tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42144718651556210232024-03-13T13:35:43.648-04:00Action Bob MarkleMusic, theater, gardening, travel, current affairs, and my personal life, not always in that order. I try to keep it interesting, I rarely hold back, because one thing I truly believe in is the shared experience of this reality we call life. We're all in this together, people. More than we even know.ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.comBlogger1273125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-9139679603216601752016-11-23T22:47:00.000-05:002016-11-23T22:47:00.346-05:00Tomorrow's Thanksgiving
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Tomorrow’s
Thanksgiving. It will be just Sue and me. We’re keeping it small. When I was at
the grocery store today the clerk asked me if I was picking up last-minute
stuff. I guess it was because I wasn’t buying very much. Olives. Prosciutto.
Rolls. A small bag of beans. A ham hock for the beans. No, I said. One of the
kids is in New York and the other is in Florida, so it’s just my wife and me.
It sounded kind of pathetic, as the words came out of my mouth. Just a couple
of people getting on in years, spending Thanksgiving alone. There’s more and
more of that every year as both kids get older and on with their own lives. I
remember my parents feeling the same way. </div>
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We’re ok. We
don’t really do holidays that much anyway, except maybe for Christmas, but we
don’t want to ignore them either. A friend of Sue’s called her the other day to
see if she wanted to go for a walk tomorrow because her husband will be
watching sports all day. I like the holidays, though, and this year it’s been
kind of tough. Money is tight since we had to buy a new used truck, and I
haven’t found any work since the beginning of the year. And the election seems
to take a lot out of you. Just the sheer emotion of it all. The outcome makes
you wonder what’s going to happen, and uncertainty is anxiety-making, though we
do have plenty to be thankful for, just starting with each other. It’s just the
times. Alley Cat Theater is coming along and I have high hopes for that
project, but that’s a long way off, too. I’ll know in January when I’m in
Vermont at the Vermont Studio Center if I got funding. If I don’t, I’m not sure
what I’ll do. </div>
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I was going
to make salmon but it wasn’t local at the fish store, so I bought halibut,
which was out of Boston. I really support local farmers and fishermen, and it
has to be wild-caught or organic. Our food chain has become pretty much
compromised over the years, thanks to our bought and paid-for politicians in
Washington and their lobbying friends. As my mother used to say, they’re all in
cahoots, and it’s true. If this past election didn’t prove that, I don’t know
what will convince the American people. They’ll just believe what they want to
believe.</div>
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Bay scallops
were $37.99 a pound. Is that normal? I asked, knowing full well it wasn’t. It
seems kind of expensive. It’s a little high, he answered, in that understated
way some New Englanders have. Martha Vineyards’ scallops are only producing
about 100 pounds a day. I guess that’s not a lot to go around. I prefer bay
scallops, but bought sea scallops for $20 a pound, and got a little over a half
pound. I’m roasting brussel sprouts that came from our garden, and making rice,
since we already have it and it’s cheap. I buy everything on sale. I told Sue
I’d make French toast for her for breakfast. That’s her favorite, and I don’t
usually make it during the week. It’s a holiday that’s all about food (and
well, getting together with family, but that’s not happening) so I imagine if
the rain holds off we might go over to the Blue Hills for a hike. My one knee
has really been bothering me though from me pushing it one day over there in
the Blue Hills, so a nice stroll in the woods would be fine to keep the sludge
moving. </div>
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It almost
seems as if we’re doing the holidays underwater, in that slow-motion way, going
through the motions but it seems we’re in a dream. Next week is Sue’s birthday,
then the week after we’re going to New York for Ferris Wheel Management’s
Christmas party, then it will be Christmas, and then I’ll be in Vermont,
working on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plank</i>. There’s a few
parties mixed in there, but again, it’s the election that I think is throwing
us all. I called the election, and I hated the fact that I knew Trump would get
elected. Arrogance on the part of the Clintons and corruption in the DNC gave
the election away, coupled with the press not doing its job, which it gave up
on a long time ago. They don’t report on the news anymore; its job is to just
make money now, and that means pushing an agenda set by the advertisers. I keep
working on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Plank</i>, and want pull up <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The New American</i>, too. I just keep
crossing my fingers that Alley Cat Theater will work and I can put these plays
on. I guess what I can be most thankful for is just the chance to do this. Isn’t
that what we used to say about the United States? The land of opportunity. Just
give us the opportunity and we’ll take it from here? </div>
ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-50102767957696360892016-09-22T23:07:00.000-04:002016-09-23T15:11:41.229-04:00New England Festy 2016 Pictures<br />
<a href="http://nodepression.com/live-review/new-england-festy-sept-17-%E2%80%93-18-2016-prowse-farm-canton-ma" target="_blank">And read my review at No Depression. </a><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-boRs_6D05vw/V-AM3Nj2JmI/AAAAAAAACJU/zjhNQT13DzoYIJhrcS7bPbokcvZ_LfuEgCLcB/s1600/DSCF3136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-boRs_6D05vw/V-AM3Nj2JmI/AAAAAAAACJU/zjhNQT13DzoYIJhrcS7bPbokcvZ_LfuEgCLcB/s320/DSCF3136.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Salt Union</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mLUoUBkwqAg/V-AM4aPu7MI/AAAAAAAACJY/xd0PS6EgEoE-lmWuJpGEanwhp1EiZtAKwCLcB/s1600/DSCF3142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mLUoUBkwqAg/V-AM4aPu7MI/AAAAAAAACJY/xd0PS6EgEoE-lmWuJpGEanwhp1EiZtAKwCLcB/s320/DSCF3142.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David Wax Museum</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G3wNJ9fhFaI/V-AM6grgQkI/AAAAAAAACJc/NV3os0X8rwIfCnurVwbxg5LRdjRvFC-7wCLcB/s1600/DSCF3161.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G3wNJ9fhFaI/V-AM6grgQkI/AAAAAAAACJc/NV3os0X8rwIfCnurVwbxg5LRdjRvFC-7wCLcB/s320/DSCF3161.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mimi Naja of Fruition</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QB4mh5ZdzqM/V-AM8kxXw6I/AAAAAAAACJg/do8GtJtKJLU0LduHg2GPSyJCaPx4XGMowCLcB/s1600/DSCF3163.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QB4mh5ZdzqM/V-AM8kxXw6I/AAAAAAAACJg/do8GtJtKJLU0LduHg2GPSyJCaPx4XGMowCLcB/s320/DSCF3163.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Josh Ritter. And Boston-based musicians, Mark Erelli and Zachariah Hickman</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QETR_VcQ0ew/V-AM_BKyq8I/AAAAAAAACJk/RnwvTLYuGy8SgnwnzlsxbPygF5wk1DrrwCLcB/s1600/DSCF3178.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QETR_VcQ0ew/V-AM_BKyq8I/AAAAAAAACJk/RnwvTLYuGy8SgnwnzlsxbPygF5wk1DrrwCLcB/s320/DSCF3178.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Justin Townes Earle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tim_Dukphvc/V-ANCNZtnjI/AAAAAAAACJo/r0hBkp3nIaYqWHmE0gAznf3-FOMepGXXgCLcB/s1600/DSCF3185.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tim_Dukphvc/V-ANCNZtnjI/AAAAAAAACJo/r0hBkp3nIaYqWHmE0gAznf3-FOMepGXXgCLcB/s320/DSCF3185.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Wood Brothers</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s3yJNXkdszA/V-ANHN6TgII/AAAAAAAACJs/m3_vgTrsI5AB9yGfz8Ode-kdwXZWCw_xACLcB/s1600/DSCF3215.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s3yJNXkdszA/V-ANHN6TgII/AAAAAAAACJs/m3_vgTrsI5AB9yGfz8Ode-kdwXZWCw_xACLcB/s320/DSCF3215.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lau</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YahaluJyIzc/V-ANK5IGv_I/AAAAAAAACJw/yASLhd6DuqoZVqqJs4g7MIg0VM65cbzyQCLcB/s1600/DSCF3219.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YahaluJyIzc/V-ANK5IGv_I/AAAAAAAACJw/yASLhd6DuqoZVqqJs4g7MIg0VM65cbzyQCLcB/s320/DSCF3219.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jefferson Hamer of Session Americana</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VL3xRKxnBwU/V-ANOh5frJI/AAAAAAAACJ0/VIdmxnuxEU8peq-HCsYibY6ADq3VZE7fwCLcB/s1600/DSCF3237.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VL3xRKxnBwU/V-ANOh5frJI/AAAAAAAACJ0/VIdmxnuxEU8peq-HCsYibY6ADq3VZE7fwCLcB/s320/DSCF3237.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sessions Americana</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xCTnfhgD-Lo/V-ANRb7NC8I/AAAAAAAACJ4/SQZ12lPXd98Z5vSBhO0tdhQbaNCRkWdbwCLcB/s1600/DSCF3244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xCTnfhgD-Lo/V-ANRb7NC8I/AAAAAAAACJ4/SQZ12lPXd98Z5vSBhO0tdhQbaNCRkWdbwCLcB/s320/DSCF3244.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Greensky Bluegrass</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-87473490620850740012016-09-13T14:47:00.002-04:002016-09-13T14:47:35.737-04:00The Post Road Trip BluesWe just recently came back from two glorious weeks on a road trip through Canada's Maritime Provinces: up the center of New Brunswick onto Quebec's Gaspe Peninsula and then back through Acadia, then over to Prince Edward Island and then back into New Brunswick. Two glorious weeks of stunning landscape, great food, and some of the warmest, most friendly people you can imagine.<br />
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Then back to Boston. We literally went from this...<br />
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...to this...<br />
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...in 24 hours. The picture of the deer and the images of Boston's Friday afternoon rush hour were taken almost exactly 24 hours apart. One day we were in a small, quiet woodlot by the side of a road in St. Andrews, New Brunswick, watching three deer forage (and they watched us, too) and the next day we were negotiating smelly, hot, noisy Boston.<br />
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I have a love/hate relationship with Boston. It's been my home for 35 years now. There are things I absolutely love about it. I appreciate that I live in a place and experience the architecture and history that people travel thousands of miles to visit. I love the nearby ocean and its smell. I love hiking the Blue Hills on a weekday, and being so close to Cape Cod, the White Mountains, and New York City. And while I may not actually love the the city's subway system, locally known as the T, I do like it a lot. But, my nickname for Boston is AngryTown. People here are always seem so angry with one another and the effect is not pleasant. In Canada I realized I was always leery about approaching a stranger, and every time I found the person to be friendly and helpful, willing to share and be open without a hint of malice. I've traveled the world, so I think I'm qualified to say that Boston is not a very friendly city. I will even go as far as to say I've found New York and New Yorkers to be friendlier. And Boston drivers are abysmally aggressive and sometimes even dangerously so, but the kicker is they actually take pride in that. In Canada, while it only happened about three, maybe four times, but when someone learned we were from Boston, their response was, "Oh, I'm sorry", said humorously, but that's the way polite Canadians get their point across. <br />
