Heaven Called My Friend Spencer Home...

Heaven Came and Called My Friend Spencer Home...

I shared this two years ago and today when I pulled up his sharings with me and others,

this is the first one that came up...earlier I had just opened Facebook and in the friends section, 

I noticed his picture and felt the need to click it...

To learn that Spencer Turnage had died...

My heart jolted and I cried...for a man I had never met in person...now, maybe someday... 
in the future, he will hug each of us in welcome as we join him where he now rests...

I had met him on Gather quite a number of years ago and then continued online 

interaction here on Facebook. During that time, he had lost his wife and much of his poetry 

told of that loss... Many of his Gather friends "gathered" around him...

Now he's saying goodbye...and I don't want to see him go...


He shared so much in his poetry...had all the women swooning...LOL...
But he  shared himself with us, always a true and gentle man
Who happened to be able to share his feelings and love to all of us...


I shall miss you much, my friend Spence.....You're now sheltered in the arms of 
His Greater Love!


Glenda

Love My Grits

Grits, they say with a start
as if they are a foreign treat
I love to have them with other food
in deeming them very good to eat.

Could care less when they react
like when they turn up their nose
Seems they never gave them a chance
but I can only guess or suppose.

I like grits as a side dish
often add a few chunks of cheese
and no matter what they have to say
they go down slow and with such ease.

You go a head and laugh
I'll enjoy my grits to a tee
whenever you refuse to a new taste
imagine grits are a pleasure to me.

Del Cano April 20, 2009

Grits and Bear 'em!

I well remember that first time
Grits were placed there in my face
It was eggs over easy I liked fine
But these eggs set in my place?!

Eggs over easy to my way of thinkin'
Was eggs turned over keeping the yellow soft
But these eggs were sliming and slinkin'
O'er half my plate, running buff!

Movin' toward what looked to me
Thrown up milk from one of my kitties
It merged with the slimy runny eggs
Whole plate was white, was this just a tease?

Taking a chance I peeked at my sis
But she was talking and eating fine
Scrambled eggs and toast, heavenly bliss
All I could wish, that plate was mine!

Looked across the table, friend noticed me
Do you know what that is, I was asked.
Shaking my "no" begging her "please?"
"Why that there's grits, dear, corn that's smashed!"
In a public restaurant, my Mom would' ve said "eat"
But with those runny eggs and rambling corn
Not getting sick would be my great feat!
I sat back on my chair, hungry, forlorn...

Just then our waitress must have saw my face
"Not done 'nuf, honey? No grits for you today?"
Almost in tears, I nodded with grace
"Scramble them please, and grits? No Way!"

G. A. Bixler, April 30, 2009

~~~

Thanks so much for all who shared their poetry. When Spencer sent me this one, I just knew I had my own story on grits to tell! I was my sister's "model" when she took her test for beauty school. We were having breakfast on the first day...all her friends who were going to be tested and their models. There were about ten sitting around a big table and I was the youngest. I can still remember my feelings when I had that plate set in front of me. I knew I shouldn't make a fuss, and the school was paying for our meal so I felt I should eat it...

Well, Spencer, seeing those running grits invading those slimy runny eggs...put me off grits...for life! And I think of that time every time my sister, Dee, and I go out to eat breakfast and she orders...grits... Not for me, Please!

~~~

The Skin I'm In

This is the skin I was put in
I was not given any choice.
Everyone else has words to say
while denying me my voice.

When I do speak my experience
they take the right to call me wrong.
How in hell am I supposed to grow
when hearing such a conflicting song.

This is the skin I was put in
predetermined before I was born
yet, I am often viewed with malice.
as if I had some devilish horns.

I am judged before I am known
strictly due to the skin I'm in.
Ignoring many human facets
which to me seems more like sin.

This is the skin I was put in
long before I could form ideas.
You who condemn my existence
owe me time now and in arrears.
Del Cano March 10, 2009

~~~

If I Get Cold

If I get cold tonight

will you promise to keep me warm?

Do I snuggle under the blankets

or the comfort of your arms?

If the winds shift to cool

and storms draw down on me,

will you snuggle me close up

making it all less chilly?

If I get afraid of all the charges there

can I count on you to love me

keeping sweet scents in the air?

If I get cold tonight

I'll count on you without guilt

and wallow in the comfort of us

together under the quilt!

Del Cano - March, 2009

~~~

One more for those of us who liked the fire...

http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6957929086575807165#editor/target=post;postID=8658561235565838570

Keep Writing Your Poetry, Spence, When we get there, we'll have lots of time to catch up with our reading...

Welcome Back To One of My Favorite Poets and Friends! Yay Spencer!

Near The Water

 

When life gets too heavy
and trouble taps my soul
I go visit near the waters
which play a soothing role.

