Take Care of the Children.

It has been awhile since I had a decent thought.


Listening to my iPOD the other day I was surprised by an old Simon and Garfunkle song: Garfunkel sang: " I would rather be a forest than a street". I started thinking about this phrase and the song. Are we tied to the earth or are we tied more to each other? Would I destroy a tree to keep my family warm during a cold winter night? It goes without saying.
Save mother earth or save my fellow man. I choose the latter. For with our creative and collective intelligence we can surely find the solutions to our problems. We just have to have that desire to help and make things better.

Years ago when I was single and wanted to become a hermit, I would have felt the other way. But since now I have kids I see the miracle in the lives of humans.

Funny how the situations in our lives dictate how we feel.

auto loans

Am I missing something?

Why can't the auto makers hit up the banks that the US government just gave $700 Billion? I understand the banks still have $340 billion left. Why don't they just go to the banks and ask for some guaranteed loans? Why do they have to waste congress's time? I mean really. Shouldn't congress be doing more important stuff? Like fixing the tort reform and legal system or social security.

I am sick of congress. I think we should throw them all out. Didn't we tell them months ago how we felt about this bailout business? Nice of them to listen.

D.

Just some thoughts

It is interesting to watch the US government at work. At least they are balking at giving the auto makers a bailout. Geesh!! I have been watching the oil industry and the auto industry in this country for 40 years. I have been through gas shortages and gas lines. I have watched the US sink to their knees because some oil cartel dictates that we must. I wondered where our electric cars are. Weren't we supposed to be free of foreign oil years ago? Weren't we supposed to have solar panels on our roofs and electric cars in our garages? Where were the auto makers when we needed them? I waited 30 years for a gas efficient American automobile. I am still disappointed. I drive an American made Hybrid. How come there aren't more and how come it took so long? How come solar panels aren't cheaper? These things should have been developed years ago. And now look at the mess we are in.

Bailouts = rewarding poor behavior. The loans that the banks made were to high risk individuals who could ill afford to pay them back. These were in a lot of cases bad loans. Why are we the taxpayers bailing out these executives. Look at the bonuses. Look at their salaries. They are being paid to fail. I dare say that an American worker would have been fired if he performed like them. What a mess.

Speaking of messes. Yes, we had an election. We have a new president in January. Then why is he now making policy? Didn't he resign his senate seat? Isn't he now just a private citizen? Why is our weak, current president letting Mr. President Elect set current US policy?
Mr. Obama doesn't take office until January 20th. He should wait until then to govern. That is the way this country is set up. WE do not have two presidents. We do not have co-presidents.

And what is with the "Office of the President Elect"? That panel makes it appear that it is an official government office. That is just plain wrong. And he is supposed to be a constitutional law professor. It looks like he doesn't understand that part of the constitution. He doesn't take office until January 20th. I will support him then. Until then I wish he would just let our current president govern. It is going to be an interesting next four years.

I just had to get this off of my chest. Isn't there an office of government protocol? Who else is watching this stuff?

D.

Would The Boy You Were...?

I wrote this poem 29 years ago. I am still wondering about that answer. Some days I think the boy would be happy and proud, other days I wonder. I am not perfect. I try. Jesse, here is that war we were talking about.

I wrote this on a plane flying into New Orleans for my brother's graduation from college in 1979. I was returning home. Everyone, all of my friends, had stayed and gone on to college. I went to work. I did not return home "a shining star" so I had to fictionalize the poem. The sentiments are still the same. Enjoy.

Would The Boy You Were...?

You had a lover once
She loved you with her heart.
Yet you cared not for her
She did not fit your part.
Now you are a big success,
You drive a fancy car.
Would the boy you were
Be proud of the man you are?

You see life as just a game,
You think that you must win.
It's not a game you win or lose
You'll never start again.
Sure you have your riches now,
Your wealth's beyond compare
But would the boy you were
Be proud of the man you are?

You say that you've come home,
You say you're home for good
But Mr. Wolfe was right and
You know you never could.
Did you come back to laugh
At those who never dared
Could the boy you were
Quite possibly have erred?

You see your friends that stayed
They've done more than you.
They've lived and loved and cared
For things you never knew.
And still you see yourself
As some returning star
Expecting the boy you were
To be proud of the man you are.

The people that you've known
The ones you cast aside
Still remain in this town
Though many of them have died.
Do you still expect their love,
Can you still expect concern?
When the man that you are
Is ashamed of the boy you were.

Your soul is plagued with scorn
Your heart can know no love.
The people you employed
It's you they're speaking of
Every time they strike
And walk the picket line
Because that boy you were
Had to account for every dime.

We could expect a change
From a man as old as you.
The wisdom of old age
Can help but a few.
If you could see the evil
That's hidden in your greed,
The boy that you once were
Could love the man you'd be.

Copyright 1979, 2005 By David R. Normand

Real Estate Agents

I wrote this poem about a year ago. I was reminded of it recently when I came home to another set of refrigerator magnet note pads touting a local agent. I have so many of them. It is an awful poem. But the note pads are great. I chop off the picture and name of the agent and use the paper to make my notes. The following of which are some:

I love real estate agents.
Were it not for them,
I doubt some of my stuff
Would ever be written.
I come home somedays
And find, stuck on my door
These wonderful little pads of paper,
Touting a local agent.
I am not interested in selling
The house, only my soul,
And if you would read my lines
The paper's worth is proved.


Just really awful stuff. But I will post it here to let you know that I do think of really weird things.
D.

In the news:

From the Associated Press:
"CAPE CANAVERAL, Fla. – Astronauts hitched a giant shipping crate full of home improvement "goodies" to the international space station on Monday, a critical step for boosting the population in orbit."

My first reaction to this statement was that I thought the crate was like a giant shipping crate. My company uses wooden shipping crates. I thought the crate was made of wood. Then I started thinking how wood would react in a weightless environment. Would it explode? Would it condense. In the vacuum of space, would the atoms have enough connection to stay connected? did NASA ever do studies on these materials?

Just some pondering...hey, its what I do.

Updated November 22, 2008 -
My Friend and fellow blogger left a comment and submitted this link:
some sort of answer. Thank you Cosmo.

D.

Yellowstone Trip via Las Vegas

Several years ago I took my family to Montana, Wyoming, Utah and Idaho. I made notes from the trip. I filed all of my notes away. Well, this weekend I needed to clean up my desk. I found my travelogue from that trip. In my notes I was reminded of an episode with my wife and kids while driving on the Las Vegas Strip.

We were driving along the Strip with the outside temperature at 114 degrees F. I commented on an elderly woman walking on the sidewalk. She was red faced, sweating, and her mouth was open. I told my kids that that lady was hot. Silence. I realized that they were wondering how to process the information. Probably thinking that I was some kind of pervert. I said it was 114 outside. The lady really was hot.

Com'on.

Encouragement

Encouragement. We all need it. I look for comments on my blog. I need to know whether my efforts here are being read. I had a friend once tell me that I shouldn't write for anyone else, that I should just write for myself. Well, in every writing class that I ever had the teacher, the professor or whomever always said that the writer is a fool who only writes for himself. Words are meant to be expressed. Words are meant to be read. Isn't that the essence of COMMUNication? To communicate. Why else did we create language? Hey, I want people to read my blog. But one thing I realize and have begun to accept is that I cannot force anyone to do anything. I have no control over anyone's feelings or views. I can only hope that they stop by.

But on the subject of encouragement (I had recently shamefully discussed this issue with my former boss). I want to encourage all of my readers, (ok, the three of you), to go and check out Jessie Irvin's blog. (http://jessieirwin.blogspot.com/ on encouragement.) Or for that matter any other blog that I link from here. But Jessie's blog had a great post written on encouragement. That is what got me thinking today. It was just amazing.

Jessie's blog was one of the first I had seen here. I have not read or checked back as much as I should have but I will from now on. I think she hit it "spot on" about how busy we all are in our daily lives. I am pleased that I found her blog. I thank her for sharing her thoughts with us. Her words have made me understand things more, or at least how others feel when I intrude on or interrupt their lives.

Thank you Jessie. You have opened my eyes.
D.

The Journey Begins

Tomorrow I quit my job of 11 years. It is quite a leap to begin a move like this in today's economy. I know I am leaving a lot of friends behind to finish the jobs that I started, but that is the nature of my business. There is always something to be done. Can't finish it all at once. What else would I do? But I do know that I will miss my friends. But real friends will keep in touch. I am sure of that.

I am leaving with bittersweet feelings. I know the time has come to move on. I was unhappy there. I like to see things finalized. I like to get things done. More and more the work I was doing was met with greater priorities and I was not allowed to complete my tasks. It was frustrating and disappointing. Indeed, it cut straight to my core. There is a great hurt in leaving my job the way I leave it. But I know that some of the tasks I leave behind are very close to being complete.
I think this job taught me something. I shall plan better next time. I will not try to do too much. And I shall try to listen to my co-workers when they tell me to get lost.

I am on a journey of self discovery. Isn't that what life is all about? I am seeking fulfillment and respect. The next phase of my journey is about to begin. Life is full of changes. Nothing lasts forever. There are many changes coming. I just hope I haven't lost too much in the process. There are some things more precious than others. As I move on to another position, another company, I just hope that I have learned something about myself and how others see me. I am trying to be a better person.

