Soap Box


There is a Guy on my job. A conscientious objector.  A one Man band.  Yes, this Guy. He spends his lunch hour in this corner at the entrance of the cafeteria with this sign, among others.  When he first started this crusade he was hell bent against the war in Afghanistan. At the time of this picture, a few weeks ago, the U.S. relationship with Iran was his concern. Today it was

” say no to drones, the evil that will come home to roost”

This made me uneasy. I heard myself saying “Jesus, I need to change my lunch hour”, as I read this. When saying so, all the ills he addressed should make me uneasy. This latest one though, got under my skin.

How many one man bands do you suppose it takes to affect change? I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one he had that effect on.







slipped off the periphery

no longer balancing on the edges

in too deep

letting it all in

distances have been breached

there will be nothing of myself left

I will be dust

and they will carry on

time to shut it down





Westinghouse Vocational School (2)

This past week has been weird. I found myself on more than one occasion reminding myself to go see how my father was doing. This past October marked the second anniversary of his death.  I couldn’t look at him lying in that coffin. That was a conscious choice. I wonder, if I had, would I now be having these very much alive thoughts of him?  Or would my thoughts be blunted by the stark reality of him lying there, not looking like himself. Who knows.  Well pops, wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, you are clearly in my head. And it is nice to have an ‘alive’ vision of you outside of that box.