(Continued From Pervious Chapter)

I was happy, yet apprehensive as I took the bus into Baltimore and once off a hour and a half before the event, I decided not to bother the Jewish Museum of Maryland so early, but to attempt to get a more aerial photograph of it, though I had my doubts about any sucess.

The weather was cool but comfortable, sunny and clear which was needed for contrast in the distance. The USS Constellation was open and they had their schedule out, but everything was in military time.  All I knew somewhere along my walk, they would be firing their parrot gun off.

I loved the Inner Harbor this time because there were only a few people there and I enjoyed checking out the newly established Ripley’s, Believe it Not ... At least the free exhibits to lure you in and pay. I was headed to the heights of Federal Hill and proceeded on my way.

I was about 100 feet way from the USS Constellation when the Inner Harbor was rocked with a loud explosion that made even me, jump!  Near me were two Islamic families from either India or Pakistan and they became quite upset, concerned and animated.  I was amazed that the sound pressure from the parrot gun was so strong that it moved the heavy canvas of my drover.

I started laughing and getting the Islamic Families attention, pointed and said, “Boat!”  They too started laughing and seemingly cracking jokes, then got on their cell phones and humorously chatting away.  Not understanding them, I could only imagine the conversation, “These Americans are crazy.  They don’t have terrorist attacks of their own so they have to make explosions to scare the hell out of everyone!” 

It reminded me, just how lucky we are and don’t have to worry about death coming to us around every twist and turn of it. I enjoyed the conversations I had with people up on Federal Hill which usually didn’t happen often and always admired the outside exhibits of the American Visionary Arts Museum.

As far as photographing The Jewish Museum of Maryland, it was as I feared.  Knowing the direction of the museum relative to Federal Hill and the Inner Harbor, the museum complex was hidden, nestled in buildings much taller than the synagogues.  I figured I might be able to con my way on top of one of those buildings in a future adventure of going to the museum.

I left the Inner Harbor area and when I crossed President Street on Lombard, did my Ninja stride to get a better advanced warning if one of my armed robbers were out and about.  I did wonder how I would know if the Jewish Woman was in a bad mood, and had the amusing image of her running though the museum hall, wringing her hands in the air and yelling out, “Unclean! Unclean!”

The final block to the museum was a relief as I now considered it a place of safety and comfort for me. I always enjoyed walking past Attman's Deli as I wrote them in one of my poems and always got a chuckle from the street sign, "Horseradish Way." At the entrance to the museum, the security guard, an older black man seemed to welcome me also.

Once in, I immediately purchased my membership for $36.00 and everyone at the desk seemed happy to see me. I looked out in the hallway and noticed the entire place was set up with tables, with dark red tablecloths. There was a huge pot with boiling water and people around it preparing food.

I did spy the Jewish Woman, but felt it best to remain at the desk as she had her work to do that day. I did have plans to talk with her, but figured that wouldn't be until after the event and I was definitely hoping she would allow me to properly attribute the poem. I was expecting the same Jewish Woman whose magic I always enjoyed seeing.

I suddenly found myself put off as she was all dolled up and it struck me I was in a decent shirt, but blue jeans. I felt ashamed about no longer having decent dress pants. I figured it wouldn't be a good idea to come in any of the dress pants I still owned as they were too small for me now and held the potential of disaster. Well you could have come in your Sunday finest, but considering they are turn of the century elk skins, you would be accused of trying to be Mendis Cohen.

There was a synagogue tour forming up and about to start. The older black security guard asked for us to step outside as he had to talk with me. I figured it would be a talk, either asking me not to bother the Jewish Woman or to simply, keep my mouth shut and keep it cool.

Then the tour came out and the security guard moved us to the gate of the museum, as the tour followed us and stopped where we now were. The he took us in the direction of the Lloyd Street Synagogue and once again we were followed. He did it again, as we were between the synagogue and the museum and he now struck me as the rabbit I always scared, but who is insistent on running directly in my path down the line to get scared some more

I now felt this, "talk," was going to be something more, but once again with the crowd catching up to us I suggested, "Why don't we walk back and let the group pass?"

This time he did that and we had a little peace, but I was never expecting him to state in a sheepish way, "There's a woman who works here, and you are sending her lewd personal messages on Facebook..."

He sure didn't say it to me in a convincing manner, "What?"

"Well, a woman who works here is saying you are sending her lewd personal messages on Facebook."