I guess someday I will find out if I succeed or not. Wish me luck. Thanks.

Post Katrina casualty

I received an e-mail from the classmates.com website telling me that several of my classmates from high school had left messages. I am always looking for old friends (and new ones, for that matter) so I thought I would check it out and see who's talking.

I didn't see any old names that I hadn't contacted but I did check out the news and notifications site about my old high school. It turns out that my old school, our old high school, is about to be demolished. Interesting news. Kind of sad in some ways. But not unexpected. I guess they haven't been using it since Katrina. The pictures I have seen post Katrina really showed that the place was a mess.

My school is located in the Ninth Ward of New Orleans. It is about half way between the lower Ninth Ward and my old childhood home in the "upper" Ninth Ward, or the "east village" (the Village d' Lest neighborhood). During the flooding after hurricane Katrina in August, 2005 the school had about 8 feet of water in it. I remember seeing a video that someone had posted about the school. The video showed the school fenced off and sealed up. The videographer found a way inside and said that the stench was unbearable.

Well, I guess the time has come to tear it down. Just kind of sad. I have only been back to New Orleans once since I graduated in high school in 1976. I had planned to go the summer of 2005. Budgetary concerns kept us from making that trip. I had wanted to show my kids where I grew up. You know, give my kids some perspective on their old man. The place is different now. I still hope to show them New Orleans. But it will be a different place.

Maybe someday.
D.

Halloween Faux Pas

I love the fall of the year. The weather is supposed to start cooling off and the Apples are just coming ready from the orchards in the mountains 50 miles east of our town. It is always nice because we have great neighbors who bring us fresh apples from the mountains.

Yesterday's holiday (Halloween) is always a favorite at our household. Our kids are grown. My son, 14, went to a friend's house to scare all the neighborhood youngsters. (We heard screams coming from down the street all evening.) My daughter is away at college. The true enjoyment that we get is from all of the young children getting dressed up and coming to our door. My sister called and said she would stop by with her two little girls, my nieces, aged 2 and 3. They were both so cute dressed up as Snow White.

My sister took her kids trick or treating in our neighborhood for awhile and then stopped back by our house so her kids could wind down. Well, Uncle David would have none of that. I had the girls doing pull ups on the chinup bar that I installed for my son. I must have lifted them up ten times. It was a lot of fun. The youngest one kept asking "peas", so I had to lift her up. They were having such great fun.

The funny thing is that they both came in and put their little baskets on out coffee table. That is where we kept our bowl of candy to give out to all the little trick or treaters. When they noticed our bowl of candy, the started grabbing handfuls of candy to stock their baskets. Now a 2 or 3 year old does not have a large hand but they still managed to get several handfuls into their baskets. We managed to make things right. I gave a them each a few pieces.

We played and visited for a little while until it was time for them to leave. My wife offered my sister some fresh apples to take home for her girls. We got her a bag. After they had left we realized that my sister had forgotten the bag. It was then that my wife said it was just as well. That we shouldn't be giving Snow White apples anyway. She might be right. But ours were really quite harmless.

Enjoy your weekend.

Non Verbal Human Communication - A Beautiful Thing

On a quiet neighborhood corner, a young pair of brothers are riding their bicycles in circles on their double driveway and sometimes looping into the quiet street. The house is on a corner. This is a three way stop. There is a stop sign on their side lawn. Mother is watching very cautiously from the garage door while Dad is tinkering in the garage. A friend of the mother is driving by on the other side of the street. She stops to wave "hello" across the other lane.

I drive up on my way home. I stop. I pass through the intersection watching the boys on the bicycles. The older boy makes a loop into the street. Three people hold their breaths in anxious anticipation. I touch my brakes and slow. The child rides his bicycle back onto his driveway. The friend sighs, knowing that I saw the child and took the appropriate precaution. The mother, taking a few steps forward, smiles at me as I drive by. I smile back.

In our neighborhood we all look out for each other. And feel good about our community. Five seconds out of my busy life and I get to enjoy the beauty of non-verbal human communication. Oh, what a wonderful world.

D.

John Greenleaf Whittier

A favorite quote:

For all the words of tongue and pen,
The saddest are these: "It might have been".

what counts. (a poem)

I have been told that this poem is overly cynical and depressing. I guess it is also too simplistic. I personally now think I may have posted it too quickly so I will call it a work in progress. How is that?
Covered all my bases on that. Here are my, uh, notes for this poem:

"In a small American town, two blocks off mainstreet, there are, in this order, an old folks retirement home, a mortuary, and an antiques shop.

A life built on mainstreet moves to a rest home, and ends with eventual inevitability in a mortuary. A life's belongings are sold or relegated to an antiques store.

Life really doesn't amount to much."

What I really want to say, and this goes with the previous post, make something of your life. Have something to show at the end of your days. I know. I even depress myself.

A Hundred Years From Now

Have you ever sat and wondered what legacy you are leaving behind? I have been doing a lot of thinking lately about my life and work. I have two beautiful children to carry on my name and character. I should not worry about that, really. I have two brothers and four sisters who all have kids and we all share a general character and values that I believe we are passing on. I hope some day my kids will fully understand the gifts I have given them.

I had dinner tonight with my parents. I sat next to my dad and he was making all sorts of wise cracks about this and that. It is plain to see where I get my sense of humor. He was really just being silly. That is what my humor is, just plain silly. But that is ok. A good laugh or even a little chuckle can lift your spirit. I think that is how I use my humor. Most often it is to pick up my spirits. There is nothing wrong with that.

I stress out about work a lot. But I was looking at our wall in the living room tonight. I looked at an old picture of my family. My brothers and sisters and I were in our late teens and early twenties when my mom realized that we were all going our separate ways. She wanted a family portrait done. Her legacy. We all got all gussied up in our Sunday best and went to a photographer for a sitting.

I know each of my brothers and sisters still have that photo. My mom has it hanging in her living room. I looked at mine and thought what will happen to that picture twenty years from now when it is replaced by pictures of my grandchildren. Will it be exiled to a photo album? Tossed in a drawer or box and thrown into the garage or some closet?

Where will it be forty years from now? Will my children go through my belongings when I am dead and gone and look at it for a few minutes to reminisce about their aunts and uncles and grandparents? Will it be taken out and re-hung on a wall? No, I doubt that. The picture, the lives, the memories, shared and forgotten do not have a life beyond the realm of family. It is just a portrait of no historic value other than to the life story of my children and neices and nephews.

A hundred years from now, it will just be a portrait of a family long forgotten. But look at the hair and the clothing styles and it will not say much more than that. Such is life. Life is transitory. Families move. People live and die. Memories fade. The true value is in the spirit. The values and character that we pass on.

I work in a field where technology is always changing. The machines we develop today are very different than the ones we developed just twenty years ago. And there has been mention that the machines we are building now will be obsolete in another twenty years. So why do we bother. Well, because we live in the here and now. We need shelter and food and our work provides that. We provide comfort and warmth and we leave values and character. That is our true gift.

Sometimes work will yield lasting qualities and goods. I do not work in that field. I know that I work with people who create knowledge and that knowledge is used to create products or other knowledge. It is a glorious circle of intelligence. One thought begets another thought.

"I think, therefore I am". Therefore I live, and create and pass on the "goods" that I have learned.

Be good in life. Be fruitful in your thoughts, be generous in your gifts. And remember, you came into this world, cold, naked and hungry, and there are no physical commodities that you can take with you when you go. But please, take the knowledge that your values will remain, take your memories, take your family, and take the knowledge and spiritual insight that you have gained. I wish you all the best.

Good Night.
D.

Kindness

A kind word, a genuine smile, a held door. Little gestures go a long way. The past few weeks at work have been very stressful and at times overwhelming. I don't handle stress very well and sometimes I get depressed. I power through and not always under the best of conditions or mental attitude. But these past few days a friend at work has been there for me. I cannot express the deep gratitude that I feel for the kindness she has shown. The kind words and little gestures do go a long way. Sometimes that can mean a lot.

Go out there and be kind to people. Your actions can have a greater impact than you may ever know. Just do it. Someday, someone may say thank you.

D.

war on poverty

I found some notes on my desk as I was moving my little work station around in my son's old room. He moved out to my daughter's old room. She is away at college. They decided that they would switch. I got the leftover room.

I had read an article a few weeks back. It was an interesting read. That word is a fascinating word. I know what it means. When people really don't want to talk about the questions raised they always say that it is an "interesting question", or you are an "interesting person". That implies that they did some thinking about it. They really don't want it to go any further than that. Maybe they aren't really as smart as they think they are, or maybe they are afraid they will be found out.

Well, I guess that is unfair, but on several occasions that is how it has turned out. All I want is some discussions that lead to growth - physical, mental, spiritual - it doesn't matter to me. I need the intellectual stimulation. I miss it. I am dying without it. Mostly, it is a matter of time. Who has the time to really sit and think about stuff. That is all I want. I want to be a philosopher. I think really that a smart conversation can be beneficial to everyone.

The discussion I wanted to have was serious and thus unlikely to find time for discussion. People just don't have time for intellectual pursuits. I was reading some time back about the war on poverty. I tried to bring this up to a person whose intellect I admire. But they really didn't even seem to want to talk. It hurts sometimes. But I digress...

