White Knuckles, Red Wine

As I pour over the headlines from the New York Times and The Guardian every morning, I alternately wring my hands and laugh out loud. Seems like the world may last longer than we've been thinking, but what kind of world?

Maybe serving as a good example is the only sure-fire strategy.

Be the light, share the love. Tell the truth.

Once every generation we're surprised to discover how many greedy folks, willing to do bad things, share the planet with us. You don't fight with love, you just love.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

 

Name That Storm

It's hard to feel threatened by a hurricane almost 5,000 miles away, but old habits die hard. This time, of course, I worry about friends and relatives back home. I worry about strangers, too, not to mention opossums, squirrels, dogs and cats.

In the hours before landfall, that weird, quiet calm that feels so eerie in some way that can't be properly explained. At least I've never heard it accurately described. Every kid in elementary school in Florida reads about how all the livestock behaved strangely before a big blow. At least they did while they were still allowed to read. The Seminoles and the Miccasukee knew.

I feel it now, from this distance, over an ocean, somehow. Now we wait.

 

Bumper Jack Rattle

They don't know any more about it than you do. That's the secret. I'm pretty sure that the things that made you happy as a kid will make you happy today. Yeah, I'm talking about puppies and ice cream, but I'm talking about love, too. 

The mean ones didn't get enough. You know the ones I'm referring to here. Check the headlines.

What's the secret to getting it? Here's where the advice diverges. Some say money.

For every song, poem or play written about money, there must be a thousand written about love. Try to give yours away and see what happens.

 

Ovaltine Days

As long as folks like me end up with everything they've ever wanted, it's hard to buy into that old "be careful what you wish for" saw, isn't it? 

Here on the Isle of Portland, paradise has no interest in being "discovered." I've lost count of the places that I've been where the locals tell me, "Oh, you should have seen this place before it was discovered." Key West, San Francisco, Havana.

Living on a great rock, poking up out of the English Channel, where the wind gusts regularly at 70 mph and isn't even considered a storm, the living is easy. Yeah, a local juvenile delinquent pushed a shopping cart from the grocery store into town the other night, but it's generally pretty quiet around here. 

I hope that some day, everyone will have a life as fine as mine.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

 

 

Soul Secrets

There are always going to be things that I just can't talk about. The only way to categorise the things as a subject is to say Old Shep.

There was a time when I was nine or ten years old that I would listen to Elvis' version of the old Red Foley song almost daily. Now I can do it about once a decade, If anyone else is in the room, I don't generally make it to the end.

 

Blink Once

Maybe if we could all re-set our minds to the factory settings, we would all be living in some Garden of Eden. I seem to have stumbled into just such a scenario. Of course I know when I'm naked and I don't disregard mortality. Nevertheless, I've found paradise in Portland.

Just make sure that you've got the right guide and interpreter before you strike out.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

 

All The Ghosts At The Table

When you're young, you're afraid of ghosts. If you're lucky and you live long enough, most of your best friends are ghosts. Does that mean I believe in some spirit world that goes on after this life? Well, now, if the vibrations in my mind can conjure up memories that appear to me and speak to me, who am I to doubt their existence?

Ghosts, to me, are like love or joy. Their very existence depends on you believing.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.