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Posts Tagged ‘Opinion’


It would not be appreciated,

if you were not with me

to enjoy it.

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Rarely,

the time of day

the position of the forest leaves and trees

and the light of the rising sun

passing through something man-made

combine to create art

by happenstance,

that is . . .

ephemeral.

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20200319_191439If I were to die tomorrow…
The thought has crossed my mind a few times today. What with Corvid-19 going around and being 65 and a hypochondriac. I have the dry cough, sore red throat, and congestion. Wifie says the virus kills the cilia lining the throat. You can’t cough stuff up so you get pneumonia and die.

So, if I were to die tomorrow. I wouldn’t be too upset. A sudden illness and quick death would be much better to me than say, a slow decline into Alzheimers. Better to rip the bandage off quickly than to peel it back slowly.

Hm. All this imagery.

I suppose I’m not too worried because I have certain expectations of death. It will be like the next horizon. The undiscovered country. When I stand there, you’ll see me, but you won’t see those whom I see on the other side of the hill. There are the people I leave behind and the people I meet: generations of family members, friends, acquaintances, and strangers for whom I’ve done so many things I don’t remember.

Life’s been good. For the past 33 years. I’ve had a better half who has kept my heart warm, life challenging, and to whose presence I’ve looked forward every morning. If it’s true that “man is, that he might have joy”, then, having “endured to the end”, I have “fulfilled the measure of my creation”.

I do have my regrets though. I wish I were more brave, and could have said those things I wanted for my family and friends, to them. I’ve partially hidden behind a facade of “live and let live”, and Zen. That if people wanted to change, wanted more, they would have pursued it.

But that’s not totally true either. People are sometimes afraid, and that fear can keep them from what they want. Just as my fear of rejection keeps me from sharing what I want for them. Perhaps if I had said something, I could have helped them with their fear.

I know there is no letting someone do something. I can’t control my family, friends, and acquaintances, but, I can influence you.

So if I were to die tomorrow, tonight I would say to you, “Be Good”. Most of the troubles we endure, we create ourselves. Live while looking forward with an eye of faith to the undiscovered country. Life is eternal.

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I’ve been away for a while. Doing other things. Recently started to learn to play the cello. I can do one scale and can play the Christmas Carol “Silent Night” badly. I figure in ten years–if I make it that long– I might be a passable player.

I’ve also been watching Korean Romantic Comedies too.

In a world where I hear that R rated movies of today are the same as pink porn of the 70s, it is refreshing to find for the most part–a G-rated genre where the worst curse you hear is, “You punk!” Where a relationship is started by a couple holding hands; where that relationship is consummated with a kiss at the end of the series. And where saying “I like you .” is tantamount to a declaration of love. I have more to say about this topic but I’ll leave that for another day.

But, the point is, I feel like writing again and you have seen the result of that in the last couple of days.

Cheers!

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I found this picture while searching for family photos at the Minnesota Historical Society way back in ’77. (1977, not 1877)

I managed to find out where I could write to Bob Hope at the time and sent him a copy, hoping that he might have some information about it. I received this letter from him along with my returned photo.
Bob Hope Letter
Mr. Hope couldn’t provide me with any new information except to suggest it may have been taken in a studio. (I was thinking Cali-for-nii-aa) but I was pleased nonetheless to have received a personal letter back along with his autograph!

I recently signed up for a five day free trial of Newspapers.com (I needed a credit card but was told how I could easily cancel my trial before the five days were up.)
During that period, I pretty much dedicated myself to looking up as many possible Ancestor references for myself and friends who were interested. I probably looked at a thousand possible articles and was rewarded with a score or more, which I “Clipped” and then downloaded. This was one of them.
Bob Hope and Ben Littlecreek at the Nicollet Hotel
Yep, same top hat, same sport coat, same two people. BINGO!!! Mystery solved.

Part of the article reads:

“Forever a gagster, Bob Hope invaded Minneapolis Monday. He put on a two-hour stage show in Minneapolis Auditorium. Sang a duet with Mayor Eric G. Hoyer, said nasty things about Bing Crosby, and was made an honorary Indian. Most of the shenanigans took place in Nicollet Hotel, where, among other things, the ski-nosed comedian attended a dinner put on by the Theadore Peterson American Legion Post.

*   *   *

In Picture below, Hope meets Chief Ben Littlecreek of the Red Lake Chippewa Indian Tribe. Hope made the Chief an honorary “Paleface”, from the movie by the same name.”

As a side note, I like Hope’s irony here. That’s the first time I’ve heard of an Indian being made an honorary Paleface!

All kidding aside, for you genealogy buffs out there, Try the Newspaper.com free Trial. It was worth it! (And, they actually made cancelling the trial easy!) All irony aside, I will pay for a subscription–which I can get for just one month if I want–should I need to research other ancestors in the future.

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I just finished watching “The Fault In Our Stars”, a great tearjerker about love, eulogies, etc.

It made me think of what I would say if I wrote my eulogy, and I realize that anything one says or writes, is a part of their eulogy.

I think part of my eulogy would be an apology. Because I can come across as hard and unyielding in the moment, when I know that my intentions are good. And that’s because of pride. Pride is such a defense mechanism, a flawed way of protecting yourself. It is a dis-ease, a dis-ability. It’s a way of hiding vulnerability in the moment. Of not being in the moment. Or perhaps of being someone you don’t want to be in that moment; when the moment is all we have, and that most important moment involves people.

Humility on the other hand, is being vulnerable in the moment, open to the moment and flexible in relation to all of its possibilities. That’s the funny thing about being vulnerable. I don’t know if it’s something that you can spontaneously feel in the moment once you have reached a certain level of awareness. It is only something that you can practice.

It’s like patience. I don’t consider myself a patient person though some other people may, I don’t know if patience will ever feel natural. I think it is something you can only practice. I only know that to date, I do not comprehend the feeling of patience. But with practice ( like choosing to wait in the longest grocery line) patience is becoming second nature. I don’t have to think about it. Perhaps when one reaches a certain level of awareness, anything/everything becomes second nature.

The point being that for me,

humility in the moment ,

is an intermittent short in the wiring.

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If we do not linger abed upon awakening,

and dwell upon our dreams,

we run the risk of not hearing/

not heeding their synopsis and interpretation

by their director and producer.

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“I think maybe the owls are out tonight.”

“I don’t know. It could be morning doves.”

“After dark?”

Whatever it or they are, the sounds are muffled behind a closed window and the susurrus of the air conditioning.

The spirit being willing more than the flesh being lazy,  I roll out of bed–a distance of three feet, open the window and reveal the world; its chorus of frogs and the song of the  Barred Owl.

He has a distinctive call.

So I reply.

It is a moment before he responds. From hearing the sound of my Owl voice he is probably thinking that as an Owl, I am retarded, (Sorry folks, the politically correct words “developmentally disabled” just don’t convey the proper nuance in Owldom.) but deigns to answer me anyway.

“It’s good enough that he is answering you back,” Wifie says.

The three of us converse long enough–he and I in Owlish, and she to me in English–to drink in the strangeness of it all.

Until I stop.

When he doesn’t hear from me any more, he gives one last  Awwww! And goes away to look for other friends elsewhere.

Sometimes the difference between living an uneventful life and enjoying a singular experience can be as little as three feet.

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image

There is something restful to be found in the even lighting before the sun rises;  before the stark shadows.

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Marriage


Marriage is a three-legged race…

while holding an egg…

on a teaspoon.

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