I was never good at Math;
I’m still not. . .
and some have actually said,
“It’s because you never applied yourself!”
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. . .
Maybe
but
THEY SAY
Math is pure
and it explains everything. . .
T H E Y
don’t know
e v e r y t h i n g. . .

5 + 4 = 9
but so does
6 + 3
and
8 + 1
or even
10 – 1
and many more options
so how exact is Math;
HOW PURE. . . ?
and more:
WHO IS RIGHT?

W a i t. . .
W h a t. . .
are we talking about Math,
a n y m o r e

S O M E T I M E S
the things
that aren’t so
E X A C T
that can’t be
F I G U R E D
give you the most wonderful
a n s w e r s
without showing your work
( but actually/factually living IT )
How about them, Apples?

Hey. . .
How’s
YOUR
M A T H
. . .go figure!

It was a big inside and outside game we all played when we got together.     .     .

in fact, it always seemed like Easter

was that Official call to bring FAMILY

together and start the

Spring-quickly-into-Summer activities.

I was G O O D. . .

REAL GOOD. . .

So Good that the Game would sometime END without me.

Hide and Seek

I had a real classic hiding place–

(Psssst: Don’t tell anyone)

It was underneath my grandparents front porch–

their old coal cellar.

I think it was so good,

because even if someone opened up the door,

it was too dark to venture down there.      .     .

Real dirty like too,

with Spiders and centipedes and other things

I never learned the names.

There was a real part of me that hoped I’d NEVER get found

and a part of me that
was really hurt when

I      D I D N ‘ T      G E T      Found.

Mr. Borchert, lived across the street and he always sat on his front porch,

listening to Pittsburgh Pirate ball games on his transistor radio.

He never gave me up or paid me much mind.

L i t e r a l l y,

when the kids would move on to the next street to play

Kick-the-Can or

Red-Light, Green-Light

and leave me without so much of an

A  L  L – I  E ,       A  L  L -I  E ,       I  N       F  R  E  E ,

he’d spy me coming out,

dirty and hurt from underneath the Front porch and yell over,

“They didn’t find you again,”

as an offered up badge of honor,

but it never stuck much.

I  WAS  MAD.       .       .

H U R T

We all kind of want to get

F     O     U     N     D

don’t we?

NO.        .        .

Not FOUND OUT.         .         .

just   F    O   U   N   D

Not many ever really continue the Search.          .          .

in spite of some really great Hiding Places,

We often give up the Search much too early.

Maybe we get bored easily.     .     .
Maybe we get redirected.     .     .
Maybe we get misdirected .      .     .
Maybe we get sophisticated.     .     .     .

But.       .       .

but we all yearn for the call of

A   L   L – I   E ,        A  L  L – I  E        I  N        F  R  E  E ,

don’t we?

To be Counted
To be IN
To be Included
To be Important
To be Recognized
To be Found

TO BE.          .          .          .

What’s your Game?

Are you winning?

Have you lost?

Have you given up   P L A Y I N G   long ago?

Have you been  FOUND

(o u t) ?

S h h h h h h h h.      .      .      .

Listen.     .     .

It may be far off, but still just barely audible

.     .     .heard above the

T    H    U    M    P    I    N   G

of your heart in your ears that’s caused by getting

F      O      U      N      D.       .       .

or just not hiding as well as you thought!

No matter.          .          .

The Game’s over and you’re

H O M E.     .     .  

F  R  E  E!

Seriously,

there’s   no   better   feeling   is   there?

THEN,
NOW,
Maybe FOREVER:

There was a real part of me that hoped

I’d NEVER

get found

and a part of me that’s
really hurt when I DIDN’T. . . .

Apples,
Peaches,
Pumpkin Pie,
Who’s NOT READY
Holler,

” I “