in the criminal justice system the people are represented ... these are their stories

a recounting in verse of what happened two nights after thanksgiving -

twas saturday after thanksgiving, when all through the house
only two cats were stirring, one stalking a mouse.
the doors were all locked, brinks system alarmed
in hopes that none of the residents would be harmed.

the visiting parents were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of peaceful sleep danced in their heads.
and kristin in her sweatpants and i in my shorts, had given up our bed – my aren’t we sports!

when several blocks away there arose such a clatter, four rapid fire gun shots through the silence did shatter.
jolted awake, our eyes open in a flash,
with bated breath, we waited for the parents to dash.

with a ring of the phone, we were summoned upstairs,
the mother recounting the crime, not a detail she spares.
she was straightening the bed, when the shots did ring out,
like flash to the window, she sprang, have no doubt.

by the light of the moon, she clearly could see,
a non-descript man with a gun held at three.
realizing her folly, she fell to the floor,
failing to notice if he walked through a door.

“now Sherlock! now Watson! now, doctor scarpetta!
on, poirot! on, sam spade!, on mrs. jessica fletcher!
to the sidewalk we go! To the scene of the crime!
grab your coat! bring the torch! the spent shells we must find!”

“now mother, the shots were afar, it’s the middle of night.
there’s nothing to find, you’ve had a real fright.
the police have been called, it’s their job to comb the streets.
let’s all just go back to bed, get you tucked in your sheets.”

and by morning, though the sun was shining bright,
the mother was focused on the events of the night.
we reasoned, and pleaded, but couldn’t unstick,
mother’s memory, of a crime by a non-descript prick.

as we gathered outside, standing by their car door,
our neighbor, passed by, on her way to the store.
when asked of the shots, she calmly replied,
“it didn’t happen near here, it was not on our side.”

with a quick turn, mother glanced at the sidewalk,
clearly hoping for spent shells and starting to balk .
kristin and i shared a quick look, it had became rather clear,
there shall be no more crime novels, for mother this year.

(thanks to ellen for the brilliant idea of coopting the classic poem and thanks to kristin for help with the verse, but most of all - thanks to my mother!!)

an instant thanksgiving classic

my parents are visiting from upstate ny for thanksgiving. they arrived yesterday evening and will leave on sunday morning. not a lot of time, but we'll cram in as many memories as we can - and boy did the cramming begin early this thanksgiving morning. we hadn't been up for an hour this morning when a knock came at the door. it was nanay boo (finally learned how to spell her name), one of my favorite neighbors. she was in her pajamas and came to borrow a ladder because she had locked herself out of the house. i tried to tell her that our six foot ladder would do her no good since she lives in a second floor apartment, but she took it anyway.

my parents, the cute ones from upstate ny - the ones who don't necessarily have a lot of experience with the likes of nanay boo - just smiled as nanay boo left and my mother remarked - "she is beautiful isn't she? does she have a job?" to which my father, without missing a beat, replied - "yeah, on the street." the best part was that his response was so matter-of-fact with no judgement attached - like he'd seen it a million times before!

soon nanay boo returned to give back the ladder - which didn't work - and asked if she could use the phone. the phone was to call 911 and tell the operator that she had locked herself out of her house and that her entire thanksgiving meal was on the stove and in the oven. she described in great detail the turkey, greens, and macaroni and cheese that would be the cause of an inferno that would soon engulf an entire city block should the fire department choose not to immediately respond. (of course there was no food because she was going to her mom's for dinner.) about five minutes later the sirens could be heard rounding the corner and i looked out the window to see the approaching hook and ladder - and nanay boo waiting ever-so-nonchalantly, cigarette in hand, on the front porch.

would i like to be a fly on the wall next friday when my parents go for their weekly dinner date with their lifelong neighbors and the neighbors ask - "so tell us all about your trip to dc!"