Again, he didn't strike me as being either matter of fact, or straight forward, "No , I'm not! In fact, as a general rule, I don't even send friend requests on Facebook to women as the few times I broke that rule, I had to, 'unfriend,' them or block them out." Had I dueling pistols, he would find one being placed his hands.

"What you said to me is a serious and I want to hear her say that I am sending her lewd messages on Facebook. Could you please get her and bring her out? Look, I'll be cool about all of this."

I felt it lucky he agreed and he went in the side door of the synagogue and got the younger guard, and it seemed that he too knew about my demise. As the older security guard was getting the Jewish Woman, the younger one I believe was trying to speak to me, brother to brother-like about this mess. I was somewhat amusing, but also insulting.

To me it was a brother to brother talk, but so hesitant and softly spoken, I found it highly irritating as well. I wondered if the thoughts going though his head were, I am trying to talk to him as a brother, but he is white and I wonder if he will understand; or Is talking brother to him going to get me fired.

A brother to brother talk is hilarious to observe, as it usually is done with at least a six pack at hand and ends up in an admission of not understanding a woman, and also about sex, as they struggle to figure things out. I still couldn't understand him, but felt I was getting the intended gist of things. Totally pissed off, I replied, "Look, I wasn't looking for that from her."

That statement appeared to scare the shit out of him and after a couple of paces, he felt it would be best if we just wait and I stay cool about things. I got him to laugh a bit and relax as I told him he has a job to do, this is awkward for him and he seems not to do want to do this in the first place.

Finally the older security guard came out with the Jewish Woman at the museum's gate and motioned for us to come over. She seemed apprehensive but strong and I just had to ask her, "The guards said that I have been sending you lewd personal messages on Facebook; do you think this is true?"

"No."

"Has anyone been sending you lewd personal messages on Facebook?"

"No." I wanted to see if she was having any problems with regards to Facebook. If she was, I was planning to put a stop to them, even if I had to do so in a Mossad fashion. I also wanted to see if there was any way she believed I was somehow doing something like this under a different name and I appreciated the honesty and exoneration.

I turned to the security guards and point blank told them, "You lied!"

But she spoke on their behalf, "Well the museum thinks you put some highly inappropriate posts on the Museum's Facebook page!"

"What? Expressing enjoyment and appreciation at what the museum has offered? A couple might have been overenthusiastic, but fearing this, I edited my comments. I did express feelings and had a little fun, but only on my personal Facebook page."

Security finally explained that I am banned from the museum and never to return and I asked for their reasoning and added, "I just purchased a membership here!"

In all fairness, the Jewish Woman offered to go in and get the money back to me, but I declined because to me, it was blood money now.

Again it was the Jewish Woman who seemed to enjoy relaying me the following information. "Well, we had a meeting about you and decided it is best you no longer come to the museum. You come on too strong, and that poem was definitely over the top!"

I responded, "Over the top? I stand by that poem ... I stand by the words in the poem!"

I did notice her jaw waver as if she was going to cry, but she stood strong and for whatever reason, I wondered if at the meeting, they all told her, "Remain strong, don't give in, and don't let him has his way with you!"

"I stand by my poem ...I stand by the words in my poem!" Wasn't what I wanted to say at all; but when I had the thought on what I really wanted to say, real or imagined, I felt a hand go over my mouth. It was not only a right she hadn't earned, but seemed intent on totally destroying. What I really wanted to say was, "I love you!"

I am more comfortable with telling the rest of the world, because those words seemed to be received by everyone with appreciation at the notion. It doesn't cause problems or create the bitterness in people like it always seems to in the person it is intended for that it really, expressing love shouldn't be creating. I also thought my true feelings wouldn't be believed under the circumstances.

She seemingly enjoyed issuing me the next set of barbs as well, "We think you are weird ... Don't like you ... And you scare everyone."

She continured, "You told the director you have been in trouble with other museums in Baltimore..." 

It was obvious to me this was to be a lecture, not a conversation, yet I was conversing with using only thoughts. Gee Lady, maybe you'd have a better opinion if you'd would let me talk more than two sentences! I expressed it as fun at the aquarium and lauded the Taylors, just called Jeff Jerome of the Poe House pissy, that's all.


"Also, you told me you wrote another poem for someone that got you in trouble!"

