Once

The script was written long ago

And the cast chosen well before the play

The lead, a charmer , glib and comely

Delighted in the role and played to the house.

“Packed to the the rafters’ , the agents would remark,

And adoration poured cross the boards.

For many years this blockbuster ran

It seemed the audience would never  bore

Of watching the magic that flowed, or hearing

the words that flowed so well with the score.

Till one gray afternoon while playing the matinee

One grizzled old actor realized with dismay

That the picture presented had grown so large

That his part had grown less than the life

surrounding.

And realized that all the energy imparted had taken its toll

So he stepped back and relished

And tried to embellish

What once was all about him

But now merely reflected that once was all he knew.

 

Going some way?

And so the grand tour begins. We have chosen a new ride for the next leg of our journey and just to make sure that all things are new we have chosen a brand new driver to guide our chariot through the hills and curves lying in the path of a new, unknown destination. A driver, untested, a vehicle unknown, and we did not even bother to ask if someone had a map. I hope our new leader knows how to drive a stick.

Well Thats Good

I have not been as active on my blog as I have been in the past and I thought at first that I had become wondering-deficient. It was not until I stepped away from the great carnival that occurs in the U.S. every four years ( there is a lesser one every two years for those who suffer withdrawals ) that I realized my process of ” wondering why” had not disappeared it had merely been inundated with sloppy political brew. Upon that realization and having taken an “everyday life” shower to rid myself of the cloying scent of ” election projection” I experienced a sort of “wonderment revival”, and felt the need to speak out and be heard, to be laughed with and at, and to attempt clarification of the biological and literalogical? conundrum involving taste, smell, good and well. What the hell, here we go and lets all hope this turns out swell!

We all know that our overall sense of taste depends a great deal on our sense of smell, right? So that means that if we do not smell good then of course our food will not taste good. Or in other words if we do not taste good then we are not smelling well. If this happened to me, should I then go to my Dr. and ask her to taste me so as to determine if I was well enough to smell, or would that only indicate that smelling good was merely a precursor to tasting good or would I really be visiting the wrong office? Since tasting good is really not the puzzle I was hoping to solve; since eating was the thing I wanted involved, I think I’ll tackle (football season in America) the problem from another direction.

I wish to eat and I want to enjoy my dinner. I want my food to taste good. If that is to occur then I must smell well. Do I need to go back to the Dr. who can tell me if I smell well enough to taste good, or does she even care, just as long as I don’t smell so bad that she can stand to be close enough to tell if I indeed do smell well.[ BTW Can a Dr. tell if you are well by the way you smell? I only know one way to smell and that is through my nose and if that is not good enough to tell, oh well!]

Huh! So far I still have not eaten , I do not know if the food tastes, let alone smells, good , or well ; I don’t even know if I am well enough to tell, and if I were to tell the Dr. that she smells well, would she ever see me again ? Or would I have to wait until I tasted good enough to smell well then make another appointment or should I take  chance that I will taste well enough to smell my way to the restaurant and just make a reservation ?  If I made a reservation would anybody come?    If it smelled good maybe?……….. Should I ask the Dr. to marry me ?

When its time to relax…

From the port in my refrigerator door

The tiny particles of Ice shower my wrist

and the hairs tingle upright in their pores

And the cubes fall in with a tinkling sound

And fill the mason jar up and then mounds

To the top then  the frost laden surface gives way

To the brown spiced rum sprinkled over,

The liquor polishes and smooths the icy cold cubes

And waits in the bottom for the shower

bubbling forth from the ginger ale spout

whose bubbles and froths carry the spirits

about in this one pint container full of

refreshing delight

Till the nose hovers over

nostrils tickled with CO2 dew

And the lips gather the rim

and suction the brew over watering

tongue and the mouth rejoices anew.

And a hearty chuckle breaks through

As the mood rises oer the days strife!

I hope I know when enough is enough !

As if……

I have been silent online for awhile as I am experiencing many life altering changes all seemingly needing immediate answers. I have found time though to read the comments I received regarding the golf club thief and the “reckless ranger” who retrieved them.