 

When the rain comes pouring
drenches my emotional state
I go visit the flowing ripples
which helps keep me straight.

 

None can tell that voice
any better than I can
The hum of the river
calls out to this man.

 

Even the serenity of a lake
might sing a soft lullaby.
A spring-fed mountain stream
races cares goodbye.

 

Let me be near the waters
an ocean wave ebbing near.
Whispers messages from above
speaking directly in my ear.

 

Oh, I might carry my gear
rods, reels and lots of lures
Fishing is a by product
of my waterways tours.

 

Got to visit the waters
hear its whispered romance.
Knowing upon my visit
I get to have another chance.

 

Del Cano 2006 October

 

If Only For One Night

She kept saying,

"If only for one night".

Yet, after 25 years

she remained in sight.

So much time passed

though I had not seen

Life went by us

like on a video screen.

She kept on saying,

"if only for one night".

I didn't run her away

loved her with all my might.

Now that she's gone

though not out of sight.

It's me who keeps saying

"if only for one night."

Del Cano May 26, 2011

A Well Spring Of Emotions

There's a deep-seated need

in how I am craving you

perhaps a substitute of sorts

it penetrates me all thru. 

I have no idea all the reasons

but accept one as a fact.

Since having you in my life

my soul is coming back.

Feelings which I thought

had long been buried

now are springing up

like bouquets being carried. 

You touched something inside

a wellspring of emotions.

Now you have me smiling

with all the inner commotions.

 

Thank you, dear, I gotta say

feels like a new arising

how you reached in and touched

so very very surprising.

 

Life had done its thing

reeked havoc beyond knowing

till you came along with your love

spread it on me like snowing.

 

Del Cano

Spencer is an ongoing

contributor to Book Reader's Heaven!

I'm so happy to have him back, doing better

after recent surgery. Please extend thoughts

and prayers to my friend...

Find Spencer on Gather.Com and Facebook! 

He is not only a wonderful poet, but is an 

active community leader (in my book!)...

Delcano Shares Latest Poetry - Morning Thoughts...

Morning often brings thoughts

From life’s yesterday’s show

As the sun rises on the horizon

recalls visions I wish to know.

Days of love and romance

Creates a lovely thought

Children growing up

With mysteries we taught.

Morning brings the melancholy

Years of life going by

Tingles of feelings wearing

An occasional tear in the eye.

So many yesterdays gone

piled on the rock of love’s bed

memories ride on past

like movies playing in my head.

New born babes, adults passed

Friends gone whose memories thrive

And I appreciate knowing

I remain kicking and alive.

Mornings often bring thoughts

Of the life I’ve lived so far.

Being thankful for the memories

Keeping me one of the stars.

Del Cano May 12, 2010

Guest Blogger: Truth Was A Tragedy of War - Spencer DelCano

Its amazing how those of us who were there saw different sides of the war. I was there from April 67 thru May 68 and like most of my comrades, saw atrocities which our brains had difficulty assimilating. Few of the reasons we were told why we were there was truth. There were often orders to do things which had nothing real in relationship to the outcome. General C. Abrams ordered Marines to take a hillside which was miles away from any logistically beneficial location and after hundreds of young Americans had been slaughtered he gave it up. I can't count the incidence of graft and theft we witnessed when attempting to secure supplies and equipment for operations while being told we'd have to wait.

Parts of my nightmares which persist include an incident which happened near AnKe, an old French strong hold, where we had been pinned down with a handful of ROK (Korean soldiers) in a valley near a large hillside. Mortar rounds were continuously lobbed at us from the hillside but our 81 MM rounds could not match their distance. Our calls for back up and rescue fell on deaf ears for nearly a week until one Sunday morning we saw two choppers in the sky heading our way. We were jubilant thinking they were the leads for our rescue. Nope, it was an inspection team who came to check my vehicle records. Huh, in the middle of an attack a team can show up to look at my vehicles but not bring help nor supplies? When the Lt. Colonel told me his purpose as I broke the salute I attacked him as if he were the enemy. At that moment, he was to all of us. It took a half dozen Koreans to keep me from killing him on the spot.

They left but two days later a team returned to arrest me for hitting a field grade officer. They secured the site and dropped bombs on the hillside to clear it. I had no idea the very officer who I attacked was involved in a huge trade for profit of US supplies. The very supplies and equipment we often had in short supply. Being aware of the Uniform Code of Military Justice one can request counsel from one of equal or higher rank. The officer I called upon who had served with me in Texas showed up and told me not to worry. He was one of the graft investigators who had been checking on the situations we had complained about.