I shall paraphrase…

"Why should we be fighting poverty? It is the default condition for humans. We are all born naked and hungry. What we should instead be asking is how come some prosper and some don't. What we should be asking is rather why are some educated and some not. Why do some learn and others not?" (David Freddoso, National Review).


I thought this a very thought provoking question. Food for thought. Don't you think?

I would rather see the schools actually focus on education and not their own personal indoctrination. Teach kids to learn, to actually think for themselves. Let them find their own way.

Hmmmmm!? What do you think?

D.

The thought hurts

Sometimes I think of things. I have a spark of a thought. Just a little flicker. Boom. Then something happens, another thought, or some task, or business, work, chores, life, then the thought is gone.

I have too much on my mind. I need to prioritize. I need to focus. Ok. but not tonight. I am listening to music. Just a compilation of my favorite folk music. Priscilla Herdman, Tom Russell, Martin Simpson, Loudon Wainwright III, Dave Carter and Tracy Grammer, Josh Ritter. I love this music. Such great stories and emotion. Very relaxing and thought provoking. But not tonight...

Perhaps another day...

D.

Greg Brown Review

Greg Brown, September 28, 2008, Belly Up Tavern, Solana Beach, CA

I have played Greg Brown and my folk music too much in the car. The wife and kids no longer accompany me to concerts. I get to enjoy the music all by myself, which is nice. But I do not get to Share my enjoyment with anyone. That is the shame of it.
On Sunday Night's concert, Greg Brown was accompanied by his good friend and fellow guitar player, Bo Ramsey. Bo Ramsey came out at 8 PM to warm up the crowd. The opening act, Bo Ramsey, a skinny old guy with a guitar, started with a folksy, bluesy "Tell Me Now". Made me want to get the CD to check it out further.
"Fragile", "What's going down."
Ramsey also did a rather repetitive, yet good beat, song called "From Buffalo to Jericho" with the great line of "a long, long time the message of love was what I was sending/
But it was just me pretending/ A long, long time."
Right around this time, about 8:30 pm, Bo Ramsey left the stage only to come back a few minutes later with Greg Brown.
Greg started with a song called "backslider". A song that I was unfamiliar with but the rest of the crowd knew it well.
Greg said that he wanted to be like Jesus because he liked the idea of being dead only three days, because he has a problem with eternity.
But then he went right into three of my favorites, "The Worrisome Years", "Laughing River" and "Whippoorwill" ("the whippoorwill is not a lonesome bird, he is just nuts", Greg Brown in his introduction). Greg wrote this song after his uncle Roscoe and his lady came to the farm for a visit.
"China", a song which inspired me to write a little poem of my own.
"If I Had Known", a song that I consider my favorite Greg Brown tune. What a beautiful tale of life and how great it is to have a short memory so we keep doing the same things over and over looking for that real moment of greatness.
Greg introduced his tribute to America, the beautiful, wonderful, rambling tale of restful America, "Eugene", with the warning to all thinking Americans "I am afraid of my Television". "Eugene" is a great tribute to us all. He says he has "a lot of books he needs to read." I have a stack of books I need to read. Another part of the song he states that "we think we got some shit figured out, then we get tired and go to bed." Greg had friends that he would visit and drink and eat with in the evening. But the gist of the song is that we must "go and look for your life."
Eugene is a stream of consciousness song about a slice of life, a tale of America.
"Slant 6 Mind"
"Think About You"
"Small Dark Movie" How are things going?
/
"Get me religion. I want to be a Baptist preacher, so I don't have to work."
Around about 10PM, a train went by behind the building. It was noticeable but not distracting or annoying.

Greg and Bo came back for an encore. He came out and sang another one of my favorites, "No Place Away", with the great line "words like notes, long slow seduction".
"Waiting on You"
Greg finished the evening with a Johnny Cash cover, "Folsom Prison". I thought this was an odd choice but then I thought it a nice tribute to Johnny Cash.

Spider webs

A while back I was surfing the net and I came across this interesting link about spider webs.



http://www.darkroastedblend.com/2008/08/spider-webs-glamour-architecture.html

Sub-prime mortgages and government enticements

These were comments from an article in National Review written 15 years ago.

"Re: Credit Is Not a Civil Right [Mark Krikorian]
Reader Nicholas informs me that NRODT beat me to the punch — by 15 years:
QUIETLY, behind the scenes, the Clinton Administration is preparing for the biggest regulatory crackdown of recent years. Attorney General Janet Reno is linking up with banking regulators and with HUD Secretary Henry Cisneros to end the supposed epidemic of discrimination against minorities in making home loans. The implications for society at large are ominous.
09/24 05:54 PM"

Just a question I have. If a business is loaning money shouldn't they have a right to require certain criteria to be met? I have always heard that the democrats put the pressure on the banks to loan to lower income individuals. This might make some people mad but I think that the banks in this country have been enticing people to take on credit that they really could not afford. We need to get back to the beliefs that we should not buy things we cannot afford. If something is worth having, it is worth saving for.

Just a thought.

"The Times, They Are a Changin"

Please forgive that little tribute to Dylan. I still love his music and poetry, even tho' as my daughter says, I am a [close minded] republican. (http://theneverendingstoryofkate.blogspot.com/2008/08/headway-finally.html) Oh she knows so little. Nevermind that. I used that quote for other reasons.

My daughter called from college this morning. My wife talked to her about stuff, and then gave the phone to me. I told her to watch out for the sick people (take your vitamins, drink your orange juice, avoid sick people), just normal fatherly advice. We talked about school and other school activities. We had a nice discussion. I enjoyed it.

At the end of the conversation I was about to hand the phone to her brother. I asked my daughter whose dime this was. My son looks at me, "did you find a dime?" (and why are you asking her if it was hers.) And my daughter says "what?" It occurred to me that there are no more pay phones (and if there are they probably cost fifty cents.) I felt so old. So I explained to my children the concept of pay phones on just about every corner in town that used to cost only a dime to use. I don't know how they felt about it. I handed the phone to my son so he could rant about his dad rolling his eyes and waxing nostalgic about pay phones and phone booths.

Ah the joys of parenthood and getting older. The things we grew up with are fading away -- even our kids a fading away. At least we can still know them when they are adults. I hope they keep in touch on the cell phones that I am still paying for.

D.

Sad news to report today. My cousin's ten year old son lost his battle with cancer. He died this morning at 11:15 am. It was the strangest thing because I thought about him at that time this morning. I knew he was sick but I was at work, there was no reason for me to think about him at this time, but for a moment he crossed my mind. I do believe that there is some greater power at work in the universe. I think at that moment I felt the family love.

I met him this summer at our family reunion. Such a sweet kid. He was undergoing treatment this summer and only came to the reunion for the the final night. He looked weak and tired. On the final night of the reunion he danced on the dance floor for what must have been two hours. It looked like he was having the time of his life. I wish I had known him better.

Austin was a good kid. During his treatment he was asked to come up with a super hero and "Bacon Boy" was born. He has been on the TV news, in the newspaper and is the subject of a museum's permanent exhibit. He tapped creativity from the depths of his illness.

These links tell his story:

http://www.oregonlive.com/news/oregonian/index.ssf?/base/news/121384411635070.xml&coll=7

http://www.kgw.com/news-local/stories/kgw_072508_news_bacon_boy.d94439.html

http://www.sparrowclubs.org/SparrowSearch/Sparrow/default.aspx?id=1455

http://www.ohsu.edu/xd/about/news_events/news/doernbecherglass061708.cfm

Austin lived a short but eventful life. He is missed.

Last week his mom was diagnosed. She starts Chemo next Monday. Prayer is a wonderful thing. Your prayers mean a lot.

www.Chap.name (Children's Healing Art Project - has "Bacon Boy" t-shirts.)
http://www.marrow.org/index.html

D.

Youth and Maturity.

Yes, out walking again. When I was a kid I used to walk because I didn't own a car and did not know how to drive. Oh what fun that was. Walking everywhere and all of the things I saw. Now as I am older I drive a lot. I go to places that I could not go on foot. Oh, the places I have seen.

This past weekend my wife and I witnessed an occurrence that left me philosophical. We were walking home from the grocery store. Our store is up a short hill from our house. The driveway to the grocery store enters from a private road that runs down the hill. On the side of the hill is an apartment complex, the driveway to which branches off the private road at an angle and flattens out in the front of the apartments. The hill rises maybe twenty feet from our street over the length of maybe two hundred yards. It is a very gentle and gradual climb.

I mention this hill because my wife and I walk up the hill every time we walk to the store. It used to be a grueling climb. (OK, we were out of shape). We take the sidewalk along the main road which is across a green lawn about 20 yards wide from the private road. It is a much better walk these days.

The past few times we have gone there have been skateboarders out. Not out skateboarding, doing tricks, but just riding down the hill on the private road. It is a nice ride.

The other day we started our walk home with our two bags of groceries and I heard a shopping cart following us. I glanced around and saw an older gentlemen pushing the cart with his groceries. He was about 60ish and in decent shape. Still he looked like it was... a chore... for him to push the cart. The cart had a small amount of groceries in it but it had enough weight to make it a chore to hang onto to keep it from rolling down the private road. I watched this guy as we cut across the grass to the sidewalk and our route home. I knew where he was going (the apartments) and that he would be home soon.