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So, coming off a trip that was so relaxing because we constantly found ourselves in contact with not only some of the most stupendous natural vistas, but people and a society who right from the get-go shared the same values about the environment, socialism vs. capitalism, and the role of religion made me very nervous about crossing back over the border. Granted, we were mostly traveling in predominantly rural sections. But I honestly can't remember one store or restaurant where there was a television screen, which is so prevalent in the United States, even in rural areas. People, for the most part, eat in restaurants, like they do in Europe, sans phones and television. Occasionally you'd see a young man, withdrawn in his hoodie, hunched over a phone in a Tim Horton's, but that's really about it. And once I do remember in the town of Gaspe--this is the big city in that region, mind you--having breakfast at a delightful combination of store/cafe and a woman, probably coming up on her thirtieth year, upon the waitress placing her breakfast in front of her, pulling out her cell phone and taking a picture of her food as naturally as putting the napkin in her lap. But understand that these examples were definitely not the norm, which made them stand out. <br />
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So, I repeat, I can't say I was looking forward to being back in Boston and to a greater extent the United States after decompressing from American society where porcupines were as common as squirrels in the park. <b></b>There's the current election. "Three hundred and nineteen million people and those two are the best you could come up with?"asked a former Montreal police officer and a liberal who struck up a conversation with me while I waited to pay for gas. There's the violence, and the threat of violence that I feel everyday. There are the racial and gender issues that are so prominent in the news and my Facebook feed that I think are important but still generate so much fighting and accusation without seeming to resolve anything. <br />
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<b>I wondered if what I was feeling upon re-entering the United States was akin to what a person feels upon leaving detox, now clean, but again out on the streets without any real defense against threat or temptation. </b></div>
<br />
The pace of life jangles my nerves in Boston. It's too fast, too loud, too argumentative. People don't discuss things. They wait for you to stop talking so they can poke holes in what you've said, a legacy of all the colleges and their Aristotelian culture, I think. I do everything I can to defuse it's effects, starting with traveling like we just did, taking road trips on backroads and camping along the way. Sometimes you just have to get away from it all.<br />
<br />
In Canada I thought of all of things I do to slow time or create peace in my life. I realized the things I do to connect with my dead parents. The list sounds like a recipe for a commune or a Luddite or even a Buddhist. I don't own a cell phone, nor do I want one. I haven't owned a television for over 10 years; we get all of our information and entertainment through a laptop. I wear an analog watch, long before it was hip and fashionable to do so now. We drive late-model vehicles that are paid for, and I'm certainly not the most fashionably dressed person in the room with old Levis and cowboy boots being my "style", as one of our daughters put it. Sue buys most of her clothes in consignment shops. I run to relieve stress and to think. I bake our own bread, cook our meals from scratch, and air-dry our laundry, just like my mother used to do. I take the train into Boston to especially buy locally grown organic meat and vegetables at Boston Public Market. I shave with a double-edge razor, which reminds me of my father. Every day I offer incense to the Buddha, the minute or so it takes me to do that reminds me there's a spiritual life for me to consider.<br />
<br />
Right before we left for Canada I realized I was spending a total of upwards of two hours a day on Facebook. More if you included other social media sites like Twitter and news sites. Two hours a day is 14 hours a week, which is almost two full work days. Imagine, I thought, of what I could have written if I had used that time more prudently. I could have finished a play, started a new one, or worked on short stories. I could have improved my music ability or written more songs.<br />
<br />
It always happens after traveling. You try to hang on to what life was like when you were free, thinking this is the way life really should be. And we rarely do that. For now, I'm going to leave this post with that thought. Let's see what happens.<br />
<br />
Thank you for listening. And please share your ideas for a more peaceful life, and for combating the day-to-day stresses in your own life. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-25258379024948184092016-08-03T15:48:00.000-04:002016-08-03T15:48:45.305-04:00The Urban Garden And The Drought Of 2016<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2PqF9GRKVs/V6I3VQQQr3I/AAAAAAAACHI/NP_Y47hpPpAqZOH9nyooepLB1Aqxs-IIACLcB/s1600/DSCN4984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2PqF9GRKVs/V6I3VQQQr3I/AAAAAAAACHI/NP_Y47hpPpAqZOH9nyooepLB1Aqxs-IIACLcB/s320/DSCN4984.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Acorn squash. Tiny fruit and hardy any foliage. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Six weeks ago the urban garden looked pretty good. Hopeful. We were getting rain, and the temps were staying in the 80s F. Then came July.<br />
<br />
Now, I'm almost ashamed to post pictures. This blog post should come with a trigger warning, that the images might be upsetting if you're, say, a vegetarian. This is the worst garden I think I've ever had in my life. Weeks of 90+ degree weather and drought conditions can kill a garden, which is pretty much what happened. Zucchini is something that everyone can grow. First time gardeners: Grow zucchini to really boost your confidence. They will grow to the size of small baseball bats if you don't watch them. But I think we've harvested about three summer squash and one zucchini, and the rest might just get pulled and thrown in one of the compost bins, which, by the way, are heating up in the summer sun and cooking the beejesus out of the compost, killing weed seeds and decomposing the material. <br />
<br />
Remember that the deal we have with our landlord is we would only use collected rainwater to water the garden to keep the water bill from going sky high. But, when there isn't water coming out of the sky to replenish the water collection barrels, well... I was at Boston Public Market on Saturday, and one of the farmers there said they dug a pond for water, i.e. they dug a hole to get to the water table to access a supply of water. We did just have about two days of steady rain, and of course that's all it took for the weeds to take off and start choking out the plants. <br />
<br />
It's hard to watch a garden get like this. You feel helpless. You total up all of the money you spent on seedlings and take your loss, and you tell yourself, well, at least we're not depending on surviving this way. And of course, then your imagination does wonder what it would be like if you actually did count on this for survival. And in a way we do. We count every penny, and last year, we cut our food bill dramatically with this little garden, so we're going to feel it in our wallet in the coming months. Last year we were living on salads from our garden during the summer, and the squash and eggplant, and I think it was well into March of this year that we finally finished the tomato sauce we had in the freezer from tomatoes we grew ourselves.<br />
<br />
Other urban gardeners in our neighborhood are showing varying levels of success. Some gardens are really struggling. When I see one that's thriving, I just assume they're watering every day. One garden I noticed was laced with soaker hoses. The boxes on the porch, which I hand water sometimes twice a day--between the sun and reflective walls, the porch can really heat up like an oven--are doing fine.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow I think I'll do triage, dig up what's not going to survive, and plant peas, just to get them in the ground. I'll pin burlap down over the seeds and wait for cooler weather. Maybe next year we'll put out more than the two rain barrels that we
have. Put them under as many downspouts as possible for the inevitable
heat wave.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C7tCm1zs-zY/V6I2v3fzeUI/AAAAAAAACHQ/sReASLi96wARcwpt0bTisd6BqX0fz6L8wCEw/s1600/DSCN4980.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C7tCm1zs-zY/V6I2v3fzeUI/AAAAAAAACHQ/sReASLi96wARcwpt0bTisd6BqX0fz6L8wCEw/s320/DSCN4980.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The herb boxes on the porch hang in there with extra TLC. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ReMdeC9KNCM/V6I2wLc3SlI/AAAAAAAACHU/lFkulNcvdpcClDA2lAIzSm0tNmzHfPg_gCEw/s1600/DSCN4981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ReMdeC9KNCM/V6I2wLc3SlI/AAAAAAAACHU/lFkulNcvdpcClDA2lAIzSm0tNmzHfPg_gCEw/s320/DSCN4981.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oregano (along the back) is very heat tolerant. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RMHHvP8OBUU/V6I2v5i8J1I/AAAAAAAACHQ/ofjFeVUv-twsRfD77v4GPLgL5cz7Ewh2gCEw/s1600/DSCN4982.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RMHHvP8OBUU/V6I2v5i8J1I/AAAAAAAACHQ/ofjFeVUv-twsRfD77v4GPLgL5cz7Ewh2gCEw/s320/DSCN4982.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peppers have been producing small, but very flavorful fruit. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GPFBf4Ci_lo/V6I2wbSJrLI/AAAAAAAACHU/ey9nxSZTJU4mgDFX3RYIuWMte9NjGWmyACEw/s1600/DSCN4983.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GPFBf4Ci_lo/V6I2wbSJrLI/AAAAAAAACHU/ey9nxSZTJU4mgDFX3RYIuWMte9NjGWmyACEw/s320/DSCN4983.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sad potato patch. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VMoq75TGghU/V6I2wufQ3hI/AAAAAAAACHU/flmuA6qY8c4x9RE25qPeGqL-pIlslRMHACEw/s1600/DSCN4986.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VMoq75TGghU/V6I2wufQ3hI/AAAAAAAACHU/flmuA6qY8c4x9RE25qPeGqL-pIlslRMHACEw/s320/DSCN4986.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The zucchini is barely alive. So sad. We miss sauteed zucchini and onion over pasta, a low-cal summer favorite of ours. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WDv41HQdltg/V6I2w-hb8nI/AAAAAAAACHQ/GMl53RDj8NQuMZMxuRjsWU1DolZo3_VtgCEw/s1600/DSCN4987.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WDv41HQdltg/V6I2w-hb8nI/AAAAAAAACHQ/GMl53RDj8NQuMZMxuRjsWU1DolZo3_VtgCEw/s320/DSCN4987.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Summer squash are very small this year. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3rvydwjZ0cI/V6I2xJVXtoI/AAAAAAAACHQ/czpyKQt1aeIs4X7VgEKS--LbFwhowLAgACEw/s1600/DSCN4988.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3rvydwjZ0cI/V6I2xJVXtoI/AAAAAAAACHQ/czpyKQt1aeIs4X7VgEKS--LbFwhowLAgACEw/s320/DSCN4988.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We're getting tomatoes, but the actual plant is very fragile. Fruit is small. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N7JcFJBs-bQ/V6I2xZ8CPpI/AAAAAAAACHQ/-fVUL3jdOmshBXvMsCaKvgAanhLrZD_vgCEw/s1600/DSCN4989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N7JcFJBs-bQ/V6I2xZ8CPpI/AAAAAAAACHQ/-fVUL3jdOmshBXvMsCaKvgAanhLrZD_vgCEw/s320/DSCN4989.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's almost unbelievable that these plants can actually yield. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TWyQaJfs7lk/V6I2x4GSyhI/AAAAAAAACHQ/s4duyGH55F8d_H_yMLz7lHXHoVUAaa1twCEw/s1600/DSCN4991.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TWyQaJfs7lk/V6I2x4GSyhI/AAAAAAAACHQ/s4duyGH55F8d_H_yMLz7lHXHoVUAaa1twCEw/s320/DSCN4991.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This thyme has been in the garden for a couple of years now, surviving that terrible winter two years ago and this summer. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-88067842061011650272016-06-17T15:12:00.001-04:002016-06-17T16:15:47.996-04:00Lyrics I Wish I Had Written<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sometimes you just go, how did they do that? Where did that come from? </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">For me, here's just a sampling:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Too cool to be forgotten</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">House rules, no exceptions</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">No bad language, no gambling, no
fighting</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sorry, no credit, don't ask</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Bathroom wall reads: Is God the answer?
Yes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ninety-nine and a half just won't do.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Outside my window, I can hear the radio,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And I know that motor wagon is ready to
fly,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">'cause it's almost Saturday night. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">So often times it happens that we live
our lives in chains</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And we never even know we have the key.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I wanna watch the ocean bend</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">the edges of the sun then</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I wanna get swallowed up in</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">An ocean of love</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I've lost count of the times I've given
up on you </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">But you make such a beautiful wreck, you
do </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ya, you make such a beautiful wreck, you
do </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">You make such a beautiful wreck, you do</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">At the dark end of this bar</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">What a beautiful wreck you are.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">It's better to burn out than it is to
rust.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">She said her name was Billie Jean and
she was fresh in town.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I didn’t know a stage line ran from
hell.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And feelin' good was easy, Lord, when he
sang the blues</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You know, feelin' good was good enough for me</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I wished I was in Austin</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">In the Chili Parlor Bar</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Drinking Mad Dog margaritas.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Won't you share a common disaster?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Some people ain't no damn good</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">You can't trust 'em, you can't love 'em</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">No good deed goes unpunished. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Desperado, why don't you come to your
senses? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">You been out ridin' fences for so long
now</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Oh, you're a hard one</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I know that you got your reasons</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">These things that are pleasin' you</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Can hurt you somehow</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Desperado, oh, you ain't gettin' no
younger</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Your pain and your hunger, they're
drivin' you home</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And freedom, oh freedom well, that's
just some people talkin'</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Your prison is walking through this
world all alone</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to
be cowboys. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Don't let 'em pick guitars or drive them
old trucks. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Let 'em be doctors and lawyers and such.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Don't think twice</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">It's all right. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Why'd you let go of your guitar</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Why'd you ever let it go that far</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Drunken Angel</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Everyday is a winding road</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I get a little bit closer</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Everyday is a faded sign</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I get a little bit closer to feeling
fine.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Got two reasons why I cry away each
lonely night,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">The first one's named sweet Anne Marie
and she's my heart's delight.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">The second one is prison, babe, the
sheriff's on my trail,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And if he catches up with me, I'll spend
my life in jail.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Georgia, Georgia, no peace I find. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Just an old sweet song keeps Georgia on
my mind.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Even God must get the blues.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">God must hate me</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">He cursed me for eternity</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">God must hate me</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Maybe you should pray for me</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Did she make you cry</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Make you break down</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Shatter your illusions of love</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Is it over now- do you know how</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Pick up the pieces and go home.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Oh good shepherd</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Feed my sheep</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">So I bought a guitar and I practiced
real hard</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I wasn't much good, but I was willin'</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Till to my chagrin, my girlfriend came
in</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And she said, "Can you sing any
Dylan?" </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Out all night playing in a band</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">looking for a fight </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">with a guitar in your hand</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">with a GUITAR in your hand</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">We all got holes to fill</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">and them holes are all that's real</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">some fall on you like a storm</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">sometimes you dig your own. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I am just a poor boy</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Work’s my middle name</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">If money was the reason</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Well I would not be the same. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I love this town... like an unmade bed</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I need a love to keep my happy. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">It's a long way to Texas... it's a long
way back home</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">It's a three hour flight on the plane
when I go</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">... away from this snow from Boston to
South Shore where the</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dreams roll and tumble... and bring the
prose to the wheel...</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">If you're goin' through hell,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Keep on goin'.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Don't slow down: </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">If you're scared don't show it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">You might get out,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">'Fore the devil even knows you're there.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">It ain't wise to need someone</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">As much as I depended on you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">It's goodbye to all my friends.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">It's time to go again. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Now that we come showin' up</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Rumors bouncin' off of that truck</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Just a let 'em stare at her and me</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">'Cause I don't care about anything but
