poetry snippets from my youth

poetic musings from my youth 

May 1992

 

another deep sigh

as I take this in 

with clenched fists and closed eyes

wracked with mortal sin

your agreeable countenance soothes like

a muddy rake, 

I drag my bloody fingers

over my sorry face

fuck! 

you suck

you brilliant conniving devil

with your

smiling loveless logic that

glares stupidly at me

I’m limply brandishing 

a hollow memory 

that might as well have happened to nobody

because I’m nobody

 

I felt like a queen until your unholy reign

splashed trash on my scene

and my shoes soaked through

you said you never could see how I suffered

why, didn’t I tell you?

it’s just not the same

we don’t work, we agree now

but this realization has me

plummeting down to hell

I’m so numb and sick

I don’t want 

any remedy

just stay the fuck away from me

eventually 

I’ll be well

1991

dear person

dear person

who’s been so damn unkind

I wrote

and sept

and ate

and yet

I cannot rest my mind

I want to send you everything

in one fat envelope

the good

the mad

the sexy

and the desperate greedy grope

I’m flexing my telepathy

you don’t materialize

you float

you drift

you bolt

you never do arrive

it’s like you died

March 25, 1992

let me introduce you to a brand new girl

less inclined to look alive

not so in love with the world

she’s different now 

she’s changed

she’s shrinking into view

looking around, amazed

so ugly

but so true

nothing sticks to her

not anyone

not you

nobody can fix what broke inside her

not anything

not glue

cause after all

she’s different now

not sad

and not quite blue

they say that breaking up is hard to do,

now she knows

(knows that it’s true)

cause she woke up so different, baby

different after you

May 27, 1992

fate has finally pushed my hand

made it wave bye-bye

i’m stuck right here

to where i stand

too numb and broken to cry

nothing lessens the burden spent

on a useless love gone by

i wonder where my fortitude went?

i guess i’ll just lay down and die

oh, what’s wrong

with you and i

so long apart

yet still so hurt

you never want to see me again in your fucking life

and you ripped my favorite shirt

May 30, 1992

I’m afraid to talk to you

I’m afraid of why

I think I’m being swallowed

by love & hate & pride

when I hear mention of your name

I’m a thousand miles away

trapped in a maze of contradictions

my heart is led astray

I’m sure it’s just me

still stuck in our old shit

if you are too,

that’s something you won’t admit

‘cause it’s over and done

but not resolved

there ain’t no bitter end

I feel so unloved

so wholly rejected

you don’t want to be my friend

Ocean Beach, 1992 - photo by John Satterberg

1/25/1993

OB Love

boys barking like construction dogs

sound like nail guns going off

cruising alleys, peeping windows

pigeons and rubbish blown by the wind go underneath abandoned cars,

where dirty tomcats lick their scars

a bad transmission rattles by

competing with the noisy skies

under the flight path, polluted beaches

are littered with hobos and

indigenous mooches

coat your intestines with the lardy fare

it’s odor clings to your nappy hair

then draw on your clove cig, contemplate 

the UFO remnants on your plate

walk to the love shack on Cape May, 

Tap into America while beading

smoke the Victor product all day

paint your toes and your hair, 

then spend the afternoon sleeping

when evening falls, Tony’s calls

and to answer in kind you go

into that haven with vinyl sublime

and the barmen that never say no

Sweet Jimmy pours a mean libation

Ray keeps the riff-raff from biting,

but after a few, with balance askew,

Ray the bouncer becomes Ray the fighting

pool-shooting shorts-wearing long-haired locals

try their lungs at jukebox vocals

can’t ya see

can’t ya see

you’re seeing double and spinning

time to bail on this smoky joint

while you still feel like sinning

burritos at El Rodeo at two

where non-OB-tians get desperate

for that cutoff queen with a real tattoo

she’d avoid him like the plague

fighting off their bold advances, 

it’s hard to eat while being inspected

crazy whack funky meth fiend dances,

each advance he makes cold rejected

homeward walking, three abreast

we come to the sacred spot

where sidewalk, bougainvillea, and fence form a nest,

and OB love is hot

under that tubular cavern we pause,

making a pact to hold dear

the golden magic of this place

we enshrined that brilliant year

2020

2020
by Judy Gamboa 
1/1/2021

➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳

2020 was feeling nervous around

naked faces
getting tested
contact tracing
2020 was a toilet paper shortage
staying six feet apart
and sanitizing everything
too many zooms
and breakout rooms
I can't hear you
you're on mute
working out and working from home
in pajamas forever
so very alone
but happy together

watching shows
nesting and bonding 
dancing like fools

playing bridge
making tiktoks 

going to school
doing crafts and projects
going on hikes 
playing cards and board games
we laughed

we cried
we missed traveling, our friends,

and especially hugging
fostered doggies
and kept one forever
we did our best
and survived together

➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳

#motherdaughter
#pandemic
#quaranteam
#2020

#coronavirus

Fair Winds and Following Seas

Sunday, September 2, 2018

It was a hot day, with a light breeze which gently moved the half-mast flag as we drove onto the yard. Mom, Dad and I parked at the Club, where dad and the other Honorary Pallbearers were designated to meet. We saw many old friends from the class of ’58, and from McCain’s 2000 Campaign. Many wore pins from the Campaign. Hugs and conversations passed back and forth until it was time to walk to the chapel. I noticed a friendly looking guy wearing a brown felt hat and using a cane enter, but didn’t know him. Later I found out it was Ron Perlman. We had to leave before Dad, so that the Honorary Pallbearers could have a briefing about their duties. Before we left I ran to the car and grabbed dad’s cane. He scowled when I handed it to him. A group of us, comprised of friends and classmates and extended family, entered the chapel. Mom and I took our places in the 12^th pew, just a few rows behind Joe Lieberman, Joe Biden, Lindsey Graham, John Warner, the Sec Nav, and the empty rows for the Honorary Pallbearers. On the opposite aisle, where the Senator’s family were to be seated with other close friends, sat Alice Widemann, my godmother, with Sally, the wife of Admiral Chuck Larson, who John would be buried next to. We were seated a good 20 minutes before the service was scheduled to begin. I turned to the person next to me and said, “Hi, I’m Judy Gamboa, Frank Gamboa’s daughter” and extended my hand. He said, “Hi, I’m Lorne Michaels”. It took a moment to hit me as I smiled politely. Then I looked at him closely, recognized him. I said, “wait, Lorne Michaels? As in, SNL?” He smiled and said, “yes.” I quickly pulled up a cute picture of dad and John to show him, the one with McCain in the ’58 Corvette and Dad holding a thermos. He loved it and talked about John probably getting the car as a graduation present. I told him I’d try to find another picture. We chatted a bit about he and dad being roommates. I did not embarrass myself, I think.

The service began with the honor guard bringing in the casket, followed by the pallbearers, then the family. Mark Salter did a reading, then Senator Graham spoke, and his words did not sit well with me. He brought up 9/11 and winning wars, only one facet of this great man. General Petraeus spoke more deeply of the conviction and patriotism that is imbued in a man of military service, and his reflection was sincere, and delivered respectfully. He added a bit of humor about being from West Point. The most touching eulogy of the day was delivered by John’s son Jack. He was in full dress uniform, accompanied by his wife also in full dress uniform, and their very young son Mac (JSM 5). He spoke about his father’s strength of spirit, humor, and profound love for his country. There was laughter and joy as well as tears. It was more in keeping with how I remember John - funny, fierce, and strong. The Navy Glee Club sang “Amazing Grace”, “Faith of our Fathers” and the last hymn was the Navy Hymn, “Eternal Father.” During that final hymn was when I felt most emotional.

Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea! 

The casket was turned, and it was time for him to be laid at rest. We exited the side doors, so that the procession could exit the main chapel portico. We went to the front and as we watched, the casket was carried by the honor guard down the steps to the waiting caisson. One mounted black horse led, and the six horse carriage carrying the casket had three caparisoned horses. The honor guard played and marched ahead of the horses. McCain would have laughed at the horse who broke the solemnity of the occasion by depositing a large pile of manure before pulling him away to his final resting place. Those following had to widen their paths to avoid it. It was over ¾ of a mile on foot in the humid, hot, peak of the day. McCain’s family followed the honorary pallbearers. Just before leaving, tiny Mac’s nanny gathered him into her arms. Meghan’s shoulders visibly carried the weight of her grief, but she was stoic in her four inch black heels. Cindy was pristine with a round hat perched at an angle on her fair blonde hair, neatly coiffed. John’s sons exuded strength and immense pride. My father, the second pallbearer on the left side, stood tall, behind his friend, wearing his class of ’58 tie, and holding his cane. Mom and I were worried about dad’s ability to walk in the heat, but he persevered. He later said he was thinking of his buddy with every step.

Mom, Alice, Sally and I boarded a bus, and as we rode slowly in the line, following the procession, the streets of the yard were lined with the entire brigade of midshipmen, who saluted as the procession passed. It was hot, but they formed a perfectly uniform line, evenly spaced, their bodies braced and hands forming fists at their sides. They saluted as the caisson rode by. I looked at their faces. Each one showed no emotion, simply facing front, eyes forward. One poor mid went down at the exact moment we passed - and he held his position - so he went down like a plank. Thankfully his shipmate quickly grabbed his arm as he fell, or he would have face-planted on the pavement.

Once we were down by the grave site, there was a tent for us to stand under. Out across the water there was gathered a crowd of private boats that had come to pay their respects, and they got as close as they were allowed. There must have been 30 or 40. The interment service was brief, and the flyover happened just at the beginning. It was incredibly moving to see the “missing man” formation.  There was a 19-gun salute, and a round of three volleys. Taps was played, as the flag over the coffin was ceremoniously folded and given to Cindy. I don't know if it was an osprey or an eagle, but a large majestic black and white bird flew over.