It was then that it occurred to me about youth and maturity. It is a shame that we (well some of us) lose our ability to have fun. I am reminded of Mary Poppins, "For every job to be done/ there is an element of fun." I thought that this whole "chore" would have been a whole lot easier for the guy if he just hopped on the foot rest of the cart and let it roll down the hill. He could have had a great ride. He could have been home in seconds and with little energy expended had he just wanted to have fun. I remarked to my wife that that is the difference between youth and maturity. A kid would have hopped on the cart and ridden it home, but the older gentlemen had a certain maturity to maintain. He could not ride the cart home. Or maybe the thought never occurred to him to "have fun". Too bad.

Now, you can ask my wife. She will tell you that, even though I am 50 years old, I would have ridden that cart down the hill. I might have crashed it into a bush, or fallen off trying to stop it, but as I fell and skinned my knee, or went rolling across the grass, I would have been laughing my head off. And I would have made my wife laugh. She sometimes marvels at how stupid I can be. But what fun I would have had. Fun, maturity? I would rather have fun. I guess I am still a kid at heart. I love to laugh and have fun.

Go out and have some fun.

David.

Big Dog Bravado

During our evening walks my wife and I often pass a house with a large dog in the backyard. That dog always barks loudly as we go by. Thankfully, there is a large fence separating us from the dog. I feel that the dog knows us or should know us by now. Well, last week while we were walking we approached that very house. I noticed that the owner was in the front yard with the dog in the back of a pick up truck. We were still two houses away when the owner went inside the house leaving the dog in the back of the truck. I was worried that the dog would now start barking as he does when we walk by. We continued walking. I positioned my self between the dog and my wife and was ready to take evasive actions if the dog became 'territorial'.

As we approached the yard the dog just completely ignored us. It was simply amazing. We were the same people, taking the same walk and now he was not barking at us. I think he was awaiting his ride in the truck. We walked along the sidewalk and headed home. No incident.

It is amazing the bravado displayed behind a fence. In a cage the excitement happens outside. But in the back of a pickup the excitement is in the anticipation of a wild ride. Out in the real world the dog was just as myopic as the rest of us.

D.

Grandma's Porch

Living in southern California we have very warm summers. Days are hot and so are some of the nights. This summer, after a very warm day, we opened the house to get a nice evening breeze. I stepped out on the porch and was instantly reminded of a summer evening in 1972 where I spent a couple of nights sleeping on my grandmother's porch. We had an opportunity to visit my grandmother at her home in North Dakota. I believe we were there for a family reunion. Wow, now how did I know that? I guess that is on my mind these days.

It was great. Sleeping in the cool night air. Hearing the sounds of the summer evenings. The sounds of a small town. very nice.

hero

Today I delved into my sub conscious and found a distant dream/goal that I first encountered in the eighth grade. I was reminded about a classic author and I remembered a book I read in school. I don't think it was for a class but I read it because I heard he was the best. From the moment I first picked up Dicken's "David Copperfield" I was hooked. The first page contains the best writing I had ever encountered. "Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anyone else, these pages must show."

I was reminded of this passage when a friend told me that she was re-reading "Great Expectations". I offered that at one time Dickens was my favorite author. I lied. I just wanted the conversation to continue. Although my most favorite book IS "David Copperfield". I enjoyed Dickens style. I thoroughly enjoyed this book. " To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o'clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously. " From those lines on I was hooked. I read the whole think in the fall of my freshman year in high school.

I believe now that that has been the goal of my life. To be the hero of my own life. I dare say that I am still working on it. But the successes that I have enjoyed in life thus far have been the parts of my plan that have been purposefully achieved. I have known love and lost it. I have known love and won it. I continue to savor that victory.

I have two beautiful children whose lives hold as much promise as my own life did (and still does as I am still breathing). I must admit that the children's ages now provide an immense challenge to my wife and myself as to make me think that my hero status is in terrible jeopardy. But then things happen that can change my mind in an instant. They are beautiful, smart, generous and loving kids. They will go far in this life.

Does parenting make me heroic? I don't know. At times maybe. Plucking a baby from a swimming pool before he tries to breathe under water. Yeah, I did that. My 18 month son slipped not a foot from me. I grabbed him before he even thought to breathe. He is fine. Forgotten all about it. Of course, he has had 13 years.

Or pulling splinters?, Or cleaning scrapes and cuts? Answering questions?

Helping my daughter with her school project? Does that make me heroic? Maybe. But we all do that. Homework? I don't know.

I guess I am still trying to figure out that Dickens line. "Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anyone else, these pages must show." Maybe that is what this blog is all about. I don't know. I don't know if I can be called a hero just yet. Maybe that is the struggle. Maybe I should re-read David Copperfield. I will have to clean out the garage to find it. Wish me luck.

D.

Turning Fifty

During the past two weeks I turned a half a century old. I was given the opportunity to savor the joys of having a party in which my family (some) and friends (some) showed up to help me celebrate. It was a great party. My wife planned it exquisitly. She did not plan on surprising me but she did. I knew about the party, I knew about the attendees, but she put together a scrapbook that was just incredible - highlights of my life, my family and cherished moments.

Fifty years of living one can accumulate a great many dreams, ideas and accomplishments. Well, I had the first two but was kind of depressed about my lack of accomplishments. After looking at the friends who made the great effort to attend my celebration I have no doubt about my accomplishments. I have great friends. I still have great ideas and dreams, so, who knows. Maybe someday.

Depressed about my accomplishments? Yeah, kind of. I had dreams about what I wanted to do with my life. I can't say that my life has turned out exactly as I planned but I can't complain about how sweet it is. I wish I had written a bestseller, I am still working on a book of poetry, I have several ideas for plays, but the time to complete those tasks is hard to find. I have ideas. They come to me while driving, while fixing breakfast, while mowing the lawn. The thoughts are always popping into my head. I always have paper around for notes. I have lots of notes. I just need to write them down and get back to them when I have time to consolidate them.

I shouldn't be depressed. I still have time, desire and abilities. I just don't have time currently. I can squeeze in a half hour here or there, but nothing consistently. There are so many distractions just in living. So I write what I can, when I can. I write this blog. I still think. I still have ideas. Someday...

I think I have had a great first fifty years. I look forward to the next fifty years.

David

Family Reunions

Wow, what a wonderful two weeks. This summer my family had our 20th (21st? - who's counting?) family reunion. We have them about once every four years, so ours have been going on since 1933. The family story (from my cousin Patsy) states that my Grandfather and Grandmother and four kids were traveling out one 4th of July holiday to a picnic at other relatives farms. There was an auto accident and my aunt, who must have been four or five years old, broke her arm. Grandma said that from that point on she would not travel on July 4th and everyone could meet at her farm for the festivities. And so, our family reunions were born. We don't do them every year though. Off years are for in-laws families and individual families to establish traditions of their own.

This years reunion was fantastic. The planning was terrific and the venue worked out great. This year we had a total of 37 families attend. There were at least four families missing. Some cousins live in Europe and could not attend and some have young families and gas prices were pretty high this summer. But the rest of us got together and had a great time.

We got together to talk, reminisce and to make rope for the younger members. I believe every member of our family has (or should have) a piece of rope made at our reunions. During the years on the farm in North Dakota, there was always a need for rope. Sometimes it was difficult to travel to the hardware store for supplies so Grandpa bought a rope machine. Rope making is a collaborative effort and we have a lot of fun when we make rope. I remember when I was a kid there was alway beer around. Sometimes the beer mugs are just set on the grass to free the hands for ropemaking. (Sorry Uncle Don). Sometimes beer got spilled by little nephews. But we always had fun. This year was no different. I saw my cousins setting up the rope machines for their kids, grand kids, and nieces and nephews. Traditions get passed on. This, to me, was the best part of the reunion. The traditions, the re-connections, the rope-making, the talent show, the breakfasts, the dinners.

A hearty thank you to my cousins, Mary and Michelle. You, and all of your helpers, did a great job.

Dust Devils

We began our trip at 5:30 AM on Friday, July 25th. After an uneventful trip up the Eastern Sierras we approached the little town of Walker, CA on Hwy 395. A nice little town of inconsequential significance. This little town is on the edge of the Sierras and Antelope Valley. Walker is on the north end of the Walker River canyon. I mention these landforms because that will give you an idea of the wind patterns. While driving through the town we were driving behind a semi tanker truck with two trailers.

On the northern edge of town we could see the wind swirling on the side of the road. The wind started kicking up the dust and assorted weeds and small shrubs. It looked like a tornado. (dust devil –noun- a small whirlwind 10–100 ft. (3–30 m) in diameter and from several hundred to 1000 ft. (305 m) high, common in dry regions on hot, calm afternoons and made visible by the dust, debris, and sand it picks up from the ground. From "Dictionary.com") My wife suggested that we pull over and let it pass. I was about four car lengths behind the tanker truck. I was waiting to see what he was going to do. He was going to go right through it. The dust devil crossed the road and hit the second trailer on the tail end. The trailer moved about 1 to 2 feet side to side. It was amazing how much power that little wind storm had.

We made it our destination after a, finally, great trip. It is great to see Mother Nature at work.

David

away

This blog may be dull the next few weeks. I will be away on a trip and my opportunities for blogging may be limited. I will try to keep my faithful readers (or interested parties) up to date as to my whereabouts but I will be on the road. I will write more when I return.

Thank you.