That's right, so follow in everyone else's footsteps and punish me; I'm used to that... So, two wrongs do make it right for you. I show you love, and you show how you enjoy sticking it up my ass. Hell lady, if you think this is punishment, I've been spit on for simply letting a woman know that I like her, and simply inquiring had put me in a potential black mail scheme...

I mentioned that this will be included in the story I plan to finish my biography out with, "You know I have to reflect what happened here today in my story?" 

In no way could I gauge her reaction. I wondered if she didn't care, didn't believe me, or simply felt it was a threat that was not worth addressing. While she didn't respond, I could only think, And you had to make it the perfect story!

It was time I finally responded. "You know there was a much better way this could be dealt with. Definitely a much better way ... Couldn't I be permitted back to spend time in the museum I love and enjoy the programs; so I can also prove myself a sincere, honest and decent person?"

The older black security guard answered for her with a soft, but blunt, "No."

Since there was no sense in talking further, I simply turned and walked away, with only my thoughts to keep you company. Well, now you know what got Jesus sent to his death ... It was his preaching of love and inclusion.

That's a queer thought! I needed to explore it further. Well, at least they allowed Jesus to eat his Last Supper and celebrate Passover; but then again ... Security didn't put a call in to maintenance for wood and nails.

While this whole thing held the humorous absurdity of, "Jesus Christ Superstar," their parking area in the back of the museum gave itself to a more, "God Spell"-like, notion and I envisioned me on their fence with the two black security guards dressed in Roman armor with their pikes and soured sponge. Damn Mike, they might be right about you and museums ... You were only at the Walters Art Museum once to come up with that one! 

Last, I couldn't help think about The Jewish Woman's role in all of this; which prompted the image of her dutifully and sopping up my blood and bodily fluids to prevent staining on the cherished and secured parking lot. To look up as Mary Magdalene, but saying, "I'm sorry Mike, I didn't know I would be your Judas." Well it would save money on the production costs. Oh, come on, stop it ... This is supposed to be serious!

I enjoyed the similarities between the Jewish Woman and Yvonne Elliman, and one song she could definitely sing is, "I don't know how to love him!" It just struck me that the lyrics matched what the Jewish Woman was feeling, which was, "trapped," and all I asked is that she appreciates what I wrote because I felt she deserved the poem and the tribute.



I couldn't believe I was just turned away from a holy event, The Sabbath Dinner, in such a fashion and couldn't help to realize just how sacred this was to be for me. The only other thing I had to compare it too was being denied Holy Communion by Pastor Homer.

It was during a Christmas service, when he told my sister not to come up because she will no longer receive Holy Communion, which upset her greatly and holding irony because she stated her intention of converting to Judaism.

Before the service, I argued with Pastor Homer, that she should be allowed to receive it and I stated what I believed made it so important; as I felt it was a very important spiritual matter. I also stated that she only announced her intentions and is still registered as a Lutheran.

He brought up to me, the Lutheran Church Canon which would no longer permit her Holy Communion and Lutheran Holy Communion isn't for other Christian denominations as well. I expressed my indignation over this because Holy Communion is a Christian tenant and rite, and shouldn't be coveted by individual denominations.

He quoted to me on part of the Lutheran Cannon and I shot back with a scripture from the New Testament. I know I made my point because the pastor just turned and walked away, and I yelled, "Yea, and why haven't I heard that Gospel brought up in a sermon? No wonder why Jesus advised people, 'It is better to pray in a closet!'"

As the pastor requested, my sister remained seated, as my father and myself went to the alter to receive Holy Communion. Just to prove how important his Lutheran Cannon was, he walked right by me and denied me Holy Communion as well. My only thought was, You're a real fucking asshole, I'm praying for your daughter!

It was a thought I would soon come to regret, as his daughter had a severe form of epilepsy and shortly after, his daughter died during a seizure. Yet in regards to me, the pastor's attitude towards me would never change, I was a heretic.

With my banning at the Jewish Museum of Maryland, I did feel there was that element of religious discrimination involved, which could explain many of the staff's attitudes towards me. It also has never been out of my mind that I was banned for their Sabbath Dinner demonstration as well. "You not one of us," was now a theme entering my mind.

I wondered if also discussed in the meeting about banning me, if they were afraid I would do something to sully The Sabbath Dinner, or to otherwise embarrass the museum. I definitely took the same affront as what happened to me with Pastor Homer and got the same feeling about not being permitted to attend, what I was entitled to, "Holy Communion," and I wondered if they too, considered themselves arbiters of something they coveted.

