ONE DAY AT A TIME

We are friends yet know so little of each other’s worlds

Though I’ve written and talked a lot, many thoughts stay private

You’ll never hear some cloistered hurts I won’t even tell myself

I’ll never learn the circumstance when your innocence was lost

Yet when I spend my time with you insights become your gift to me

You’ve strengthened me by your inner grit to survive past tragedy

My own journey felt some hard spots yet the jaunt has been worthwhile

Struggling with what’s damaged is my contest every day

The expression of our mutual hurts comes out in different ways

We listen to each other and we commiserate as we can

Reminding one another that true love learns to forgive 

Re-engaging lovingly each day is our optimal way to live.

© Ron Unruh June 2019

HALF-POINT MELTDOWN

Droning routines, annoyed with people, worn at the edges, 

I recall time as unbearable in need of major change.

Should the change be disconnection from previous pledges?

A most plausible option tho admittedly strange,

I tried to ask but no one listened at all. 

Unpredictably common this shared human occasion, 

Half way through our fleeting lives, mortality comes knocking.  

To be brave and hang in there demands robust persuasion, 

Advice to hold tightly is morality talking,

Yet sometimes you don’t care to listen at all. 

I understand, and I know that about which I’m speaking. 

I myself suffered discontentment and disillusion,

Emotional tears flowed as my sad spirit was shrieking  

My heart and mind were crippled by tortured confusion. 

At that blue time I couldn’t listen at all.

The worst advice I received was from someone with money. 

“Get a grip” was his obtuse counsel and his bottom line. 

Healed and humorous now, at the time it wasn’t funny, 

“Take your time,” from someone wiser, “and you will be fine,”  

From somebody whose kind heart listened to all. 

More than a quarter century ago I found my way through

Then aware of human despair where stop or change occurs

Employed kindness to others from distress by which I grew, 
Sharing patience, love, and peace - what everyone prefers.

So they were thrilled that I had listened at all.

© Ron Unruh, 2019

today, would be MOM’S 100th BIRTHDAY

My mother Tina would have celebrated her birthday today, June 4. She has been absent from her family since November 2007. Time passes and memories blur in spite of the best intentions to remember. It is photographic images that arouse the recall. 

What an interesting woman Mom was. Born in Saskatchewan in a farming community, living in Waldheim and Hepburn, she had a grade nine education and she began to work hard at an early age. She was industrious from the start, knowing how to sew, how to bake and to cook. She did unskilled work, clerking and switchboard operator. She married Edward Richard Unruh, but soon their lives were interrupted by WWII and my father’s enlistment into the Royal Canadian Air Force. The post war years began with them teaming to start and to run a Coffee Shop in Hepburn. Soon however, Dad felt that opportunity for employment and a future existed in Ontario and the family, Dad, me, and a pregnant Mom moved to St. Catharines ON.

They rented accommodation for many years, a condemned two room shack, then a downtown St. Paul St. third floor apartment, then a full house in Rosedale Gardens, a suburban subdivision on the outside of St. Catharines, then a large house on Clark St., then to James St., and finally when I was twelve, and Mom was 37 we moved to the first home Mom and Dad owned. It was a 3 bedroom bungalow with unfinished basement on Bunting Rd., well outside downtown St. Catharines. 

During all of those years, while her children grew, Mom did housework for other women, some occasional sewing of garments. She was hired to sew costumes for the local skating club. She worked in her church, Calvary Church, always in the kitchen. It was what she knew best to do, and what she became known for. In fact, over time, she operated her own Catering Business, and prepared grand dinners for large gatherings of corporations and families. Wealthy people hired Tina Unruh. Her happiest employment was as Day-time Food Services provider for Ontario Paper head office. She even prepared a cook book of her many recipes and those of others, and had my brother Neale and I design some art work, then self published 1000 copies and sold them all. 