David.

Crows

During my walk a few days ago I mentioned that I saw some crows fighting it out in a tree. Today (Saturday, July 19th), I had another experience with crows. This time I have a picture. These crows somehow got caught in the unused batting cage of a local high school's baseball field. The cage is attached to the dugout. The gate from the dugout was open and there was also a small opening in the chain link fence on the other side which they could easily have walked through. But these crows (I am told they are pretty smart birds) could not seem to find the way out or remember how they got in there.

The birds did not seem to be panicking but they were flying from their perch on a small storage box to the opposite corner of the cage. It occurred to me that they may be disoriented from their predicament and it has not occured to them to walk out. Could it be that in their predicament they just didn't think to walk? They fell back on their skill of flying. That which they do best will get them out of this mess. I shall bring some seeds tomorrow in the hopes that I can coax them out.

We shall see what happens.

UPDATE: (Sunday, July 20th)...My son and I went back to the school and the cage. The birds were gone. They must have figured it out on their own. I thought that they might have. There were maybe too many human things in the dugout for them to try that route. They have flown the coop.

D.

Walking

My wife and I go walking almost every day now. She drags me out walking because she is trying to get me healthy. I turn 50 in less than two weeks and she is throwing me a party. I think she wants me around to throw her a party in 4 and a half years. I will gladly do it. Faithful readers know that I like to party. Partying is an excuse for cake and that may be why my wife wants me to walk. Too much cake.

I have two brothers and four sisters. At any given time when we were growing up someone was having a party. Someone was having cake. We all had different tastes so we all experienced different cakes. And so, I have come to love cake.

I am diabetic. I can't eat cake anymore. Another reason my wife drags me out walking.

It is great to live in Southern California where the weather is always nice and it doesn't rain on our walks. But I remember when we were newlyweds and we did go out walking. It rained on us that particular time. And we had a great time. Even now, 20 years later, we still enjoy walking. I enjoy the time with her. She is a great person to talk with. And she has learned to keep up with me. It used to be that she was always lagging behind me when we walked. I had to get where I was going. Walking has to be aerobic. No, she said, it is just a leisurely stroll.

You see, we have our differences. I walk because I get to spend time with her. We talk, we shop, we dine, we walk. We have a rule that we will not eat out at a restaurant unless it is within walking distance of our house. We walk two miles each night so that gives us about 7 restaurants in our area. No, there are nine. But two of them are down the hill and just beyond the 1 mile mark (two miles round trip). We are trying to build up our stamina.

On the weekends we try to walk to the mall. That is just over two miles (four round trip) and adds eight more restaurants and the food court (yippee). So we have a great variety in our area. It is a nice rule. It sounds good and it is a great story for my doctor. But we don't really adhere to it. We broke it tonight. Oops! I wasn't supposed to say that. Things happen.

Today I went walking by myself. I was inspired to write this little story because this evening, for my reading I chose one of my favorite authors. This gentlemen seems to write about stuff that hits close to my own life. We are about the same age and each have a wife and two kids. I think we are of the same intelligence because of an article he wrote a few months back.

I love his writing. He is very intuned to human nature and very insightful. Several years ago he vacationed with his family at the same town I did with mine, although not at the time as us. I enjoy reading his articles. Check out John Derbyshire's "The Road To Wisdom" on his website
http://www.johnderbyshire.com/Opinions/Straggler/page.html .

John, one of my dreams was to hike the Pacific Crest Trail, which starts in my neighborhood and heads north all the way to the Canadian border. Just a bit more than 30 miles. Someday maybe. The other great walk I thought about was from Point Barrow, Alaska down the Rockie Mountains through Canada, through Montana, Wyoming, Colorado and down through Mexico, Central America, across the Panama Canal and down into South America all the way to Tierra del Fuego. That was the plan of an 18 year old.

I am now pushing 50 (pushing it really hard, but it is stronger than me and pushing real hard back). That Tierra Del Fuego dream may fall but not the Pacific Crest Trail dream. I still cherish that one. Maybe I can get my wife to go on that one with me.

I HAVE been rambling. Please someone stop me. I almost missed my main reason for writing. Tonight, as I walked out on my own, there was a commotion between two crows in a tree near my walk. I stopped and looked up. At the very top there was perched a crow making all kinds of cries. He would poke his head into the heavy leaves and Caw and Caw. I was curious. He seemed very vocal. When he pulled his head out he had in his beak another Crow's wing. He stretched that wing out its full length. I could see the other crow's beak. I could not make out what he was carrying, perhaps a snail or some other tasty morsel but the bird in the bush was not letting go. Finally the vocal one gave up.

It was almost pleasant to see that the commotion was a food fight. Nature at its purest. The fight for survival. It was a very nice walk. Thank you John for the inspiration.

David.

Conversation

Good evening. I just returned home after a great party for a dear friend's birthday. It is great to get together with family and friends. She is "family". A dear person whom I have known well for over 20 years and whom my wife has known for over 25 years. She is a dear friend also because she is a faithful reader of this blog.

I commented that not very many people comment on my blog. (I actually have a few faithful readers.) She stated that I should not be concerned about how many people read my blog. I should be writing for myself. Yes, true, but all writers write for an audience. One of the reasons I started this blog was to write, to force myself, to write regularly. I am writing more regularly now than before I started this so that works. In a way she is right. But what I really want is to develop some sort of discussion. I want to be a better writer. I want to be known for my writing. But I write pretty tame (lame?) blog posts. I know that. I wanted to offer some insights into daily life. Boring...every one's life is different. Everyone has opinions. How can I set myself up as someone different? How can I make people stop by?

I may have to go against my original thoughts or my original desire on this blog. Maybe I should put forth more opinions. Become more "controversial". Raise some eyebrows, stir things up. I wonder how many visitors and comments I could get at that point.

I am an anarchist. I am a realist. How can anyone tell any other person what to do with their lives? How to live? I believe we are all put here for a reason. A reason that might be between us and our maker. I am reading a book about the future of western society and in that book the West degrades into anarchy after the liberal, politically correct policies of the sixties begin to rule our lives. Watch out, they have been slowly implemented into today’s society by slowly brainwashing the electorate. We have to stick up for individual rights.

I became a republican because they believe in less government control over individuals' lives. I have yet to see a perfect governmental system. But I believe in the one we currently have, with all its faults, it works. I believe that the reason we are facing some of the problems that we have now is because we are moving away, slowly away from the ideals and principles that helped to develop this great country.

We are asking more and more that the government take care of us. This was the thinking going back to the sixties. The welfare state. The war on Poverty. "Ask not what your country can do for you, but ask rather what you can do for your country." We should donate time and services to our country? Jonah Goldberg in National Review Online stated "For those who don’t remember, the 13th Amendment says: 'Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime . . . shall exist within the United States'." I know in this upcoming election there is (are) a candidate (candidates) who would "set a goal for all American middle and high school students to perform 50 hours of service a year, and for all college students to perform 100 hours of service a year". (Emphasis mine). And now he wants to make the faith based initiative of GW Bush a government position too. Does he understand the constitution?

Hmmm. Isn't going to work and becoming a productive, tax paying citizen a noble goal? I began paying taxes when I started working at age 12. Maybe not income taxes but consumption taxes. I spent all of the money that I earned. I bought gas to run my lawnmowers. I paid taxes on the candy and goodies I bought with my money. As I got older, I paid gas for my cars so that I could get to a better paying job so that I could spend more money. I paid tuition in college. I paid taxes at the school cafeteria where I ate lunch. I paid taxes on the books I bought. I paid the government for the privilege of driving on their/our roads. I contribute.

What have I received for my taxes? I expect the government to "…establish Justice, insure domestic tranquillity, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity…" I expect justice. When someone breaks the law, I want him or her punished. If someone wants a job I want him or her to have every opportunity to find the job that they want or are suited to do. I want people to be able to go to school and receive a quality education. I want the government to be strong enough so that I don’t have to worry about being blown up while I am trying to provide a better life for my family and community.

Community? Yes, of course. When I was in college taking a course in economic geography I learned that for a company to be successful it must sell outside its own community. Otherwise it is just redistributing the wealth among its own. And when that happens there is a diminishing effect. True wealth and growth is obtained by continually bringing in new moneys. I made the choice in college that, if possible, I would work for a manufacturer. It took me six years to do that but I finally did break through. I have been doing that ever since. I am, I feel I am productive. I pay taxes.

I am sorry for rambling. This is how I feel. I want to write. I want the freedom to be able to pursue my livelihood by it. I want that opportunity. So please forgive me if, in the future, I may rattle a few nerves. I am just speaking my mind.

See Lady, you have a profound affect on me. Happy Birthday.

David.

Depression

There was a time in my life when I felt depressed. There were a variety of reasons for that. Life is tough and we can’t be happy all the time. It just doesn’t work that way. There are a lot of things that are beyond our control. And I got depressed. It was never a serious depression, but I needed someone to talk to. I had no one. I am married but at the time my wife was going through her own pain. I could not talk to her. I needed her and I missed her. Her father lay in a hospital suffering from several diseases from which he would never recover and I could not talk to her about my own selfish little sadness.

I admired the man. I respected him. I went to him and asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage. I thought it the honorable thing to do. I admired his faith and how strong it was. I admired all the things he had done in his life. And I miss him. That was why I was there for my wife. She needed a strong shoulder to cry on and I tried to give her that. I hope I gave her that.

