J. Warner Ralls Kensington, California

J. Warner Ralls has spent his entire adult working life--except for service as a combat infantryman in World War II--in research. While still in graduate school he did research on new antimalarial drugs and, later, on portable oxygen generators. His real interest, however, lies in the field of organic chemistry of natural products. A graduate of UCLA, where he received his B.A. and M.A. degrees, and Northwestern University, where he received his Ph.D., Dr. Ralls in recent years, has become involved in extensive volunteer work and competition in Master's Track and Field (Javelin, Soft Ball Throw). He is married and has four adult children and three grandchildren.

Soccer Moms Recent years in the USA have provided a new way to designate certain active mothers. These soccer moms are little youngish women who daily wear athletic shoes and dress. They tool around in station wagons, pickup trucks and vans to provide rides to others. Getting heirs and heiresses to practice and performance is a labor of love they confess. Their vehicles are filled with snacks, gear, pets, team-mates and often little brothers. Delivering offspring to soccer fields is only part of activities met with zeal religious. How about music lessons, ballet, swimming, roller-blade hockey as other druthers. Not to mention private schools, birthday parties, medical appoint- ments all without duress. Some children don't have familial support of Sweden, Detroit and oil barons, not hers. Soccer moms drive daily, cook, sew and housekeep, dads devote Saturdays to their princess. These mom's fierce devotion to getting the best for their kids make them emotional voters. Soccer moms have peer networks optimizing opportunities with all the talent they possess. How productive this frenetic effort will turn out we must leave to future scholars. We can only hope that the kids, as adults, will appreciate this expended energy as much as a caress. In the years before soccer was a known word, pioneer moms defended their kids against invaders. Not knowing how later moms would use new techniques, styles to protect their homestead fortress.

No Hat Hanging Here Bastards stole my only grocery cart; Almost all I own has gone crash. Another trip to place near B.A.R.T.; Lining up to beg a new stash. Must find a different place to hide; Sleeping with one open eye. Those S.O.B.s have no human pride; Oh, for one true friend afore I die. Catching sleep during the safer days; Surviving can have many faces. At least asleep avoids the ways; Those fat cats stare at my places. Better stares than averted glances; Snotty smug ones never helping free. Still there are some hesitant advances; Like those ladies at the food pantry. If only I could clear my topside; Perhaps work would be a possibility. Once again to have a home and fireside; No longer a life of certain futility.

All poems Copyright © 1996 J. Warner Ralls. All rights reserved.