ROBERT E. LEE and our MOST HALLOWED GROUND

Robert E Lee was the genius Conferederate General who had kept 4 vastly superior Union Armies at bay and on the run during the 4 years of the Civil War. He had outwitted, ought-fought and embarrassed 7 diffent Union Generals.
Before the War he had been the countries best soldier, a West Point Graduate, and had turned down Lincolns offer to be Commander of all Union Forces, saying he could not draw his sword against his state, which happened to be Virginia.
Lee had married Mary Custis, Grandaughter of George Washington and they lived together in the Custis family mansion at Arlington Virginia.
The mansion was taken by Union Forces at the start of the War, with Mrs. Lee being moved to a hotel room.

In 1864, with 2000 dead and dying Union soldiers being sent to hospitals and graveyards every week, the Union had run out of cemetaries in which to put the bodies. The Quartermaster General, Montgomery Meigs, a Southerner and West Point Classmate of Lee's did not hesitate. Though he was a Southerner, he was a Unionist and considered Lee to be a Traitor. He picked the Custis Mansion and grounds at Arlinton, and began burying the dead on the grounds so that it might never be inhabited again.
He buried his own son right next to the house- in Mrs. Lees Rose Garden.

That Cemetary became Arlington National Cemetary, our countries most Hallowed Ground.

Please do honor our country and those fallen, today, Memorial Day

JUST THE TWO OF US

Man, this reminds me of Valentines Day 1970.
(click here)
Seventh grade, in love with the mousey straighthaired girl across the street, Jeri was her name, and she was a bit bucktoothed and her ears stuck out the sides of her hair.
I loved those ears!
And she really wasn't bucktoothed exactly.
As I see her in my minds eye, as I am sure you are doing now, she was "over-toothed"...that is to say that her two front teeth were a bit out of proportion, giving her a kind of Bugs Bunny look that drove me wild.
Anyway, the day before Valentines Day I told my best friend Billy that I was going to ask her to "go steady" on Valentines Day, and Valentines Day morning I went to the Student Council stand to put down my $1 and send her a Valentines Telegram, a "Love-O-Gram", in which I intended to declare my undying love and devotion to her.
Anonymously of course.

She was in three of my classes that day, plus lunch, and I watched her as she got the telegram. I saw her show it to her friend Vicki. I watched as it was passed around to all her girl-pals at the lunch table.
I was terrified, making sure I did not watch too closely, lest I be found out.
I am glad that I have no recolllection of what was in my Love-O-Gram or I would be tempted to divulge what my seventh grade mind would have written.

Anyway, she had no idea it was me, because I was a real squirrel back then, carrying a trombone with me everywhere I went and forever waxing about the Chess Club and stuff.
Several times that day I nearly summoned the courage to ask Jeri to go steady, but in the face of those ears and teeth I always chickened out.

Jeri lived across the street from me, we rode the same bus home and we got out together, just the two of us. Having lacked the courage throughout the day, it was now my intention to pop the question after we got off the bus.
Do or die.
Hammer-time.
We were standing there as the bus pulled away.
She had a funny look on her face as I toed the ground and studied my shoetops and cleared my throat. but before I could speak I hear her say through the ringing in my ears:
"Steve, can I ask you something?'
"Sure"
"Billy told me you were going to ask me to go steady today. Is that true?"

WHOA! You could have knocked me over with a feather!
Of course I completely and categorically denied it. If Billy had not been twice my size, I'd have kicked his ass the next day.

Jeri lived across the street from me till we graduated High School.
We seldom talked after that, but five years later, on the night of Graduation, I told her that my intention had been to ask her to "Go Steady" that day, and that it was me that had sent the Love-O-Gram.
"I know, and I still have it" was all she said and laughing gave me a kiss on the cheek.
She had gotten braces or else her face had caught up with her mouth. She no longer had that Bugs Bunny look and her ears no longer showed through her once-thin-and-mousey but now stylishly-permed-frosted-blonde-hair.
That is to say her charms were quite faded in my eyes.
Still, I'll never forget that kiss.

LOVEY-DOVEY

I got Ring-Necked Doves that flirt with each other all day long right outside my window here at work. They are really lovely. Soft grey and rainbowthroated with white tail and wing feathers. There are four pairs usually. They bathe and peck and roost together.

It only takes a glance to see which ones are lovers.

LET THE LOVER BE

"Let the lover be disgraceful, crazy, absent-minded.
Someone sober will worry about events going badly.
Let the lover be."
Rumi

A PASSAGE TO INDIA

from "leaves of grass"


I see over my own continent the Pacific Railroad, surmounting every barrier;
I see continual trains of cars winding along the Platte, carrying freight and passengers;
I hear the locomotives rushing and roaring, and the shrill steam-whistle,
I hear the echoes reverberate through the grandest scenery in the world;
I cross the Laramie plains—I note the rocks in grotesque shapes—the buttes


I see the plentiful larkspur and wild onions—the barren, colorless, sage-deserts;
I see in glimpses afar, or towering immediately above me, the great mountains—

I see the Wind River and the Wahsatch mountains;
I see the Monument mountain and the Eagle’s Nest
I pass the Promontory—I ascend the Nevadas;

I scan the noble Elk mountain, and wind around its base;
I see the Humboldt range—I thread the valley and cross the river,

I see the clear waters of Lake Tahoe—I see forests of majestic pines,

Or, crossing the great desert, the alkaline plains, I behold enchanting mirages of waters and meadows;
Marking through these, and after all, in duplicate slender lines,

Bridging the three or four thousand miles of land travel,
Tying the Eastern to the Western sea,
The road between Europe and Asia.
Walt Whitman

THREE SHORTS

SEE BELOW

NUTHIN'

Two guys rockin' on the porch.
Hours pass, not a word between them.
Finally, one of them asks:
"What day is it?"
"Tuesday"
A long minute goes by...
"Hmmm....I keep thinkin' its Wednesday"

Thats how my brain feels today.

ANTBEDS

Antbed on a Golf Course.
Ball lands on it.
Man comes and hits the ball, messes up the antbed.
Ants come out and fix the Antbed.
Ball lands on antbed.
Man hits the ball, messes up antbed.
Ants come out and fix antbed.
Ball lands on antbed.
Man hits the ball, messes up antbed.
Ants come out and fix antbed.

Ball lands on antbed.
Man hits the ball, messes up antbed.
Ants come out.
One of them says
'We need to get something on the ball here."

Thats how my head feels today.