The next day I was ordered released with all charges dropped. Being afraid of assassination I refused and demanded a trial. For about three days I was offered a rank increase to E-6 and additional combat pay to leave without a trial. I was too scared for my life to accept anything without a recorded court hearing. I was exonerated at trial in VietNam and sent to a cushy relay site for my last few weeks in the war zone. The Lt. Colonel received, at the time, what we considered a slap on the back but in the early 70s I read where he committed suicide at some reserve post in the South. His rank was the same as it was in VN.

I've said this to agree with your point that though we may have been in the same war zone we do, in fact, see different sides of it and are affected in different ways. It has nothing to do with being against the US as some have said but a lot more to do with being a young impressionable person who believed in the ideals the government set forth yet presented us with totally different realities once we arrived in country.

Whatever realities you might have does in no way erase those of mine. You can't take away the images in my brain of seeing a working village today yet the next day seeing only the remains of it smoldering when only US troops were in the area. The horror was only added to by the powers that be trying to make us believe the atrocity was committed by communist troops from the north though our troops were the only ones there the day before and today. Somehow we were to believe that those horrible Viet Cong invisibly showed up, destroyed the village, and then faded back into oblivion. No way, even to a young still naive soldier serving his country.

This article, with all its intellectual pinning, can only address the issues as someone or groups of ones have written and been allowed to fuse into the minds of those who have no idea what they are talking about. Those of us who experienced VietNam with our bodies and souls could care less about some argument as to whether or why the war was initiated or advanced nor by what treaty. Our leaders told us a damn lie and hundreds of thousands still live with that lie while hundreds of thousands died for that lie about VietNam. Yes, truth was and remains a casualty of that war.

~~~

I am always amazed, although I don't know why, that this war is so memorable for all of us...the feelings have never gone away for those involved. Unfortunately, the corruption didn't begin or end with Vietnam, but there are now more people willing to speak out!

Bless you, Spencer, and may you find your nightmares slowly disappearing even though it takes sooooo long!

A "Short" from Follower Spencer DelCano - Wheelchair Undercover!

I could see the silhouette of the person rolling the wheel chair a block ahead of me. What stood out in my mind was how many people stopped to engage him. Often there was a quick hand shake as he rolled on in the same direction as me. I never gained on the distance we shared so the images remained about the same. Intermittent waves while pumping the grip on the wheelchair. At a point he faded from view.

I lost thought about the man in the wheelchair until I crossed Newstead Avenue just passed the bank approaching the library. Suddenly his silhouette became a live photo of someone who was used to moving about town rolling in his chair. Bright engaging smile, small talk about the game, comments about women and a freedom of spirit uncommon to many in this depressed economic area. He gave me a lively greeting, “good morning, sir, a great day it is”. I waved my normal response to a stranger and walked in the library.

While I read through a few poetry anthologies one of the librarians who was a regular flirt started commenting about all the recent drug arrests in the area in the last month or so. For some reason the wheelchair man came to mind but I shelved the idea. Nope, not him. Could it be he was undercover? I hadn’t seen him around before but so many had moved in and out of the area in recent years I could have easily missed his arrival.

A while or so later on my walk back home I used the other side of the street so I could stop in to speak to Mr. Cox, the ageless tailor and laundromat owner who years ago made shirts and suits for me. His eyes had gotten bad so he stopped making and repairing clothes but kept the laundromat open. Mr. Cox’s figure created a friendly shadow in the doorway as the winter sun beamed through the cold air. How you today young fellow? Out for a walk again? His eighty plus years made just about all of us young fellows to him. After we chatted about basically nothing for a few minutes I resumed my walk toward home with a faint thought of walking around the lake in Fairground Park. I had already covered about a mile and wasn’t in a mood to add another one walking around the lake.

As I approached Fair Avenue I saw the wheelchair man just across from the park. I considered that he had covered at least the same territory as me while vigorously pumping the wheelchair. Something began not to feel quite right about his presence but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I didn’t want to belabor the point but it kept needling at my thoughts. A few years ago while serving on the Police Community Relations Group we used a number of deceptive fronts to lure illegal drug buys and were awarded with a number of arrests and convictions. The whole neighborhood had been quiet and fairly calm since though I had heard rumors about recent activity.

I did walk to the park but crossed the first limestone bridge crossing the lake which reduced my trip by about half. I could still see the outline of the wheelchair east of my location as I made my approach to the western edge of the lake and back to Fair Avenue on my way home. The two blocks from Natural Bridge always was a welcome spot letting me know my exercise for that day would be over in a few minutes.