Perhaps her greatest personal fulfillment was found as she worked with the local church women’s group, took on a leadership roll, and became recognized as a woman of integrity, of spirituality and was elected eventually to the presidency of the entire southern Ontario region. She had to lead meetings, give talks and presentations, and while humbled and sometimes terrified, she amazed herself that she could do this and that her leadership was valued. By this time, her three sons, were each of us in some form of Christian ministry ourselves. She would say over and over that we were a constant source of joy for her. 

She was a much loved mother and grandmother and great grandmother.
See also, an archived tribute from 2011.
See entry for November 2011 on a fourth anniversary of her death.

I AM AN ARTIST FOR HIRE

https://ronunruhgallery.webs.com/apps/photos/

I am an ARTIST FOR HIRE. Really! Most of my art pieces in recent years have been commissioned paintings, landscapes and portraits being the primary subjects. We can begin consultation via email (ronunruhgallery@gmail.com) and face to face if possible.  Let’s talk about an art treasure. What can it be? What will it cost? When can it be completed? Illuminate a room, brighten someone’s life.

Example: Two years ago I completed a 22x28” commissioned work for Mary as a gift for her husband Mark. It was entitled ‘Mark’s Elk Trophy.’ I still consider it one of the pieces that has given me the greatest satisfaction. Mark hunted in this pristine undisclosed location and spent many hours bringing his hunt home.

BEFORE WINTER COMES

one possible cover for a book

A boy soprano I could sing, 

Unknown to me, this was my Spring. 

When my fam-ly was all and I was young
And my whole life was still a song unsung. 

My childhood was easy and bright and new

And boyhood concerns were extreme-ly few. 

Content with little I was happy then

Not knowing I could not feel this again.

To work I was a newcomer,

Did not think this was my Summer.

I graduated and I dated her,

Then marriage and children a seeming blur,

A home of our own and stability

Made fam-ly life one of tranquillity.

A fulfilling career sped by so fast

Before I knew it, four decades had passed.

Told myself I’d not hit bottom,

This was a blast, this was Autumn.

As coloured leaves fell and cooler winds blew,

Formal work wound down and leisure tasks grew,

My focus was canvas, brushes and paint,

another cover option, front & back panels & my original painting

Even an artist can live like a saint.

My remaining thin hair turned white with age,

Paintings sales replaced a regular wage.

Poem done, on goes the printer

Must be ready, here comes Winter.

Must finish my books, my fam-ly hist-ry,

What follows next is still a mystery.

My entire life long I have lived in trust

That God will be near when my shell is dust.

Be patient with me as my mem-ry fades

Know I loved you when death pulls down the shades.

© Ron Unruh, May 2019

LOG SCULPTURE AT POINT ROBERTS

LOG SCULPTURE AT POINT ROBERTS

Once regal trees,
Now sodden bodies,
Rudderless they sailed
Drifting on placid Pacific tides,
Then propelled by storming seas
To this deposit high on shore
To lie a tangled twist of wood,
Each log a wooden story.
Dry and bleached in view of Baker.
Cradled in sand they watch the sun
As it rises, passes, sets.
Soft to touch, to climb and sit on
They call the child and hiker to their joy,
And sometimes the artist to paint on canvas
Their complexity as a sculpture
A natural work of art.

© Ron Unruh
Back Story: We make annual cross border visits to Point Roberts, a small seaside peninsula. Inviting paintable scenes are everywhere. 16x20” oil

MOTHERS’ DAY FAMILY GATHERING PICS 2019

Christine, Gina, Cari

THREE MOMS, Christine, Gina and Cari

Jeff, Christine (Mom), Cari

 Jeff and Gina kindly invited us all to their home on Sunday evening May 12th where Jeff kept on feeding pizzas into his outdoor wood burning oven. These were all delicious, assorted ingredients, and we sampled them all. Christine (Mom) was able to pose with her son Jeff and her daughter Cari. All of the grandchildren were present as well but off on their own so the adults got to sit together in the backyard by the oven and sip and dine and talk.

