Closet Disco Queen
I was a band nerd.
Not a rah rah. Not a geek.
And not a surfer.
That wasn’t my bag.
But I liked walkin’ the beach
and catchin’ some rays.
I wasn’t a drag,
but not all show and no go.
Like, can you dig it?
I was no brick house.
If I stuck out my tongue, I
looked like a zipper.
Not a dancin’ queen.
Didn’t have the moves, ya know?
(Just keepin’ it real.)
© Marie Elena Good 2024
May we learn by heart
that live is three quarters love
and one quarter “I.”
(c) Marie Elena Good 2017
CHURCH
Brick and mortar
house far too many walls,
as though Jesus
never came.
Image by Jeff Jacobs from Pixabay
The science proved to
the many eyewitnesses
that Jesus was dead.
More eyewitnesses
prove historically to us
that Jesus now lives.
#seventeenintwentyfour
Our hearts were lit the moment you were born.
This blue-eyed chubby cherub, ours to hold.
It seemed you brought with you a love well worn;
If you could speak, the stories you’d have told.
Your toddler legs gave movement toward your dreams.
But no, not near enough for your designs.
You needed flight to capture those moonbeams,
And wishes aren’t contained by boundary lines!
In thirteen years, you’ve hardly changed a bit:
You’re soft of heart, while strong of mind and drive.
You’re beautiful. You can’t contain your wit.
It’s our delight to watch you grow and thrive.
We see inside those laughing eyes of blue,
Intelligence and warmth reside in you.
© Marie Elena Good, 2024
Happy Birthday, Soph! We love you!
Nonna and Poppa
He created all that we are,
and are not aware of.
And so that we might “know,”
he created all things in opposite,
and extremes.
He created joy.
The unbounded joy in everything that is good and beautiful.
And sorrow.
The unending sorrow of man’s inhumanity to man.
He created heat
So searing, it turns all it touches into itself.
And cold
So penetrating, it can suspend the very essence of life.
He created the winds
With power enough to destroy anything man erects.
And calm
So still, even the spider’s web is unmoved.
He created love
So full and without reservation, that he gave us his son.
And hate
So destructive, it renders us incapable of love and joy.
And he created you.
You are joy.
The joy that brought balance to the sorrows of life.
You are love.
The love that reproduced itself in two beautiful children.
You are warmth.
The warmth in a world that often seems cold and uncaring.
You have been like a cool breeze,
blowing gently through my life.
And like God,
Who created all things,
I, too, will love you
Forever.
© James F. Fagnano
(Dad wrote this for Mom, for her 60th birthday.)
This audio clip is selected from a 1972 Poland Seminary High School band concert in Poland, Ohio, under the direction of my father, James Fagnano. The clarinet student featured is Ralph Lutz.
This was an extraordinary group of dedicated, passionate student musicians. Dad brought out the best in them — and they, in him. Over the years, I began to wonder if my memories of these high school students sounding more like a fantastic college or even professional musicians was simply overblown in my head. I’m thankful for these recordings. This band was every bit as good as I recall.
Per Kevin Cook, who, with Richard Woolford, kindly contacted me to get some of Dad’s music into my sister’s and my hands, these few selections are from “recordings made on Richard Woolford’s tape recorder, which Mark Kostyk made copies of and ultimately digitized. Since Rick was in band, Ralph Hutchinson served as the recording engineer. Kudos to Ralph for his diligent work. I contacted Rick and asked if he would allow me to share these recordings with others and he gave me his blessing.”
Guys, I can’t thank you enough. Warm smile and hugs to you all.
This second selection is titled Bugler’s Holiday (1972). The featured soloists are Loren Popio, Steve Alleman, and Karl Ivansen.
This third selection is titled Tone Poem (1970).
The fourth is titled Variations on a Korean Folk Song (1969).
I would love to share all I was given.
Each year, I choose a word.
Grace, joy, giving, hospitality, empathy, prayer …
You know, words that improve my focus
and my life.
Not one for resolutions,
the idea of a word of the year appeals to me.
It is simple. Embraceable.
I nearly chose prayer again,
but after much thought and, well, prayer,
I decided on open.
Open heart.
Open door.
Open to grace, joy, giving, hospitality, empathy, prayer …
Open.
And I’ll open 2023 in prayer
that my Lord will more fully open my heart
to His open arms.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
Prelude:
The wind is howling,
as temps dip low
and birdfeeders whirl and weave.
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.
We’re hosting here, I believe.
But we’ve a Bomb Cyclone
on our hands,
and it threatens to wreck our plans.
We’re dreaming of a white Christmas,
but not quite like the one on tap
where each wind gust threatens
to hurl its weapons
and blues fill our weather map.
We’re dreaming of a white Christmas,
with fam’ly here tomorrow night.
We have lots of yummies
to fill our tummies,
but safe travel’s not in sight.
We’re dreaming of a white Christmas
but winds are sweeping off the snow
‘til no treetop glistens.
White-out conditions
make car travel a no-go.
We may not have a white Christmas,
but we have power on inside.
Water pipes did not burst.
It could be much worse,
so we’ll take it all in stride.
Still hoping Christmas Eve happens
and safely we can gather here
for some much sought-after
food, fun, and laughter,
and we can spread some Christmas cheer!
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
Don’t Ask Me How
there are things my brain knows,
but doesn’t tell me.
Or maybe there is a disconnect
between this side of my brain
and the other side.
Like years ago
when I helped a friend bake
potato chip cookies
to take to my cousin later that night.
Somewhere, my brain knew he was
getting work training on the other side
of the country.
But not the part of my brain
helping my friend bake. That part
might as well have been with my cousin
on the other side of the country.
Or that time in the shower
an hour ago
when I was thinking about
hosting Christmas Eve,
praying the weather holds out
and guests are safe in travel. Praying
for these guests that are my family –
my daughter and her family
my cousins and their grown kids
and their little children
and the sudden slap of that’s all.
No grandparents. No aunts and uncles.
No parents.
Now, that’s us.
My brain knows this.
It intimately knows this information
that it didn’t share with me
until the shower started searching
for tears.
Don’t ask me how.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
pictured words 