us</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And there's nothing wrong with me</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">This is how I'm supposed to be</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">In a land of make believe</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">That don't believe in me</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And when you said I scared you,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Well I guess you scared me too.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">If I had possession of Judgement Day</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I wouldn't have no right to pray. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Now I'm leaving Normal and heading
towards Who Knows Where.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I've finally learned that there's good
and bad</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And that a guy can do some choosin',</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Of that I'm glad cause this heart and
face</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Won't take any more bruisin'.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And the next time I fall in another's
arms</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">There's one thing I'll be certain,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">That she can bear the weight of the love
I give</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Without considering it a burden.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Living Life #9.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">When you can't find a friend</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">You've still got the radio.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Livin' on refried dreams. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Guess I've got that old travlin' bone,
'cause this feelin' won't leave me alone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">But I won't, won't be losin' my way, no,
no</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">long as I can see the light.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">All I ask</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Don't tell anybody the secrets</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I told you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I said "Mama, he's crazy and he
scares me</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">But I want him by my side</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">though he's wild and he's bad</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">and sometimes just plain mad</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I need him to keep me satisfied"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">My Give A Damn's Busted</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I got no friends 'cause they read the
papers</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">They can't be seen with me and I'm
getting shot down</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And I'm feeling mean.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>I'm old enough to know better, but still too
young to care.</span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Why is there one in every crowd, and why
do I attract them?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Some rich men came and raped the land,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Nobody caught 'em</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Put up a bunch of ugly boxes, and Jesus,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">People bought 'em</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And they called it Paradise</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">The place to be</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">They watched the hazy sun, sinking in
the sea</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;"></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">
You’re one of a dying breed who only takes what they need </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And leaves the rest to the feast of the
fools </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">When someone else along the way asks you
to stop and stay </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And tell them a story or two </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Tell them the one about this old man
from Blue River, Arizona </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Who is tall and handsome in spite of his
lazy eye </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Never found no gold on the trail of old
Coronado </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Spent half of his life waiting on that
quittin’ time whistle to blow <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Is it too much to demand</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I want a full house and a rock and roll
band</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Pens that won't run out of ink</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And cool quiet and time to think.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Hung a sign up in our town<br />
"If you live it up, you won't live it down"<br />
So she left Monte Rio, son<br />
Just like a bullet leaves a gun</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">With her charcoal eyes and Monroe hips<br />
She went and took that California trip<br />
Oh, the moon was gold, her hair like wind<br />
Said, 'Don't look back, just come on, Jim'</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">When you said you’d never heard of John
Prine <br />
Well I knew right away you weren’t worth my time </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And the moral of this story</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Is I guess it's easier said than done</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">To look at what you've been through</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And to see what you've become.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Quivers down my backbone</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I got the shakes in the knee bones</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Shivers down my thigh bones</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Like I'm</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Shakin' all over</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I dont claim a thing<br />
Not a two bit clue<br />
But somebody whispered<br />
War kills the truth</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">You wait in the car on the side of the
road<br />
Lemme go and stand awhile, I wanna know you're there but I wanna be alone<br />
If only for a minute or two<br />
I wanna see what it feels like to be without you</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sometimes I get upset</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">When people treat me bad</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Don’t have time to think</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">So I get real mad</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And you can send me dead flowers every
morning<br />
Send me dead flowers by the mail<br />
Send me dead flowers to my wedding<br />
And I won't forget to put roses on your grave</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">An old county road runs by my house and
ends on the river bank </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">In '73 they shut the ferry down </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Back up the road there's a church and a
store with a bench full of lying old men </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">In the middle of a wide spot they call a
town<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I'm just a young man living to make me
old plowing these fields by the river road<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Where hopes dreams and my granddaddy
lived and died<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">They go as far as my eyes can see but
they ain't far enough for me<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">When I drive to the river and I look at
the other side </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I've heard that into every life </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">a little rain must fall.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">If there's any truth to the saying,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Lord, let it be a southern rain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Blow up your TV throw away your paper</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Go to the country, build you a home</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Plant a little garden, eat a lot of
peaches</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Try an find Jesus on your own.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Well, I sat there at the table and I
acted real naive</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">For I knew that topless lady had
something up her sleeve.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">So what in the world's come over you?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">What in heaven's name have you done?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">You've broken the speed of the sound of
loneliness</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">You're out there runnin'</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Just to be on the run.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I'm the PATRON SAINT of the denial with
an ANGEL FACE and a taste for suicidal.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I recall once upon a time,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Livin' was so easy and I felt so fine.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">But, my, my, my right before my very
eyes,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Satan came with fire to burn me,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Wouldn't listen when they warned me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">A dagger in my back while she's calling
me honey,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Wouldn't stand back, for neither love
nor money.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">The hotter it is you know the hotter it
gets.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Every Friday, well, that's when I get
paid.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Don't take me on Friday, Lord, 'cause
that's when I get paid.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Let me die on Saturday night, ooh,
before Sunday gets my head.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Why don't you cash in your chips </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Why don't you call it a loss </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Not such a big loss </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Chalk it up to better luck </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">This old guitar ain't mine to keep</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">It's mine to play for a while</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">To live is to fly, low and high</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">So shake the dust off of your wings</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And the sleep out of your eyes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Well I been drinkin' again</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And I know it's a sin</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">But I just can't refuse an old friend</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Cause life is gettin' me down</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And I been two times around</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And there ain't nothing but pain around