Once home I had trouble getting the wheelchaired man out of my mind. His image and friendliness almost seemed out of place but I might had become a bit too sensitive after so many years of being a spotter, block unit captain and neighborhood stabilization officer. I heard unfamiliar voices just off my driveway and peeped out the window. There was the wheelchair man lifting his chair into the rear of a black SUV which I recognized as one of the Drug Task Force vehicles. My initial thought was correct especially after hearing him say, “Yep, I had a good day. We’ve got a number of suspects to watch.”

***

Guest Spencer DelCano Asks An Important Question!

Are Christians Suppose to be Poor Servants of God/Christ?

Most my life I have heard people speak in various terms about wealth, money and otherwise, as not being the will of God. It has always made me wonder how they could figure this gracious God could possibly want his servants to be paupers in the world. When it is an accepted fact that believers are charged with spreading the Word, are they expected to walk around to talk about their great Lord? Are they expected to nearly starve because it is the way of their Lord? Are they supposed to live in shacks because they are supposed to be poor?

I think not. I can’t and never have been able to wrap my mind around that sort of mentality. No one can make me believe this omnipotent God I serve wants me to be the dirge of society especially when he is charging me with spreading his Word. Haven’t enough people thought for themselves that no real God would want his message spread which tells others he is a God of poor outcomes and his people must be slaves to as little of the world as can be.

I actually believe this misunderstanding comes from those who claim to be Christians not studying the Bible, but either listening to misguided preachers and others or simply having a false grasp of their own understanding of the Word and have missed plenty of details in the Bible which counteract this theory of Christians needing to be poor if they are going to serve their God. I find just the opposite to be true from my study.

If we look at Joshua 1: 7 & 8 we see God speaking to his people about being courageous and strong where ever they go and following the commandments spoken by Moses as received from God they will be prosperous. Furthermore He speaks of the book of the law (commandments) which they should meditate on day and night that they should do accordingly and become prosperous.

In Deuteronomy 7: 12-16 God is telling his people if they follow his commandments He will enrich them, love them, bless them greatly and increase their riches. Is this something too many miss in their reading (not studying) of the bible? Some will say it’s just the Old Testament and means nothing in the teachings of Christ.

Am I to believe that God wasted his time laying out the laws and commandments which would be manifest in the New Testament with the coming of The Christ? I think not. If we look at sections of Mark with the idea in mind that Jesus was known to be a homeless wanderer by many (even today) we see hints of information which is contrary to those beliefs. When he was asleep in the boat while this great storm arose and frightened his disciples I am sure many miss a little tidbit. The scriptures say very clearly (Mark 4:38) he was asleep in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a “pillow” and they awake him, and say Master, carest thou not that we perish?

I have heard ministers preaching on this topic but all of them skipped right over the fact that there was a pillow mentioned in the bible yet no one addressed. My mind asked if this Jesus was a homeless person where did the pillow come from. Why was it mentioned in the bible? Why might it be important? Poor, homeless people normally do not have pillows.

As we read more in the Book of St Mark we see plenty of examples where Jesus is moving from place to place which has a few obvious results. It lets his disciples know he is not just yet in the process of building a kingdom. At least not building the sort of kingdom which most would consider. That the three years of his visit on earth was strictly for a limited mission. Not one to acquire earthly possessions but to spread the Word of God and to help the poor by giving and healing.
Look at John 13 during the Last Supper when Jesus told His disciples one of them would betray Him. In verse 27 Jesus said to Judas Iscariot, “that thou doest, do it quickly”. The others at the table had no idea what the purpose was for Jesus saying what he did. Because Judas had the bag (money bag) some of them thought maybe Jesus wanted Judas to go buy supplies or to give to the poor. I feel verses like this also help to dismiss the mistaken belief that followers are to be poor. What was the significance of the money bag? Obviously Jesus was not traveling as a poor man nor was his disciples.

There has been no mention that any of them worked or was operating businesses while they followed Jesus. With the twelve disciples plus Jesus that is thirteen totally who traveled, ate, had shelter, sandals, clothing and all they needed to do their duty. What poor persons could travel extensively and feed their group plus donate to the poor? By all accounts of the Bible, though, in verses many miss along the way none of those who followed Jesus initially were poor but business people with the means to have servants and operate thriving businesses. If not why would there be a money bag, in another verse a comptroller was mentioned and how could poor people give to the poor?

I feel God wants His followers to prosper and have all the wealth available so as to do his work.

NO, Christians are not suppose to be poor servants of God.

Spencer DelCano

Info about Miss Ruby...

This story was written and provided by Spencer T. Note that he is a follower on this site and you will find links to his various blogs...

Spencer is a favorite poet on the social networking site of Gather.Com as well. He shares all writing on the Internet and, as of this date, has no desire to seek further dissemination...

Please recognize his story as copyrighted!!! Author has granted permission for posting on this blog!

Given presentation in the blog format...it is recommended you go to Chapter 1 to start reading this life story. It has an adult content warning, please...