It’s good to be old

It’s good to be old

A simply amazing weekend

Friday ate a late lunch at ‘Cheddar Box 2’

Gosh, a blistering 90 degree day

Twenty minute wait

Young kids in and out as outdoor eating

Has become more commonplace

Young kids, okay, young adults

Like grandchildren age

Smiling laughing, without a care in the world

A few of us, sprinkled about

To observe this reemergence of life

Yes, yes, we have been hiding lest we  be taken before our time

So that today we might enjoy this sweltering heat

Remembering to be grateful for air conditioning

And not to mention  when there was none

And to be able to order dishes we would never be able to make ourselves

The sheer glory of being out again

These are the days when the aches and pains subside

To allow smiles to return and new memories be made

There is no going back

The mirror won’t let us

But our hands beautifully wrinkled and gnarled

Steadying ourselves as we now venture to an antique mall

Where quite assuredly we will encounter a similar crowd

We’ve not been down this road before

Thank God we are old together

Never dreamed we would have this time!

FXC 6/20/2021 Copyright







Old papers twenty years ago

Gently, softly I need to let you go

I didn’t know how to tell you so

We’ve been so intertwined

Our thoughts to begin so eye to eye

Struggles, so meshed, no difference

Between beginning and end

Like the morning sun, lighting what was dark

It’s so clear now

Rebirth must occur

Who are you really?

So clearly, I remember your long brown hair

Rosy cheeks, uniform skirt to mid thigh

Your smile, warming and calming

My turbulent youth

Your quick mind and wry humor

Easing the vicissitudes of life

I stole you from your youth

Sent you on a long journey of responsibility

Our time together busy with work

Children and community

Now, today, I have to ask

Does our journey together continue?

I need to know

We have grown together and apart

As we have learned to heal others and ourselves

Do we still share a vision of us?

Do we still have a dream about our future?

You fly from my heart to be you

So clearly you, so unique

This is my gift to you

I would not have you be my wish

But rather your dream breathes

So many have said, give to receive

So as before, I love you

I still expect nothing but have been granted all

As your fly towards the sun

Let your shadow cast

Your love towards me

FXC 07/02/2002





Passkeys to eternity

Apple just announced that in the very near future

Passwords and sign ons will not be needed

Facial recognition or facial ID

Will be the key to unlocking

Your own personal private tech world

“Passkeys” will protect bank acvounts, wills,

In addition, your personal writings, private observations

Basically a summary of your life

What a cache!

And the whole kit and caboodle

Can be handed down to a trusted heir

Two potential issues with that

Who would be trusted to value my tech info

As much as I trust myself

Similarly would they comprehend

That this could be for eternity

Thats a pretty long time

The average attention span is 11 minutes

Outside chance interest in me for eternity might not exist

Safe bet might be to print out relevant information

Dispence to heirs who have a financial interest

And thus my purpose in life to do what I could

Will be fulfilled

And I won’t have to fool with this eternity thing

FXC 06/12/2021 Copyright





I’m sorry

I’m sorry

Doesn’t really plumb the depths

Of my contrition

For not truly understanding what love is

Every day now it seems

An unseen nuance of the word flashes

Before me as I observe selfless love

The type of endless giving and sharing of oneself

Without consideration of reciprocal feelings

No one deserves you

i love you Julie Becker!


Frank Cameron





How could you not know that?


First time around with child rearing

Was relatively easy

Particularly with my old school perceptions

Of parental responsibilities

Women, okay the Mother in this case

Would probably do most of the heavy lifting

And be compensated by my advice

Truly silent suffering maintained our relationship

But much to my chagrin

She begot her own payback

Dressed now to look like a five year old

Irascible, know it all, forty six pound female

Transporting this precious cargo is my main employment

Nonetheless my traveling companion

Is of the considered opinion she has a better way

To choose her own, clothes, breakfast, and time to get up

My only defense is to interject

None of my entreaties are of my own volition

But rather at the commands of her parents and ‘Nanna’

This rationale seemed to tame the ‘beast’

Till arriving at ‘Nanna’s’ house when a duck was observed all cozy in grass

As oblivious as a male can be,

This male questioned out loud, “ I wonder if that duck is sitting on an egg”?

Emerging  from her throne of a car seat the five year old said,

PaPa, its a boy,

Her aged and white haired PaPa queried

How did you know it was a boy?

Because, it has a green neck with lots of color she answered

Surreptitiously I thought I would ask,  “How did you know that”?