CLOSE ONE

Baby bird falls out of his nest.
Can't fly, can only peep, which draws the attention of a thick black cat.
Cat crouches in the bushes, ready to strike.
Baby bird peeps.
Baby bird stumbling peeping towards the bushes.
Baby bird, wings no work.
Cat flexes, creeping, ready set...
Dog barks, chases cat up lightpole, continues barking until kindly owner, annoyed, comes to put him back in house.
Kind owner hears, sees baby bird, smiles, and puts him in tree.
Mama bird breathes sigh of relief.
Now, how to get baby back to nest.

This is how my heart feels today.

LIVIN' DANGEROUSLY

Well, I have been without a car for 4 of the last 5 years.
Sometiomes I wonder how I've done it and I'm not too good at sayin' it and I'm not sure how much of it I believe...but...
Someone has been watching over me.

So last week I bought a pick-up truck.
Its a 1975 Chevy Cheyenne, rebuilt Motor and Transnmission, two gas tanks, new battery,new tires and re-done interior. Even has a wire rack to put your cowboy hat on.
I'm thinkin' about turnin' cowboy on ya.
I have pictures and will post them later this week.

For now I just want to say that in the first week I had this truck I have managed to leave the lights on and run the battery down TWICE.
It doesn't end there.
Even with two 15 gallon gas tanks on board, I managed to run out of gas!
And right now as we speak I have two spare tires on board, but NO LUG WRENCH!
TWO SPARES AND NO LUG WRENCH!

Ain't that just like an Addict?
Cars are such a pain in the ass.

BEING CLEAN

“When I came to this group I knew that finding a “Higher Power” would be part of the program.
I wondered how you guys would sell this to me, an unbeliever.
Because to me, God, even one of my own understanding, is a slippery thing, hard to grasp and harder to hold. Like soap in the shower, where you try to hold it but it slips from your hands. It slides around the bottom of the shower, you pick it up, and no matter how hard you squeeze, it slips out again for you to retrieve.
I do not yet have a grasp on this God, but I have found that the more I chase the soap around, the cleaner I seem to get.”
BULLETHOLES

I CRACK MYSELF UP

Sittin there before a meeting last night…
Chick asks me if I have the 12 Steps memorized
“Yes, yes I do” I bragged.
“I can’t seem to remember them. How did you do it?’ she asks.
“Well, when I’m walking, or riding my bike, I repeat them to myself, either under my breath, or even out loud sometimes”
Then the dude sitting across from us ( dude don’t like me much, I don’t think) he pulls a card out of his billfold the size of a credit card, embossed,with the 12 steps printed on it.
“You need one of these“ the dude says, and makes a big deal out of presenting it to her.

So I say
“Yes I have one of those too. I have mine attached to a holder on a hat to where it hangs right here in front of my face.”
Dude gives me a dirty look, but the chick , she laughs.
‘What does that do?” she asks.
“Well, I wear the hat while I’m doing housework, or even watching TV sometimes and now the 12 Steps are BURNED into my brain.”
She and I laugh at the thought of this, genius as it is...
The dude just gives me another dirty look.
So I continue….
‘Yeah, I went to the eye doctor two days ago and he asked me to cover my right eye and read the top line.
I read:

W

EAD
MITTED
WEWERE

POWERLESSOVER

OURADDICTIONANDOUR

LIVESHADBECOMEUNMANAGEABLE

Dude gives me a last dirty look, says dry as a bone:

"Thats really funny"

NO MORE BUFFALO

"There was a man who killed a buffalo bull to no purpose. Only he wanted its blood on his hands. It was a great, old noble beast and it was a long time blowing its life away. On the edge of the night, the people gathered themselves up in their grief and shame. Away in the West, they could see the hump and spine of the huge beast which lay dying along the edge of the world.They could see its bright blood run into the sky where it dried, darkening, and was at last flecked with flakes of light."

M. Scott Momaday




Of all the West's natural wonders, none surpassed the huge herds of buffalo that blanketed the Plains -- perhaps once as many as 30 million of them. They had frightened Coronado's horses by their smell, and astonished Lewis and Clark by their sheer numbers. One wagon train of pioneers was blocked for hours by a herd three miles wide and ten miles long. But for the native peoples of the Plains, they represented existence itself.
Their numbers had been reduced by the 1860's, but with the coming of the Railroad and the wholesale slaughter that ensued, they were on the brink of extinction by 1884. A quiet descended on the prairie; the buffalo was gone, and with it a way of life that had existed since before recorded history.






"The buffalo saw that their day was over. They could protect their people no longer. Sadly, the last remnant of the great herd gathered in council, and decided what they would do. One young woman got up very early... and... peering through the haze, she saw the last buffalo herd appear like in a spirit dream. Straight to Mount Scott the leader of the herd walked. Behind him came the cows and their calves, and the few young males who had survived. As the woman watched, the face of the mountain opened. Inside Mount Scott the world was green and fresh, as it had been when she was a small girl. The rivers ran clear, not red. Into this world of beauty the buffalo walked, never to be seen again."

Old Lady Horse


MOUNT SCOTT, OKLAHOMA

MAY 13th

Mentally, they are keen-witted and practical more often than intellectual, and are probablythe most resourceful person in the room. When they are not being quiet they are making a lot of noise. There is no in-between. They love to laugh, eat, smoke and screw. Their character is generally dependable, steadfast, prudent, just, firm and unshaken in the face of difficulties. Their many vices arise from their manyvirtues. Excess is the name of the game...thats why they make such great lovers.

A Taurean may (will) be obstinately and exasperatingly self-righteous, unoriginal, rigid, ultraconservative, argumentative, querulous bores, stuck in a self-centered rut. They may develop a brooding resentment through a series of injuries received either real or imagined and, whether their characters are positive or negative, they need someone to stroke their egos with a frequent, "Well Done!" all the time.

I share a Birthday with the following folks:

1961 Dennis Rodman (basketballer)
1957 Bulletholes in the Mailbox (see Resume')

1951 Stevie Wonder (musician)
1950 Peter Gabriel (singer)
1948 Knock-Knees (Biker)

1944 George Lucas (film producer)
1943 Jack Bruce (musician)
1941 Ritchie Valens (singer)
1939 Harvey Keitel (actor)
1936 Bobby Darin (Cassotto) (singer)
1931 - Jim Jones, reverend, poisoned over 100 in Guyana (Jonestown Massacre)

1925 Al Porcino (who?)
1923 Beatrice Arthur (actress)
Also a Scientist named Fahrenheit.

You may note there has been a real drought of famous folks the last 48 years. No one representin' may 13 since 1961, unless you count a Beauty Contestant named Carrie Prejean, Miss California.

This is the raciest photo available of yours truly.

"Which one of you girls wants me to hold you?"