He died in August, amost two years ago. And I thought about him the other evening (I actually think of him quite often). My wife had rented a movie with a story line about a father’s death and his leaving behind two adult children struggling to get by in a world with too few opportunities. In the story the daughter asks the son to pick up the ashes because she can’t handle it. It reminded me of an old Kris Kristofferson song lyric, "Who’ll be there to bring the body home" ("Star Spangled Bummer (Whores die Hard)"from the "Spooky Lady Sideshow" 1974 album). That line says a lot about a life. What do you leave behind you when you go? And who do you leave to pick up the pieces? Several days after his death my wife and I went to pick up her dad’s ashes from the funeral home. We were asked to transfer them, to drive them to the cemetery where they would be interred next to his parents. I remember that I felt an overwhelming gratitude at being allowed to offer him this final courtesy. I felt honored.

As for my depression, I got over it. There are more important things in life than to let a little sadness overwhelm you. Count your blessings. I am lucky to have many. I hope that you have many too.

Epiphany - The Secret to Life

I have found the secret of life.

It was an epiphany of sorts. Many years ago I had an idea for a short story, the premise of which moved me. I have never been a very disciplined writer and found it hard to complete the story. I kept coming to holes in the logic or questions that I could not answer for the characters. When I first discovered that I had this talent I relied heavily on inspiration to create my art. But as I got older and became more responsible for my own existence, I found that I had less time for meditation. The business of life kept intruding. Even though I had an idea for a story, I lacked the sufficient inspiration that I felt that I needed to write the story. So, the story languished in my notes.

During my agnostic years I read a lot of existentialist literature. You know, where death gives meaning to life. The premise of the story is where a young man finishes his college career and then wanders through life looking for the true satisfaction, spiritual and professional fulfillment. He stumbles across a cemetery and finds great satisfaction in taking care of the graves. This little celebration of lives touched me. A life should stand for something. A life should have meaning.

Over the years this story haunted me. I had no details for it. I had a lot of ideas for plots with still the same basic premise. One idea kept going through my story. I had this line, this phrase, that some might call blasphemy, but for the sake of my story I thought appropriate. "What if God forgot?" What if god forgot to take someone home. And then last year several very spiritual things happened. I will not go into the details of my spiritual life, other than to say that I believe in God. My children have converted me.

First, I was having a conversation with a friend, an administrator in a geriatric care facility and she told me of a 100 year old patient whom she felt God had forgotten. She had stolen my phrase.

Second, I was reading an article in the paper last year about this lady in Riverside County who claims the bodies of the dumpster babies of LA. They too have been forgotten in some way. She claims the bodies of these infants who have no one else in this life to love them. This lady has set up a part of a cemetery in Riverside County where these babies are buried and loved. She calls the place the Garden of Angels. I figured that this was a holy place.

And that brings me to my pilgrimage. I went to the garden of angels to speak with God and I believe that He spoke to me. I was looking for that very inspiration that I had when I was younger. The ability to write from my heart. Bare my soul. I was asking God for some sort of guidance. I stood over the graves of those poor, forgotten babies and selfishly looked for some inspiration to satisfy my own search. I was seeking some sort of redemption, some guidance. I was asking God to finish my story for me. I stood there for about twenty minutes. I read the plaques, I read the names on the crosses.

As I have gotten older, now I realize that I must put more into it. The burden is that I must work on writing now and not rely on the muses. What I write must come from my own talents, from my own efforts.

I think I received my answer. On the way home from the 'Garden of Angels', I was waiting for the answer. I received no sign. Nothing. I had no overwhelming feeling that the place was a holy place. I saw no visions, heard no voices. But on the way home it occurred to me that perhaps was my answer. No response, meant only that I was on my own. This meant that it is up to me to finish the story. There will be no inspiring places, no vision or voices telling me what to write. The only way my ideas will become stories is for me to write them.

The power is within me. And that leads me here. I have found the secret to life. That is find those things that make you happy, that give you satisfaction, that fulfill your life and pursue them. Hobbies, avocations, whatever lifts your spirit. It is in the pursuit of these things that happiness is found. You can do it.
D.

fortune cookies

When my wife and I were first engaged and in the exploratory stages or our relationship, there were always questions of whether we were doing the right thing. During one of our intimate dinner dates we went to a popular Chinese Restaurant in Lake Tahoe. After the beautiful and delicious dinner the waiter brought the fortune cookies. My wife's fortune cookie told her to "Stop looking, happiness is seated right next to you". We still have those two fortune cookies in our scrap book.

And twenty years later we are still enjoying fortune cookies. It seems like after every Chinese meal that we have had that fortune cookie always comes up. Recently, we went out to dinner and my wife and I took our children out for Chinese food. After our meal as we sat there in a cramped booth, we again discussed our fortune cookies. My son said his told him he would always live in comfort and material wealth. My daughter's said she would take a trip with a friend.

My daughter then asked me what my fortune said. I told her it said "Stop looking, happiness is seated right next to you." She asked my wife what her fortune said. I said that it said "Someday your prince will come". And then my wife, from the other side of the cramped booth said, "Yeah, and he wont have any place to sit."

I guess the honeymoon is over.

Disposable Children

He came to us the newly adopted laughing boy,
A joy to the kids and babies at our daycare.
The laughing boy went home to loving arms at end of day.
A mama’s joy.

As days went by the laughing slowed.
A little boy misses his baby brother, another foster child,
Another home.
Mama’s joy unites them at last.
The two adopted laughing boys.

The laughing boys played hard.
Their love was shared.
But boys come home at night, to a quiet house,
And loudly played and played…

And mama’s joy turned angry. Quiet time is what she craved.
Parent’s get tired from work.
Stresses build and
Become unbearable.
Call the agency, contracts broken
We can’t handle this, we can’t handle two, loud, noisy boys.

The agency arrives and tells the boys.
Little boys go where they are told
They never make friends, they are bought and sold
Passed around and loved from home to home,
To grow into the realm of the crowded and alone.

August 29, 2006


C. 2006 David Normand

Just thought I would share this. Any comments?

The Lives of Others - a review

I heard about this movie in a variety of places. My news magazine, my brother, all recommended it. On the strength of those I added that to our Netflix queue. I have never read a complete review but accepted it on the word of mouth of people I respect.

"The Lives Of Others" is a German film about life on the other side of the Berlin wall. It is in German with subtitles. It has always been my contention that you watch a movie like you read a book but this movie I HAD to read. It was a powerful portrayal of life behind the iron curtain. I was struck by its honesty from the very first moments. I found that I was glued to the screen. I had to read the dialogue. It was just a very powerful story about life in a communist society.

I was moved by the story of the playwright, his friends, and his actress girlfriend; the workings behind the reasons for the state police to bug his apartment; and the cold, lifeless, police officer in charge of the surveillance. I cannot say too much of the story beyond this because I do not want to give it away but this movie has some amazing scenes. Some brutally honest scenes that make you ask yourself how would you react if these were your neighbors, if this was your town, your friends. I think we need to ask ourselves this occasionally. What price do we pay for our freedom? What price would we pay to get it back.

I was moved to tears several times. It has some beautiful portrayals. I recommend that everyone to rent it.

Very powerful stuff. Rent it.

David.

oil

I started this blog about six months ago and I made a commitment to myself that I would try not to be too political. I can't keep that promise any longer. I have to say something about certain current issues in the US.

We all know oil prices have gone up and when oil goes up so does gasoline for our automobiles. So in the US we have been looking for cheaper, better alternatives. Bio fuels. From corn oil and other sources. We are using more of our crops for the lucrative bio fuel market. Then the US gets criticized for not exporting enough food to starving countries.

The real food crisis has been traced to the rising middle class around the world. With the growing economy millions more people have prospered to become more affluent in a global economy. This new middle class opulence has seen a consumption of more food in China and India. More demand there. Less exports for anywhere else.

It is interesting how the US is to blame for a lot of things. And we get criticized for acting in our own self interests.

Sometimes it just gets really annoying. I mean why can't world governments produce enough foods for there own people? I know self determining governments should function in their citizens best interests. Don't get me wrong. I know some of these answers. And I know it is just a lot easier to find an easy scapegoat.

Update: Apparently Opec thinks that oil should be priced about $60 to $120 a barrel. So who is raising the price. Some investors looking for a profit at the expense of the consumers. Amazing.


David.

Baseball

I have been meaning to write this for several years now. I have wanted to tell let people know how much enjoyment I have received from baseball over the last twenty-five years that I have been a baseball fan. I fell away from the game of my youth when I was a teenager – too many other things going on and I lived in a town with out a professional team. And now, I find myself falling away again. I became a fan in 1980 after a friend started explaining the nuances of the game to me. I was hooked.

I became “Mr. Baseball” to my family (two brothers, four sisters) and I made them all baseball fans too. But I better get to the point. I was such a baseball fan that after my wife became pregnant, I held the baseball encyclopedia up on the dinner table and let it fall open so that I could randomly pick a baseball name for our first child. I pointed to the page with my eyes closed. I was astonished when my finger pointed to a player named “Buster Maynard”. It was so cool that my first child would have such a great baseball name. Well, my wife, being the more practical person in this marriage, vetoed my choice of names, for which I’ll bet my daughter is eternally grateful. But that name, that player has stuck in my family's folklore for eighteen years.

