I did this drawing while waiting for Sydney at a beauty salon called MO Hair.

Smelly Cat

Sydney got her hair done today. We laughed about how we have each heard people say, "I got my hair did". It seemed like old times for me. Syd and I have spent many Saturday mornings at the salon. There is no other experience like the African American Salon.

I always get curious looks, as you don't see too many Black Men taking their daughters to the beauty shop. Of course, I get all of my instructions from my wife. Over time I have learned phrases like, Wash-N-Set, Doobie, Kiddy Perm, Touch-up, etc. I don't pretend to know what all that means, and because we are dealing with a black women's hair, I simply say what I am told to say, and no-one gets hurt.

After the doobie, we spent an hour or so at the "Smelly Cat". I wouldn't be caught dead at a place with a name so, well -gay, unless I was spending time with my daughter. Smelly Cat is a beatnik style coffee shop in the artsy district called NO DA, short for North Davidson, While we were there I brought back another tradition from my past with Sydney. While she was reading I did a sketch of her. I like how it came out. This is one of numerous drawings I have done of her over the years. Most of which, coincidentally were inspired and executed at a coffee shop. More often than not the coffee shop was Starbucks. Good coffee, a fresh sketch book and an afternoon with The Syd-Meister - Life is good!

As I wait...

I examine my hands to discover a tar like grit beneath the nail on my left index finger
I enlist the pointed corner of my opposing thumbnail to chisel away the unwanted soot.

The exercise proves therapeutic - even gratifying
As when eliminating the descending alien attackers in an ole school video game
Like crossing off an eight-letter word (having a percussion sound) for boredom - in a crossword puzzle

After a moment of review all nails check out positively
Then, with one last stroke of my thumbnail my impulse to groom is well satisfied
And I rise from the doldrums just as the light changes to green

Out of Season

When words are true
The fewer the better
Or perhaps no word need be spoken at all
Less one might hold you to the letter

When silence is long
Imagination is unleashed
The twitch of an eye carries a world of meaning
And every gesture is laden with scheming

Where passion lives
So lives bitterness and despair
Love and envy come to occupy the same bed
With today’s insatiable desire
And tomorrows frailest care

In the absence of virtue
Emotion overrides cognitive reason
Nobility gives way to common indifference
And honesty is a fruit born out of season

Its both and...
It’s all of the above
Six of one, half dozen of the other
It’s here nor there
Dollars to donuts

When shall I get out of bed?
What will I eat?
Where shall I go?
And who will I see?

Will I be faithful?
Will I be true?
Will my hands give way to fear?
Will my heart bow to my mood?


What will I wear today?
Is it time for work or for play?
Will I speak the truth I need to say?
Or will I give room for dismay

Am I a Prince?
Am I a God?
Will I walk like a King?
And live as a fraud


Bread or Wine
White or red
Bitterly resigned
With pleasant regards

To smile or to grimmest
Through pain and discomfort
To repay with forgiveness
Through trials grow tougher

It’s both and...
It’s all of the above
Six of one, half dozen of the other
It’s here nor there
Dollars to donuts


Whatever may be your lot
When you have no say in the matter
Choose the state of your mind

Be Blessed

How blessed are the lips that come with a kind word
Share a kiss and a gentle answer
Trade your stone for the bread of grace
Let kind words fill the air — Let peace rise

Blessed are the hands that care for the poor
Hands that serve when others walk away
Caring for the wounded and the fallen among us

Remembering to trust — when none else would
Blessed are the eyes that can see his brother’s sadness
Blessed are the lashes — that bear a lonely tear

Somewhere a song has lost its meaning
In the shadows a melody plays out of key

God bless the arms who reach out to the dying
Stretched out hands that give to the poor
Blessed are the feet that run into battle
Who love the masses, and honor each one

Somewhere a runner has lost his footing
Somewhere a champion loses heart

Blessed is the lamb who heals our diseases
Wondrous and mighty — He governs all day long
Bless the Lord, O my soul be still

In every way, be blessed
Be happy and blessed — you and yours

Let every heart be blessed this day

Christmas in Grey

This Christmas I rose to a pouring rain
Steady, driving, and persistent rain

It pounded on the rooftops and it danced on the street
Rain raced down the limbs of the trees
Clearing away the remaining leaves

Everyone dreams of Christmas in white
Still on and on - the showers came
On and on - it rained for a while
And as the showers continued the ground was soaked
With the worries I carried throughout the year
All the landscape was stained with shades of grey

I never imagined a Christmas colored this way
I never imagined a Christmas in grey


The clouds persisted well past the exchange of gifts
Like soulful holiday medleys the showers continued in rhythmic fashion
Smooth and steady - Syncopated like a drum line

Everyone dreams of a white Christmas
Yet on and on, the showers came down
Heavy and strong, it rained for a while
And as the rain continued my mind was soaked
With concerns over matters not my own
With memories old, and once hardened
While others were laughing, joyous and loud
I sat and stared, and thought for a while

I never imagined a Christmas colored this way
I never imagined a Christmas in grey


The swollen drops parading down the window pain
Echo of swollen wishes - falling unceasingly
Like the tears cried in secret
Still the chilly waters drive on and on
Marching through my private thoughts
Combing through confusion - and righting what was wrong



Everyone dreams of a white Christmas
And on and on - the currents rise
On and on - it rained for a while
And as the hours rolled by, a new vision was evoked
This Christmas came with a new perspective
So I sat and stared, and thought for a while

I never imagined a Christmas this way
I never imagined a Christmas in grey

Where old demons die with old ways
Where lies like leaves from a tree are stripped away
Where the world is colored in a way outside of tradition
And people consider others without predisposition
This Christmas came with the pouring rain
Steady, driving, and persistent rain

It pounded on my fears and dashed away defeat
Rain raced down branches of hesitation
Clearing the way for new decisions