THE MEMORY LOSS TAPES

Yes, it is as Annie says, you can see The Alzheimers Project online. (click here)

I DON'T GET HBO

But if you do, be sure to check out the HBO Alzheimers Project.
My friend Annie and her mother (click here) play a part in this film.
If you have been coming by here for long, you know that Alzheimers is a subject dear to my heart, having watched my Dad suffer from "early onset" at the age of 58.

Its a Four Part series...(click here)
"On May 10, 11 and 12, tune into HBO's "THE ALZHEIMER'S PROJECT" to take a look at the faces behind the disease - and the forces leading us to find a cure. This multi-platform series reveals groundbreaking Alzheimer discoveries and the effects this debilitating and fatal disease has on those with Alzheimer's and their families."

I assume that it will air several times in the coming weeks, if HBO is anything like what it used to be.



Here is a link to Art as done by Annies mother. (click here)
She has a talent for arranging everyday items in a delightful way.
She has a real visual style.

Seeing this Art reminds me of Dad. He might not recognize his family, or be able to open a door, or even put his slippers on, but he held onto his sense of humor and his ability to tell a story the whole way through the disease.

Reprinted from Annie without permission;
Annies Mothers Art
UNTITLED- RED BERET, CANDY BOX AND CANDY

THE MAN WHO COULDN'T CRY

There once was a man who just couldn't cry

He hadn't cried for years and for years

Napalmed babies and the movie "Love Story"

For instance could not produce tears

As a child he had cried as all children will

Then at some point his tear ducts ran dry

He grew to be a man, the feces hit the fan

Things got bad, but he couldn't cry

His dog was run over, his wife up and left him

And after that he got sacked from his job

Lost his arm in the war, was laughed at by a whore

Ah, but sill not a sniffle or sob

His novel was refused, his movie was panned

And his big Broadway show was a flop

He got sent off to jail; you guessed it, no bail

Oh, but still not a dribble or drop

In jail he was beaten, bullied and buggered

And made to make license plates

Water and bread was all he was fed

But not once did a tear stain his face

Doctors were called in, scientists, too

Theologians were last and practically least

They all agreed sure enough;

this was sure no cream puff

But in fact an insensitive beast

He was removed from jail and placed in a place

For the insensitive and the insane

He played lots of chess and made lots of friends

And he wept every time it would rain

Once it rained forty days and it rained forty nights

And he cried and he cried and he cried and he cried

On the forty-first day, he passed away

He just dehydrated and died

Well, he went up to heaven,

located his dog

Not only that, but he rejoined his arm

Down below, all the critics,

they took it all back

Cancer robbed the whore of her charm

His ex-wife died of stretch marks,

his ex-employer went broke

The theologians were finally found out

Right down to the ground,

that old jail house burned down

The earth suffered perpetual drought

loudon wainwright III

As done by Johnny Cash

DOGGIE HEAVEN

"think of the saddest thought you can possibly think of, the saddest thing in the world, then look into the eyes of a dog, and he's is feeling that right now. You can see all the sadness in the world in the eyes of a dog"
george carlin

I was riding my bike in to work this morning. I bought a truck last week, but I rode the bike in this morning, for old times sake, and it's a good thing to do now and again.
But that's not what this post is about.

This post is about the dog I saw on the side of the road. He was dead, struck by a car in the night I suppose. It was a Short-haired Pointer, with red ears and a white coat, and a pointy tail that stuck out at an obscene un-natural angle this morning. He had not been a beautiful dog, even with those red ears, but being a dog he was by nature, beautiful.

As I passed by him I could almost see his life as it must have passed...a puppy with that new puppy smell, falling over those floppy red ears, bounding and stumbling his way to his water dish, only to spill water everywhere.
Then learning to play with some little boy somewhere, running after balls and sticks in a constant springtime, and being told not to jump on people, licking faces laughing in the sun.

Later in the summer, laying and panting in the shade, ears pricked for that certain sound of a certain motor pulling into a certain driveway, and running to the fence, towards the scent long awaited, tail wagging so hard his head moves in opposition, like a counterbalance to such a complete joy that remains unknown to a mere human.

Then in the fall, when footballs and hunting gear come out, and the musty smoky smell of drying leaves and November in the air; maybe he was a hunter, perhaps he was a warm spot on a couch for a nice woman who chilled easily. Maybe he was just a good tackler, chasing the boys of the neighborhood at play, wishing he could throw the ball instead of just stealing it, clasped in his teeth like a prize pheasant. Whatever he was, he was eager to do his red earred part.

I couldn't help but think all this as I passed by this animal. I thought somewhere there is a boy missing this dog, or a girl, or even a man somewhere that has lost his best friend. They likely don't even know it yet, and are still expecting a familiar scratch at the door, or to see him back in the backyard, chasing squirrels or sleeping on top of his doghouse in his ignorant blissful doggie way.

And it occurred to me that if there is a Doggie Heaven, that it must be some kind of place! Can you imagine?
Ear-scratchin', belly-rubbing, pettin' lovin' touchin'.
Barking, licking, jumping, pawing and panting going on all the live long day!
It all seemed so poignant an hour ago. Now these thoughts just seem a little silly having written them, but do you know what remains?

This is what remains:
It is a very good thing to ride your bike in to work, now and again.

Addendum: A friend of mine saw this post the next day. She called the pound and found who the owner was. She then contacted the owner, a little handicapped lady, and shared my story with her. It seems the dog was her companion, and named "Birdie". My friend said she and the lady had a wonderful cry over the phone.
It is a good thing to do, riding your bike to work now and then.

A PIG WALKS INTO A PHARMACY

I went to the Pharmacy yesterday and the girl there remembered my name.
She says "Are you picking up, Mr Bulletholes?'
and I said yes, and expressed my astonishment that she knew my name!
The grey haired pharmacist says 'You are one of our favorite customers, Mr Bulletholes!" and the other assistant looks at me and nods her head and smiles.
I think to myself
"What did I do?'
I mean., I'm not in there that much or anything, twice a month, I'm just a regular guy picking up a few prescriptions for the last 4 months...

So I ask everybody there if they know any Pharmacy Jokes.
They all frown and shake their head no. They don't know any Pharmacy jokes.
So I say 'Ya'll ought to make one up!"
and the old man behind the counter looks over the top of his Pharmacist glasses and says
"Like what?"
"Welllllll.....like maybe" I say "like maybe...A pig walks into a Pharmacy and asks "Do you have anything for the flu?"'

Man, its not funny, but the whole place just cracks up, including the lady behind me in a wheelchair with an oxygen tank. They had to fix her Oxygen she was crackin' up so bad.
I still can't figure how come they know me so well down there.

