Stephen Pitcairn

Poem for Stephen Pitcairn - from the residents of Charles Village

We felt the knife, too, an awful
stab in our collective hearts,

a pain so deep we have spent
sleepless hours thinking of you.

We want to bring you back-
our neighbor-your handsome face

once more animated, curious, kind.
We want to present you,

whole and vibrant, to your mother,
so connected to you

she listened to your birth cries
twenty-four years ago,

then heard over the phone
the unimaginable agony of your death.


A full moon blessed Baltimore that night
you stepped off the bus at Penn Station,

inhaled the balmy air,
your legs stiff from a long ride.

Always a walker, you made the choice
to travel by foot the last mile home.

A call to your mom wrapped your journey
in sweet family and warmth.

Perhaps, you spoke about your weekend
visit with your sisters in New York,

your plans to celebrate
your upcoming birthday with friends.

Evil appeared on St. Paul Street,
penetrated the neighborhood we love.


You pleaded for humanity,
but evil attacked.

In the darkness, a man emerged,
a gentle neighbor who held your hand,

comforted you. Oh, Stephen, please know
Reggie was all of us, on our knees in the street.

Stephen Pitcairn-son, brother, researcher, friend-
dedicated, promising, brilliant, fun,

we did not save you.
You died in Charles Village.

We cannot change what happened; even
the moon wept, her face a mother's wound.

Yesterday, your family in Florida buried you.
Did they spit out the word Baltimore?


Stephen, what can we offer you,
we who also grieve your loss:

a world without monsters, without scars,
a village without crime?

We offer you resolve, the will
to make good change.

We offer you a safe haven in our hearts,
a warm place at our dinner tables.

We offer you this poem, a space
in each lovely Charles Village garden.

We offer you a walk on a gorgeous day,
a meal at the Paper Moon Diner.

We offer to hold the hand
of everyone who needs us.


Stephen, in your duffle bag
that night you carried your dreams.

If every Charles Village resident
holds on to your life vision,

imagine the powerful impact
on this hazy, damaged world.

We give thanks for the days
you walked among us.

We give thanks to your parents
for sharing you.

In quiet, simple moments,
life moves forward:

small gestures, greetings, the way
we touch the flowers.


Stephen Pitcairn, your light continues,
brighter than the fullest Charles Village moon.

Shirley J. Brewer
July 31, 2010

Murder in Charles Village

It's been a long time since I've posted on my blog, and I had planned to revive with a focus on poetry. However, July 25, 2010, changed all that.

On that night, in my community of Charles Village, a young Johns Hopkins researcher, Stephen Pitcairn, was robbed and stabbed to death as he walked from Penn Station to his home in the 3000 block of St. Paul Street. Stephen was killed one block from my house. His assailants were a man and woman - both repeat offenders with long rap sheets.

Stephen's death stunned the community for its senseless violence. Stephen handed over his wallet. His attackers killed him anyway. He had been talking on his cell phone to his mother - who listened as her only son lost his life. Stephen was a gifted young man - two days shy of his 24th birthday - who had planned to become a physician. At the time of his death, he was focusing on breast cancer research.

I wrote this "Poem for Stephen Pitcairn," on behalf of the residents of Charles Village.

CHRISTMAS, 1982/Stoop Storytelling

On December 14, 2009, I was one of seven storytellers at the annual Stoop Storytellers Holiday Show at Center Stage in Baltimore. The premise is that seven people have seven minutes each to tell a holiday story. The story must be a real one. I chose to share my holiday job of 1982 - when I worked as a Talking Reindeer at Hutzler's Department Store. BELOW are the recollections I put together to help me recall the details of my job. Hope you enjoy. HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL!!!

I was working as a speech therapist in Anne Arundel County…at Severna Park Middle School…I was Bored of Education that fall, and decided a part-time holiday job might perk me up.

An ad in the Annapolis Evening Capital caught my eye…
ATTENTION! SPEECH AND DRAMA STUDENTS! BE THE VOICE OF THE TALKING REINDEER AT HUTZLER’S DEPARTMENT STORE!!