Of course in retrospect the brandishing of a firearm was perhaps too extreme a method of recovery, but what if there had been no weapon involved. What if during the unarmed confrontation the person in possession of the merchandise had merely removed a club fron the bag and beaten the owner with it? What if the owner had merely contacted the law enforcement agency and waited to see (if?) one of their representatives could have retrieved the equipment for him. What if these (distinctly recognizable, and very personal) items never made it back to their rightful owner ? According to a few of my responders the answer would be ‘sie de la vie’, or a fool and his property are soon parted so long as no one gets hurt.  ( bleed)

Most responders cast dispersion upon the character in possession of stolen, personalized items that could not reasonably be thought of as “free” or “cheap because I just bought a truck load of them ” or ” they were a gift.” ( I remember when there were items listed in the “found” section of the “lost and found” ) Since I believe that most of my readers are among the most astute on the ‘net I am heartened.

I know that people in general are very proud of the possessions they have aquired, and I realize that for many, insurance will replace things that are lost , destroyed or stolen, but I personally cannot, off the cuff, find pity or trust in my heart for a thief.

 

Ours or Mine ?

I happened across a news article today that intrigues me. It seems that a legally armed man who, upon witnessing another man carrying a set of golf clubs and recognizing the clubs as a set stolen from him a few days earlier, displayed his weapon and forced the alleged perpetrator to the ground. ( The news article did not mention what action occurred after this event, but I assume the police were summoned. )

I have my own opinion as to whether or not the gentlman took the appropriate measures to retrieve his property but I am not writing this piece to discuss my views on gun control.

The things about this incident that fascinate me are the comments made by other readers. There were several thoughts expressed that indicated the authors disbelief that a man would react so vehemently over “just a set of golf clubs”.

Just a set of golf clubs. We do not know what this set of clubs meant to the original owner. We can express our opinion about whether or not they were retrived in a socially correct manner. The one thing that we do know is that these golf clubs belonged to the original owner and NOBODY else had ANY right to possess them.

One commenter even said that the original owner was a “fool” to leave his golfclubs anywhere that another person could pick them up because “thats what happens”. ( I have my own thoughts about that persons character and moral fibre. )

BTW: Does anyone have feelings of pity for the thief due to the embarrassment he must have experienced from this episode ?

Politics

Why are so many Americans ready to give over the power it takes to run the U.S. to a man who posesses no discernible manners and whose only attribute seems to be the ability to accumulate, though not necessarily keep, money ?

New Age

Pushed away at every turn
Why did I spend all that time
Trying to learn
Everything important in the world today
To then hear the man spurn me away?
I did my part
And grew up strong,
I won’t be told that
I am wrong.
I paid my dues and now the news
I hear falls hard on anxious ears.
I’m the one
Strong, bright and young
And all I need
Is only my due.
So why cant I have what I want?
Now, I mean.
All I did was all I was told,
“Work hard young man
This will all be yours,
One day.”
So now is my time
Is that so much to ask ?
Me and mine
Are the new generation.
The best you know,
They told us so.
I know.
Ive been told.
I am bold.
So why can’t I,
Really,
I mean…….now?

Graduation, Independence, Life

It does not change much from year to year, Does it ?

For Seth: Smiles,Fears,Love and Tears, They are all yours now.
Patience, Grandson ; )

Please,be Careful

Far below where the common-folks go
Are basements and caverns and holes
Barred and chained at the top
Meant to keep prying eyes out
For the safety
of the wives and children

But curiosity kills the cat
So crafty minds pick and pry
Try to loosen chains
and unlock locks
And attempt to peek
behind the walls
That forbid the seeing.

When the maelstrom rises
And dismay abounds
When the dust has settled
And order resounds
The clear eyed sleuth
Can then clearly tell
The abyss was secured
From below, from hell.

Aint that Special

I know that I am special because there are hundreds of thousands of stars in the skies and a few of them are mine. Now do not get me wrong I did not “make” them and hang them in their respective spaces and I certainly did not purchase them in either a big box store or on the ‘net. They simply appeared to me on deep dark nights when the emotions of life overcame me and I called out for someone to hear. They appeared in the evening as the sun settled down as if to look in on me before I drifted off into slumber. They announced themselves by finding cracks and shined their light around the curtains of my mind and brought with them a sense of warmth and concern and peace. I know that I am special because somewhere along the line, I was gifted the ability to see them and recognize them for what they were! Mine, especially mine. Heartfelt thanks for all my Stars.