SHE CALLED ME A SQUIRREL

Shari (click here) was the Pastry Chef at the Hyatt I used to work at. A good portion of her energy was spent trying to keep me out of her sweets. She had an entire walk-in Cooler that was filled with Pastry Creams, Cheesecakes, Petit-Fours, and ingredients like you have never heard of.

When Shari wasn't looking, I would sneak into her cooler and gorge on Truffles and Tartlets.
Some times, if she had nothing tempting already prepared, I would take some of her leftover Cake tops and smear them with whipped cream she kept in a big bucket. That drove her more nuts than if I'd actually managed to snag something good, like an Eclair or a Cream Horn.

Sometimes after sneaking in to the cooler and feasting, I would slowly open the door to try and "duck-out", but she would be standing right there, her arms crossed with that bad look on her face.
I would say innocently
"Oh there you are, I was looking for you"
and she would say
"You were not, you were in there eating my pastries"
and I'd look all shocked and say
"B-B-B-but..."
and she'd say
'You have Chocolate crumbs and whipped cream all over your face"
"Do I really? Huh, I wonder where that came from" and I'd wipe my face with my sleeve.
She would shake her head and say
"You are such a Squirrel"

She also had a lock box where she kept various Liquours and Special Garnishes like Chocolate with Gold filigree, and Petrified Bee Pollen and stuff like that.
There was an item in that box I couldn't stay away from and if I ever found it unlocked I was likely to eat all of them
The item was Crystallized Violets. They were sugar coated and hard and Purple and they had a lovely floral bouquet. I got a hold of them one day and I don't remember how many I ate but it didn't take long for Shari to come looking and find me.

"You frickin' Squirrel, did you eat all my Crystal Violets?"
"Hmmm?"
"You heard me...you ate all my violets!"
She's really mad.
"No Shari, I didn't eat all your Violets. I haven't even been over there."
And she hits me with a pretty tough question
"Then why are your lips all purple?"
Shit!
Busted!
Well maybe not quite, after all I am pretty quick on my feet, and I am a Chef...
I gave her my best smile and phrased it more as a question than a statement
"Would you believe... Beets?"

Her shoulders slumped and she couldn't help but laugh and say
"There is something seriously wrong with you, buddy."

I'll always remeber Shari for the boxes of leftover Pastries she would send home to my mother, leftovers from the Sunday Brunch, during the last years of Moms life. Shari would pack that box with all the care in the world, and when I walked in the door at home Moms eyes would just light up like Sapphires.
Thanks Shari!

WHY NOT

If you had told me 287 days ago that I would not do any drugs for 287 days, I would have asked
"Why not?"

EASY BAKER

Hah!
I did this little poem at least six months back, back before I had Diabetes, before I dreamed of Chavonne, and back before I started posting about my drug addiction and sharing my experiences with Narcotics Anonymous.

I now have 287 days of being "Clean and Sober" but I'm still the weirdest kid on the block. Leastways, I try to be.
A gal at the meeting a few days ago says to me
"Bulletholes, sometimes you are very strange"
and all I could think to say was "Thank you"
She just walked slowly away.

So, anyways, Banquet Manager asked if anyone ate the Croquembouche I made for the NA fundraiser, and yes, those addicts ate the shit out of that sugar mountain, licked the platter clean too.

I didn't get any comments when I posted this 6 months ago, and I do understand that I am no poet, and that many of you have likely never heard the Steppenwolf song 'The Pusher" which was the lead song of the Movie "Easy Rider" which chronicled and romanticised the drug and anti-drug culture of the late 60's, and I don't really expect any this time around.
Maybe you got to be ol' doper to know what this is about, but....

Now everyone knows what a Croquembouche is.
And that I am a Diabetic and a grateful recovering addict.
And strange...and silly too!
And I should also remind you that while I was a Chef for 24 years, I am no Bakerman...

But I do know how to smoke a Perch...

To the tune of "The Pusher" (click there) by Steppenwolf

THE BAKERMAN by bulletholes 10/1/2008

You know I smoked a lotta’ Perch,
Oh Lord
You know I mopped a lotta’ spills
But I never Poached nuthin’, nooo,
That would have been better Grilled
You know I seen a lotta’ people walkin’ round
With Pate’ a Choux in their eyes
But the Baker don’t care, if they live or if they die


Got dang, the Baker
I said got dang the Baker
Got dang, got dang, the Bakerman

You know the Pastry Chef is a man
With the Love Dough in his hand
He’s got Eclairs an' Tarts an' Pastries
Good God, he’s not a Protein man
Aww, The Baker for a nickel
Lord, will sell you lots of Sweet Creams
You’ll get the Body Fat
And the Dia-bee-tees
There'll be Croquembouche
and Confection Sugar
When you Sneeze

I said, Got dang, the Bakerman...

Well now if I were the Manager of this Hotel
You know I’d report the Bakerman
Immediately to “Personnel”
I’d truss him if he stands and
I’d roux him if he runs
I’d kill him with my Butchers mallet,
I'd Saute’ him till he’s done…

I said Got Dang, the Bakerman

CROQUEMBOUCHE

CLICK PICS TO ENLARGE

That is not a bald spot.

Have you ever heard of a Croquembouche?

The Corquembouche was first created by a Chef back in the 1700's name of Careme'. He took Cream Puffs, dipped them in carmelized sugar and stacked them up in a conical shape. It became the Traditional French Wedding Cake and is best served by cutting with a Broadsword. They are usually 3-5 feet tall, but these I made for the NA Fundraiser auction two weeks ago are just baby's, only about 100 Puffs each.

After you get them built, you take your melted sugar and you spin it around the cake, leaving a fine silken golden web that these pictures do not quite show. Thats what I am busy doing in the pictures above. Thanks, Kimmy for taking these pics!

They are quite stunning to see and delicious to eat.

Any Pastry Chef worth their salt would be horrified at the way these look, but one of them sold for $150 dollars at the Auction!

MAYDAY! MAYDAY!

MAYFEST CANCELLED!

YES!

They certainly did!

Due to Swine Flu.

Mayfest is one of our most beloved of all celebrations here in Fort Worth.

200,000 people getting together for Face-Painting, Corn Dogs, Carnival rides, and Pie Eating contests on the banks of the beautiful Trinity River.

And a Petting Zoo.

Good clean hometown fun, with vendors coming from all over the country, and a financial boon to the community.

Mayfest began along the Trinity River greenbelt in 1973. It has persevered through heat, drought, rain, and grapefruit-sized hail. But the four-day festival will not withstand the threat of swine flu.

I haven't been since the Great Hailstorm of '95 that killed over 150 ducks and geese at Trinity Park, broke out car windsheilds and sent everybody scrambling for shelter and 90 slowpokes to the hospital. It was like "Bury my Heart at Wounded Knee" without the Indians.

