111/365 Beth B

How many names did you have?

Bethie, Liz, Lizard

come to mind, from a family

full of nicknames and love.

Surprise ninth child,

Rita wondered what to do:

she'd had a routine -- successful --

with eight sons.

You meant no Zbigniew to 

round out Norb-chosen names:

elegant Elizabeth Ann exists.

110/365 Beth H

For a math major, you're refreshingly

verbal, valuing story problems,

parsing grammar in email.

For a colleague, you're exceedingly

committed, to both union and

college, and the ever-constant task of

keeping our institution good.

For a redhead, you're translucently

eye-lashed, mother of milky-skinned

redheaded boy and his peanut-brown brother.

109/365 Phil

Skin pink as a State Fair piglet,

white-blond crewcut and moustache

nearly imperceptible except for 

their bristle, eyes light enough

to be milk-glass: you teach

students as unlike you in

phenotype as is possible,

almost photographic negative,

people with whom you share 

the planet but not the power.

 

108/365 Kelly&MaryBess

You're annual burger night hosts:

perennial good cheer and ground beef,

beer, cheese, aged firewood, humor.

Your home a steady wild refuge:

robust poppies, bowling balls, peonies

rioting in front;

solid wood deck, gas grill, umbrella

attending in back.

Blue-eyed, brown-eyed halves of

the same coin: a couple.

107/365 JoAnn

New chapter in a life rich

as a Victorian novel, all

details matter: 

precise teas with crumbly scones, 

clothing swaps with paired shoes lined

up like fresh loaves, 

meditation question-prompts broad enough

to hold/find/evoke some truth.

You educate and give

direction even as you seek

your own question/answers. 

106/365 Brian

Newcomer, you found a big

sister-guide in the next office:

paving a bit of the way, agreed?

Colleague, you once were a

friend to be counted on: 

but not anymore, why?

Stereotype, you seem to embody

too easily the gay male one:

self-unaware yet self-centered, how

does that work?

105/365 Wally/Walt

Your forward-thrusting, thin-man gait
seemed insect-like, except for the
mustache like a walrus
unfortunately:

Did you cultivate it on purpose?
Did you lose at Boggle with
me as a courting gesture? As if
left-handed hitting expertise wasn't

enough. Coaching me informally:
attend to strengths, cultivate
interests, follow inclinations.
Play.

104/365 Mark H

Reunions past, we've talked
about our work, families, children,
pasts. The "it could've been" still
seems palpable for you, but
we never could've worked.

This next reunion,will
you be there with your
wide-mouthed grin, loose
limbs, light eyes, sandy hair
fading toward gray, fondness
for things intelligently quirky?

103/365 Roger O

Twinkling eyes seemed just a metaphor
until I saw your eyes: your smile always
always prompts the crinkle.

Saw your wedding photo at Mom's
this weekend, you looked like a
young Tom Hanks, dashing

and conservative at once,
ready husband to my favorite
aunt, happy and anxious to get started.

102/365 Shari

Most competent mother I know,
raising four attentive teenagers:
their dad the other child you
five joke with arching eyebrows.

Tolerant and tall, slim and strong,
frequent smiles enhance high
cheekbones, easy conversation
opens long-fingered hands.

First sister-in-law in the
family almost as long as
us sisters: Scott's lucky.

101/365 Radhika

Met your voice first: same
timbre and syntax as your
sister, same humor,
attitude, phrasing.

Comparisons are not
fair. Suffice it to say
you're a brilliant woman
with a full-bodied past,
snap-smart present,
some meaningful future.

A joy to finally set eyes
on you, deeply-dark-eyebrowed
intellectual little sister.

100/365 Micara

First niece, first grandchild:
you've born the labels with
aplomb, humility, grace.

Beautiful athlete: volleyball *is*
the greatest sport, and you're
a natural, with your long-armed
serve, your quick-spring hits.

Striver, achiever, empathetic
citizen: you're making a life of
confidence and consequence,
reminding us all of our
loving connections.

99/365 Mary O

Plump-pink baby cheeks
baby-blue eyes, ivory-fluff hair:
cousin young enough to be
my daughter. We share

connection to Grandpa's
book-love, citing his influence
for our English majors. You're
choosing law school -- he'd be

proud, waiting for some offspring
to follow his steps. Keep your/his
chuckling delight in the world.

98/365 Roseanne

First grade, you had all the Bazooka
Bubblegum I could want.
Trades -- gum for books --
formed the basis of friendship,
at least until third grade.

Then the gap widened: town kid,
country kid. You stayed
in Fosston, making a strong, rooted
place for raising kids and planning
all-school reunions.

97/365 Deb

Professor-scholar-administrator:
one role you do not cherish yet excel in.
Accomplished academic, focused and
productive, your Hemingway theories
provoke establishment scholars.

Still seeking in ways more personal,
the comfort of a mate skirts past
the order of your life. Once we
shared a boy; now dogs are
necessary-but-insufficient
substitutes.

96/365 Patty

A bigger force than your
aunt implied when she told
me you were joining our
faculty: "She's such a
great kid" was the report.

Yes, you are: a great prof,
slyly compassionate
sarcasm in logic,
and as debate coach: just
what an almost-doctor
should be: more rhetoric
and philosophy.

95/365 Jonis

Surprised you'd forgotten
my name, the woman who
"knows all my husbands" you'd said:
yeah, all but your first.

Second one I worked for,
third was my second-cousin,
fourth owned the ceramic-lamp
that stood 15-years -- still

stands -- at Josh-and-my
bedside, remnant from the
grad-school you'd advised
me to attend,

professor.

94/365 Yvonne

Friend-of-a-friend, former
workout partner, current
bookclub member:

another small-town-girl who's found
her tribe in the big city. A different
generation from me, but we both know about

partridge and venison, republicans and
born agains, car rides and catastrophe
swept under the rug of conventionality
and the neighbors' prying eyes.

93/365 Daniel

At work, we made suitable
arrangements: baby a corporeal
reminder of Jesus
incarnate, crib in conference
room, toys untucked from
chair-cushions when
Bishop visited.

Flexibility learned later in
life, farm boy used to regular
seasons, predictable as
new shoots. Congregation
provided challenges, growth
a first priority:
your achievement.

92/365 Mary D

Newly allergic to rhubarb,
you can't eat my
pie-cake-crisp: I'll have to share
other cooking: Soup's good
you've said, during our
backyard, alley conversations.

You've lived there
forty years perhaps, keeping
track of what's changing,
staying the same: always
good to have a watchful
neighbor lady on the block.

91/365 Shelagh

Chef, sure, but Gemini
too: double trouble the
cliche, rarely accurate.

Most inventive story teller
I've heard/known/believed,
with wolfish charm and

scorching wit complementing
the span of your palms,
fingertips sensitive as stamens,

prodding focaccia to attention
ready for olive oil and a hot oven:
love on the plate.

90/365 Linda&Donna

"Hello, friends!" with wide-open
grin-and-arms: we remain so despite
gaps and glitches, talkingtalkingtalking
while and whenever we can.

Your goofy warmth, charming battiness,
bustling hospitality: we remember
tarot readings, Smiley Cafe, scary
squirrel nutcracker, "Hello, Robe Man,"
booksbooksbooks.

The impression you've left
is tender-and-sweet as
a thumbprint cookie.

89/365 Phyllis

Wise colleague, scary to some:
perhaps it's inscrutability,
your thought-full responses,
apparent easy respect for
all, most
opinions-people-issues.

Authentic seeker, your convictions run
deep, strong enough to rest
upon without being
shoved under anyone else's
convictions.

Close reader, your students learn
more than how-to-write:
also how to live.