In my younger, more frivolous years, I listened to interviews and radio shows. I read articles, I watched all the games I could. I heard all sorts of baseball stories, great little pieces of Americana. I loved the spirit of it all. Hearing about the humanity of the players and all the baseball greats.

It must have been the mid-1990’s that I heard my first “Buster Maynard” story. I was listening to the great sportswriter, Phil Collier, before a game and he told a story of Buster Maynard. It seems that as a young journeyman player on his way up in the minor leagues he was admired by this certain 11 year old kid. That kid was so impressed that he asked Mr. Maynard for his autograph. Mr. Collier relayed that the esteemed Mr. Maynard was tired after a game and told the kid to get lost.

Years later, the story goes, when Mr. Maynard was on his way down in his career, he was facing a pitcher in the minor leagues. The pitcher brushed Buster back with several pitches and it was very clear that the pitcher had it in for him. After the game Maynard went up to the pitcher and asked him why he was so tough on him. It was then that the pitcher said he was the kid that didn’t get that autograph seven or eight years earlier. Mr. Collier mentioned that the pitcher that night in the mid 1950's was none other than Tommy Lasorda, the famous Los Angeles Dodger's Manager.

I have cherished that story ever since. As a fan of southern California baseball, I used to root against the Dodger's all the time. But I was sad when Tommy Lasorda retired. He truly was, and still is, a great Ambassador for Baseball.

I have always been impressed by the scope of Lasorda's career. I was impressed with his skill as the Dodger’s manager. I was extremely impressed by his comments as Manager of the Olympic Baseball Team. What he said was that it transcended the city teams, the professional teams. Because the players and coaches represented the whole country and everyone at that time became baseball fans rooting for the one team.

Tommy Lasorda has given me great pleasure as a baseball fan. But have to state that for a long time I was a San Diego Padres fan. I have been since I moved here in 1980. Sorry. But you have given baseball fans everywhere something to be proud of – the fact that we are Baseball fans. I have no motive for writing this other than to say thanks for all the great memories that I received from baseball. I am at heart a true baseball fan.

But I stated earlier that I have fallen away from baseball. The drugs and steroids scandals have really turned me off. I remember a fallen player, a once great competitor, whose skills waned a bit. He was out of baseball and died of a drug over dose. (I actually remember quite a few players that this happened to). I also remember owners and managers giving quotes to newspapers stating that they knew this one particular player was using drugs but they were winning, so...

So, I have weened myself off of baseball. It makes it easier now that my team is in last place. But I still miss the great ones, and I miss their stories. If the game changes, I may be back. Until then, I wish them all well.

David

Two Poems

Water

A young lady, dressed in tight, black sweats and a pink sport's bra, out jogging on a warm spring day in southern California. The water-starved area doesn’t stop people from having our well manicured lawns. We are so conscious of our water needs that sometimes we even water the parched sidewalk. And when this young lady comes to that point in her jog she stops to enjoy the spray. She raises her face to the shower and refreshes her beautiful smile.


Spirit

A young girl, on a tour in France, wandering the cemeteries in Normandy. She stops and pauses by an unmarked headstone. An unknown soldier. She puts her hand to her lips and kisses her fingers. She places the kiss on the headstone.
A lost soul wandering the universe feels uplifted. The joy of remembrance has touched his spirit. He finds comfort and peace.

M&M’s

On a newly paved private road, a bag of M&M’s was spilled. A beautiful array of colors on a black background. The hot spring sun beat down on the road and the candies melted, not in mouth or hand. Cars came by and flattened the melted candies. A beautiful mosaic of dots of magnificent colors, like stars on a midnight sky. What a tragedy for chocolate.

D. Normand, 2008

Coincidences (2)

Ever since I was twenty I have been thinking about coincidences. There have been many in my life and it continues to amaze me. One significant one occurred just today. It was interesting, at least to me.

I do a lot of research on the internet. I stumbled across an interesting website last night. I am reading Stephen Ambrose's book on the Lewis and Clark Expedition, "Undaunted Courage". (Yes, those of you who stop by regularly, I am still reading it. It is an easy read but I can only find a few minutes here and there to read it.)

I am reading this book and it raises the subject of human migration patterns. Well, it raises the question in my mind. So I started thinking about it. I typed in the words "human migration" on Yahoo and it gave me a lot of choices. One of them led me to a website, http://www.bradshawfoundation.com/. I was impressed with the information that could be found there.

I am an old anthropology major - for two semesters - so this website gave me a lot to study. Some of the things that I found were the discovery or ancient art. The cave paintings in Cosquer and Chavert in France were incredible. But the real interesting artwork was the giraffe carvings of Niger. I was amazed. I read the articles and nowhere could I find any indications as to when these figures were carved. I was really quite fascinated by it. I thought a great deal about it. I knew that my friend at work would really enjoy this artwork. She is a very talented artist and I share discoveries with her all the time. I was thinking about her while I was reading and looking at this website. I knew she would love it.

I was further amazed this morning when I was at work. This artist friend of mine shows up in a blouse of giraffe print. How could she have known that I was thinking about her? Could I have placed these thoughts in her head telepathically? Or was it just a coincidence? I may never know. But it was pretty amazing that I turned around and saw her blouse of giraffe patterns. Pretty cool. Just made me stop in my tracks. Who is running this universe anyway? What great plans You have or what a great sense of humor You have.

While thinking about this, and its flirtation with the paranormal, I was reminded of my grandmother. She was a neat lady who sometimes would say things that just seemed so strange. I remember one day that she was at our house, she must have been in her 80's and she was just sitting in the living room watching the days activities. I remember my younger sister, she must have been 18 or 19 (maybe 20) at the time, had a friend over. I think I said hi to the friend as my sister and her went through the living room and into the backyard. My grandmother looked at me and said that that girl was the girl I would marry. I laughed and thought she was joking.

My grandmother died about four years later. And three years after that? I married that girl. So all of you out there...listen to your grandmothers.

Thanks for putting up with my ramblings today. It was just kind of fun to think about "coincidences" or the great "plans" that someone has for our lives. Keep thinking and wondering.

David.

I am the product...

I am the product of all who I have ever met.
I am the product of green vegetables, beets, and corn,
of hamburgers and hot dogs, Mother's Sunday roast, and Dad's vegetable soup,
I am the product of friends kept and friends that slipped away.
I am the product of books and teachers that I have known,
of girls that I have loved,
of girls who loved me back and
of those that haven't.
I am the product of enemies and adversaries,
of strangers,
of smiles and disdainful looks.
I am the product of molecules and atoms
of the breath that you exhale,
of the words that you have spoken.
I am the product of all that I remember.



C. 2008, D. Normand

I wrote this at a recent writer's conference that I attended.

Europe

On the day that my son and I left for spring training my daughter caught her flight to Dublin. I tracked her progress on the air tracker before I left the office but the rest of the flight, being international, I could not track. I drove to Arizona knowing only that she was somewhere over the Atlantic ocean. That was fine. I left her in God's hands. She was given the opportunity to travel to Europe to see some of the art work that she had studied in High School. It was a great opportunity. We were in Phoenix when she arrived in Dublin. I was worried sick about her.

My daughter informed us in October/November last year that her school (art history class) was planning a trip to Europe. More specifically Dublin, Wales, London, Paris and Normandy. We checked out the itinerary and saw the places that she would visit and we decided that since she was such a good student that we would send her. Her aunts and uncles donated several stacks of Euro's (bought late 2007 when the exchange rate was better). And, of course, mom and dad pitched in a few bucks (not to mention the ticket itself). She was all set to go. We made sure she would take plenty of pictures. She had a good digital camera with several memory cards and batteries.

I am glad she went. She called us three times. Once when she was having dinner in Dublin; Once when she was having a snack at the Eiffel Tower in Paris; and once when her connecting flight home got canceled and she had to spend the night in Dallas, Texas. Each phone call was essentially to let us know that she was OK, having fun, and couldn't talk long. These were the extent of the details that we received while she was gone on her ten day trip. We did receive a nice post card. We knew that we would have heard had anything gone wrong. We hoped she was enjoying her time.

The day came that we were to pick her up at the airport. Her flight arrived at 5:30 PM. My son and I picked her mother up at work and we all drove to the airport to pick her up. She arrived on time (albeit 24 hours late-- aircraft inspections and maintenance problems) and we asked her what she wanted to do for dinner. She wanted STEAK. We gathered her stuff and went to a local steak house for dinner. She read her trip journal to us on the way to the restaurant. She is such an excellent writer that I hope she captures these reflections and publishes them. Great stuff.

At dinner she handed out souvenirs. I got a CD of Irish music (which I love) and some pamphlets. I have four great interests in life - folk music, food, history and poetry. She also brought me two cookbooks - one from Wales and one from Normandy. She is such a great kid. She also told me that she took some pictures for me. Rodin's Thinker (which he originally called the Poet) was one. I could not wait to see that one.

We kind of glanced at the photos on the little photo screen on the camera. We got an idea that they would be great viewed on the television at home. We had planned a party for her. But that would wait till next week. I had to leave town on the weekend.