It was one of the worst Hailstorms ever recorded in the United States. There was 1.5 billion in property damage from that one storm.

Cancell Mayfest?

Good idea.

Especially the Petting Zoo.

1 CONFIRMED

3 PROBABLE

Thats the number of Swine Flu cases that has prompted the local School District (here) to shut down for the next 10 days. (cough)
80, 000 kids on the loose.

Stay away from the Mall!


I'm not sure how I feel about this.
If nothing comes of this outbreak, then they look like they over-reacted big-time.
On the other hand (cough) if people start contracting this thing all over the country, and we have a few hundtred deaths in the near future, it probably won't have been enough, or done much good.

I guess what it means is that you can't win and we are all gonna die. (cough, cough)

EVERY LITTLE BIT COUNTS

Every Little Bit Counts

My thoughts were gnawing at me so I tried hard not to think
I took a pint of whiskey and poured it down the sink
I'd get my act together, I swore it to myself
I looked up at your picture and I knocked it off the shelf
Every little bit counts
Every little bit counts


I tried and I tried and I tried to be so good
Wanted to be so good so bad
I tried and I tried and I tried every trick I could
'til I'd emptied out the whole damn bag
but it was too little too late

I'm no longer choking on the hair of the dog
It's been a couple of weeks now since I came out of the fog
The highs are slightly higher
And the lows are just as low
A mild improvement on the average even so
Every little bit counts

Though it may not count for much
They could be long forgotten
By the time you add 'em up
Every little bit counts



J. MCMURTRY

BEING OK...IS RELATIVE

Here's an article about a 6 lb. dog that rode a 70 MPH gust of wind 2 miles and is described as being "dirty, hungry, but otherwise OK". (not the dogs words)
(click here)
Not lucky, blessed, traumatized, slightly damaged, windblown, disheveled, possessed, mad, loco, totally freaked, a long way from home or "no worse for the wear", but just OK.
Okay, as in fine, copacetic, hunky-dory, allright, cool, good-to-go, and "Fair-to-Middlin'.
Doggie just wants a bath and a meal.

Okee-Dokee.
It's the best you'll do on and average day.

BEING OK...FOR A DAY!

Thoughts, continued from "knock-knees"

Tommy thought:
“Why the fuck is it so hard to be Okay?”

I wonder this sometimes, like when the laundry is piled up and I am tempted to wear yesterdays socks…OK….whenever I find myself wearing yesterdays socks.
Or when I start the dishwasher and even though its full, there is still another half load of dishes in the sink.
I live by myself...do you know how many days you have to avoid doing dishes to create that scenario?
Or when I can’t find my shoes and look all over the place and finally find the lost one behind the couch.
Who kicks a shoe off to have it land behind the couch?
Or when I look for my keys in all the usual places only to discover that…there are no “Usual “ places. They could be anywhere.
Or when I wake up in the morning and there is nothing for breakfast, even though there is money for groceries, and I have to stop somewhere on my bicycle, which I didn't want to ride, but I have no car and no choice, and wind up eating a $7 breakfast when a bowl of cereal would have sufficed.

And these are just little things…

I’ve spent most of the last 15 years using a couch as a bed. This is a bigger thing thqn you might imagine, you who have slept in a bed for most of your sleeping life. Last year, about the time I had begun to sleep in my bed, I gave it away.
I think part of the reason I gave it away is a fear of doing things that make me seem OK.
Sleeping on a couch full time is not OK. So, in the interest of being OK, I bought a new bed 6 weeks ago. I noticed right away that having bought that bed, suddenly laundry was getting done more regular, that I was doing half loads of dishes, and that my keys, even though I still couldn’t find them, my keys were on the Key Hook!
What a concept…
But you know what?
Its hard to stay OK for long, and over the period of a few weeks, my laundry is starting to suffer, and last night I did a load of dishes, but a load didn’t get them all, and right now I am wearing yesterdays socks and can’t find my keys anywhere.

But that’s OK man.
I was OK for a while and even if I’m not OK right now…..
I’m still a bed ahead!

I have spent 3 of the last 4 years without a car. I'm not sure how I've done it but I have, and while it helped to make me OK for a while, it is now a part of me being "Not OK"
But Thursday, I am buying a truck.
And I''ll bet that truck will be like that bed, and I'll be a little more OK for a while because of it, but then at some point I will be less OK in spite of it, but thats OK....
I'll still be a Truck ahead!

I'll be a bed and a Truck ahead!
Hooray!

WASH YOUR HANDS

And you will be OK.

KNOCK-KNEES

All Tommy wanted was to make it to a meeting

Just get the hell out of Applebee’s and go to a God-Damned meeting. Sure, he had 4 years clean time, and was on his second tour of the Fourth Step, but right now he wasn’t feeling any too strong. Yeah, a little female companionship would be nice. Someone to share the 13 Spiritual Principles* in his newfound drug-free life with. After 6 years in the program with only one relapse, it was safe, and probably about time for him to come out of his self imposed shell and try to live like a normal human being.
"Way overdue" he thought to himself.

How hard could it be?

Never mind that his only jacket had “Clean and Sober” logo and his clean date advertised on his ragged back, and his nickname of “Knock-Knees” on the front next to his Sergeant at Arms patch. His leathers were adorned with brass letters spelling out the words
'Third Tradition"** and "We do Recover"***.
His only transportation was a fairly worn out Harley Softail.
His only shoes were boots. Motorcycle boots.
Everything Tommy owned was black or had a skull on it.
He lived to ride, mostly, except at work, where he processed Microchips for a Major Telecom Distributor.
Even with all the Death Insignia and Jailhouse Tattoos, he deserved a shot at being normal, even if the only thing regular about him was his haircut.
Every morning he woke up and said his Third Step Prayer:
"God, take my will and my life. Guide me in my recovery. Show me how to live clean"


And he might be normal one day, right after he finished killing his sponsor.

His sponsor who had suggested he join that Singles Club which had planted him in this damn booth at Applebees, drinking coffee and eating Pecan Pie with one of the nicest plainest most flat-chested women he had ever met.

Tommy had done some pretty terrible things in his day, things that he had just recently learned to accept, but right now he could not recall doing anything more twisted than what he was doing right now, which happened to be trying to have a nice conversation with a normal woman.
A normal woman, wearing a Robins Egg Blue Gingham dress who had never done any dope at all. Ever.
It was excruciating.
Why the fuck is it so hard so hard to just be Okay.