the bend.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Is there anything a man don’t stand to
lose,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">When the devil wants to take it all
away?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Clouds of myst’ry pourin’ confusion on
the ground.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Good men through the ages, tryin’ to
find the sun;</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And I wonder, still I wonder, who’ll
stop the rain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Well you stole it 'cause I needed the
cash</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And you killed it 'cause I wanted
revenge</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Well you lied to me 'cause I asked you
to</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Baby, can we still be friends</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And I been from Tucson to Tucancary,
Tahathapi to Tanapall</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Driven every kind of rig that's ever
been made</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Driven the back roads so I wouldn't get
weighed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And if you give me weed, whites, and
wine</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">And you show me a sign </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">Then I'll be willing</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">To be moving.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I'd rather look around me -- compose a
better song</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">'cos that's the honest measure of my
worth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">In your pomp and all your glory you're a
poorer man than me</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">as you lick the boots of death born out
of fear.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">May the wind take your troubles away<br />
May the wind take your troubles away<br />
Both feet on the floor, two hands on the wheel<br />
May the wind take your troubles away</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">You took my joy<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I want it back.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12.0pt;">I don't know what it means when he takes
my pulse<br />
And says that I'm a lot like him</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Walking
down Main Street getting to know the concrete<br />
Looking for a purpose from a neon sign<br />
I would meet you anywhere, western sun meets the air<br />
We'll hit the road, never looking behind</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><br />
Say that you were stranded on a desert island<br />
What books you gonna bring what friends would tag along<br />
Say you had a month and you knew you were dying<br />
How would you spend your time<br />
What goodbyes would take too long</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Every
lunatic must be well intentioned<br />
Sets himself apart he's an instrument of God<br />
Took her from the playground to the farmhouse cellar<br />
Kissed her while he killed her like a good Samaritan<br />
They finally found her body many Autumns after<br />
Interviewed her mother who said "she'd now be 21<br />
And although we lost her young<br />
I know the good lord has a plan for all of us"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">My
father could use a little mercy now<br />
The fruits of his labor fall and rot slowly on the ground<br />
His work is almost over it won't be long, he won't be around<br />
I love my father, he could use some mercy now</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Drag
queens in limousines<br />
Nuns in blue jeans<br />
Dreamers with big dreams<br />
All took me in</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Sam Stone was alone when he played his last request</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Climbing walls while sitting in a chair </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-3534802884733547202016-06-14T12:21:00.000-04:002016-06-17T09:21:09.051-04:00The Urban Garden In The Aftermath Of The Orlando Shooting<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VvdNcoChUoQ/V2AoMSrjLiI/AAAAAAAACFs/BlbebhXDmTME1snbm6RowX_H-ykswUVeQCLcB/s1600/DSCN4794.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VvdNcoChUoQ/V2AoMSrjLiI/AAAAAAAACFs/BlbebhXDmTME1snbm6RowX_H-ykswUVeQCLcB/s320/DSCN4794.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This year's first strawberries. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It's all over my Facebook feed and all over the news--the shooting that occurred Sunday at a gay nightclub in Orlando, Florida. And I feel totally helpless. Should I post anything on Facebook? What can I add or say that hasn't already been said? Should I record my outrage for eternity? Honestly, that's not different than clicking "like", and I'm getting tired of that pointless ritual. Sure I can write to my senators, but I already know they're pro gun control. There seems to be nothing a person can do in this country to elicit change, especially in the political process. One guy tries to blow up a plane with his shoe--his shoe!!--and suddenly we're all taking off our shoes before we board an airplane. But these massacres happen time after time after time, and nothing happens. Nothing changes in the way we buy or handle weapons. No legislation. No one is voted out of office. Nothing.<br />
<br />
So, at least every other day I go into the garden where I can do something. In the garden, weeds are easily identified and pulled, one by one or sometimes even in handfuls. If a plant needs some special care, I can give it. I work barefoot and feel directly connected to the earth through my skin. My fingers feel so many feelings; rough sun-heated earth and firm ripe healthy fruit and I can feel pinpricks to my knees when I kneel because I'm getting too old to just bend over or squat. I know, I'm not changing the world. I'm not directly affecting human beings, except maybe this one, and maybe that's the point. When there's nothing we can do, the best thing you can do is take care of yourself so that abject feeling of helplessness doesn't eat you up. I can work there and there are no pesticides getting on our food, and when I cook and eat it and watch Sue eat it and enjoy it, I know I did that. In a small way, I helped the world become a better place.<br />
<br />
Today when I go shopping, I'll buy flour, both bread flour and whole wheat flour, for our bread that I'll make with my own hands. I'll buy food that was raised organically and meat that raised humanely, and it will cost us more because that's the way our society is organized right now: you need more money to stay healthy and treat animals and people well, otherwise there's no profit in food and people, and I think that it's Sue who goes out to her job and works everyday, and it's not always enjoyable, but at least for her labor I can take care of us, and I give thanks for that. Not thanks to your God, not to anyone's God, but to something that I know it out there, I don't know what, but maybe someday in my life's journey I'll learn.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lxyupMoE6HA/V2AoMdX8VuI/AAAAAAAACGQ/Ev0HkFkn-bcfY1OTMrDLoyujMRQNaX6JwCKgB/s1600/DSCN4795.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lxyupMoE6HA/V2AoMdX8VuI/AAAAAAAACGQ/Ev0HkFkn-bcfY1OTMrDLoyujMRQNaX6JwCKgB/s320/DSCN4795.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The front bed is responding to the rain we've had, and now the sunshine. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--UjReYykIzQ/V2AoMfWOO_I/AAAAAAAACGQ/EUI0yLe-BUIb-n76L35qe6xHpgoeuTCcwCKgB/s1600/DSCN4796.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--UjReYykIzQ/V2AoMfWOO_I/AAAAAAAACGQ/EUI0yLe-BUIb-n76L35qe6xHpgoeuTCcwCKgB/s320/DSCN4796.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Already the view of the garden is starting to fill in. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4eSMC5oIxFw/V2AoNZYfFwI/AAAAAAAACGQ/qOVTCGvHRDslaD3n0QEmvGrSs18H7dMzQCKgB/s1600/DSCN4800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4eSMC5oIxFw/V2AoNZYfFwI/AAAAAAAACGQ/qOVTCGvHRDslaD3n0QEmvGrSs18H7dMzQCKgB/s320/DSCN4800.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The squash bed is established, and the Jerusalem artichokes are in their glory. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YBm-RN9xTL0/V2AoMhD_1qI/AAAAAAAACGQ/vh0dlFScJp8mvoJfI1NktZZEgVOcvzE5gCKgB/s1600/DSCN4797.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YBm-RN9xTL0/V2AoMhD_1qI/AAAAAAAACGQ/vh0dlFScJp8mvoJfI1NktZZEgVOcvzE5gCKgB/s320/DSCN4797.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Either this rain barrel has a hole in it, or one night an animal came and took a long drink of water. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2CxRvJYfL60/V2AoM7a-I_I/AAAAAAAACGQ/Z6PTslPhhfUt--42E9tHQ9GIgjgs0ivfQCKgB/s1600/DSCN4798.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2CxRvJYfL60/V2AoM7a-I_I/AAAAAAAACGQ/Z6PTslPhhfUt--42E9tHQ9GIgjgs0ivfQCKgB/s320/DSCN4798.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Potatoes are up, and the lettuce will be ready to pick soon. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-isIiIoM-dUw/V2AoNPl3J_I/AAAAAAAACGQ/WCkKd6MaYcInj_Iesi8ckESeUS0OWM3OQCKgB/s1600/DSCN4799.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-isIiIoM-dUw/V2AoNPl3J_I/AAAAAAAACGQ/WCkKd6MaYcInj_Iesi8ckESeUS0OWM3OQCKgB/s320/DSCN4799.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks like tomorrow I'll be staking tomatoes. </td></tr>
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<br />ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-25458571053220907112016-06-07T11:49:00.000-04:002016-06-07T11:49:21.062-04:00The Urban Garden Has Peppers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For some reason, I haven't been able to successfully grow peppers in the garden in the back here in Quincy. If any fruit did develop, it would always be small and hard and measly. It's always been kind of embarrassing. Men here, gardeners, always talk--they brag--about their "peppas." They'd grow them then "throw them on the grill" with onion for their steak tips. It was typical. I'm not a red meat guy, which always makes me suspect in the male grilling world and I certainly don't do steak tips on the grill. I'd say, save it for your Patriots tailgate party but in my 35 years living in Boston, I've been to exactly two Patriots games. My specialty is a nice, thick salmon steak slathered with mayo/lemon/fresh dill served with new potatoes in the oven, or boneless chicken thighs marinated all day in a Caribbean jerk. <br />