Another possibility is, my FanStory link was included on the poem I handed her, or the museum staff got my link to FanStory from traipsing around my Facebook page. I do keep track of my electronic portfolio and the poem, "Par-a-dox-si-Mor-on," was suddenly and frequently hit as if passed around.

That is the sestina that uses the words: judgment, truth, destiny, cause, protect and justice in a rotating order; to ultimately warn one to evaluate the causes they ascribe to and to interrogate yourself about your motives. I could see how this use of Jewish history and survival could be perceived as anti-Semitism by such thin skinned individuals who would get offended without reading on.

I would also come to learn of a possible political reason as well, though my father or myself had nothing to do with Ben Cardin personally but our name was about and not well liked. Deborah Cardin, his daughter is the assistant director for the museum. In the past, I found out that with my father being outspoken against Baltimore City and many democrats, also had a negative effect on many other Democrats who weren't involved, some Republicans too.

Because I was also outspoken against many facets of Baltimore city, I knew I had to be plucking nerves as well, especially the mayor as my speaking up on criminal justice and juvenile crime, earned me to be put in the category of, "Racist," because I lived in the county. When this fact was presented to me, I couldn't help but include it as a consideration to my banning.

I wasn't angry at the museum and in fact, found the whole thing humorous and having its absurdity to it. In fact, I felt sorry for the museum staff and especially the Jewish Woman as I sincerely had only the best of thoughts for her, and though I knew the poem hit her profoundly and emotionally, only requested she appreciates it. I wasn't really hurt as this is the treatment I am used to, but very disappointed she felt she couldn't communicate with me, so a wonderful perspective wouldn't be permitted to be gained, which would benefit both of us.

Scaring all the museum staff? Well that wasn't exactly true, but convenient. "Put them off," is more like it. The volunteers were wonderful and seemed to like me, and it appeared [The Jewish Woman] did too. Writing the love poem and having the generated results didn't shame or make me regret it, as it still holds true in my mind. As the whole mess unfolded, it just demonstrated the imperative about it all.

Of, course The Jewish Museum of Maryland would ban me. I loved that place and found it so comfortable and spiritual. I felt I could relax, be myself and enjoy life. It happened so infrequently in Baltimore, I wondered if it was a matter of my Karma, or something I was supposed to experience and speak out about. I actually wondered if they resented a person who enjoyed their life and being an individual.

The statement of me scaring them, told me just how separate and unique my life was and also my willingness, for the benefit of others, to share it. What surprised me about my experiences there was just how much their visitor's seemed to enjoy me, and didn't at all take exception to any of the stories that I told them.

"You are not one of us," that feeling generated could have also prevailed against citizens that might of taken a moral stand against the injustice directed towards the Jews, but Baltimore and it's crime brought me back to the fact that normally, most people are at best indifferent to important matters, even if it affects the quality of their life directly.

There was another aspect of, "You are not one of us," that entered in and I frequently encountered it not only about dealing with museums, but with publishing, poetry,in regards to media and music, as well as the group of people I cherished the most, Boy Scouts. Most organizations always call for donations and volunteers to support them, but when it comes to volunteers and the ideas they seek, you end up feeling treated like you have intruded on their little click or a pursuit that gives them their believed notoriety.

The Jewish Museum reminded me of when I joined Troop 26, as that was the one where my wife put my step-son in against my advice. Despite 25 years in scouting with Troop 112, I was constantly being admonished and in my opinion, snubbed and besieged with many rules that only seemed geared towards me, and talked to.

I directly stopped one kid from doing something that was dangerous and I was admonished for interfering. When I mentioned I felt it was dangerous, I was asked how I came to that conclusion. "I've been in scouts for 25 years and ran the high adventure programs," and I was told it all starts over with them. It was a happy day when my son asked to quit the troop, as his treatment went against what scouts should be all about as well.



Getting to my bus stop to take me home, held another profound experience for me, as I had to pass Baltimore's, Holocaust Memorial which is essentially a large plaque and sculpture that is backed by a huge wall. I read, "... In an instant, our women, our parents, our children disappeared. We saw them for a short while as an obscure mass at the other end of the platform; then we saw nothing more." This was written by Primo Levi, survival in Auschwitz."

I couldn't help but think, And poets from Jewish museums...

