I have carried with me for the past few days a feeling that I was forgetting something.  I have been checking my pockets, Searching through my pickup, Looking in my drawers, [ My dresser drawers ! ], etc.  Today I realized that one year ago I dreamed up a name, filed a password and wrote my very first blog.

One year in the life of a man is a very short time so making a big deal of such a minor event seems to me a bit pretentious. So why is it that as I write these words, right now , my eyes well with tears and all the memories of the blogs, and the feedback and the sharing, overwhelm my senses ?

Could it be that the folks who have read me, communicated with me, disagreed with me and smiled with me are really REAL people ?

Thank you all from the depths of my very soul for inviting me and my ideas into your den. I refer to the blog as my den for here I am free to acknowledge my every whim, to vent my every frustration, to match hearts with some of the most giving REAL souls I have ever had the pleasure to meet.

Fellow READERS, and I say this because anyone who writes must therefore read, Thank you all for sharing your feelings, thoughts , fears and celebrations with me ! I am a better person for having met you all .

BTW    I do not intend to go anywhere that I cannot climb into the ‘net, so You will all have to put up with me for the forseeable future. [or not] Damned philosophy!


What a Bitch

I had just lay down in my bed to rest, And in the twilight between wakefulness and sleep,I found myself on a beautiful beach. Huge waves with curling tops pounding themselves on the sand,pulled my attention out past the raging surf where I spied the outline of a man. He waited for the tallest wave, and paddling with his hands, he stood upon his blue surfboard and headed for the land,Remarkable it was to see the ride beneath the curl. Magnificent it was to see the wild ride, he rode the beast toward the shore. But so much water the mammoth wave sucked from the bottom of the sea. He hit the coral, tore himself to shreds and the morays and sharks soon ate him!


A nibble here and a small fish there with the occasional whir of the trolling motor interrupting the methodical swish of a fishing line as the plastic worm undulates in its slow dance across the rocky and sometimes tree strewn bottom of the clear waters of the lake as a practiced finger senses the vibration of the monofilament line ready to instantly trigger the body into a back stiffening, arm jerking, violent set of the hook should the unwise largemouth bass decide this worm is indeed a late night snack, which he does and the jab of the barb sends the angry fish upward, bursting through the surface of the lake, arching his seven pound body against the pull of the taut line, with the water drops glittering in the moon light shining from behind and reflecting off the bit of limestone wall framed by the dark brush on either side and wins the battle with a mighty shake of his massive head; a splash back into the deep and a slow victorious swim away as the line lies listlessly on the surface tension of the water while the fisherman regains his breath,puts away his tackle, and the big motor growls, the boat turns away from this momentarily glorious time and place, then heads for home with no more  proof of this magical moment but the images in his mind.