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I've never had trouble with peppers before. I always thought they were kind of a no-brainer kind of plant to grow. But then, when we moved to Quincy, the trouble started. Maybe peppers are the teenagers of the vegetable world, their job is to push the envelope and embarrass their parents at every turn, and I never asked to move to Quincy in the first place. <br />
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But, like teenagers, you don't give up on them.<br />
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So this year, I thought I'd give them one more chance and planted them in the a box on the porch. I found three of these boxes last spring on the curb in the garbage. They're old packing crates, and this will probably be the last season I'll get to use them. They're made of thin pine and the weather is taking its toll on them. This past winter, though, we stapled some heavy plastic over them and turned them into cold frames. With the mild winter that we had, we had fresh herbs well into January.<br />
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As you can see, the peppers are doing great. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the intense heat they get on the porch, and the nice rich organic soil I've got them in. Maybe they're loners and introverts and just wanted space to themselves. Or maybe it's the chill environment they have, and they really love the sound of a wind chime.<br />
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<br />ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-92000379314838130652016-06-06T15:41:00.000-04:002016-06-06T15:41:44.619-04:00The Urban Garden After Two Days Of Rain<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clothes drying on a gorgeous late spring day. </td></tr>
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Chronicling the day-to-day of a garden is difficult, some say as interesting as watching grass grow. But there really is always something going on. Remember when I planted the seedlings and I was worried about the heat and the water? Well, so far the late spring is proving to be gorgeous. Let's hope we can have a lot of what we've had for the past couple of days, which consisted of about 24 hours of heavy downpours, giving the garden a really good soaking and filling the rain barrels, and now a few days of mild, eighty-degree days with nice puffy clouds floating in the sky. The wash is drying out on the porch. We dry our wash outside as many days as we can, including the winter. We do it because it's cheaper; we wash in cool water and we're not paying for gas to dry the clothes. The sun is a lot easier on our clothes than the dryer that beats your clothes up, so you're extending the life of your clothes. And the sun and breezes give them that outdoor smell and kind of soft and at the same time scratchy feel. If you don't understand what the garden and doing laundry has in common, I'll explain it later in another post.<br />
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So, the garden seems established. The seedlings seem to have rooted nicely. Friday was our wedding anniversary, and if you read the blog that day you'll know I get Sue irises for our anniversary every year, so they needed planting. Some of the onions are flowering, and I'm interested to see what they'll be like. Onions are bi-annuals, which means they need two seasons to seed. Once they seed it's too late to use the bulb, but I've heard the flowers are good to eat, so I'm excited to watch these grow.<br />
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Last week I noticed a widow-maker up in a tree in our neighbor's yard. I kept an eye on it, not wanting to be anywhere near it when it came down. I told my neighbor, Tom, about it, and there wasn't much he could do short of calling an emergency tree service. Thursday night around 10:30 Sue got a call to go out on the hotline (Sue occasionally works the after-hours emergency hotline.) She had just left the apartment and I had come into the office at the front of the house and put on some headphones and started to watch a movie when I heard a rumble. I immediately called Sue and when she asked what I wanted I said I just wanted to hear her voice. It turns out the limb had fallen, and I actually heard it in front of the house with headphones on. It was just dumb luck that Tom or no one esle in his family were in the yard, because there wouldn't have been any warning. In a vacuum, this limb would have fallen at 186,000 miles per second. Here on earth, it would have been slower, but not much.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Irises waiting to go onto the ground. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Onions starting to flower. The flowers are supposed to be pretty tasty. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well, let's look on the bright side: Tom has a nice load of firewood to sell. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 40-foot limb just cracked off under its own weight and from the rot of the trunk. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another bunch of irises added to the garden. </td></tr>
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ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-21796102304355489612016-06-03T15:31:00.000-04:002016-06-03T15:31:52.445-04:00On The Occasion Of Our Three Year Wedding Anniversary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Three years ago today Sue and I eloped in the little town of Silverton, Colorado. Three years isn't a long time to be married. I know people half my age who have been married longer, have bought houses, and have little ones. Other couples are married for 60 years or more. I guess in that regard Sue and I are just kids. <br />
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This morning at breakfast--Sue and I usually have coffee together every morning when we talk, and if we can, we also eat breakfast together--Sue asked me if it seemed like three years had passed. My first reaction was that it seems longer, but I knew that response wasn't exactly what I was trying to say. I thought for a second or two longer, and clarified my thoughts, that it seemed longer because when I look back I don't see our wedding as the start of our lives together, but when we first met. That's 10 years ago when we met in the Holliston Town Hall for a community theater production of T<i>he Vagina Monologues</i>. I think it's hilarious that I met the love of my life at a production of <i>The Vagina Monologues</i>, and if you don't see the humor in that, it's just one more reason I'm happy I'm not waking up next to you every morning. Sue and I both think that the way we met is hilarious.<br />
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If you marry a writer, you're going to get written into stories, and in <i>Highland Center, Indiana</i> I wrote a couple of lines about that. Sue is in no way the Alice Anne in the story, but I needed something to show how much JP loved her from the start:<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">"Your mom was the prettiest thing I ever saw.
First time I ever laid eyes on her she was wearing this old barn coat. I turned
around fast because I didn’t want her seeing me with my jaw hitting the floor."</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Those three lines are exactly how it happened. She was late arriving, and she was wearing an old barn coat that belonged to her dad. And I thought she looked gorgeous. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">At some point in those seven years leading up to our wedding the idea of marriage began to creep into our minds for any number of reasons. Even people like Sue and me, who like to live as far on the edge of society as we can, still think about society and our place in it, but at the same time we certainly were not going to entertain society condoning our relationship. I know at times we discussed exactly the way gays discussed the topic of either of us being admitted into a hospital and the other couldn't make decisions for the patient. We probably would have both been perfectly happy living the way we were if it weren't for the legalities that might cause us problems down the road. Marriage, in our society, is a civil right. I respect everyone's choice when it comes to religion and morals, but I'm more like the French in that I don't believe they have any place in civil matters. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Of course when you decide to get married people have all kinds of advice for you. Sue and I stuck to our guns of wanting a wedding that was for us, good advice I like to pass along to young people when they're getting married and their families are forcing every whim on them. I bought Sue an engagement ring (I was working just long enough to be able to afford one before I was laid off from that job--the ups and down of marrying a writer) and proposed to her in a restaurant in Boston, just to make things "official." We did it because we loved each other and it was kind of fun to flirt with traditions. I bought a wedding band for her, and we carried that around for awhile, trying to figure out when we'd actually get to use it. We somehow envisioned finding a little adobe church in New Mexico where we could tie the knot, mostly because I think that's where friends of ours got married. But New Mexico wasn't doing it for us, and when we crossed over the border into Colorado things started to click. In Colorado you marry yourself. You don't need a priest, minister, rabbi, or justice of the peace. You literally marry each other. We went backpacking in the backcountry of the Rockies for a few days, came out dirty and dusty, and in pairs of old jeans and hiking boots, we were married by the town clerk of Silverton, Colorado. (I did, however, buy a new shirt; Sue wore the t-shirt she had been hiking in.) The town clerk was wearing a Colorado Rockies baseball jersey, and had to call another woman into the office to fix the computer who woke up her kids from their naps because "two people from Boston want to get married." We spent the rest of the day mooching free drinks around town, had dinner of fresh trout in a restaurant that had more dead animal heads on the wall than patrons at the tables, and spent the night in a former whorehouse. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Both of our fathers' favorite flowers were irises, so every year now I've been buying Sue irises to plant in the garden. Some day when we move there will be patches of irises in remembrance for Warren and JP here in Quincy. We thought about going out tonight, but we're happier staying home. I'm making chicken cacciatore, something we both like. There's a really good bottle of an Italian red waiting for us, and afterwards we'll probably each enjoy a cigar on the porch. Yeah, she likes cigars. See why I fell in love with her? </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making it official.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gi--Tyoug6Q/V1HYG0UjvkI/AAAAAAAACEU/aVpplGZxS_AvhT3-ht39ZstxKn0mJIUNQCKgB/s1600/382527_10151680854608252_861771722_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gi--Tyoug6Q/V1HYG0UjvkI/AAAAAAAACEU/aVpplGZxS_AvhT3-ht39ZstxKn0mJIUNQCKgB/s320/382527_10151680854608252_861771722_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The wedding party.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Melva, one of the many people who gave us free drinks. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">The Wyman Hotel</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The official wedding picture. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><br />
