70’s Child..

Alone he sits in the dimly lit room,

lava shape-shifts colorfully in the lamp.

Briefly the posters come to life covering the wall,

and then quickly disappear.

Guitar wailings shout from a scratchy record,

oversized speakers shaking the room.

Stained fingertips, shirt pockmarked with burns,

smoke swirls overhead.

Beyond these walls, a confusing world awaits,

unable to find a role, forever against the stream.

Refuge finds safety, time has no value,

satisfaction in the moment forces a soothing grin.

Wind…

Wind roaring, sound of fury,

trees swaying, any moment disaster looms.

Watching from the window, a house with no power,

leaves spiraling like small tornados.

The normal rustling of squirrels safely within their shelter,

family dogs unwilling to allow separation.

Brief breaks from danger, the light peeks through,

revealing the splendrous visage of fall’s color.

This is right.

Anything?

Intelligent minds thought it best to use every means available to critique and defame the name and performance of our current President.  Not one single day goes by that a new headline appears in a newsfeed somewhere about the latest shortcoming of our leader.  These are clearly offered to promote an atmosphere of fear and not to encourage belief and acceptance of the finer points of the challenger.

Not having a dog in this fight allows me the perspective of an observer without any emotional attachment in the outcome.  Maybe that’s not a completely true statement, some of the rhetoric coming from the opposition party has the hair standing up on the back of my neck.  Seems the only answer offered to any type of disagreement is to go start a war, whatever happened to diplomacy?  So maybe I have a limited attachment to the outcome.

So the question I repeatedly ask is; “So, What do you have to offer?”  referring to the group trying to replace our current leadership.  We all hear the negativity, we all hear the rally points of division, yet no answers are ever floated.  I find myself quite rightly brilliant on Monday morning second guessing the play of my favorite team.  I seem to posses an uncanny skill in having the right answers to the problems after they’ve already been played out.  How would I do in real time dealing with these issues as they occur?  Please, I would fail miserably beyond description.  Yet somehow, I seem to think I have the answers each Monday when talking about the shortcomings of my team.  This is even more true in politics.

From a person who has an above average understanding of world economics and is somewhat well read, to not accept and appreciate some of the examples of true leadership exhibited by our President during this administration is either downright dishonest or sadly uninformed.  Both are frightening.

Just shooting down the competition without giving anything new and exciting or positive and encouraging is just a grown up version of middle school girl spats in the hallway between classes.  Anything?  Bueller, Bueller?  Give us something we can believe in already or shut the Hell up.

Project…

 

It’s not going to fix itself, nor will it just go away,

Each day reminded the job is still incomplete.

Never claiming to be handy with tools,

little interest in learning.

The project stands there a daunting tribute

to my incompetence.

Parts of varying shapes and sizes surround the workspace,

never finding the needed tool.

Pieces breaking in the rush to just get the damn thing done,

return trips to the hardware store, the staff entertained by failure.

A wiser breed will pay the pro and not attempt such a venture,

next time that will be me.

Directions…

I have a really bad habit of purposely not getting directions before adventuring out on a road trip.  For me, the challenge of figuring it out overcomes all need for the security found in written directions.  Sadly, this hobby is not shared with the same enthusiasm by my wife.

Many years ago horribly lost on a bitterly cold winter’s day while traveling through the mountains of North Georgia, we stopped for directions finding ourselves desperately lost. To our surprise we happened upon a dilapidated gas station with an old man sitting inside on a rocking chair.  We told him of our predicament to which he hardly broke his stare on the horizen.  He said we should to go up the road a piece and turn at the big pile of rocks. That’s it, that’s all he said as he drifted back into his deep concentration of the distance before him.  As sophisticated city folks we quickly brushed off his help quickly and got back into our car and searched for another place to get directions. As we traveled for more insight we suddenly saw before us a huge pile of rocks, amazed just like the man had described, we reluctantly turned as advised and soon found ourselves on the way to our eventual destination.

Many years later we moved to the North Georgia mountains and one day while exploring the many vineyards in the area, what did we happen upon? The same pile of rocks.

Turns out it’s a major landmark of the area.

Festival…

Lessons learned camping at a music festival.

  1. An air mattress is a necessity not an option.  Better still, a Sleep Select mattress.  Trying to use two comforters on the hard ground may be fitting for a young buck but certainly not for an out of shape middle aged man.  I awoke literally sore in every part of my body.
  2. Sleep is not a priority for most campers.  The after concert parties seem to go on all night long and keeping quiet for the old men trying to sleep wasn’t close to important.  When I say parties I mean the hooping and hollering all night kind.  Turns out, most campers sleep in the daytime, this would have been good information to have known beforehand.
  3. Privacy doesn’t exist.  Tents are placed seemingly on top of each other and everything that happens manages to be a group event.  Middle of the night sneezes are excused by caring neighbors and sleeping farts are group giggled.
  4. Early morning pee runs can be a terrifying adventure.  Trying to dodge sleeping neighbors passed out haphazardly while desperately avoiding sit down invitations for conversations all the while trying to stay focused on the prize port-a-potty across the field.  All this with little light to work with and a perpetual haze, not to mention the soreness from a poor nights sleep creates a Herman Munster type gait.
  5. Warmth and acceptance really rule the event.  Even though the hours may be opposite of the norm, sing-alongs and campfire chats are found everywhere.  No strangers exist as a come on in just as you are attitude prevails the campers.  Everything is shared and nothing is expected back except kindness, somethings though I must admit, didn’t need to be shared.

Community comes in many shapes, sizes, colors, and ages.  I was grateful for the pleasure of meeting some really fine people who totally dig life in the now.