So we said farewell to a hero. And my father said goodbye to his roommate and dear friend. He said, “I will remember him at the setting of the sun, and at the beginning of the day”

Paisley the Blonde Babe and my Horse Spray Recipe

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

On December 11, 2015, I went to look at this cute little butterball horse, and as soon as I met her, I felt like she was the one. I got on her and we took a fews spins around the ring, then we went on a little hack with two other horses my friend was looking at. We ended up in a little field that has a stream beside it, so we went down into the stream, and then did some work in the field. There were some logs and little coops to pop over. She was easy, relaxed and fun. I didn't need much to convince me to thrust a check into the hands of her previous owner, this horse was going to be mine!

 

I mean, just look at her! My daughter immediately nicknamed her "Peewee" for her diminutive size. (she was 15.2 at four when I purchased her, but now she's 15.3) Her first moment turned out at her new home, she jumped the 4-board fence to get to her buddy DeGroot, who had been bought by my friend the same day. They'd ridden side by side in the trailer for four hours, so who knows what kind of bond they made. Aside from that aberration, she has been easy and fun from the moment I got her.  She has only had one major spooking incident, when I was leading a group of three horses at a trot, and suddenly from a grove of Russian Olive trees, about ten deer bolted across our path. I hit the ground before I could blink.

The best news is she didn't go far, and although two of us came off, we both got back on and finished our ride. Since I was feeling very confident on her, and she was being so level-headed, I decided to go ahead and hunt her. She was really quite good!

 Here are my notes from her first time out, January 3, 2016:

 The meet was at Groveton (MH). Paisley was amazing. She had ¼ cc ace. Perfect at checks, reverse fields, and managing insanely sloppy terrain through wood and field. Gave cows a wide berth but no big deal. Seemed fit and not really knackered after 3.5 hours. Followed Merrilyn and Abel the whole time.

Our next outing (St. Patrick's Day, March 17, 2016) was also a success. The meet was Ellerslie (BRH). She had ¼ cc ace. She was very good! A little up right when we set off, but settled in perfectly. She was a saint when I had to hop off to get a sticky gate, Nelly ponied her through, then she stood very well for mounting. She did have to spin quickly round to face some cows but other than that was really wonderful. Nelly's seasoned hunter Stuart was our buddy. 

After these adventures, we had a fun summer of trail rides, jumping things, and really just enjoying being together. Unfortunately, at the end of summer, she contracted both a terrible case of rain rot and a tick-borne illness (anaplasmosis). In addition, she had a very bad reaction to foxtail, a bad weed that can be found out here. So the start of our hunting season was not great. She had two outings at Foxcroft, and the first one was a trail ride, and right at the beginning, as we were going up the big hill by the back gate, a lady's horse went batshit and she went down. There was a lot of commotion with the horse going bonkers, calling the ambulance, etc... she was literally perfect for all of that. When we left the scene and found the trail ride group, she did a great job of trying to convince a stubborn horse to cross a little trickle. He never did cross it, but she went back and forth about six times trying to give him a lead. Everyone was really impressed that she was only five!

Next we had a great day at Tir Na Nog, (MH), on November 12, 2016. She had no ace. Great weather, stayed behind Abel on Cassie and Lele on Socks the whole day. Mare was very good, footing was trappy, and there was really not much action, but altogether a great day and wonderful breakfast after, hosted by the O’Connors.

Our next Foxcroft meet was Fox/Hound day, November 19, 2016 (MH) I should have given her ace. She had a sore mouth from foxtail, was recovering from horrible rain rot, and the parading up to Covert and packed together field made for a stressful day for the little mare. It was a lot of stop and go, and a horse with a red bow got right in front of us and made me very nervous. Tried all day to avoid him. Then, another horse behind us crawled up her ass and annoyed her. By the end of the day she was not having it anymore, and was having bucking fits. The only saving grace is that she was very good at checks, reverses, and at keeping appropriate distances. I think her mouth was sore though. Thankfully when I had had enough of her bucking tantrums, the field headed in. Not the best day.

Lessons learned: 
1. My mare has very sensitive skin, so flysheet and rainsheet are a MUST. 
2. I started mixing my own bug repellent so hopefully that will help combat the ticks. 
3. I need to take her temperature daily so I can notice a sudden temp spike. 
4. A good leader is a must and she's really comfortable in the back.

That being said, I'm pretty happy with little blondie. She's a bit sassy, a bit hormonal, very sensitive, but smart as heck and brave. In other words, a blonde version of Babe. Now I know, I'm a mare person.

* Bonus - my horse spray concentrate recipe is below!*

Instructions: use only organic, holistic grade essential oils. I use Bragg's Organic Apple Cider Vinegar. Mix everything together in a mason jar (I make 2-3 batches at a time) and bring to the barn. Pour entire mixture into a fly spray bottle and add water to top. Shake vigorously before applying.

1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
1/2 cup witch hazel
1 Tbsp citronella oil
1 Tbsp rosemary oil
1 Tbsp geranium oil
1 Tbsp lavender oil