Friday, June 26, 2009


Two roads diverged ni a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black,
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.



The last poem Rick memorized was when he was in high school. It's time to memorize another, he decided. He decided that something is wrong when you don't have time to read poetry. Or look at pictures. He started getting such crazy thoughts when he hit 40. When he realized he could not, he should not, work harder than everyone he knew. He finally realized that he will not make it to millionaire. He finally realized that being comfortable will do just fine. His goals are more realistic now: Keep the marriage together and pay off the mortgage. And he has vowed to read more and look more because poetry and pictures are comfortable. Like mashed potatoes. The last poem he memorized was the one about the yellow woods. Frost wrote it when he was 41.