Those words hit me like never before, as the event of my banning from the Jewish Museum of Maryland, made me feel that I was at the end of that platform with any chance of regaining any dignity or respect not being permitted. I understand how the Holocaust came about if such attitudes and contempt were garnered towards German's that generated the indifference and quiet loathing; enough where the masses simply decided to turn their backs.

I refused to look at the bronze sculpture as it was a globe with people melted in it, and I feared I would be finding an image of myself on it. In front of the wall under the words, "then we saw nothing more," was a homeless person I know stayed in the area, as we crossed paths going to the museum.

I noticed two women talking to him and helping the black man out with food and possibly money. Not being a bad situation, I stayed back and photographed the homeless man with the women as I felt it would provide a nice stock shot for a future poem when inspired to write it. Sometimes you get a sense of a possible poem, and with the image wrapped in so much symbolism, I just couldn't pass it up.

Once the women left, I approached him and asked if I could photograph him and felt it fair to offer him money. All I had for two weeks was a twenty, two fives and a one; I felt it best to keep the twenty, but gave him the fives and the one, as that shouldn't attract too much attention. I got his permission, but what he wanted was for someone to remember his name, "Salchi Muborauma.

I noted though I gave him much less money than the museum, he was so much more appreciative then they were. He was also drinking beer, and though it may be part of his problem; I felt he deserved anything that would help relieve the pain of his burden.

Once I was finished, I noticed a tall Jewish man with a full beard and wearing a kippah (Yamaka). We greeted and I mentioned I was just escorted out by the Jewish Museum's security and told not to come back. What I said was not registering and he had to ask, "Why?"

"I wrote a love poem."

Now he was in total disbelief, "Wha-at?"

I showed him the poem and he appeared totally stymied, "But this is beautiful!"

"I think so, but it's me they don't like." I couldn't help but laugh.

"No, that's bad, this is a wonderful poem." He looked and said, "You have more?"

I told him about my favorite part of the Lombard Street display and let him look at, "My Pet Goose," which he liked very much, as well the mention that my Grandmother grew up similarly at the turn of the century. He also looked at my other poems, but more or less he got the gist of them though a glance, not reading them."

"You're a professor!"

"No

"You have to be a professor!"

"No, I have never gone to college, but still continually try to keep myself educated."

No he was looking at me like I had two heads, "You didn't go to a college and write like this?"

"Just what the good Lord wants me to learn." I pointed up to the sky. I explained that I did pray to God for a good ending story for my biography, but the museum decided to make it, "The perfect," one and explained how it tied up the elements to the book.

He seemed a bit shocked over that as well, and when I explained some of the elements of the stories in it, had to think, Come on Mike, you have to take it easy on him, you're about to make him start crying...

Luckily, he had an out as he needed to make a phone call and asked for a phone; not seeing one myself, I pointed him to a place that should have them. I was able to give him the time and with a couple of my poems in his hands, he left. A minute later, I was off to get to my bus stop as well. My final thought at the Holocaust Memorial was, Don't look at the globe of melted people! You're day is fucked up enough already and you have to be in there too.

Waiting for the bus, I found the first thing about my ordeal that was extremely offensive to me. It was the stance the Jewish Woman took toward me, as if lecturing me about love. If you want to do that, you better trap that love of your life and overwhelm her with the words, "I love you!" Only to say them again three days later to her face, now in the casket.

Or lovingly and willingly put your life savings, two inheritances, plus an IRA in a hopeful relationship, which is destined to fail; and then also require half of your retirement to get out of in order to prevent a violent act by one of our hands. Or, 5:00 in the morning to have to unwrap your mother from the furniture, in order to perform CPR, then deal with the severe brain damage that resulted from her surviving.

It reminded me that she most likely can only speak of some idyllic notion of what she only wants to get from someone loving her; with no sense of commitment, obligation or responsibilities. I didn't feel she was on the back side of that learning curve as she couldn't even apply the Golden Rule, of "One should treat others as one would like others to treat oneself."

I had to laugh as I thought; Well Mike, you can easily purchase the book, "Everything you wanted to know about sex, but were afraid to ask;" but I bet the book titled, "What to do for the next step, and need to know..." Isn't yet written and can't even be found on the internet. Ask a woman and what she will tell you, either won't apply to another or she will have changed her mind anyway.

I felt the same now as at the bus stop. I would love to go back to the museum and enjoy their programs, and I could see that in time; through one means or another, being once again permitted to go there again, but most likely I will never step foot there again, because my conditions won't be met.

