An old man strolled through autumn leaves
Waving slowly 'fore his path
A wand to guide his watchful steps.
Were it not for earphones
Clapped upon his graying head
And a tiny garden spade
Warming in his gnarled hand,
I'd have thought the man was blind;
Yet blind this man might well have been
For all that he refused to see;
With eyes feasted on the ground,
He looked for copper, bronze, and gold.
A rusted bauble on a chain,
And perhaps, some pocket change
Lying 'neath the colored leaves
Was an afternoon's hoard…
And a splendid reward…
For several hours spent
With his back bent to the sun.
'Twas a shame he could not see
The wealth amid the shining trees…
The leaves turned golden by the sun
Falling near his outstretched wand
Yet of no value in his eyes.
After all his sightless quests
Are only shreds of memory,
This man shall have no hoard of wealth…
Only pennies in his hand.
The golden fragments in my mind
Are wealth beyond an earthly price;
For ten million copper pennies
I'd not trade a single thought.
Lauren Isaacson
October 24, 1984
Oct. 25, 1984… I made Mom and Dad's bed, but neither seemed to take note. That's OK, each probably thought the other did it!
Oct. 31, 1984… I love Halloween… I carved two pumpkins after Dad cleaned out the internals for me. Sick, sick, sick after supper; I get so depressed. I decided to write a poem; I wanted to cry, but it would've taken too much effort. Time is better spent writing.
Yesterday's Dreams
My heart is filled with salty tears
My eyes shall never shed
And my mind reflects the many roads
These feet will never tread…
Forgotten and exhausted dreams
And those that cannot come to life
Are buried like the husband
Of a newly widowed wife;
So while the dreams of yesterday
Shall never be exhumed
Perhaps those of tomorrow
Shall defeat the moldering tomb.
Lauren Isaacson
October 31, 1984
I've been thinking about Halloween as I knew it. I loved it so, even though I didn't care much for the candy. It wasn't such a worry then. Now everyone's scared; afraid some weirdo will put a pin or poison in the candy. They even X-ray the treats. Dear Abby feels "trick or treat" is a threat! Most kids wouldn't know how to trick someone. . . when Dad was a kid they put entire hay wagons on top of barns or tipped over the out-house. . . soaped windows and often were dunked by the inhabitants of the house as they stood under an upstairs window pulling their rat-a-tat-tats! They deserved the cold soaking.
Nov. 1, 1984… My stand on immigration, abortion, and criminal justice would probably classify me as nothing short of an inhumane and prejudiced killer. I have my reasons, however. I believe there must be quality in life or life is simply existence. Population growth hinders peace within humanity, and chaos results, not happiness. Abortion saves children from neglect, inherited negative patterns of behavior such as moral outlook and personality traits that would be given from the mother and the erstwhile father. Finally, one who violates or murders another person does not deserve life, for he gave his subject no choice; in innocence the victim lost his life.
Nov. 5, 1984… Mom and I enjoyed an amusing situation today while running some errands. Moline's 23rd Ave. is under construction, and a truck hauling tar pulled in front of us. A red light stopped us behind the truck, it's exhaust chokingly black. A workman was standing along the curb, engaged in conversation; when the truck started up again, it blew black smoke directly into his face. He noted our sympathetic amazement concerning his predicament and immediately stuck out his tongue in the direction of the truck, thus portraying his disgust of the entire affair! Some of those little shared moments can "make the day"!