All Tommy wanted was to make a meeting.
to be continued



*hope, surrender, acceptance, honesty, open-mindedness, willingness, faith, tolerance, patience, humility, unconditional love, sharing and caring.
from the basic text, Step 12

**"The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop using"
from The 12 Traditions of NA

***When at the end of the road we find that we can no longer function as a Human Being either with or without drugs we all face the same dillemna-what is there left to do?...
...Those who are addicted today are more fortunate. for the first time in mans entire history a simple way has been proving itself in the lives of many addicts. It is available to us all. This is a simple Spiritual-not Religious - program, known as Narcotics Anonymous
from the group readings, NA literature

"A NOD IS AS GOOD AS A WINK TO A BLIND HORSE"

faces, released november 1971

If a man can just find the right combination of food, liquor, words, cologne and attire, any woman in the world will instantly want to take him to bed.
Thats how we think, you know.

ANNULAR ECLIPSE

From the Astronomy Picture of the Day...

Eclipse

All that you touch

All that you see

All that you taste

All you feel.

All that you love

All that you hate

All you distrust

All you save.

All that you give

All that you deal

All that you buy,

beg, borrow or steal.

All you create

All you destroy

All that you do

All that you say.

All that you eat

And everyone you meet

All that you slight

And everyone you fight.

All that is now

All that is gone

All that's to come

and everything

under the sun is in tune

but the sun is eclipsed by the moon.

from the album "dark side of the moon" by pink floyd

I STARTED OUT ON BURGUNDY BUT SOON HIT THE HARDER STUFF

My son, the Rip, tells me last week that if he could grow just 20 or 30 Marijuana plants he could make a cool $100,000.
"Its easy Dad!" he says.
"Hmmm...yes...easy" I say. 'Its a wonder everybody's not doing it"

"FAITH IN YOUR DOUBT"

"Belief and betrayal go hand in hand. Belief and truth don't always..."
Pauline, in a comment at "looking to Live"

270 DAYS

Nine months, not so much as a sip of Wine.
What I miss is a Dos Equis with my Fajitas.
After all, I am the Second Most Interesting Man in the World.

INTERNATIONAL DAY

Barbara had a pretty good post today about affirmative action and I try to stay away from stuff like that (all you have to do is read both my lenghty comments) but she reminded me of a post I had brewing a while back.
I was supposed to have pictures and everything, but I don't know where I put them.

They had an International Day at my son's High School last year.
It was a Fashion Show where the kids dressed in the garb of their ethnicity.
It was a Music Show where they played music from their own cultures.
There were many ethnic foods there.
Represented were lots of kids from Indian, Asian, African, Polynesian, and Middle Eastern cultures.
There were a good number of Latinos.
A few kids represented Anglo-Saxon and Germanic peoples.
Like kids do, they mixed and matched and got along so well, checking out the different threads, and dancing to the multicultural music.

33 years ago I graduated from that very same High School.
We did not need an International Day.
We had maybe a handful of Latino kids and one black dude named Stan that was one of my buddies.
There was no International Day.
There was very little diversity.
Hell, the most exotic name in the whole school was "Gonzales" and he didn't even look Mexican.
He looked like a 'Smith"!

So as I looked at the 300 or so kids that participated in International Day, I couldn't help but think to myself
NOW THIS IS AMERICA!

MMMM....

Someones having Lobster for Dinner!

PROMISED LANDS

"the almighty has his own purposes"
a. lincoln, from his second inaugural address


They say ol' Moses didn’t get to go to the Promised Land. Whatever the reason for that I can’t imagine.

Dr. Martin Luther King gave his last sermon on April 2nd 1968. I say sermon, because Dr. king was a preacher. His part in the Civil Rights Movement is undeniable, but first and foremost he was a preacher.
He says in this sermon that “longevity has its place” but that he wouldn’t be concerned about that, because he had “Been to the Mountaintop” and he had "seen the Promised Land", and that he feared no man.
Prophetically, he states that he may not get to the Promised Land, but that we would get there as a people.
I see a real weariness and sadness in his face as he gives this last sermon.
The next day he was assassinated on a balcony at a Memphis Hotel.



There are some quite stunning coincidences and parallels in American History.
It was the 41st Anniversary of Kings death on April 3 last week and today is the 144th Anniversary of Abraham Lincolns death.
These two Americans are so incredibly and intricately connected it almost hurts.

Lincoln had spent 4 years in the midst of a great Civil War, where Americans made war on each other and killed each other in great numbers. (620,000)
Congress passed the Act of 1862 establishing an Income Tax in order to finance the War and preserve the Union
With the collapse of the south imminent, Lincoln gave his Second Inaugural Address on March 4th 1865 and closed with these famous words:

"With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations."

Lee surrendered his great Army of Northern Virginia on April 9th, 1865.
Lincoln had saved the Union, and freed the country of the scourge of slavery.
He described the previous four years by saying he felt he had "lived a long hard nightmare".
For five days he enjoyed his country at peace before John Wilkes Booth murdered him at Fords Theater.
In his billfold at the time of his death there were 6 newspaper clippings and a Confederate Five Dollar bill.

It seems to me that just like Moses and Dr. King, he never made it to the Promised land, and that sometimes we are only allowed to do so much.

Ah, Moses!
We are only allowed to do so much.
We are only allowed to do so much.

I DREAMED

photo stolen from Peteski

That my friend Barbara got a new piano!
What would you like to share with us today, Barb?
Any requests?

LOOK INTO MY EYES

ATTITUDE

Theres two things in this world that piss me off....
Being told what to do by some 'Know-it-all"
OR
Not knowing what to do because some know-nuthin' didn't tell me.

BEARS

Granpa talked to a Teddy Bear that sat on the Kitchen table every morning.
He'd say "Hello bear" and then he'd sit down to eat his eggs.

One morning my kids attached dental floss to the bear and hid under the table.
Granpa came in and greeted the bear and sat down.
Then the bear moved; just a little twitch.
Granpa looked for a moment then went back to his eggs, satisfied that the bear would not move again..
As he buttered his toast the bear moved again, a little more than last time.
I was sitting on the other side of the table and he looked up to me and said 'I think that Bear just moved"
I feigned indifference and just kinda grunted "humpf" and took a sip of coffee.
Granpa studied the bear a long moment, seemed to wondering if his mind might be gone, and went back to his eggs.
As if on cue, as he was raising his fork loaded with eggs to his mouth, the bear scooted three inches towards him!
Granpa dropped his fork and bolted straight upright, his chair falls backwards and he is backing away from the table hollerin'
"That damned bear just moved"

And me and the kids just busted out laughin'! It was perfectly done!
We are lucky it didn't kill the ol' boy.

SEPARATION, CONFESSION AND ATONEMENT

THE WORSE DAY OF MY LIFE, EASTER 1966

Yes, Easter has been a tough holiday for me.

