You Are...

You are strong...When you take your grief and teach it to smile.


You are happy... When you overcome our fear and help others do the same.


You are brave... When you see a flower and are thankful for the blessing.


You are loving... When your own pain does not blind you to the pain of others.


You are wise... When you know the limits of your wisdom.


You are true... When you admit there are time you fool yourself.


You are alive... When tomorrow's hope means more to you than yesterday's mistake.


You are growing... When you know what you are but not what you will become.


You are free... When you are in control of yourself and do not with to control others.


You are honorable... When you find your honor is to honor others.


You are generous... When you can take as sweetly as you can give.


You are humble... When you do not know how humble you are.


You are thoughtful... When you see me just as I am and treat me just as you are.


You are merciful... When you forgive in others the faults you condemn in yourself.


You are beautiful... When you don't need a mirror to tell you.


You are rich... When you never need more than what you have.


You are you... When you are at peace with who you are not.


~author unknown~

Going Coastal, Part II

  Said my goodbyes to my brother Wes and nephew Cole around noon. On a whim I turned west toward Lincoln City, Oregon. Now I've spent some little time in and around oceans but standing on the beach I had the feeling that if I wasn't in Heaven I could certainly see it from there. This photo hardly does justice to the natural beauty you find along this stretch of the Oregon Coast.

 But I had spent enough time admiring the scenery and needed to make up some time. Turned east and picked up I5 outside of Corvallis heading back south. The previous night I had passed through this country in the early hours of the morning but missed the loveliness of the countryside in the dark. Alone with my thoughts and some great music from an NPR station I drifted in sort of a daze through the twisting upgrades and downhill runs through Canyon country between Eugene and Medford; passing trucks and getting passed in turn.
  Finally coming out of Medford on a long downhill grade I came out from behind a hill to the sight of Mt Shasta, upper slopes on the northern face still with snow, reflecting the golds of the late afternoon sun. Lenticularis clouds like funny caps glowing in the fading sunlight.

Mt Shasta photo courtesy of summitpost.org
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

  For the next hundred miles or so Shasta grew to dominate the landscape. Unfortunately  I wasn't able to enjoy it as much as I would have liked. Some rich jerk in a brand new black Mercedes started playing bumper tag, you know getting right close behind than zooming around me just to scare the crap out out me. I pulled over a couple of times hoping he would leave me alone but he was always waiting a few miles down the highway. I was never really in danger but it was annoying as hell.
  Shortly after crossing into California I decided to stop into the next rest stop to give my suffering neo-bladder a break. From that stop in Weed, California, (How can you make that up?) Shasta was very close. I was just miles from the base. All I had was my cell phone camera to catch this majesty. I snapped a few but none of them did justice to what was right in front of me.
  As I left the restroom a car door closing caught my attention. It was the black Mercedes of course. It quickly drove off as I approached. I noticed my front tire was flat. Screaming curses I examined the tire to see that it had been deliberately cut. No doubt the mysterious driver of the Mercedes. I dug the donut tire out of it's compartment, pulled off the flat when the Mercedes pulled up right behind me. With tire iron in hand  I went to the car intent on doing damage. To my surprise the passenger side window came down and the actor Bill Murray leaned over and said "no one will ever believe you" then burned rubber flying out of the rest stop. But not before I got one good whack to his roof with my tire iron.

Saturday Masters - The Kinks

Saturday Master - The Platters

Friday nights in Banning California Jerome Robinson of the Second Generation Platters sings requests in a dive called Paddy O'Reilly's. I had the pleasure to see him there last night with a mixed crowd of seniors and young people. Mr Robinson doesn't sing in any of the following  but what the hell.

Going Coastal

      Temporarily left my Oceanview neighborhood in Virginia for the stresses of Southern California. It's been 20 years since the last time I was here and 30 years since I called Los Angeles Home.   It has changed some; new freeways have come, old neighborhoods have disappeared or become unrecognizable. Mainly it isn't home anymore. Two Fast and Furious; I've become comfortable in Virginia.   Even in a good sized city like Norfolk life is slower paste. That suits me.