Perfect…I talked to kids every day…but this would be in a more magical setting…and, growing up, I was always more of a reindeer person…

I went for my Reindeer Interview at the Hutzler’s Southdale store in Glen Burnie…or Glen BUR NAY…as we used to say… in late October…and I recall it was fairly short…I think they just wanted to make sure I was articulate and that my motives were honorable…I was told the job was mine…I don’t think there were a lot of people applying…

A word about Hutzler’s…. a wonderful department store that opened in Baltimore in 1858… …last Hutzler’s…the Towson store… closed in 1990…
Hutzler’s was a pioneer…at Christmas they featured two reindeer…Beau and Tinsel…more about them…in a sec…

My interviewer said I had to attend a mandatory …RTS… Reindeer Training School…

That was held on a Saturday morning in November in the attic of the Hutzler’s on Howard Street in downtown Baltimore…where all the reindeer lived off-season…

I remember that was an eerie moment…seeing all those reindeer in that dim attic light…surreal…you had to be there…very Twilight Zone…

In that attic, I learned the intricacies of the job…
the reindeer…Tinsel…the female…and Beau…the male…were beautiful, gentle creatures…pretty much full size…standing in front of a small silvery frosted hut…The person who was playing the part…entered the reindeer hut through a small door, sat down, operated controls to move the reindeer heads and their mouths…and spoke to children via a microphone…there was a small peephole right in front of the mic you looked through…to see the reindeer and the kids…

In the training session, we had the chance to practice the controls…and learn the Reindeer Rules……kind of a Reindeer Manifesto…about what subjects to avoid…while talking to the kids…specifically…politics and religion…

The instructor was serious about this…if you didn’t comply…that would be grounds for dismissal…

And I’m thinking…this is a no-brainer…what six year-old is going to start dishing about politics or the existence of a Higher Power?

I had no idea what was in store for me on this job…

My first night…I was very upbeat and excited… also a little nervous… it was a big responsibility for minimum wage…which in 1982 was $3.35 an hour…one false move…and I could literally destroy a child’s belief in Holiday Magic!!!…

I arrived at Hutzler’s early for my two-hour shift…from 6 to 8 PM…

Tinsel and Beau were in the Children’s Clothing Dept…which made sense…luckily…no one was around…and I was able to sneak into the hut with no one noticing me…

I closed the door…and that’s when I realized…for maybe the first time in my life…that I probably had a mild-moderate case of Claustrophobia…In RTS…we kept the doors of the hut open when we were practicing…so the instructor could help us and answer questions…

I mean it was like being in a chicken coop…not that I’ve ever actually been in a chicken coop…It was pitch dark in that hut, and I felt closed in…and the air quality wasn’t great…no fans or ventilation…and I noticed all that in the first minute…this was gonna be a long shift…

Now, the seat was kind of like a bicycle seat…and after trying to get comfortable… I figured that I’d probably need Preparation-H by the end of the evening– and I don’t mean H for Holiday…

The handles…Picture these handles that move back and forth…they allow you to move the reindeer heads back and forth…

The handles worked really well in RTS…

But my handles were loose…so if I wasn’t careful…Beau and Tinsel’s heads would sort of spin…and I didn’t want them to look like Linda Blair in “The Exorcist”…so I had to really focus on that issue…

The handles had triggers…so when you squeezed them the reindeer mouths open and closed…Tinsel’s trigger worked perfectly, but Beau’s trigger was kind of jammed…it needed some WD-40…which I didn’t happen to have in my purse…

I just had to squeeze Beau’s trigger really hard…kind of like milking an uptight cow…which resulted in a huge blister on my right hand…I actually wore a glove on that hand the rest of the season…but since Thriller came out in 1982…I considered myself fashionable…

I’d like to tell you that at least my microphone worked great …but there was a bit of a glitch there as well…you had to look forward and speak directly into it…or it would sort of misfire…

Now, this equipment required a lot of coordination…

But there was more…I had to talk in two different voices…one for Beau…and one for Tinsel…basically, I used a deeper voice for Beau…and a higher-pitched one for Tinsel…

I felt I needed to practice my Reindeer Voices…still no kids out front…so I decided to have Beau and Tinsel recite “The Night Before Christmas” since I had memorized it…

This would also distract me from a lack of oxygen, and various mechanical malfunctions…

I started in…’twas the night before Christmas (BEAU)…and all through the house (TINSEL)…not a creature was stirring (BEAU)…not even a mouse…TINSEL

All right…you had to be there…

Everything was going great…I forgot about all the discomfort…I was handling those controls like a Reindeer Pro…I was about halfway through my recitation when…

All of a sudden I noticed a large shape blocking the peephole…a shape with arms crossed over her chest and wearing a Hutzler’s nametag… she was scowling…obviously not someone immersed in the holiday spirit…

She said…in a loud voice …”Will you please shut up!!”…

“The reindeer on the other shifts keep quiet when there are no children around…you haven’t stopped talking since you got here…you’re driving us crazy”

I assumed by “us” she meant the other bitter and jaded employees…

I decided to take a break, and that’s when a woman approached the hut with her daughter…and left this child with the reindeer, while she did some shopping nearby…

Now, no one would do this in 2009…but this was 1982…and the mother was close by… I could sort of see her off to the side…I guess she thought it was like a babysitting service…I mean if you can’t trust a reindeer, who can you trust?...

