goes double for Steak and Eggs, and home fries, and sourdough toast with strawberry preserves so good that what didn’t go on the toast got ingested the same way John Belushi inhaled the Jell-O in ANIMAL HOUSE. Best meal I’ve had in months.

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Here’s a sketch I just did of Matt and Erinia “Ernie” Pool, the originators of Matt’s Big Breakfast. They look much better in real life, but I got nervous when I sketched them. They were super nice to me the times they visited the airport location when I was working, but I learned that when Ernie says “Could you do me a favor?” it is diplomatic code for “You guys screwed up.” 🙂

spirit on the lift

September 19, 2021

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This September I’m showcased at Bookman’s Entertainment Exchange, and on September 29, 2 to 3 PM, I will be there at a Meet the Artist event, making free sketches and doing a demo on acrostic poetry creation. My last work day at Matt’s Big Breakfast/Airport is the day after tomorrow. The good feeling I have now is captured in the 11th line of Shakespeare’s Sonnet XXIX: “Like to the lark at break of day arising…” Hope you are equally, Friends.

Irreversibles

September 16, 2021

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A few things happened and are happening to me in the last twelve months that are irreversible. I cannot not have had Covid, for instance. I tested positive in mid-August and went through a week and a half of fatigue and mild misery. I made the choice I was offered, to get a monoclonal antibody infusion, and now I experience what I am pretty sure are side effects from that infusion: almost every day I get an itching, especially in my hands and feet, upper arms and ankles, and every few days there is a numbness in my forearms or face as if they were wrapped in mildly electric wool. And the literature I got relating to the infusion said that there might be side effects, and itching due to anaphylaxis was mentioned.

Months before I got Covid, though, in late March, my daughter and I became estranged. No details, Friends, for privacy’s sake. But there it is, and it’s more negatively impactive than the Covid. I was hoping we’d resolve things long before now, but we may never. And she had been the most important person in my life.

And now we come to the photo above. You see a drawing I made today, and my airport and employee credentials. A little over a week ago I sent this e-mail to certain managers at SSP America, the company I work for:

****
Subject: Graceful Exit (two weeks’ notice)

Priority: Important

From: Gary Bowers

To: Jake W; Maria W; Tommy R; Linda W; William H; Lieryn J

Sent: Sep 7, 2021 4:46 PM

Dear Managerial Friends,

It is with some wistfulness and regret that I hereby tender two weeks’ notice of my exit from SSP America. I have had a thoroughly wonderful time in my five-plus years with you fine folks. But two things have become acutely obvious in recent months. The first is that the physical and logistic demands of my job with my hours are taking too much away from my creative endeavors. The second is that I am running out of time to do the many things I need to do before my time is up. I’ve just turned 67, and the meter is running.

Bless you all and thank you for all you have done for me. I have a headful of memories I will cherish always.My last day of work at SSP will be September 21, 2021, two weeks from today.

My very best regards and wishes,

Gary Bowers
Host/Cashier, Matt’s Big Breakfast

Here are Jake and Linda, two of the managers who got my e-mail. They are fine people to work for, and I am going to miss them terribly.

As for the drawing, it isn’t very good. I have not done much sketching since my Covid episode, and this was forced. But it seems to reflect, even in the forcedness, a sort of Yin/Yang dynamic that is part of the mix when things change.

Hell Own’d

Here&Now I am hurt so
Even snakes don’t get so low
Loss of friends & sacred kin
Leaves me lost & feeling skinn‘d

Hay Bud

Haboob
Aperçu
Yarrowstalked

“A river is never the same,” says the ancient wisdom, and so it is with our lives.

Emerging Blinkeyed from Covid Caverns

August 21, 2021

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On Saturday, August 14, Banner Urgent Care called me to let me know I had tested positive for Covid-19. Pfizer vaccinations had in April were an insufficient bulwark for the ravaging hordes. So from that day to this I have dealt with a debilitating fatigue and up to two days ago there was also a dryish, yappy-dog-persistent cough.

A few days ago I received a monoclonal antibody infusion, intended to keep my mild symptoms from worsening. I had no side effects and my cough went away. Coincidence?

The second most creative-energetic thing I did during this episode was this Covid Edition To-Do list. I never got around to that Laundry Prep, but I’m doing the blog post now.

As for the most creative-energetic thing, here it is. On an index card I describe what has happened to me and advise myself not to succumb. I didn’t.

If I can get to noon tomorrow without a fever, my quarantine ends and I will totter back out into the world, overjoyed to be among the living. Be CAREFUL out there, Friends!!