Cari & Jeff, sis & bro

  Cari and Jeff. We all feel blessed that we live within a 5-10 min drive from one another and can enjoy these times within these busy family lives. So present today were Tim and Cari, their children Kailyn, Ryan and Jayden; Gina and Jeff and their children, Kale and Kady; and Christine and me.  

WISHFULLY ON MOTHER’S DAY

Christine and I in London, ON., 1965

Now that they are adults with children of their own

I wishfully think how good it would be

If they could go back in time to see 

The girl that I asked to marry me,

With her flowing dark hair and her elegant stride,

And exceptional voice, I was wide-eyed 

Small wonder I asked her to be my bride.

To enjoy life’s journey by my side.

SIMON PETER

He had fished for his entire life.

It was all he knew to do, this Jew

But his life was interrupted

By deity in flesh, 

When the words “Follow me”

Changed this fisherman’s world forever.

Rapt in Jesus’ words and wonders,

One of the twelve, like brothers serving

Food for hungry seaside pilgrims,

Using a small boy’s lunch,

Two loaves and five small fish,

Swiftly more in a creator’s hands.

Strong and passionate disciple

Convinced his master is God’s own son. 

Steadfast protector of his Lord,

Swung his knife-edge in rage.

Christ does not need his aid.

Now wickedness appeared to triumph.

Penitent Peter, by Guido Reni

How soon he would ignore his love

In the awful terror of that night.

When knowing Him could lead to death,

Three times came his denial.

The cross is still, it’s done

It appears, but wait he stirs again. 

Two times they’ve seen Him in the flesh.

A third time he has appeared on shore

Hailing failed fishers with advice.

Not knowing this is the Lord

They listen and they find

He’s still capable of miracle.

A quiet time with Christ alone,

Does he love Him, he is asked three times.

“Yes”, Simon says. Then demonstrate.

Fish for humanity

Feed hungry sheep and lambs.

More than anything else, Follow Me.

© Ron Unruh, May 2019

Composed after reading the account of John 18-21, and the story of apostle Simon Peter. 

Painting credit: Guido Reni Nov 4, 1575 – Aug 18, 1642) was an Italian painter of high-Baroque style. He painted primarily religious works, as well as mythological and allegorical subjects. Active in Rome, Naples, and his native Bologna, he became the dominant figure in the Bolognese School. This portrait completed in 1634, located at Museo del Prado, Madrid, Spain.

I SHAVED MY BEARD OFF

BEARDLESS - Not until I retired did I grow a beard. I have been whiskered for 11 yrs, until today (May 3, 2019). Yep, I shaved. Gone. Christine and I have spoken and hugged, cheek to cheek. She has not noticed. I imagine her saying to herself, “He looks good. I don’t know what it is, but he looks younger.” This afternoon a neighbour saw me & first comment, “your beard is gone.” I’ll see how long it takes for Christine to catch on.

24 hrs. later, she still didn’t notice so I wrote the poem below ... Then at the 36th hour, Christine told me “I’ve been meaning to tell I noticed you shave your beard off. You do look younger, but there’s something about the beard. It makes a statements, rather sophisticated.” She asked, “so did you shave this morning?” I answered, “No, yesterday morning. All day and evening and all of today we have talked, look closely at one another and you did not see.” She laughed with me, and then said, ”Well, you never notice when I get my hair cut.” touché.

HAIRY & SMOOTH

Today I can repeat the words 

that Esau’s brother Jacob said

When he spoke to his mother

About his brother’s head.

Saying, “Esau’s a hairy man,

That is what young Jacob told her,

“Whereas, I am a smooth man”

His head on her shoulder.

Eleven years I’ve worn a beard

Was always okay but prickly 

That’s what Christine said to me

I may bring it back

Thought she’d notice quickly.

When yesterday I shaved it off

I waited for her to see it.

She would notice right away. 

I could guarantee it.

I was wrong and I’m still surprised

That she has not seen the diff’rence

She loves me so very much

She looks past appearance.

 © Ron Unruh, May 3, 2019

as if anyone else would want to claim authorship.

Genesis 27:11, Jacob & Esau