I was about to enjoy an innocent conversation with a little girl…not realizing that she was precocious and probably the youngest graduate of the Larry King Correspondence Course…

She started with a barrage of comments and questions…

MY NAME IS TERESA
I’M FIVE YEARS OLD
WHERE IS YOUR PRICE TAG?
I WANT TO BUY YOU AND PUT YOU IN MY HOUSE
WHO CUTS YOUR HAIR?
MY FAVORITE COLOR IS PURPLE AND YELLOW
DO YOU LIKESPAGHETTI SAUCE?
BEAU, DO YOU HAVE ANY BABIES?
I HAVE FOUR DOLLARS IN MY PIGGY BANK

This went on…and on…not sure if the reindeer heads were spinning, but my head was…

Beau interrupted her…Teresa, what do you want for Christmas?

She said she wanted a vacuum cleaner! Now, what five-year old wants a vacuum cleaner!!

This time Tinsel takes over and says…Do you want an upright or a canister?

Meanwhile, I’m thinking…
Where is this child’s mother? Where is store security!

Then, Teresa makes a request that will likely put an end to my first night on the job, as well as to my entire reindeer career.

And by now I’ve only earned about 2 dollars…

She wants to sing a hymn…she’s been learning in pre-school… and she wants Beau and Tinsel to sing with her…

I’m thinking…hymn=religion=breaking the Reindeer Code of Honor…

Teresa starts in, with this voice…think early Whitney Houston…

JEESUS, MY LORD…
JESUS, MYYYYYY LOOOORD….

My reindeer pressure reaches antler level…

JEEE…SUSS…

Does this hymn have any other lines? Why doesn’t someone remove this midget evangelist?

Beau says…Hey, Teresa…how about a carol…Let’s sing
“Santa Claus is Coming to Town”…You better watch out…

I realize he made…you better watch out… sound like sort of a veiled threat…shame on you, Beau…

JEESUS, OH JESUUS, MY JESUS, MY LORD…

After about ten starts on this hymn, when I’m ready to run out of that hut and blow my cover…

Teresa changes focus again…she gets quiet for a second…Retreats…sort of like the ocean right before a tsunami…I’m actually getting a little worried…

Then, with her big brown eyes so full of joy…she says in her very big voice:

I LOVE YOU REINDEERS…

In that instant, I recall a shift, a softening of the spirit…

And so I looked out my peephole…and said…

We love you too, Teresa,

Tinsel, Beau…and me…

Finish your hymn…

We’ll hum along…

And Teresa…if you’re out there…I hope you got your Hoover!!!!


THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!

PS I finished my seasonal job as the Talking Reindeer…growing more confident with every shift. Tech issues were resolved…

In 1983, I was asked to return…the shifts were extended to four hours…but I politely declined…knowing I could never hope to experience the dramatic moments of my first year as a Talking Reindeer!!!!!

Me, Shirley, the Goddess

NEW KNEE

One of my latest verses, composed in the voice of my favorite dog, Cotton Griffin (with her permission and input, of course!) I will soon post her picture, since we are now co-poets. Cotton's owner, John Griffin, recently had knee replacement surgery.

This could be my new vocation - animal poetry, and celebrating new body parts!!!!


NEW KNEE

(if you say this fast more than three times,
it sounds like you are
communicating with aliens!)


Oh, my gosh, I’m gonna pee,
Popsy’s got a brand new knee.

As soon as he stops feeling rotten,
I’ll take him for a walk – Nurse Cotton.

On days when he feels kinda sick,
I’ll give his knee an extra lick,

wag my tail a hundred times,
write more of these funny rhymes.

I’ll loan him my fancy shampoo,
won’t allow him to overdo.

I’ll make sure he does his exercises,
even the ones that he despises.

Soon he’ll feel as good as new,
despite his monumental boo-boo.

Right now, my Mom and I are sad;
when Popsy’s home we’ll both be glad!

He’ll be ready for a nap,
and I’ll look forward to his lap!!

So ends my “tail,” it’s quite enough;
hope you like my cottony fluff.



—by Cotton Griffin (channeled through Shirley J. Brewer)
June 25, 2009

Me, Shirley, the Goddess

QUOTE

Finding myself, I found company.

__Cesare Pavese, "Ancestors"

DIGITAL DITTY

No, I have not yet converted,
but before you call me perverted,
know I really like the static -
how can I be more emphatic?

I miss my trusty analog,
I'm croakin' like a grievin' frog;
oh, well, I gotta go with progress,
what's next is anybody's guess.

6/18 the cable guy will hook me -
I hope he doesn't overlook me.
I'll get back all my channels,
and celebrate in summer flannels.

Me, Shirley, the Goddess