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Blog archive

September 2026

August 2026

Triumph Over Tragedy
08/31/2026

Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained/Lost
08/30/2026

A Gallery of Neighbors: The Village Art Group’s Group Show
08/28/2026

A New and Improved Way to Stay Safer Online
08/28/2026

A Trip to The Geffen Galleries
08/28/2026

Barrier Free Living - A Path to Living a More Independent Lifestyle
08/28/2026

Conversations with Art
08/28/2026

MESSAGE FROM THE PRESIDENT
08/28/2026

Member Connections with Music Conductor Bill Bing
08/28/2026

Pasadena Heritage Walking Tour
08/28/2026

In Their Hands
08/23/2026

Ease of Being: Managing the stuff of everyday life
08/20/2026

A Tribute to Fire Debris Remediators and Their Super-Sized Dump Trucks
08/18/2026

Really Irene?
08/15/2026

There Is A Risk
08/09/2026

2026 Year in Review
08/03/2026

A Message From Your Newly Elected President
08/03/2026

Neighborhoods Within the Village
08/03/2026

Reflection from PUSD Intern Isabella "Izzy" Roberts
08/03/2026

Reflection on Service & Joy from 2025/26 President Dick Myers
08/03/2026

The Villager Engagement Team Welcomed 54 New Villagers
08/03/2026

Treasurer’s Report
08/03/2026

What Activity! The Cultural Activities Team Report
08/03/2026

An Even Exchange
08/01/2026

July 2026

June 2026

May 2026

April 2026

March 2026

February 2026

January 2026

Requiem for the New Year by Mary Karr

By Jim Hendrick
Posted: 07/14/2025
Tags:

Requiem for the New Year
BY MARY KARR

On this first dark day of the year

      my daddy was born lo

these eighty-six years ago who now

      has not drawn breath or held

bodily mass for some ten years and still   

      I have not got used to it.

My mind can still form to that chair him   

      whom no chair holds.

Each year on this night on the brink

      of new circumference I stand and gaze

towards him, while roads careen with drunks,   

      and my dad who drank himself

away cannot be found. Daddy, I’m halfway   

      to death myself. The millenium

hurtles towards me, and the boy I bore   

      who bears your fire in his limbs

follows in my wake. Why can you not be   

      reborn all tall to me? If I raise my arms

here in the blind dark, why can you not   

      reach down now to hoist me up?

This heavy carcass I derive from yours is   

      tutelage of love, and yet each year

though older another notch I still cannot stand   

      to reach you, or to emigrate

from the monolithic shadow you left.

🤠😋😌🤨😅☹️😊 This poem was read at A Poetry Gathering by Gary Smith 

This was the first Poetry Gathering at our new office space. 

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