In 1961 I was a pariah because I found the Grand Prize Giant Easter Bunny.
In 1962 I took part in the slaughter, disposal and cover-up of the senseless murder of a little pink baby chick, as told here.
The worse was yet to come…

The year after Dan and I murdered my sisters little Easter Chick, my family moved to Detroit. In 1966 we flew to Texas for vacation at Easter time. Our return flight back to Detroit was late in the day on Easter Sunday.
My little sister, who 4 years prior had lost that poor little chick, was about to pay me back for the vile deed.
Early Easter morning she went to the little nest that our mom and dad always had us make to find what the Easter Bunny had left.
There was a huge yellow Easter Basket, about 4 feet tall, with all that fake green grass spilling out, and all those marshmallow Rabbits, and Candy Eggs, Stuffed Bunnies, with little feathered bird-toys going all around the handle, all wrapped in clear-green cellophane.
It was enormous, totally cute and bigger than she was.

It could not be checked as baggage, and it was way too big for my sister to carry.

Do you know what that meant?
It was time to atone for the murder of that Baby Chick 4 years earlier.
I had to carry that Basket through the Airport and onto the plane!
I was 10 years old, all boy and I’d rather have died a thousand deaths than to carry that pastel pink and yellow nightmare.

Sweet Weepin' Jesus.
I was embarrassed, I was pissed, and what I found was that if I tilted that basket the wrong way music would play right out of one of those stuffed bunnies arses.

“Here comes Peter Cottontail

Hoppin' down the bunny trail

Hippity-Hoppity

Easters on its way”

I was daggers!
Daggers!
DAGGERS!

Women and little girls in line to board would compliment me on what a nice Easter Basket I had.

It seemd like the whle Airport was smiling at me.

I would scowl. I was almost in tears. I wanted to kill somebody.
DAGGERS!
And when I looked to my Mother, she would just give me that look like I better not say a thing.
I could not wait for this plane to hippity-hoppity off the ground and land in Detroit.
But that would prove to be too good to be true.

What I found, as part of my atonement for the sins of Easter Past, was that we had a three-hour layover in the lobby at Chicago O’Hare!
DAGGERS!

It was the worse day of my life.

"Mandatum novum do vobis ut diligatis invicem sicut dilexi vos"

for many a dark hour, i've been thinking of this
that jesus christ was betrayed with a kiss
but i can't think for you
you'll have to decide
if judas iscariot had god on his side
b.dylan

Man., I went Sunday Morning to my old Sunday School Class to tell them I have been going to Narcotics Anonymous and how much I am getting out of it. I used to go to that class about once a month, and they like me immensely as I do them. I wanted them to know where I've been the last 5 months, and that I am the Chairperson for the 10 and 12 O'Clock meetings on Sundays.
I should have known better….
They were very concerned that it is not a “Biblical” program.
They were concerned with the idea that we seek a "god of our own true understanding" and not their “one True God".
I tried to explain that NA is a simple Spiritual, not religious program and seems to be having a great effect on me and that it may even lead me back to the Church someday. (it could happen)
Its such a wonderful juxtaposition, a dichotomy, and one that they don't quite understand.
Somehow I managed to get out of there without insulting them or starting a huge fight of some sort.

But they invited me to their Maundy Thursday Service tonight and I will probably attend.

My boss and I talked about Maundy Thursday yesterday.
My title phrase is Latin, and we take Maundy from the word "mondatum" which is the first word in a phrase Christ gave us even as Judas was betraying him;

"A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you"

A wonderful juxtaposition, part of a really great story whether you choose to believe it or not.
My boss is very strong in his belief that yes, Judas had God on his side.
He says we all do.

DIRTY DEEDS DONE DIRT CHEEP

CONFESSION

If you read yesterdays post about Easter, you will find that it set the stage for Easter to be a tough Holiday for me. That Easter of 1961 was the first time I truly felt separated from other people.
And it was all because I found that damned Grand Prize Bunny.
I can still see the pouty little envious faces of all the kids there that day.
I can still feel the anger and resentment of all those little child hearts as I stood between the Governor and Miss Texas, holding 4 pounds of Chocolate Rabbit, getting my piocture taken.

Make no mistake about it, us humans learn to hate and resent and despise at a very early age.
We also learn to feel separated, isolated and alone.

Anyway, over the years Easter did not get much better for me.

The next year, in 1962, my little sister got a little baby chick that the Easter Bunny brought for her. It was dyed pink and I do not know what future it may have had if me and the big kid from across the street had not got a hold of it. His name was Dan, and he and I took an Axe and cut the little birds head off and buried it in the front yard. Later that evening, when the chick came up missing, I lied and said I knew nothing about the whereabouts of my sisters little pink chicky.
It was a mystery, but mystery’s never last too long in my life.
The very next day my dad found that little chick , headless and buried in the front yard.
I got a whuppin’ all right, even though it had not been my idea, nor had I held the axe, or dug the hole or placed the little chicky in its grave.
No, I had not done any of that, but I understood fully that I had been a most willing and delighted accomplice to this macabre little episode.

What I did not understand at the time was that I would never really ever get away with anything my whole life long.

SELF -CENTERED

"Babies think they make milk by sucking"
jacques, from "god on trial"

SEPARATION

EASTER 1961

We were lined up at the starting line when the man fired the starting pistol.
I took off clean, then fell and scuffed my knee in my little Easter shorts, ripping my jacket as well. I thought my chaces were slim, but I recovered and ran like a deer, scooping up candy and eggs like Deon Sanders on a loose ball.
Before long I was way out in front of everybody.
There was a line of trees in front of me.
Then I found it!
The worlds biggest Chocolate Bunny! It must have been 2 feet tall.
The Grand Prize of the Easter Egg Hunt!
It came with $20 and I got my picture made with the Governor and Miss Texas, 1961.

And all the kids hated me forever after that.

"IT ALWAYS...

...seems impossible until it is done."
n. mandela

CHOICE #1

FOR POETRY DAY

Barbara posted this little gem two years ago. I think it has the kind of edge my counterparts down at NA just might enjoy.

Everyone Was in Love by Galway Kinnell

One day, when they were little, Maud and Fergus
appeared in the doorway naked and mirthful,
with a dozen long garter snakes draped over
each of them like brand-new clothes.
Snake tails dangled down their backs,
and snake foreparts in various lengths
fell over their fronts with heads raised and swaying,
alert as cobras. They were writhing their dry skins
upon each other, as snakes like doing
in lovemaking, with the added novelty
of caressing soft, smooth, moist human skin.
Maud and Fergus were deliciously pleased with themselves.
The snakes seemed to be tickled, too.
We were enchanted.
Everyone was in love.
Then Maud drew down off Fergus’s shoulder,
as off a tie rack, a peculiarly
lumpy snake and told me to look inside.
Inside the double-hinged jaw, a frog’s green
webbed hind feet were being drawn,
like a diver’s, very slowly as if into deepest waters.
Perhaps thinking I might be considering rescue,
Maud said, "Don’t. Frog is already elsewhere."

