Construction Destruction

This is a true story of what is happening behind my house as the town is proceeding to put a greenway path where once a forest stood.

The Greenway (Under Construction)

Like dinosaurs from another time, the yellow jaws of the machinery loomed,

Heavy equipment moving into the neighborhood:  Every tree was doomed,

They clear-cut a wooded area with mighty oaks that were healthy and strong,

I couldn’t help but think that their decision was so very wrong,

For 30 years, we’ve watched these trees grow right where they were standing,

Now they fall without regard, with a loud “thud” they are landing,

It breaks my heart to see them go, all in the name of progress,

A walking path to be had… but now there is no forest!

It is “To better the community”, we were told by our growing town,

“If you don’t like it, you could have sold; the trees are coming down”,

The backyard we raised our children in now has such different scenery,

A busy road and traffic light, no greenery, just machinery!

In time, I am sure the wounds will heal, and we will appreciate the path,

But how long will it take to grow trees that looked just like that!?

Not in my lifetime…I must say, it really is a pity,

Questionable sacrifices are being made for the benefit of our city,

Enormous concrete pipes are being hauled even as I write,

A constant reminder of destruction is always within sight,

Yellow earth-moving machines are working when I wake up each day,

And I hear them before I see them, and smell the soured thick red clay,

Change is inevitable; I don’t question that is true,

But the mighty oaks are sadly missed and even the pine trees too,

Make way for the greenway:  an exercise opportunity for the townspeople,

Nothing will replace the thick green forest that stood tall like a church’s steeple.

Tammy Harvey

Written:  5/15/2019

The Elusive Sock Mystery

The Sock Conspiracy

That elusive stray sock, where does it go?

The one missing in each dryer load, you know,

It is a mystery that is ages old,

A timeless question, when I begin to fold,

My laundry was kept intact in the hamper,

Each day dirty clothes were added; I’m a happy camper,

Then into the washer and into the dryer they are put,

All at once, there is no mate for my left or right foot,

Take your pick, one foot or the other is always left out,

I’m sure you know what I am talking about,

I have a theory or two, I’ll share with you:

Maybe it’s bizarre, but maybe it’s true,

The sock maker added a secret dissolving agent, I'll bet,

But only to one sock in a particular set,

That sock dissolves in water, leaving the other without a mate,

(I’m aware it is a long shot that is up for debate),

But this scenario would lead the consumer in need of more,

I’m sure there is a conspiracy with the retail sock store,

Or, Maybe, just maybe, the sock is hiding somewhere,

Because a few loads later, it magically appears out of thin air!

Just when you’ve given up and thrown the stray one away,

The other one shows up- what can I say?

It is a head-scratching mystery as to where it was hiding,

Here’s my solution, I am confiding,

I have an idea to conquer this elusive stray,

Don’t match your socks, just grab two each day,

One for each foot, that’s all that is needed,

The elusive sock mystery will then be defeated!

Tammy Harvey

Written:  3/2/2019

PS- Socks don't have to match.

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

The Stadium

For me, it was Bill Meyer Stadium in Knoxville, TN,

Built downtown in 1953, demolished in 2003,

The sights, sounds and smells of a minor league baseball park,

Stirs memories of us arriving there an hour or two before dark,

As a child, the experience was like a dream come true,

The fold-up wooden seats stuck to my bare legs like glue,

The parking lot was covered in gravel; I remember it well,

The entrance had a freshly-popped popcorn smell,

The air was filled with excitement and anticipation,

For me, it was a Disney vacation,

The cinder block walls were painted with a fresh coat of paint,

The concrete steps were daunting, but without complaint,

We sat along the first-base line, beside the dugout,

We heard the players’ chatter, and their coaches shout,

Before the umpire behind the plate could yell “batter up”,

Many of them were chewing tobacco and spitting in a cup,

The on-deck player with a weighted bat or two,

Adorned in a helmet, watched the pitcher as he threw,

People yelled “head’s up” when a fouled ball came our way,

Prompting some to scramble to retrieve the illusive stray,

On occasion the ball was fouled out to the parking lot,

Causing spectators to gasp, as to whether their car was hit or not,

The concession employees strode the stadium, each selling their ware,

Hot dogs, soda, popcorn, but nothing could compare,

To the snow cone at the ballpark on a hot summer’s eve’,

It was colorful and cold, usually giving me a brain freeze,

The umpire yelled out balls and strikes; the scoreboard was magically kept,

And when he took out his tiny broom, the plate was nicely swept,

Each inning was announced with precise detail: runs, hits, errors, men left on,

At the seventh inning stretch was a familiar song:

“If they don’t win, it’s a shame!”

“For it’s one, two, three strikes you’re out, at the old ballgame!”

Tammy Harvey

Written:  2/27/2019

Bill Meyer Stadium

Age is a Number

Grow old with Me

Sagging, dry skin and dark brown age spots,

Getting older has changed my body a lot,

Wrinkles and rolls, a so-called muffin top,

Menopause with hot flashes that just won’t stop!

A fanny that’s flat and arms that are flabby,

Eyesight has failed me, and insomnia makes me crabby,

With extraneous hair growing off of my chin,

I’m feeling quite bloated, while years ago I felt thin,

My knees are achy, and it hurts to bend,

Ladders and staircases are no longer my friend,

My memory is faulty; I can’t think of a word,

I stop talking mid-sentence; It is really absurd,

High blood pressure and cholesterol are problems for me,

My apple does not fall far from my family tree,

Exercise and diet, lose some weight, I am told,

It gets harder and harder as I grow old,

Just let me complain, if it makes me feel better,

I’ll just sit in my rocking chair and knit me a sweater,

Or I could go outside, take a walk, eat a salad,

Grow old gracefully, that would be valid,

Try my best not to let age be a factor,

Be proactive about life and not a reactor,

I find myself hating the way that I look,

But I can’t turn back the pages of my storybook,

I am older and wiser, so all is fair,

Age is just a number, so I must be aware,

If I love myself on the inside, then the outside is swell,

Will I age gracefully?  Only time will tell.

Tammy Harvey   Written:  2/21/2019