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courtesy of life.com

The following poem was written on the afternoon of 9-11.  It relates to the sorrow and pain of our country losing loved ones in a senseless killing of innocence in the deaths of 2,973.

“Red, White and Blue” copyright 9-11-2001 John J. Rigo

Red, White and Blue are the colors before me on this day.

It will be a day remembered by numbers used to summon help.

Nine, One and One, bring only the recall of white dust,

rock, and twisted steel in a sea of sorrow.

Can these tears wash away the pain

that this day brings?

Tears shed for those we love and are no more.

I cry out for my Brothers and Sisters in the depth of pain

that befalls their hearts.

Could there be a greater sin,

then a day so dark?

I think not.

I pray for peace, comfort, and hope,

for the souls rejoined with my Lord this day.

Red, White and Blue,

I cling to thee for hope, peace,

and healing in Thee.

For Thou are the only One,

Who can bring sense to this gruesome day of pain.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Personal Story:  I was born and raised in New York City.  My younger, and only brother, Richard Rigo of Smithtown, New York worked as a building engineer within blocks of ground zero.  He commuted every day to his building in the city from Smithtown.

On the morning of the attacks, my concern was for his safety.  Blessfully, he was on his way to work when the attacks began.  He returned home safely.

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A Winter Scene from Cooperstown, N. Y.

Four years ago it was a visit to the Carrol Clinic in Dallas.
My back and hip had been hurting me for some time.
The findings were not good.
 
A Class Four hip.
A crack in my spine bone.
Two disks in my spine fused together.
 
I knew when it happened.
A fall over ten years ago while attempting to trim a tree
in our front yard.
 
The fall at that time resulted in nine staples in my head
and eventual surgery on my knee.
The other injuries laid in wait.
My future in enjoying the rest of my life was in doubt
with the activities I enjoyed so much in my past.
 
My mind went back to Cooperstown in upstate New York.
I was sixteen and working the summer on a dairy farm.
It was part of the “Fresh Air Program” of New York City for young men.
 
I remembered the rolling hay wagon.
Throwing ninety pound bales of hay
eight tiers high on the wagon.
 
I remembered the muscles in my arms
my strong thin waist
with a tan equal to a black man.
 
We worked hard that Summer.
It was the “Haying Season.”
The work went fourteen hours a day
seven days a week for two and half months.
 
Looking back now
I now realize how really happy I was
each of those summer days in Cooperstown.  

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courtesy of life.com

The following poem was written on the afternoon of 9-11.  It relates to the sorrow and pain of our country losing loved ones in a senseless killing of innocence in the deaths of 2,973.

“Red, White and Blue” copyright 9-11-2001 John J. Rigo

Red, White and Blue are the colors before me on this day.

It will be a day remembered by numbers used to summon help.

Nine, One and One, bring only the recall of white dust,

rock, and twisted steel in a sea of sorrow.

Can these tears wash away the pain

that this day brings?

Tears shed for those we love and are no more.

I cry out for my Brothers and Sisters in the depth of pain

that befalls their hearts.

Could there be a greater sin,

then a day so dark?

I think not.

I pray for peace, comfort, and hope,

for the souls rejoined with my Lord this day.

Red, White and Blue,

I cling to thee for hope, peace,

and healing in Thee.

For Thou are the only One,

Who can bring sense to this gruesome day of pain.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Personal Story:  I was born and raised in New York City.  My younger, and only brother, Richard Rigo of Smithtown, New York worked as a building engineer within blocks of ground zero.  He commuted every day to his building in the city from Smithtown.

On the morning of the attacks, my concern was for his safety.  Blessfully, he was on his way to work when the attacks began.  He returned home safely.

Read Full Post »

1927 Collin County Courthouse, McKinney Texas ...

1927 Collin County Courthouse, McKinney Texas Historical Marker (Photo credit: fables98)

 
 
The Old McKinney Square is gone.
The place of adventure and discovery
that I found as a young man in 1970.
 
My background was of one born in New York City.
I had no trinkets or heirlooms from my past.
Old decaying Brownstones in Harlem had no such things
especially from the poor family of an iron and steel worker.
 
I discovered the joy of collecting antiques
on the Old McKinney Square in those days.
The collecting became a passion for me
as I called each antique a precious find.
 
