Ordinary People

dedicated to my grandmother, Norma Senter, in memory of her sister and brother-in-law, Paul and Wayme Webb.

there was something so very ordinary about them-

faces you know and can trust

without question

without hesitation

without ever meeting them before.

Home.

In the form of a man and a woman,

a husband and wife

home, personified.

maybe it started with stepping into their kitchen instead of their living room

when they invited you inside…

what others would deem the “back door” was

the way inside the Webb house;

there was no pomp and circumstance

no needless formality

just “come on in”

All the small things, little details-

they creep up on you on a day like this

things like not needing a sled when six inches of snow fall

because there is plenty of perfectly good cardboard-

little things

ordinary things.

always an open door

always a warm smile

always a tale to tell

always an ear to listen.

Just every day, good-hearted people

that Hollywood could never dream up

that no mere mortal could conjure

just the way the good Lord made them:

ordinary people.

but sooner or later the leaves start to fall

and the rains come and wash away any sign

that spring and summer were ever here

but those we love, who love us,

who live lives that act as mulch to grow our families and our dreams:

they never go away.

It cannot be put into words

something so ordinary

as a man who loves a woman

as two hearts who leave this world

bound as one.

so very ordinary

ordinary things

ordinary people

something so ordinary…

it’s the everyday, ordinary lives that cascade through our world

waterfalls, effecting everyone downstream.

How many times can I say how ordinary these two lovers were

how often can I stress their ordinary lives

before I am forced to throw an

extra ordinary

down on paper