Disasters, Fiascoes, and the Most Secure House in the Silver Valley

As I said yesterday, disaster always follows me when I return to my hometown of Kellogg, Idaho for a visit. The rest of yesterday was uneventful, but today was another story. My sister has never been locked out of her house. Today when I went to pick her up to go out to breakfast she unknowingly locked herself out of the house. There is a door in the garage they never lock. She did last night ( I guess because I was there to bring disaster). When we arrived back from breakfast we tried every door into the house. We also tried every window. Everything was locked up tight. Next we tried tools. (Now remember, this was the team that couldn't find the spare or the rod to fix the tire yesterday). We called my husband for advice and he said it would be cheaper to call a locksmith than break down a door or window. Thank God. Picturing the two of us trying to crash through a window or knock down a door was not a picture I wanted in my head. SilverValleyGirl called a friend that knew a locksmith. Low and behold... Dave Smith Motors not only sells a jillion cars each year in Kellogg... they have a locksmith. After unsuccessfully working with all the doors for thirty minutes with his collection of tools, he finally found a door he could open. I feel safe now knowing my sister has the most secure house in The Silver Valley. At that point I thought I had better just drive away and head for Lake Roosevelt before a wall crashed down or a shower overflowed. (I was relieved she had wireless. At least I could check in on Huckleberries Online while waiting for the locksmith to " do his thing" at the door.)

National Poetry Month, Poem #3

A Prayer for the Twenty-First Century

May the road be free for the journey,
May it lead where it promised it would,
May the stars that gave ancient bearings
Be seen, still be understood.
May every aircraft fly safely,
May every traveler be found,
May sailors in crossing the ocean
Not hear the cries of the drowned.

May gardens be wild, like jungles,
May nature never be tamed,
May dangers create of us heroes,
May fears always have names.
May the mountains stand to remind us
Of what it means to be young,
May we be outlived by our daughters,
May we be outlived by our sons.

May the bombs rust away in the bunkers,
And the doomsday clock not be rewound,
May the solitary scientist, working,
Remember the holes in the ground.
May the knife remain in the holder,
May the bullet stay in the gun,
May those who live in the shadows
Be seen by those in the sun.

John Marsden

This poem gives up hope for the twenty-first century.