After dinner we went home. As we turned the corner to our house, my daughter asked where the other car was. My wife and I looked at each other and just groaned. I hate picking her up at work because we always forget her car somewhere. Yes, it has happened before. This time was not so bad. The other times we had left it farther away. So we dropped my daughter and son off at home and drove back to my wife's office for her car. A fitting end to a crazy week.

Two days after my daughter's arrival home I was finally able to get a look at the "Thinker" sculpture. This was the picture that my daughter took for me. I was looking over her shoulder as she was queuing it up on the computer. When it finally loaded she told me that she was looking through the window of the tour bus when they happened upon it. There it was! I was staring at the backside of the Thinker. Well, at least she was thinking about me. And she knew that I would like to see that piece of art. She is such a sweet kid.

Spring Training, 2008

Well, here we are at the beginning of a new baseball season. April, 2008 already. I suppose then that it is time to post the post I was going to put here about Spring Training. I am a little behind. Lots of things going on this year. I am just now getting around to it.

My son loves baseball. He was a pretty good player these past 7 years in Little League. But he was always playing. This year he graduated from Little League so he wasn't playing this season. I thought this would be a great opportunity to take him out to Arizona to see some pre-season baseball.

My son is growing into a nice young man and I really hadn't spent a lot of time with him. I thought this would be a great opportunity to talk. This would be a four hour car trip. He only has 72 songs on his iPOD and I think he got bored with them because he played for me his favorites and then he turned it off and after a while we just talked.

We talked about his friends, his school and, of course, the road.

"Dad, how do they know it is 300 miles to Phoenix?" I did my best. I explained that someone came out with a big tape measure and actually walked the entire distance and recorded the distance...No. I told him that it was developed when they surveyed for the roads. Each road has a given distance. They know what the distance is between certain points. They made lots of studies and that is how they know. (I didn't want to get into satellite imagery and triangulations.)

At about 9pm and an hour or two away from our destination the talked turned to religion. Lord Almighty, my prayers have been answered.

I always wanted my kids to make their own decisions. I was there to guide them as best I could and hope that they made the right decisions for themselves. My son made me proud just by talking about the things that we did. From our discussion I discovered that my son has a decent head on his shoulders.

We had a great trip. We arrived at the hotel and went right to bed. We were both tired.

The next day we went to the sports complex to watch our favorite team practice. I had bought him a baseball for autographs. I didn't want him fighting with the eight year olds for baseballs. He was able to see several minor leaguers practicing with the big boys.

The park was nice. The field was ok. The game was uneventful (our team lost.) But the weekend was a success. We both had a lot of fun just walking around, just being together. I had a terrific time. I hope he did too.

Coincidences

Our anniversary is on February 27th. I mention that because of Steinbeck's birthday and because of another coincidence. I started my current job 11 years ago on March 24th. I found out several months later when I looked at my boss's service award that he started on March 24 also (albeit 22 years prior to me). Well, on Wednesday, February 27th I happened to be in my boss's office when his phone rang. He answered and told his wife "happy anniversary". After he was off the phone I remarked that it was also my anniversary. It was just amazing that we shared two anniversarys. What are the odds on that?

I just had to share that. No other coincidences here. Yet. Take care all.

David.

Anniversary

I know it has been some time since I posted. I have been busy. I had a big party to plan. My wife and I just celebrated our twentieth wedding anniversary. I knew I would spend the rest of my life with her but for some reason this milestone meant a lot to me. I wanted to do something special for her. So, I arranged a surprise party. I started planning way back in the summer of 2007. You see my wife is the sweetest lady anyone could ever hope to know. She is just a very kind person. And I wanted to give her something special. She deserves it. I know she wanted jewelry (I'm not done yet) but that will have to wait. Maybe next week.

We were married on John Steinbeck's birthday. No, he wasn't invited. He was long dead when we got married. We did go to his house on our honeymoon. It only seemed fitting. But for our anniversary I knew I would have the party on the Saturday before our day. I had invited the entire wedding party and all of her family and all of mine. I knew that those from out of town might find it difficult to travel, but this town is our hometown and I thought that maybe some might schedule their trip "home" during this weekend. That thought proved in error. No one from out of town made it. It was just too difficult. But those that were in town sure made up for it.

I ordered food and I bought a cake. I had sodas, water and beer. I got everything over to the venue the night before. My wife did not have a clue. I sent my daughter down to the restaurant to pick up the food. She drives a pickup truck so she would have to borrow my wife's SUV. She made up a story about needing the car so that she could take her brother and her best friend to the mall. They just wanted to hang out. My wife got all choked talking about this. "Isn't that sweet?" she said. "She knows she is going to school away from us next fall and so she wants to spend time with her brother. She is such a good kid. What a kind heart." I didn't have the heart to tell her that they really don't get along that well and that my daughter needed the car for the food.

I had every thing planned. One of my wife's bridesmaids who we hadn't really talked to in years, offered to make party favors. Other offered all kinds of help. My parents offered their back yard. I had everyone arrive early on that Saturday. My wife and I got home about noon. The kids had already left. I told her we were going to go out to lunch. I was looking for all sorts of chores to keep me busy until 1PM. My sister called with an excuse to get us over to my parents house. Worked like a charm.

I told my wife that I needed to stop by to help my sister. I coerced her into the backyard because the housecleaner just mopped the floor. When we turned the corner of the house everyone yelled "Surprise". It was classic. My wife had this incredible surprised look on her face. Priceless. It made my day. I told her of the plans that I had. I had invited the entire wedding party and I wanted to do something special for her. She started to cry a couple of times. It was worth it for me. She is a beautiful lady and deserves all the happiness in the world.

I just wanted to share a little bit about that. It was a great time. She got to see most of her bridesmaids. I think she enjoyed it.

Thanks for reading.
David.

Things found in my file drawers

Cosmo (http://regularlatte.blogspot.com/) asked what else I found on my desk or in my filing cabinet filled with newspaper clippings. When I first went electronic I tried to digitize some of the longer articles, but I gave up. It seemed like so much work. Now I know it is easier to just drag the article to the appropriate directory on my hard drive. But Cosmo is right, do we ever get back to them? Only when cleaning. I rarely clean up my hard drive. Some of these articles I really intend to get back to.

I remember I had a 7 or 8 line obituary taped to my monitor. I looked at it everyday. I didn't know the person but it caught my eye. This lady died at the age of 94. The significant item in her obit was that she worked as a waitress in the same restaurant for over 50 years. I used to work as a chef and spent 14 years in that career. In those 14 years I worked for 8 different employers. It amazed me that someone could stay in one place for all that time.

Another article that sticks out is the one about the saloon in, I believe it was Yellowknife, NWT, Canada. There was a gentlemen who frequented this saloon. He died with no heirs. He left his small fortune to be spent each year on his birthday or the anniversary of his death so that he would buy a drink to anyone in the bar. And on that day the patrons would all toast him. This showed me the sense of community and friendship that can exist in this world.

There are so many other articles that are in there. I really should compile them into some kind of collection. The knowledge in there, the humanity, the love would be something to read. Some day, when I get back to cleaning out my papers, maybe I shall.

Thanks Cosmo for asking that question. I know there are other interesting things in there.

How we got here....

I was going through my desk tonight and I found an old Ann Landers column that I clipped from the newspaper. Some lady wrote in that she was depressed about the world situation. Not the world only but her own neighborhood and town, as well. This lady had heard the grandson of Mahatma Ghandhi speak and she remembered his grandfather’s words about the causes of violence.

I thought it was very profound. I wonder if you do too.

Let’s think about these causes……

Wealth without work.
Pleasure without conscience.
Knowledge without character.
Commerce without Morality.
Science without humanity.
Worship without sacrifice.
Politics without principles.

Seems plausible to me. And maybe I have some guilt that goes with it. No, not guilt, but maybe the knowledge of participation.

Tagged

I just got tagged. Initially I was leary about what that entailed but as I read about it I realize that the most difficult task is finding 5 other people to tag. Since I am relatively new at this, it looks as though I may be tagging 5 strangers. That will make friends. I shall be very selective. Thanks Cosmo (http://regularlatte.blogspot.com/).

Here are the requests of the tag:
1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five other people.

Here is my tag:

Prologue: I am reading a book called "Undaunted Courage" by the highly esteemed American Historian, Stephen E. Ambrose. Ambrose taught at the University of New Orleans (where I began my college education). He died in 2002.

"Undaunted Courage" is about the Lewis and Clark Expedition of 1804 -1806 in which two American explorers led a party of a couple of dozen men across the American continent to the Pacific ocean and back. This exploration was initiated by Thomas Jefferson shortly after he directed the purchase of Louisiana from the French in 1803. This is a fascinating book about the planning and execution of this exploration. In 2006 I was able to take my family to Montana and retrace some of the steps that Lewis and Clark may have taken on that journey. It was truly a great experience for me too. Note that on page 123 of the book the expedition is still in the planning stages.

Tag:
"Most of the trade goods came from across the ocean, then crossed the continent to reach St. Louis. From that central point, the goods fanned out via individual traders to the farthest reaches of the frontier. And the pirogues and keelboats that carried the trade goods to the Indians brought back stacks and stacks of beautiful furs that brought king's ransoms in Europe."

Whew! That wasn't so bad. I love history. I read a children's book about the Lewis and Clark expedition when I was a kid. I am thoroughly enjoying Ambrose's book.

Thanks again Cosmos. I shall have to get back to you on who I tag.