Willamina, Oregon. Downtown

 

It has been stressful out here for other reasons. My Step-dad's memorial service was lovely though painful. Though my mother and Bernie were married for 22 years I can't say I knew him well; living as I did in Japan, Hawaii and Virginia. But still I appreciated his style, a loving man who influenced positively everyone he met.

 
The last three days I've spent on the road. My brother Wes flew down from his home in Oregon. About 30 minutes outside Salem. Talk about slower paste, Willamina is a lumbertown or "Timbertown USA" as they proudly call themselves with everything that goes along with that. It's the kind of small town where everyone knows everyone. A bit too small for me, it seems to fit Wes perfectly and for that I'm grateful. he is raising his son Cole there by himself with help from neighbors and friends. As an itinerant mechanic Wes' income is variable so I helped out by driving him home. Glad I did.

  Besides spending time with my brother and nephew, I had a chance to see some of the beautiful scenery along I5 through northern California and Oregon that I've never visited before. I wasn't disappointed. The first night, Thursday the three of us stopped om Mt Shasta at about 1 am for rest and to watch the Perseid meteor shower that was supposed to peak at that time. Fortunately there were perfect conditions for viewing, Clear skies with god's little lanterns twinkling on and off in the heavens. As we waited and watched, I felt closer to that spirit that animates all of us, by whatever name we call it.
So ended our first day on the road, more later.  

Saturday Masters - Grover Washington Jr

Lazy Bloggers Abound

In Month Before Labor Day, Pointless 'Filler' Columns Abound

Lazy Columnists Pad Out Stories by Quoting Experts, Experts Say

NEW YORK (The Borowitz Report) - In a phenomenon that occurs every year in the month before Labor Day, national columnists across America file pointless, content-free “filler” columns, enabling the lazy scribes to hit the beach earlier, according to observers who have been following this trend.

The “filler” columns are churned out in a matter of minutes with no loftier goal than meeting a deadline and filling up space -- meaning that columnists will often resort to using the same words or phrase again and again and again and again and again.

And rather than doing any original writing, the slothful columnists will rely on so-called “experts” to supply them with quotes to fill up space, experts say.

“They'll often quote people you've never heard of,” says Harold Crimmins, an expert in the field of filler columns. “It's pretty shameless.”

The typical “filler” column is often a reprint of a previously published column, but the writer will later plug in one cursory reference to current events, such as Chelsea Clinton’s wedding, to disguise this fact.

And in order to fill up space even faster, Crimmins says, the lazy beach-bound columnist will compose his summer “filler” columns with short paragraphs.

Many of these paragraphs will be as short as one sentence, he says.

“Or shorter,” he adds.

There are other telltale signs a reader can look for in order to determine whether a writer has, in fact, filed a so-called “filler” column, according to Crimmins.

One of these is a tendency to repeat information that the reader has already read earlier in the article, with columnists even stooping to using the same quote twice.

“They'll often quote people you've never heard of,” Crimmins says.

Another tip-off is if the column ends abruptly.

Saturday Masters - Tom Jones

TJ still going strong,  This first video is from a new record "Praise and Blame"

Playing For Change | Mole In The Ground

Playing For Change | Mole In The Ground Blind Boy Paxton

So Long Bernie, and thanks for all the fish.

Hey Bernie,
 Just wanted to say goodbye.

Bernie and Chris, Ho, Ho Ho

Bernie Johnson,
The best man I've ever known,
though I didn't know you well
and have few tales to tell.
We met on my wedding day
Your and Mom's first date
You held my squalling daughter,
And I knew right then you'd do
as the grandfather of my children
The only one they knew.

I'm happy that you

made my mother happy

for twenty two good years.

So adios old step Dad,

its been good knowing you.

I'll see you in the bye and bye,

in that big hot tub in the sky.

From Me, Shari, Chris, Journey Aidan and of course Cameryn. Thanks for being there. We miss you and love you. We became part of your family and for that thank you.