There was a magic in those crowded
dusty shelves
packed with hidden mystery.
 
Each shop owner
each dealer
became first name friends
with a smile and greeting
as I searched
a part of each day. 
 
It was about 2001
that my quests were no more
for you see
I ran out of space
for those treasures. 
 
Today in another April in 2013
added to my life.
I decided to again
visit my Old McKinney Square.
 
The warm friendly faces
that I once knew
where gone into the dusty trail of time.
 
The crowded shelves of discovery were no more.
The store fronts were new.
Their new chic names in Gold letters on them.
 
The antiques were new
made to look old.
They lacked a certain warmth
and history in their shiny new look.
 
My heart filled with sadness
for I then realized
I too would soon be gone.
 
The Old McKinney Square is gone
never remembered
but forgotten.
 
All my sweet memories
of joys past
will also be gone
into the eternal sunset.

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Picture Courtesy of the Hindu.

Picture Courtesy of the Hindu.

Picture Courtesy of the Hindu.

Picture Courtesy of the Hindu.

newyorkfireexplosion2

The current New York fire is blocks away from my ex-home on Lexington Avenue between 116th and 115th Street in Harlem, Manhattan, New York City http://nydn.us/lgppJHI  This was my home in the mid-50’s.  My memories of the area where that my family, my younger Brother, my Father, my Mother lived like animals in a third-floor walk up in this area.  I remember clearly that we were literally the only white family in the neighborhood.  On the entrance to our building was a candy store where drug dealers hung out.  Many times they blocked the doorway of our building, making it difficult to even get out of the door.  Oh Texas, Oh Texas, how I love you with large blue skies and open waters on our lake home and farm in East Texas!  My prayers go out to the families who have suffered lost and injuries in this tragic happening.

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A Winter Scene from Cooperstown, N. Y.

Last year was a visit to the Carrol Clinic in Dallas.
My back and hip had been hurting me for some time.
The findings were not good.
 
A Class Four hip.
A crack in my spine bone.
Two disks in my spine fused together.
 
I knew when it happened.
A fall over ten years ago while attempting to trim a tree
in our front yard.
 
The fall at that time resulted in nine staples in my head
and eventual surgery on my knee.
The other injuries laid in wait.
My future in enjoying the rest of my life was in doubt
with the activities I enjoyed so much in my past.
 
My mind went back to Cooperstown in upstate New York.
I was sixteen and working the summer on a dairy farm.
It was part of the “Fresh Air Program” of New York City for young men.
 
I remembered the rolling hay wagon.
Throwing ninety pound bales of hay
eight tiers high on the wagon.
 
I remembered the muscles in my arms
my strong thin waist
with a tan equal to a black man.
 
We worked hard that Summer.
It was the “Haying Season.”
The work went fourteen hours a day
seven days a week for two and half months.
 
Looking back now
I now realize how really happy I was
each of those summer days in Cooperstown.  

Read Full Post »

   
 
 

courtesy of life.com

The following poem was written on the afternoon of 9-11.  It relates to the sorrow and pain of our country losing loved ones in a senseless killing of innocence in the deaths of 2,973.

“Red, White and Blue” copyright 9-11-2001 John J. Rigo

Red, White and Blue are the colors before me on this day.

It will be a day remembered by numbers used to summon help.

Nine, One and One, bring only the recall of white dust,

rock, and twisted steel in a sea of sorrow.

Can these tears wash away the pain

that this day brings?

Tears shed for those we love and are no more.

I cry out for my Brothers and Sisters in the depth of pain

that befalls their hearts.

Could there be a greater sin,

then a day so dark?

I think not.

I pray for peace, comfort, and hope,

for the souls rejoined with my Lord this day.

Red, White and Blue,

I cling to thee for hope, peace,

and healing in Thee.

For Thou are the only One,

Who can bring sense to this gruesome day of pain.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Personal Story:  I was born and raised in New York City.  My younger, and only brother, Richard Rigo of Smithtown, New York worked as a building engineer within blocks of ground zero.  He commuted every day to his building in the city from Smithtown.

On the morning of the attacks, my concern was for his safety.  Blessfully, he was on his way to work when the attacks began.  He returned home safely.

Read Full Post »

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