City Ducks

Sue with white duck, Jan and Ann with brown ducks.

   I wrote this poem as part of a series on pets we had when I was growing up.  The variety of pets we owned in Iowa is a testament to my mother’s love of animals.  That legacy continues with stories of pets that my children have had, too. 

  The ending of this poem is a happy note that we made the right decision for the ducks.  But as a child, I was sad that the ducks did not come to us or seem to remember us.  

Important note:  I do not endorse giving baby ducks or chicks to kids for Easter, unless the family lives on a farm.  I recently read an article about a duck rescue org that gets flooded with Easter ducks when the family realizes how much care (and poop scooping) they require.  Some people think these ducks can just be released at a pond or lake, but ducks do not usually survive the transition from tame to wild.  It's just as abusive as abandoning an unwanted cat or dog.  So please do not consider this a promotion for giving ducklings as gifts.

City Ducks by Janet Sobczyk, 2012ⓒ

One Easter I got a gift,

a most unusual gift,

a cute little baby duck.

My sisters got ducklings, too,

and we loved them as our own,

three baby ducks for three girls.

We didn’t live on a farm,

Dad was a city banker

and Mom just loved animals.

The ducks stayed in a small pen

in our warm basement at night,

and played outside everyday.

Their little fuzzy wings grew

and sprouted long, sleek feathers

which they flapped and learned to fly.

From our shoulders they took off

and then fluttered to the ground,

like proud mamas we helped them.

Ducks in the city, oh my!

Cars would pull over to watch,

It was an amazing sight.

When they became fully grown

we knew they needed more room

to swim and fly and be free.

So we took them to a farm

and said our last sad goodbyes,

we hated to leave them there.

But we went back to visit

and found our three ducks swimming

on a pond with their new flock.

This blurry photo is my daughter, Andrea,
 with a duck she was given
from her camp's taxidermy collection.

They looked happy and took off

with dozens of other ducks

soaring up into the sky.

Lucky the Leprechaun

This is a lantern poem.  The lines have syllables from 1 to 5, which creates the shape. It's about a small St. Patrick's Day decoration that I display on a little shelf in our bathroom each March. 
  
One year the leprechaun started moving around the room.  I never knew for sure who was placing it in different spots each day, but I suspect my husband started it and the kids joined in.  It has become a bit of a tradition that the leprechaun moves each year.   

Last year I took photos of his "antics" and then shared the story with the first graders where I work.  I could honestly tell them I've never actually seen him move, but somehow he ends up in different places. Their reactions changed from disbelief to excitement when I showed them the photos. 

Some students thought the photos proved he was real, like the characters in  the movie, "Toy Story," which come alive when people aren't looking. They named him Lucky and wrote sentences about him.  Their illustrations were priceless.  :)

Lucky the Leprechaun

by Janet Sobcyzk, 2012ⓒ

Green

Plastic

Moves unseen

Surprises me

Where will he be next?

Lucky on our shower door

 

Celebrating Heritage

Some schools celebrate St. Patrick's Day a little differently.  Instead of everyone wearing green, students are encouraged to wear the colors of their heritage or an ethnic costume.

In 1998 this is how my two daughters looked in Polish heritage costumes (not authentic).  They took homemade Polish cookies to their classes as a treat.  

Found old photos!!

At long last my old photos have been located and I have had fun inserting some into my older posts.  Check them out  by going to my blog archive at the left.  Click on "2012" and go to the posts in June, July, and November.  Gotta love old photos!

Silence and Forgiveness

The season of Lent brings my thoughts to things I regret and want to do over.  It's a time of starting fresh and improving oneself.  It's a time to give up bad habits and cultivate good ones.

I want to share this small story of forgiveness because it may inspire others to mend old relationships, too.

"Pop-pop" and me, approx. 1962

Silence and Forgiveness  by Janet Sobczyk, 2012ⓒ

Grandfather was called "Pop-pop" by his grandkids.  Maybe it was a childish way of saying Papa. I don't know for sure who started it, but that was his name.

When I was little I enjoyed taking walks around the block with him and his Chihuahua or riding with him around his small town.  He had a habit of reading every sign to me, which I didn't mind too much as a child.

When I was fifteen, Gramma died suddenly and everything changed. Pop-pop found a new lady friend and married her.  He didn't seem to have time for his grandchildren anymore, so I just stopped talking to him.

It went on like that for years.  Just silence between us.  And lots of distance since we lived in different states. I didn't think we would ever bridge the gap.

But when I grew up and got married my perspective changed.  I could understand the loneliness he had felt and his desire for a wife.  My heart softened.

We never spoke about our feelings or apologized.  We started with hesitant smiles and then polite conversation.  By the end of his life I could hug him and mean it.

I am so glad that at his funeral I felt peace.  No more bitterness or regret.  Just peace and a comfortable silence.

Happy St. Valentine's Day!

This is a paper mosaic picture that Andrea made.
 It reminds me of my valentines to loved ones floating out to them like balloons.

Valentine's Day is my favorite holiday because I enjoy being able to give people little expressions of my love without the big expense and long to-do list of major holidays like Christmas.  I also need that visual pick-me-up of pink and red during winter's bleakness. 

I know that this day can be a cause of sadness for some people who feel unloved or lonely (I've been there).  But by focusing on surprising others, it becomes joyous.  So.... spread the love and enjoy the day!  

PS:  Feel like a poem about married love?  Go into my blog archive to Sept 6 to see Phases of Love, which has been one of my most-viewed posts.

My Calendar, My Self

My Calendar, My Self  by Janet Sobczyk, 2012ⓒ

This is my collection of 30 calendar diaries: 1983 to 2013.

A new year lies ahead

waiting to be filled

like the blank pages

in my calendar.

Some calendars are small

fit in a pocket

with tiny spaces

for one person’s life

Some are on a bright screen

and filled line by line

with a small stylus

or quick keyboard strokes.

There are also planners

with daily pages

and hourly spaces

and a to-do list.

Wall calendars are big

with a pretty scene

or playful photos

so nice to look at.

But a mom’s calendar

has to have large squares

to coordinate

the entire household.

Mine is like a tall book

and contains the lives

of children and spouse

and my own life, too.

It’s written day by day

and month by long month

soon the pages fly

another year gone.

It becomes a record

to be kept each year

and looked back upon.

It’s my diary!