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<br />ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-13377208583594850942016-05-31T13:28:00.000-04:002016-05-31T13:32:09.898-04:00Why Make A Garden...For Free?<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c_4Qq6eHudU/V02fXn5xspI/AAAAAAAACDY/MZOJJsDRRB4PoHW9bGecP6H4WSGBebpSQCLcB/s1600/DSCN4779.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c_4Qq6eHudU/V02fXn5xspI/AAAAAAAACDY/MZOJJsDRRB4PoHW9bGecP6H4WSGBebpSQCLcB/s320/DSCN4779.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A perfectly delightful little patch of urban heaven.</td></tr>
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When I talk about gardening, I tend to use the countrified term, "making a garden," instead of using what I was taught was the more citified way of speaking, "planting a garden." I talk in the old-fashioned vernacular on purpose, and I do it for the same reason I still haven't expunged the word, "ain't", from my vocabulary. Using "make" for "plant" is just one more example of how gardening connects me to my roots in the country. And if I didn't continue to use that language--e.g. I ain't makin' a garden for nothing--or perform certain acts, which could only in certain ways be called sacramental, like continuing to use a double-edge razor like my father used to feel connected to him, I would be, in the words of Malcolm X, metaphorically cutting out my own tongue.<br />
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So I ask the question, Why would you make a garden for free? Why would you make a garden on a piece of property that wasn't yours, paying for it in quite a few hundred hard dollars and hours of sweat equity? I kept asking myself those questions as Sue and I worked the little plot of ground in front of the house where we rent in Quincy, Massachusetts, when the landlord and his brother won't even stoop to pull a weed. Am I some kind of chump? And, just like a lot of other answers I've stumbled upon, it came to me while I was sweating and chopping and bent over, my back aching, while planting because gardening for me is meditation and yoga combined. <br />
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Bottom line: I was raised to believe that every person in the world should accept an opportunity presented to them to make the world a better place. See, just like everything, it goes back to my southern/Midwestern roots. Sometimes making the world better means simply smiling at someone on the subway who clearly is having a bad day. How hard is it to smile? It might mean handing out your last dollar to a homeless person. But sometimes it gets a lot harder, and I'm not saying making a garden is the ultimate sacrifice. On the scale of smiling on the subway being at one end and giving someone a kidney being on the other end, I'd say a garden is still pretty low on the continuum. But in this age when giving a "like" and a "share" on Facebook now seem to be the benchmark for social activism (click a button and keep scrolling; you've done your part) getting your hands dirty amounts to some serious responsible behavior. However, in all honesty, if I had known how much money
it would take--upwards of $400 plus--to complete this project, I might have balked. Still, I was aware this wasn't going to come cheap, and I still went ahead with it. <br />
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And there it was: Sue and I were presented with the opportunity to make the house where we live a little more pleasant for all of the people who live here, and also, let's not forget, the people who would pass by on the way to and from work. They could use a little cheering up, too. It's not that we felt we didn't have the option to say, no; it was more seeing a job that needed getting done, and we were the only ones who could (or would) do it. I think we understood the possibility better than some. <br />
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<i>"To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to know that even one life has breathed easier because you have lived--that is to have succeeded." --Ralph Waldo Emerson</i><br />
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Our landlords, John and Steve, know nothing about growing plants. The proverbial green thumb? In their cases, they don't even have thumbs, much less thumbs of another color. They couldn't tell crabgrass from pachysandra, and honestly, they don't want to know. They watched with amazement as their weed patch of a front yard turned into what I would call a perfectly delightful little patch of urban heaven. For me, it was like being a cook and watching people enjoy a meal. I took delight in their delight. <br />
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People who we didn't know, people who we've seen but never spoken to, would stop and comment and chat as we worked. It seems the front yard project became something of a topic of conversation for the neighborhood. I'll be watching, said one woman, an Asian who's first language wasn't English, meaning she'll be looking forward to what grows. A neighbor across the street, the wife in an older couple who have a pristine, Chem-Lawn lawn, actually flagged me down and stopped me while I was driving to compliment us on the front yard. In truth, the yard was a bit of a blight on the neighborhood, and I think there is a collective feeling of ownership, not only when something isn't looking good, but also when things are looking up.<br />
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And, of course, there were quite a few people who, when they learned we didn't own the house and no, we weren't getting reimbursed for the materials and labor, looked at us oddly and sometimes teased us and sometimes downright belittled us. Well, I hope your landlord appreciates you, said one, in a tone that suggested she never believed our landlord would appreciate us and we were simpletons to believe that he would. The answer that we were simply making the world a better place was, at times, greeted with bemusement, in the way idealistic hippies were addressed for believing there could be peace in the world. Ours is a transactional world, and quid pro quo is expected. <br />
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So, there is a 15 x 15 foot plot of ground in Quincy, Massachusetts that is a little better today than it was yesterday. And I think there are a few people who are also. At the risk of sounding like the idealistic hippie that I once was and probably still am, if everyone in the world took 225 square feet and improved it, well, that would go a long way in making the world better for all of us. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LX2_LVb_1P0/V03EM5CBOKI/AAAAAAAACDo/0S98f6ksxsMO1gk3pUkdryurkLlNH-rOACLcB/s1600/DSCN4783.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LX2_LVb_1P0/V03EM5CBOKI/AAAAAAAACDo/0S98f6ksxsMO1gk3pUkdryurkLlNH-rOACLcB/s320/DSCN4783.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day after a storm. We have two full rain barrels. A barrel of water doesn't last that long during a hot summer. Let's keep praying for rain.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DwbQzjM26yw/V03EO8tJKzI/AAAAAAAACDs/fJBm3gpB51AVOVXNQ6pR3hW0fn4n_w1JwCLcB/s1600/FSCN4782.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DwbQzjM26yw/V03EO8tJKzI/AAAAAAAACDs/fJBm3gpB51AVOVXNQ6pR3hW0fn4n_w1JwCLcB/s320/FSCN4782.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coincidentally, irises were both Sue's and my father's favorite flowers, so for a few of our past anniversaries I've been giving Sue irises for the garden. See how a garden can reach back to your family's roots and make your life so much richer?</td></tr>
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<br />ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-54496863606370154972016-05-27T16:29:00.000-04:002016-05-31T10:26:24.265-04:00Urban Garden Front Yard Project Complete<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H_4SBy52QQU/V0isqNdufpI/AAAAAAAACDM/XEgy76zmDpseGX1-o6eQvy5RFnK7m5huACKgB/s1600/DSCN4775.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H_4SBy52QQU/V0isqNdufpI/AAAAAAAACDM/XEgy76zmDpseGX1-o6eQvy5RFnK7m5huACKgB/s320/DSCN4775.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Completed front yard. </td></tr>
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It was a pretty simple project to complete once we figured out what we really wanted to do. Yesterday I picked up two barrels of organic soil at <a href="http://thayernursery.com/" target="_blank">Thayer Nursery</a>. The price of soil had gone up to $20 per barrel--no surprise there; I don't know too many things of which the price goes down--but it's still a great deal. It's $20, no matter the size of the barrel, so of course I bring the biggest barrels I have, and if a little more soil drops into the bed of the pickup when I back it into the pile, well, so be it. Thayer gets the material for its compost from, among other places, the dining halls at Harvard University, so we're looking at some really smart compost. <br />
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Two trays of pachysandra were the perfect number. Empty the barrels, plant the ground cover. Sue added a birth bath, which is a really sweet idea. We feed the birds in the winter, and we've noticed they seem to feel this is a safe haven for them. Some of the little sparrows are getting comfortable enough around us that they come within a few feet of us. You want to attract as much wildlife as you can to your garden including birds, bees, and insects (the good kind, like butterflies) and do your part in keeping the biosystem humming.<br />
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We decided to keep the dead trunk of the dogwood intact because it would leave a visible hole in the yard. Instead we're going to watch it for decay and rot and cross that bridge when we get there.<br />
