Wednesday, September 29, 2010

A Passer Passes

George Blanda died two days ago, ten days after his 83rd birthday.  For all of you wondering who in hell he was, click on his name; What I can tell you is that he was a great football player who finally left the game at the age of 49, still a great player.  Twenty-six years in pro football as a quarterback and kicker, and a winner.  He knew how to win.


I'm sad I had to postpone a trip to Louisiana this week.  The ailments of age seem to be sneaking up on me, or maybe rushing toward me, I don't know.   I want to say at this moment that I will never again postpone a trip that I have scheduled.  If a postponement happens, someone else will have done it.


I hope all who are able will attend Jon Stewart's attempt to inject some semblance of sanity into this bizarre country of ours by showing up in DC on the 30th of October.  Regrettably, I will not be there but many friends will.  The anger and venom that is constantly being spewed across the airwaves can't, according to our great constitution, be stopped, but at least in can be countered by people with less than murder in their hearts.  When you hear a political speech, commentary by a TV personality, etc.,  find out the facts.  One great, unbiased source is www.factcheck.org.  Before you believe, know what you're believing.


Enough for today.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Early Autumn Morning

I wake on our sleeping porch to the  coyote chorus down by the Wallkill River.  The crisp dry air and the light from the moon, two days past full, remind me of the coming color-wheel of autumn.  I don't know whether the coyotes or Carol's stirring woke me but, for now I'm up so I feed the cats, put a load of laundry in, and make coffee. 

I prepared my morning bowl of cereal, except for the yogurt, before feeding the cats, expecting that Elvis, my yogurt junkie, would be occupied in the basement eating long enough for me to add the yogurt then secure myself in my office.  As soon as I open the container, he is at my feet for his share. 

I finished reading Great Expectations yesterday, as enamored by Dickens' ability to construct a sentence as when I first picked up the book.  I controlled myself well enough to have dogeared only two pages in order to share his mastery with my writer friends at our next meeting.

Yesterday, while  exchanging empty beer bottles and money for full ones,  I greeted the clerk with the standard guy opening, "How's it going?"  His response, "Okay.  Except for the weather."  Confused, I agreed that it was a little warm, but the sunshine was pleasant.  His concern turned out to be that the warm weather would mess up the autumn leaf display.  I assured him that the change was due to the length of the day, but he still thought that warm days would keep leaves from turning (you may shrug here.)

We went to Marlborough, NY last night to hear Amy and Leslie at the Falcon Arts Center.  The venue is on 9W, the main street of the town.  It is a lovely performance space and a great idea at work.  There is no cover charge or admission, just a donation box in the entry hall.  All cash in the box at the end of the night goes to the performers, while the house earns it's money on food and drinks.  It seems to work out for all involved and has apparently become a very successful venture.

Enough for today.