What’s Love Got To Do With It?

Tina Turner sang the song of the summer in 1984, and no matter where one went it seemed that her hit, What’s Love Got to Do With It ruled the airwaves.

Studly Doright and I were coaching a girls’ softball team that summer, and our all-star team had qualified for the regional tournament in Weatherford, Texas. On one of our off days, we took the girls to a water park in Arlington, Texas, where Tina’s hit seemed to be playing non-stop. Our son was tagging along on the trip and we couldn’t get enough of the tune.

The song begs the questions, “what’s love, but a second-hand emotion?” and “who needs a heart when a heart can be broken?” Both are fairly deep topics for a pop song. I can’t address the first question, but in regard to the second one, a heart is absolutely necessary to survival. Perhaps I’m being too literal, though.


It’s still a great song, even if we’re not sure of all the answers. Love’s like that, you know.

Peace, and love, people.

Oldie #4: Cleaning Bathrooms and Taking Names

Home of the baby-sized Coca Cola.

Oddly enough, my stint as an unpaid and unacknowledged bathroom custodian is one of my fondest memories of childhood. Fun Fact: John Cowsill, who was the object of my pre-teen desires, is still going strong as one of the drummers for The Beach Boys. 

Hope you enjoy this old tale from the early days of Praying for Eyebrowz.


Summer Day on the Farm

Plucked me an apple
Firm and red,
Forked up some hay
To store in the shed.
Climbed an old oak tree
Surveyed the land,
Scratched a mosquito bite
On skin smooth and tanned.
Hitched up the pony
To a little red cart,
Hied to the meadow
Where I left my heart.
Played chase in the rows
Of slender bean stalks,
Slipped out in the dark
For a sweet summer walk.
One brilliant summer day
From my innocent past
Lingers forever
In my memory vast.

One summer, maybe when I was eight or nine, I took a trip to California, Missouri, with my paternal grandparents. I remember very little of the trip except one magical day spent in the company of a distant cousin whose name I cannot remember.

Even as I near the great age of 60 this day stands out as one of the best of my life. I hope this simple poem conveys a little of the wonderous experience.

Life Changing Invention

Forget Jonas Salk, Eli Whitney, George Washington Carver, and Thomas Alva Edison. Sure, they were great inventors, but did a single one of them think to create this?

  Finally, some enterprising genius has invented a poolside chair that will allow one to suntan one’s back without compromising comfort. No more deciding which side of the face is going to get sunshine while the other side is plastered sweatily against the chair. No more aching neck. No more abandoning one’s book while working on a complete tan.

I’m seriously considering plunking down the $99.99 (plus $10 shipping) for one of these ergonomic delights. Or, maybe my children would go in halvsies on one for my 60th birthday. (October 5, hint, hint)

Here’s the catalog:

 Note the 1-800 number. 

Peace, people!

Summer Night

Long hot nights cruising Main, driving super slow with the windows rolled down, 

The radio cranked to a soft rock station. Witchy woman sing along; see how high 

She flies. Loose limbed, loosed tongue, necking in the backseat to Eagles’ live

Rendition. Good girl says whoa. Bad girl says go. She’s got the moon in her eyes.

Traffic slides by, wraiths on a river; heavy breathing, heavy petting. Hearts beat in

Sultry unison. Hands discover new delights. Tick tock. Curfew saves the night.


Leaf Life

life had much promise
for you two seasons ago,
green budding leafling.

spring urged you forward
out of yearning innocence
a mere suggestion.

hot summer hinted
eternity can be yours
live forever leaf!

alas, autumn came
transforming green to orange
with one final stroke.

rest peacefully now
released from your life’s struggle
to crunch underfoot.



She passed away
on a sunny
summer Sunday,
not a single cloud
in the sky.
No time for
regrets, tears,
or laments;
only just enough
time to die.

After all these years
And all those tears
With all her scars
And baseless fears
She always thought
Or hoped I guess that
Death might give some
notice, some alarm
at the last.

Instead she smelled
honeysuckle on the
wind and for some
reason heard
the dull roar of
thunder on this
cloudless day.