Senior Exercise Class

Sincerest thanks to long-time Benician, Mary Frances Kelly Poh, she read one of my poems recently on Facebook about the atrophying physical condition of this 75-year old and responded by email, that I should join her exercise class. I did! Wow! Am I outta shape! Later today Wednesday, as I now write this column, I’ll be having my second exercise session in the Community Center Building on East L Street with Instructor Krystle Dilley’s “Fit for Life 1” class. Mary Frances and Dr. Poh will be there as well as pals Susan Street and Benicia’s 6th Poet Laureate Johanna Ely! Yay, Benicia! Stay tuned!

Never Prouder to be a Benician

I took part in the International March Saturday in the Benicia City Park. I was listening to the speakers and taking photos for a later collage of the event. A humongous turnout! People have had enough of student and public death at the hands of too many whackos with too many rapid-fire attack rifles. The student speakers are right, our gutless, dysfunctional leaders have placed profitability for automatic weapon sales above student and public safety. Enough of this insanity, I support the student activists and a whole new cadre of young intelligent voters in November. Clean out and clear ALL the dysfunctional swamps of U.S. government and praise those that are functional.

Dry Your Eyes by Neil Diamond & Robbie Robertson

Neil Diamond’s song “Dry Your Eyes,” co-written with The Band’s Robbie Robertson has come to mind recently in multiple attempts to heal after the past several atrocities of U.S. students and international public safety:

Dry your eyes and take your song out
It’s a newborn afternoon
And if you can’t recall the singer
You can still recall the tune

Dry your eyes and play it slowly
Like you’re marching off to war
Sing it like you know he’d want it
Like we sang it once before

And from the center of the circle
To the midst of the waiting crowd
If it ever be forgotten
Sing it long and sing it loud
And come dry your eyes

And it taught us more about giving
Than we ever cared to know
But we came to find the secret
And we never let it go

And it was more than being holy
And it was less than being free
And if you can’t recall the reason
Can you hear the people sing

Right through the lightning and the thunder
To the dark side of the moon
To that distant falling angel
That descended much too soon
And come dry your eyes

Come dry your eyes

Peter Bray has lived, worked, and written in Benicia since 1983 and has written this column since 2008.

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