LAUGHING IS MY HAMMER

"He who best uses a hammer thinks everything is a nail"
a. einstein

A DOG PERSON DREAM

I was getting a little worried about my dreams lately... but what a weekend I had!
This one was less about one of my reader friends and more about her dog and the effect I have on people sometimes when they meet me....and as she points out later, iit may have been more about me than anything...

Strange dream with you in it last night. I was meeting you and two of your friends somewhere, can’t recall the setting. Anyway, I saw a group of three people and as I approached I realized I didn’t have my glasses on so you guys were all blurry. I got closer and was able to rule one of the three out as not being you. He was tall, had grey hair and a white sweater and a big Hollywood scarf on. He kind of resembled George Plimpton.
The other two people had long straight hair, dishwater blondes and big glasses on. One of them was going to be you.

The one on the right seemed to be the more slender and feminine, so as I got closer in my mind I thought it was you, but my vision was still blurry.
My plan was to give you a BIG hello hug.
But when I got to within hugging distance from you, I realized the person I was about to hug was not you but a very effeminate male. The “real” you was standing next to him, and you were holding a leash with your dog Duff attached.
But it was too late!
I had already committed to hugging this man and hug him I did.
I hugged the heck outta him, pounding him on the back and loudly declaring how good it was to meet him. I had shifted entirely into my "Never met a stranger" mode.

And this is where the dream got...dreamlike.

The man I hugged was rather taken aback and wouldn't tell me his name. Actually, he was VERY put out by it and nearly fell down putting distance between he and I. If I had not had him in a Bear Hug, he might even have got away!
The whole thing, as dreams go, was starting to seem like a big mistake, but I would not be deterred. I was going to inflict myself onto each one of you until you were my friends!

The other man in the white sweater thought it was funny as hell and
laughed and laughed and laughed; He said his name was "Mr Wood", and I
couldn't help feeling in the dream that there was something sexual about the name
for the sake of the dream.
I got the feeling he knew more than the rest of us, and there was something about him I did not trust at all.

And you, well, you acted like you didn't know who I was and my
repeated attempts to tell you I was "Bulletholes" were unsuccessful.

'Its me, Bulletholes!" I said.
You shook your head no.
"You know, Bulletholes in the Mailbox!" I tried again.
You looked worried, like I might be mad and shook your head even harder.
"We've known each other for years!" and its true, though we've never met.
You looked at me like I was the ghost of George Bailey, the guy in "its a Wonderful Life" and seemed to back away, like his wife Mary the librarian did in the movie.

But your dog ol' Duff, well ... he was all over me , licking my face and jumping and
being a big ol' friendly dog.
I liked Duff the best of all your friends!
I woke up giving "Dog-Kisses" to my pillow!
Need a new pillow...




Now I sent this to my friend Kissyface and she did a great job analyzing it for me.
If I were to meet any of you out there, or your friends, or your dog, I'd be very excited!

So what did Kissyface say?
Well, heres a paragraph from what she sent me that smacks pretty real to me...
"Anyway, you have a trinity of something going on here. I can't help but thinking that we, with our nerd glasses, represent something cerebral ot you. Maybe with all this writing and thinking you've been doing, you are starting to realize what a really smart fellow you are. I don't know if you thought of yourself as something else before, but you certainly say things that make it seem as if you did. I think of you as a very physical person, as well. Belly laughs, bawdy humor, big hugs, trickster, jokester, a big shoulder to cry on, the class clown with deep pain and a big, big heart, a shining optimist at once a bit afeard yet truly in love with the world and its people."

Yes KFace, that is me!
I have always been able to tell how I am doing by how I see other people. When I am doing poorly, everyone looks ugly and hateful to me. When I'm doing well, everyones is in love.

POETRY DAY

Alexander the Great watches Campaspe being painted by Appelles

They had Poetry Day down at my NA meeting a few weeks ago. There were five people there and I was the only one to actually bring a poem.

I shared "Appelle's Song" by John Lyle and "The Two Trees" by WB Yeats.

This has probably sealed my reputation as being a pretty strangecat.

Anyway, we have another Poetry Day coming up and Wild Horses couldn't keep me away.

I think I may want to liven it up a bit though....

Any suggestions?

EASY STREET

"Hello sucker, we like your money
just as well as anybody else's here"
or they give you the P.T. Barnum bit
"There's a sucker born every minute
you just happened to be comin' along at the right time"
tom waits from "nighthawk postcards"

MORE BAD MEDICINE

I am getting to that age where everything starts falling apart.

Last night I watched the Frontline report about being sick in America. Towards the end there was a story about a 21 year old girl whose insurance was supposedly cancelled in 2005. She had Lupus, and appeals were denied and her health failed for the next 2 years until she died. A week after her death, her parents received notification that the Policy had been reinstated, that the cancellation had been a big mistake.

Brutal stuff.

I am sure many of you have your own stories about medical care you or a loved one received. I had managed to avoid Doctors and Health care issues all my life. I had been blessed with very good health.

But then last December my good luck ended.

I spent 3 days in the hospital for Diabetes. I have a feeling the rest of my life will be spent with health care being a big part of it.

My Hospital stay was actually quite pleasant, but my first trip to the pharmacy was brutal.

You can read my story about it here.

Bad Medicine.

Brutal.

Then last month i received the bill from the Hospital. it showed that I had rung up 14,000 Dollars in my 3 days there.

This was not really a surprise.

My insurance paid 8,000 dollars of it, leaving me with a 6,000 bill.

I called to make arrangements to pay this. The lady said I did not have to pay it, that the hospital would take the 8,000 from the Insurance as Payment in Full!

Now don't get me wrong, I was quite happy and releived that this happened.

But I had to ask "How much would I owe if I had not had Insurance?"

Her reply was instant and matter-of fact:

"You would owe the entire 14,000 dollars."
Brutal.

I couldn't believe what i was hearing! There is no way I can justify this in my mind.

I can't squint my brain enough to have this make any kind of sense.

Some poor bastard without Insurance... the same one who would have had to pay 850 dollars at the pharmacy for his Medicine this month...he may be walikng around but he's financially deader than a beaver hat....and it won't be long till he's dead...but not before he gets really sick first.

Can someone explain this to me?

Am I wrong to think that this makes no sense?

Brutal stuff.