While I feel sorry for The Jewish Woman, I don't feel badly about her. However, I wouldn't want to go back and witness her always being worried about me, and having to look over her shoulder in fear of me. I want to see that same woman, enjoyably doing her job and working her magic as she gets a lot out of it, and would still want to chat.

Now, I want a bit of a personal relationship with her; be it a dinner and walk around the harbor, or watching a movie together. Just something for ys to get to know each other, and place in both of us in some perspective, be it just social or something more in time. I have a lot of people that trust me, but that usually involves being hooked up to a harness and we're not talking a sex swing either.

When you have to see my smiling face between your legs some distance away, you pretty much have no choice but to trust me. Though that is an illusion as you rappel, you gain trust and confidence in yourself as your knowledge and coordination increases. Somewhere along her lines, I would expect her to at least experience the more gentler climes I have learned to love so much. Hopefully not like with the wife as we found ourselves walking amongst hundreds of snakes as it was breeding season.

But the reality I experience is, in regards to a mean act related to love; the woman never apologizes or tries to right a wrong that occured. I apologize when I feel I wronged someone, and to be honest, I don't like doing that, so I try to look long down the road to see how things are affected. That willingness to admit of being wrong seems to help in everything, but that which is love related... Here, practicing the, "Golden Rule," would help so much.

I pray, should love find my heart and spirit again, that God himself strikes me dead right then and there, as that feeling is one that I really want to go out with and not all the bullshit I seem to have to suffer; because it seems far easier for others to demonize me, then to gain a willingness to deal with one's own emotions to develop a much better outlook and perspective. Something I feel is contributing to the lack of desire for a total relationship, as well the present divorce rate.

I have a feeling if the Jewish Woman and myself got together, I would be wholly intolerant of her moods and behaviors she indicated she is capable of and now feel it would be a temporary relationship at best. If she had any faith in me at all, this would have never happened and a friendship would be readily attained that would have benefitted the both of us, and all she had to do was talk.

I resented the most, her seeming to justify my museum punishment, because I indicated my last attributed poem got me in trouble as well. She didn't even ask what it was about or to see it first. That would be, "Robin's Poem," and while I expressed the love that was generated with myself, it was a simple thank you and me wishing my best for her. The Jewish Woman issued forth the ultimate of injustices for me.

As far as the rest of the paid staff at the Jewish Museum of Maryland, they all can fuck off as far as I am concerned. They got the message across to me to shut up, stay away from them and mind my own business. This is something I am completely willing to do, provided they don't attempt to interfere with my interactions with the volunteers or visitors who talk to me.

Personally, I would like to see a new executive director; one that understands what he is in charge of, appreciates it, as well the ability to convey it to their visitors with pride. -And a director who doesn't appear to be totally pussy-whipped too. I don't fault their security in the slightest as they had their job to do, and with how they did it, I wondered if they thought this was necessary.

My volunteer job at Baltimore's Aquarium was assisting security, and one of the responsibilities they placed on me was, "Keeping things cool." If I saw any guy bothering a woman, I asked them to stop and most were understanding and respectful of this. The few that weren't, I let security know, and usually they asked me to talk to them again, so by the time security got involved, they got a handle on things or made them leave. Likewise, with me being 17, security didn't hesitate to remind me the women are there to see the fishies, not some 17 year old boy act like an idiot trying to act like he thanks a man should be like.

With the talk of winning a half a billion dollars from the lottery, I would have used it to build my own Jewish museum, basically everything Jewish. Though I wouldn't have the benefit of the two synagogues; it would definitely not only cover the Jewish faith and practices, the history of it, their culture and movements though out time, but also how Judaism affected other religions and cultures.

Call it non-denominational, as I would want all cultures and religions to enjoy the experience and learn from it. Needless to say, it would definitely cover the politics that affecst modern day Israel, and present a world philosophy to rid the world of terrorism, which Islamic people are the most severely affected victims of. I would keep the government's money out of it!


I felt sorry for the museum and the people that ran it. There is hardly a person that either doesn't burst out laughing when I tell them about my disgrace about being banned from The Jewish Museum of Maryland, or doesn't believe a love poem should cause such trouble. I am told it is me who is better off without them.

I did notice that half the poetry discussion group invited me to attend one of the more popular museum's events and they too were totally disbelieving a poem would get me banned, and boy did they have their fun with me as well! I did reject their plans to disguise me as an Orthodox Jew with hat and curls, to dedicate and read the poem to all of the women that work there.