Her simple and deflating retort was pure agony

PaPa, how could you not know that?

Okay, so I’m guessing I’m down 1-0.

Frank X Cameron  6/8/2021 Copyright









Oh that voice


Hearing aids seem like they might be a nuisance

But when I heard your call

But really your voice

The hearing aids transferred the memory of you immediately to my brain

Whch is when my eyes closed and I saw you, so, so clearly

I’ve known you since I was 12

So long since I had seen or heard from you

This pandemic seemed to bury us all in  our own worlds

But then you called and like a hologram

I could see you, in the many moments I have known you

Skinny freshmen playing pick up basketball

Prayerful boys trying to be better

Adult lives consuming us as we started families

Your call like the breeze through leaves

Breathed new life into a listless mind

Reminding me of the multitude of precious moments we have shared

Of course we reminisced about our aging bodies and nagging injuries

Yet, the real palpable feeling was that we needed to be again

Together and not just on the phone as sweet as it was

That you called me

Thank you precious friend

FXC 05/17/2021 Copyright



Dog poop

Some of life’s lessons
Take a lifetime to learn
Oftentimes one’s earlier years

Are spent ‘spinning one’s wheels

Never enough time in the day

Necessitates shortcuts

To accomplish the requirements of the ‘good things’

Working, raising children, married

Will tax any schedule

Even now writing has taken a back seat to

The ‘To do list’

Never worried about dog poop before

Fed, watered the dog

Even  had dogs that were walked

Some regularly relieved themselves while on a walk

But a few, particularly the current one, Hannh,

Is a thirteen years old black rescue lab

Who now is of the opinion that locating her favorite spot in the back yard is quite alright

Yet, yet Hannah does not understand

That the back yard is the private property of the mistress of the house no less

The propieter of the bock yard, spends endless hours grooming

And cajoling life out of a  once dormant landscape

The protocol of where a dog poops and who will clean it up and when

Should have been in the original contract when this relationship started

And I’m quite sure like so many other prior edicts

This one had already been explained to me many, many times before

But cutting grass will often bury dog poop

Eliminating the need to remove it

But when grandchildren started arriving the rule began to be rigidly enforced

Hmm?  Patio home time?

FXC 5/15/2021 Copyright


July 7th 1967

Sometimes without thinking

Lady Luck falls in your lap

So many women in my life

My Mother, grandmother, aunts, sisters, daughters, cousins, even girlfriends

Oh sure, there were squabbles

But each one like the facet on a diamond,

Revealed the intrinsic beauty of a woman

I suspect young men all think they are the cat’s meow

Only time will school a boy

On the sweetness of what true love is

Passion is fine, in fact it’s great

Yet the ebb and flow of living

The sadness and joy that flows  around us

Is best understood over time

By the woman walking beside you

Who once cheered your races,

But now holds your hand to steady your pace

July 7th 1967 Lady Luck

Bought my sister’s best friend into my life

FXC 05/09/2021 Copyright






The end of selfies

Where did the day go

When judging others by their looks was informative

Hair too long, shirt wrinkled, crooked teeth, no makeup

Of course the presumption was that

We had the right ‘look’, the right ‘age’

And naturally, ‘good looking’

But like a piece of granite in an artist’s hand

Bit by bit a new image was chiseled

One that exhibited realism

Like a modern day ‘selfie’

Skewered perceptions of beauty, age, and taste

Drifted to the floor

As the artist created

Their vision of what could be

Best to leave dreams of one’s  best selfie

Locked in memory

FXC 05/02/2021





Through the looking glass

Periodically would wonder

About my Dad, gone now since 1969 when he was 59

Death usually leaves no time for reflection

Living pulls you out of the lethargy of grief

A good man I believe, though I was only 19 then

His story was not really unusual

Military man, lawyer, father of seven

Worked every day, long hours

Often tried to imagine who he was, what he thought

Hadn’t quite gotten my act together yet

But he left me with out judgement

Who was he

Stare at his last good picture

That is all we can ever remember

Lost his Mother when he was twenty seven

Seemingly quite happy with a large brood

Though as typical  my Mother ran the house

So really shadows of memories

Sill float in my mind

As time winds down

Wondering now what legacy I will have left

Know quite well my weaknesses

Looking in my children’s eyes

As if viewing a Looking Glass

Yet at the end of the day

Pray, pray so hard

They know as I did

They are loved

As the look back

FXC 05/02/2021Copyright