Ballad of Scott and Kristi
I am grateful for Mount Sequoyah, even though I think it’s small
It is another church camp, just not in Texas but up north in Arkansas
Yellow school bus just arriving, filled with youth from Kansas east
Stepping off the bus she saw me, I was shy and spoke the least.
"Hi I’m Scott McKay” , I said saving my clever and looking strong
My name was all I could utter, we were a pair all
week long.
Kristi’s birthday was the next day, she turned fourteen on
July six.
At the cross with blue neon lights, Scott gave Kristi her first kiss.
Many, many years have now passed, too many to be telling.
June the twenty-third, two thousand, our wedding was enchanting
We had lives before we married, both of us had had a son
When I review our love story, if love’s a prize then we’ve won
I have a hope for every couple, to taste the sweet joy I’ve known
Love’s a gift in any life time, we’re blessed twice when love is sown
Reaching out across the table, take the hand of your true mate
Say a prayer, say your grateful, say kind words, don’t hesitate.
I don’t dare entertain the thought, of us not married now.
We both felt a cosmic correction, when we stood and made our vow.
Love , forgiveness and compassion., together give us the good life.
It ‘s a mitzvah to laugh out loud, an abundant blessing for husband and wife.
by J. Scott McKay May 4, 2009
On My Mind
At forty-seven I was told, Parkinson’s disease was what was wrong.
Not the words I wanted to hear, I was numb, depressed, and not too strong.
I was hurting inside and out, shoulder pain and stiffness everyday
PD is progressive and incurable; symptoms improve with meds and play.
Struggled with shirts, socks are out, coats are for the limber
Dementia, shuffling, memory loss, the list is too long to remember.
Please ask me how I am doing, and then please ask me what it’s like.
To lose my full range of motion, arms, fingers, face on strike
Will my meds bring relief today, or will my symptoms spike?
I’m dependant on medication before I can make a move.
Some days I can’t shake the rigidness, other days I’ve got my groove.
I am totally engaged in the battle, fighting for the upper hand
Will I sit well today, I wonder, or shall I work on how to stand.
More than physical that’s disrupted, add speech, as a casualty
Hardly a whisper, never a shout, once I didn’t understand me.
Parkinson’s is physically converting, reshaping me before my eyes.
My strong body began deserting, much earlier than realized
When I think about tomorrow, the mirror hints the future me.
j. scott mckay may 6, 2009