I figured the one loose thread was my comparison of the Jewish Museum of Maryland to the Holy Shrine of Elizabeth Ann Seton. Another lady also invited me to the event, and I explained the mention of this scared the staff. She also explained she had been at both and shared the opinion that I had.

She stated that she was a psychic, but in a very detailed and peculiar way and as the discussion was continuing, she was answering the questions I thought about but didn't ask her, so I learned something about myself in the process as well advice. I did not disclose my opinion that the museum not only has it's holy entities, but houses a bevy of disembodied matchmakers as well.

Call my spiritual thoughts about things at the museum both an observation and opinion; but how sad is it that their tour is titled, "The Synagogue Speaks," but it seems their paid staff tends to listen ... Not at all.

What happened to me, has affected many more museums in Baltimore as I put off my plans of procuring memberships to them and organizations like the BSO indefinitely. It may be a long time, before I also step foot in a museum as well. I freely give up my ideas, but despite the fact they were asked for, I generally don't get a response, and when they are used, they seem repackaged as the museums.

One exception is the BSO, where my idea of a piano player in underwear in front of their orchestra was rejected in seconds, which was a shame because I wanted it for a poem regarding the greatest music fraud around. A grand piano costs a lot me, and I felt it would make for a humorous fundraising campaign which they desperately needed. Other thoughts and ideas, always generated a courteous reply.

So my relationship with the Jewish Woman was not only affected, but I find myself at step one in reference to museums in general, which is a disservice to other's that may enjoy the input I attempt to offer.



When I think of my banishment of the Jewish Museum of Maryland, it tells me that in Baltimore; a poetic writer is far more considered an immediate threat that needs to be dealt with, while the police refused to call in an armed robbery that occurred near there just a year prior.

I feel the museum shares the same attitude, as does the Mayor and many other people in the city of Baltimore. Crime is simply part of the system, where government wants to exert influence that affects the quality of life for its citizens, which also translates to me as, "You aren't welcome here."

Baltimore makes using plastic bags punitive so during a thunderstorm, I have to try to beat the sandwich that just flew from the wet paper one and head it off from going down the storm drain. Nobody is forced to pay more than a smoker, but insult to injury is also heaped upon them as well. It is easier to regulate soda sizes and form stone on buildings, then to dutifully take care of essential responsibilities and what makes society safer and more pleasant to be in.

I find it sad, the overwhelming priority is geared towards policies and precepts; as opposed to principles and philosophies that would not only benefit the most individuals that make up a society, but also provide a guide to get the most quality of life possible. All too often in modern day society, the wrong people are identified and negotiated with, causing the rest of society to become dumbed down and take the role of a more subsistence way of life which is unfulfilling and too dependent on others.

Despite all the bad and injustice found in this book, I have enjoyed so many facets of my life, the adventure, what I have received, struggling with beliefs and being forced to figure life out; I would not give up any of the bad. The bad or tough experiences were huge learning curves that made me learn how to deal with things and assign priorities.

All too often, we make the decision to give up our childhood dreams, but if you never consider them a failure and simply shelve things ... It is amazing just how they adapt to provide a life for us that in the end, we can call wonderful!

I gave up that childhood dream of being an adventurer/explorer so much, but it always hinted to keep such in the back of one's mind as despite any limitations, view the world as something to place yourself in and not let the world consume you. While not a financial success for me, writing has been the greatest adventure and provided me with what only money is purported to supply, joy and a great sense of accomplishment.

Yet, I do what I can to see that when I feel something is important, to take the responsibility to do so, despite the costs or reward. It adds a complexion to my life that I truly appreciate and feel I can carry on with.

We are now at a point, we can call this work, "The End," yet with not yet being subjected to the certain fate we all have, I simply plan to do my best to continue on. My wish for the world is simply, the same wich I hope to maintain personally keep alive as well.

Immortality On Borrowed Time

At conception, sands of time flow at birth
through the hourglass, though we can't perceive.
Mortality's grain tolls louder on Earth,
just or not, through finite time we receive.

Some people lose their lives before their prime;
others, dedicate their lives for others.
A few fear-cloaked, squander good use of time;
a precious few live life without a bother.

Carried to Heaven upon eagle's wing,
some only want to leave their footprints;
as Heaven's gate opens and angels sing.
A worried few hope to dash in sly sprint...

I hope my footprints fossilize in clay;
pleasing God... Found to be needed one day.