Blog | Pat Durmon, Poet

PAT DURMON, POET

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I Salute Grandparents!

I Salute Grandparents!

It’s a huge job. Tiring and joy-packed, if you have the nerve to take it on, if you are willing to live out the role. No money in this kind of work. Just purpose and love. I remember when grandkids were little and fought over our laps. I still can throw back my head and laugh as I recall three of them clamoring for one lap. They call us Mamaw and Papaw, but the name doesn’t matter a twit. We would’ve answered to Meemaw and Peepaw or Nana and Pop just as well. What matters is

Hubcap

Hubcap

It’s Wednesday evening. Light is dimming in the sky. During normal times, we are picking up children in a van for church. Today is abnormal. Church is closed. Children are staying home. We are staying home. Last Wednesday night, we asked the children to help us look for a hubcap in the ditches. (Our church van lost one of its hubcaps.) My husband, the driver of the van, thought we’d probably lost it on one of the dirt roads. So, we offered a dollar as a reward to the first on

Shocked

Shocked

Another event—cancelled, postponed, put away, put aside. The stores are out of toilet paper? What? I am shocked. I might have been less surprised if it had been a computer virus. I’m always being warned about computer viruses. Norton keeps me in the loop. But a virus that hits the body? Not at all expected. Yesterday I was told by a reliable source that there are four strains of the coronavirus. And today I read that there are actually seven coronaviruses. Really? A lot to pr

Greetings!

Greetings!

Gone for several days. When I returned home, it was early evening. Half-expected the dogs to be spinning and gleeful, but no thoughts about the daffodils! Only buds when I left. Now laughing and rabble-rousing! Full blooms! If you aren’t a flower person, you may not get it. It’s okay. There’re lots of things I don’t get. But those of you who know what it’s like to suddenly wake up to forsythia stars and daffodil trumpets in gala attire—well, you know…. Pure joy to be greeted

Never Enough Rocks….

Never Enough Rocks….

According to the great philosopher Forrest Gump, “Mama always said life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.” There’s one line from the Forrest Gump movie I hang onto. There’s never enough rocks…. Was that the heart of the story? No, I don’t think so, but it was the heart of one of the sub-plots. Throwing rocks was the beginning of the healing process for his best friend Jenny, who’d been sexually, physically, emotionally abused. Forrest cared ab

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