The Boy

 

The Bridge Player

 

Wake up son, it is time to play bridge with your grandma.

His mother tells the boy on a cold Saturday morning when other boys his age are bundled up in their bed to catch up on their sleep from going to school all week and staying up late playing on the computer.

Wake up son, you have to have breakfast before Mr. Manny picks you up.

Saturday morning it is bridge in Seaside.  It is a relaxed game with friends (older friends most over 60 yrs of age).  On Monday the game is in Long Beach, Washington (never been there except to ride the beach with my Dad) but they tell me it is the most challenging game in the area. 

Tuesday and Thursday the game is in Astoria.  Those games are tough with real good players.  Most are Life Masters.  That is this boy’s goal is to be a Life Master and maybe someday even a Grand Master like his teacher.

Wake up son, your bridge teacher is here.  Today you are playing at Ann and Gill’s house and it is Sunday.  They will feed you dinner after the game.

Wednesday and Friday the game is back at Seaside.  All the great players are there: Doug and Gayle, Sue and Robert, old man Kurt, Lui and Monica, Sue and Rob, and my buddies John and Rick. Our goal is 40%.

Remember son, after swim practice this afternoon, you are playing bridge tonight with Mr. Manny in Astoria. The boy asks Monica, “How should I bid this hand? “

And on the way to the car after playing 20 or 24 or 28 boards, the boys puts his little hands up for a HIGH Five and another successful morning, afternoon, night of Bridge with his friends at The Club.

Remember, “There are only 40 points in a Deck”.

Good nite son.

 

That Boy, That American Boy in Cuba

That Boy, That American Boy (From Cuban trip #2 July 2011 with American friends from DC) That boy, that American boy with eyes so curious, with a smile so wide Only 15 and yet so grown up Playing basketball with Men who have experienced Castro's Cuba Playing with Men who also once had curious eyes and wide smiles, but now are hard by 50 years of communist state A boy with so many questions even though he has study his history in school A boy who follows his Dad's footsteps so close they are like one His father brought him to Cuba to see first hand the failure of a communist system They have travelled the world all over but yet this seems like the first time to another country A boy who wants to take his first sip of cerveza but looks closely at his hero for approval and then gives that ugly face we all did when we had our first beer A boy with so many questions about math, about Cuba, about life A boy whose very words brought me to tears when he said, "I wish I have brought some of MY clothes from my closet to pass out to the kids on the streets" And yet this boy is very different then the boy I met on my first poem about Cuba This boy will have everything he can ever want A Father, a Mother, a brother, a basketball team, and freedom to grow as he wishes A life where he can learn about the people of the world and vote for whomever he likes when he turns 18 (soon very soon) And in the end, on his way back to freedom, he buys a souvenir for his Mother always look back for his Father's approval.

Poems - Boys will be Boys

A collection of Poems about Boys being Boys

(dedicated to my two boys Brandon and Austin born 1986 and 1990)

There Comes a Time (Mark Twain)

There comes a time in every rightly constructed boy's life
when he has a raging desire to go
somewhere and dig for hidden treasure.


When I am grown to Man's Estate (Robert Louis Stevenson)

When I am grown to man's estate,
I shall be very proud and great,
And tell the other girls and boys
Not to meddle with my toys.


But the Boys grew Big and Bolder (Edward Dyson)


But the boys grew big and bolder
one, a sturdy, brown-faced lad,
With his axe upon his shoulder, loved to go to work "like dad",
And another in the saddle took bush-bred native's pride,
And he boasted he could straddle any nag his dad could ride.


A Fairly Bright Boy (John B.S. Haldane)

A fairly bright boy
is far more intelligent
and far better company
than the average adult.


Be Happy, young Man (The book of Ecclesiastes)

Be happy, young man
while you are young, and let your heart
give you joy in the days of your youth.
Follow the ways of your heart....


Willaim Shakespeare

Tush ! tush ! fear boys with bugs.


John W. Whitehead

Children are the living messages
we send to a time we will not see.


Dr. James Dobson "Bringing up Boys"

He's just a boy.
And in case you haven't noticed, boys are different than girls...
Haven't you heard your parents or grandparents say with a smile,
"Girls are made out of sugar and spice and eveything nice,
but boys are made of snakes and snails and puppy-dog tails" ?
It wa said tongue-in-cheek, but people of allages thought it as based on fact.
"Boys will be boys" and they were right !


George Crabbe

He tried the luxury of doing good.


Frances Hodges Burnett "Little Lord Fauntleroy"

But it so happened that nature
had given to the youngest son gifts which she had not bestowed upon his elder brothers.
He had a beautiful face and a fine, strong, graceful figure;
he had a bright smile and sweet, gay voice;
he was brave and generous, and had the kindest heart in the world,
and seemed to have th power to make every one love him.


Charles Dickens "David Copperfield"

But there was such an influence in Mr. Wickfield's old house, that when i knocked at it, with my new school-books under my arm, I began to feel my uneasiness softening away.
As i went up to my airy old room, the grave shadow of the staircase seemeed to fall upon my doubts and fears, and to make the past more indistinct.
I sat there, studily conning my boooks, until dinner-time (we were out of school for good at three);
and went down, hopefuly of becoming a passable sort of boy yet.


Willian Lyon Phelps

Nature makes boys and girls lovely to look upon
so they can be tolerated
until they acquire some sense.


Ralph Waldo Emerson

There was never a child
so lovely but his mother was
glad to get him to sleep.


James Hogg "A Boy's Song"

Where the pools are bright and deep,
Where the grey trout lies asleep,
Up the river andn over the lea,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Why the boys should drive away
Little sweet maidens from the play,
Or love of banter and fight so well,
That's the thing I never could tell.

But this I know, I love to play
Through the meadows, among the hay;
Up the water and over the lea,
That's the way for Billy amd me.


Walt Whitman

We two boys together clinging,
One the other never leaving,
Up and down the roads going --
North and South excusions making,
Power enjoying -- elbows stretching -- fingers clutching,
Arm'd and fearless -- eating drinking, sleeping....