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I think for my next post I'm going to address why even take on these projects? Why build a garden at your own expense on someone else's property? I think there are some very good reason.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZaYawxDRU04/V0ispZFfpYI/AAAAAAAACC0/qyWVy3rgbNAmym_IkW88ccgaxxO5mKp4ACLcB/s1600/DSCN4771.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZaYawxDRU04/V0ispZFfpYI/AAAAAAAACC0/qyWVy3rgbNAmym_IkW88ccgaxxO5mKp4ACLcB/s320/DSCN4771.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hot, smelly organic soil. The really good stuff. Thayer Nursery gets the material for its compost from, among other places, the dining halls at Harvard University. This is some really smart compost. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PGUVfGzjvyc/V0ispgvkDNI/AAAAAAAACC4/6Busv94mWvolUFyVoWyaka-CrlWhDweGQCLcB/s1600/DSCN4772.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PGUVfGzjvyc/V0ispgvkDNI/AAAAAAAACC4/6Busv94mWvolUFyVoWyaka-CrlWhDweGQCLcB/s320/DSCN4772.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Twenty bucks a barrel. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P1cnwPAKYYU/V0ispsHrkHI/AAAAAAAACC8/k3bhGYtbE_oplKtZFKv8rQSnILOGo8GCwCLcB/s1600/DSCN4773.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P1cnwPAKYYU/V0ispsHrkHI/AAAAAAAACC8/k3bhGYtbE_oplKtZFKv8rQSnILOGo8GCwCLcB/s320/DSCN4773.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's the bare spot we're going to fill with organic soil and grow ground cover. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GLHZ7YmOevg/V0isp2ilujI/AAAAAAAACDA/rewob0ASURIRKHRReifia5r9HFEsywadACLcB/s1600/DSCN4774.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GLHZ7YmOevg/V0isp2ilujI/AAAAAAAACDA/rewob0ASURIRKHRReifia5r9HFEsywadACLcB/s320/DSCN4774.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A nice thick layer of organic material. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H_4SBy52QQU/V0isqNdufpI/AAAAAAAACDE/GxkNmsxzAe4mDsiX3cN4wpp1VzwSSYe7ACLcB/s1600/DSCN4775.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H_4SBy52QQU/V0isqNdufpI/AAAAAAAACDE/GxkNmsxzAe4mDsiX3cN4wpp1VzwSSYe7ACLcB/s320/DSCN4775.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pachysandra added in rows, spaced evenly apart. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oa6Ey3evdx8/V0isqEPPBtI/AAAAAAAACDI/jdW1iLIhR3c91YvG9XQ5n3QNSDdNay5mACLcB/s1600/DSCN4776.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oa6Ey3evdx8/V0isqEPPBtI/AAAAAAAACDI/jdW1iLIhR3c91YvG9XQ5n3QNSDdNay5mACLcB/s320/DSCN4776.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The coup de resistance: a hanging bird bath. </td></tr>
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<br />ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-23165218396012480962016-05-25T16:33:00.000-04:002016-05-25T18:05:04.759-04:00The Urban Garden Moves To The Front Yard<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-InhsGNZ9G5k/V0YD_Dl78NI/AAAAAAAACB4/0HAZ6jj1s2IsLFJGuzu9w99J4-oYYJJwgCLcB/s1600/DSCN4764.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-InhsGNZ9G5k/V0YD_Dl78NI/AAAAAAAACB4/0HAZ6jj1s2IsLFJGuzu9w99J4-oYYJJwgCLcB/s320/DSCN4764.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
We have a little project going on in the front yard, too. Last year, because of the vegetable garden we put in the backyard, Steve felt comfortable handing over his front yard to us, too. It was basically a small overgrown postage stamp-sized yard filled with weeds. What you see on the left is after the work we've done so far. The row of paving stones in the rear originally set in a straight line and overgrown with weeds. We moved them forward and placed them in a more pleasing curve to where they are now, and we filled the space behind it with a lot of plants that like shade. And, there's a line of flowers along the right that is pretty good at handling strong sun. We've added organic soil along the right and back. We need to get some ground cover on there, because 1) what's the point of a grass lawn that size? and 2) grass won't grow there because when a wall was built along the sidewalk, which you can't see, the builder back-filled basically with sand. It's like the dirt you find on a baseball field.<br />
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Honestly, I would have loved to put in more vegetables. Here in Quincy, Asians plant vegetables in their front yards all of the time. Why not? What's the point of grass? Unless you're a horse, you can't eat it. But believe it not, what we've done with this front yard is really breaking from tradition in the neighborhood. All of the other yards are the typical grass lawns, no matter how small, with foundation plantings around the house. <br />
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But before we tackle the rest of the front yard, let's see what's going on in the back.<br />
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We had two days of cold and drizzle. Not nearly enough rain, with no rain in sight; 50 percent on Friday, and then 60 percent the following Friday. And that's not enough in the rain barrels for the garden. We may have to spot water with the hose, which frankly, it's nice to have that net. Farmers out in the Midwest don't have that luxury. <br />
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The stripped hill is something our landlord does every year. Usually by this time it's just covered in weeds and by August natural grasses have taken a toehold that would continue to grow as the years passed. You just have to have a little faith and patience with Mother Nature sometimes. But, every spring Steve hires someone to just denude it. He thinks this looks better than a slope covered in natural grasses. He says if he doesn't do this it will look like a forest. I understand it's simply a difference in sensibilities, and people who are raised to see things traditionally have a hard time seeing otherwise. But now that it's had its summer haircut, I'm wondering if we want to plant raspberries? It's a lot of building rubble--mostly gravel--that's been dumped there, and it would take some work and expense to make it fertile for raspberries, which given the chance would cover that hill in a season. It really comes down to me deciding if I want to commit to the expense and labor.<br />
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But back to the front yard. That dogwood was planted by Steve's mother about 55 years ago. It's had a pretty good run. We started feeding it fall and spring, and it again was a gorgeous flowering tree this spring. The only thing is that trunk on the right is dead, and there's another dead branch that comes out higher up on the back of the trunk. At the base there's a hole where another trunk was removed a few years ago, that you can stick your hand in. Tomorrow or Friday I'll head over to <a href="http://thayernursery.com/" target="_blank">Thayer's Nursery </a>where there's a guy I know who I can ask what to do.<br />
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While I'm there I'll pick up some more organic soil. They sell it for $15 a barrel, if you fill the barrel yourself and haul it away. We keep our 1997 Ford pickup running for chores like that. I'll spread the organic soil on that bare spot in the front yard and we'll be planting a mix of pachysandra and some creeping ivy Steve has growing wild in the back. I'll also see what Thayer's has for mulch for the front plants and in the back to hold in the moisture. That's pretty much a necessity in all vegetable gardens, but it's looking more so this year. I'm not a big fan of all of this shredded bark that has become popular, and we'll see what alternatives Thayer has. Long ago I used grass clippings, but now I don't have a source for clippings. I've thought about asking the neighbors for theirs when they mow, but most of our neighbors feed their lawn, so that won't work in an organic garden.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2iXG4Bgll00/V0YK4XS6hJI/AAAAAAAACCY/Fob4iAupC08Udy5xvFkiWdwZN4i11oKsQCLcB/s1600/DSCN4768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2iXG4Bgll00/V0YK4XS6hJI/AAAAAAAACCY/Fob4iAupC08Udy5xvFkiWdwZN4i11oKsQCLcB/s320/DSCN4768.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hardly any water after two days of drizzling rain. </td></tr>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h1B4i4iQXHM/V0YK4WelfXI/AAAAAAAACCc/TGAWqcKtB5ATUXTv7CvutSXWvad0hvRNgCKgB/s1600/DSCN4769.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h1B4i4iQXHM/V0YK4WelfXI/AAAAAAAACCc/TGAWqcKtB5ATUXTv7CvutSXWvad0hvRNgCKgB/s320/DSCN4769.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-57fuQ5tbVJw/V0YK4mM4srI/AAAAAAAACCg/UcDTVpiYdzcq8NrnA_COuqoobdH4d59cQCKgB/s1600/DSCN4770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-57fuQ5tbVJw/V0YK4mM4srI/AAAAAAAACCg/UcDTVpiYdzcq8NrnA_COuqoobdH4d59cQCKgB/s320/DSCN4770.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Do I want to plant raspberries just beyond that wall? That's mint taking hold just above the wall to the right. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PDkXXFRVYvg/V0YK4OAQ_rI/AAAAAAAACCU/Zakdm9Tc4cQmtvXrboglm5IlZsmXotWGACKgB/s1600/DSCN4767.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PDkXXFRVYvg/V0YK4OAQ_rI/AAAAAAAACCU/Zakdm9Tc4cQmtvXrboglm5IlZsmXotWGACKgB/s320/DSCN4767.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rose's dogwood tree. The right trunk is dead and it's probably wise to remove it. There's another dead branch around the back of the tree. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-91ZSi_t8yrc/V0YK39WsyBI/AAAAAAAACCM/-Hy_fHYSGJcK9ZVghDyI1LSA1hnzzS5_QCKgB/s1600/DSCN4766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-91ZSi_t8yrc/V0YK39WsyBI/AAAAAAAACCM/-Hy_fHYSGJcK9ZVghDyI1LSA1hnzzS5_QCKgB/s320/DSCN4766.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A hole a the base of the tree where another trunk had been removed. An entry point for insects and disease. </td></tr>
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<br />ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-3443454729179732812016-05-23T15:45:00.004-04:002016-05-23T21:35:08.368-04:00Water In The Urban Garden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9Sc-QN4aAko/V0NbHMk1xJI/AAAAAAAACBo/CfvWywujrC8BIwN0Hu6U8pWm5y9oT51twCKgB/s1600/DSCN4757.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9Sc-QN4aAko/V0NbHMk1xJI/AAAAAAAACBo/CfvWywujrC8BIwN0Hu6U8pWm5y9oT51twCKgB/s320/DSCN4757.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Empty rain barrel.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Rain. It's probably the one thing that gardeners worry about the most. Not enough and your plants wither. Too much, and you fight fungus and no sunshine. There was a chance of rain Saturday night and then Sunday. Now they're saying there's a 60 percent chance of rain tonight. We'll see. Sixty percent isn't a guarantee by any stretch, and we do need the rain. The soil in our garden is made up of a high percentage of vegetable matter, but yesterday when I was planting I was noticing that it was kind of dusty. Even organic soil isn't going to hold moisture forever. So, while it's a beautiful day to hang the laundry outside, I'm looking at the sky expectantly. There's a mackerel sky and weather.com says the barometer is dropping, so that means the weather will change. <br />
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Right now we have two barrels under downspouts, but we'll need more than that. Last year was a hot dry summer, and a couple of times we ran out of water. This summer is predicted to be hot, too. I try to just use rainwater in the garden, simply because I try to keep the cost of our yield as low as I can. Remember the promise I made to our landlord: If his water bill picks up, I may lose a garden. If you're going to collect rainwater, pick a downspout that comes off a big section of roof to ensure that enough water comes down to fill the barrel.<br />
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Just think of how much of our modern world is paved over, from streets and parking lots, to building roofs. Water that falls on a city is almost virtually sealed off from entering as groundwater until sewers dump it somewhere far from where it fell. As civilization moves forward (God willing) I've wondered why urban planners don't incorporate cisterns, along with solar energy, in both developments and individual homes. Public water systems were a boon to public health, but why can't homes collect rainwater (it comes out of the sky for free, like the sunlight and air that's drying our clothes right now!) It doesn't have to be used for potable water, but could be used for things like watering gardens and flushing toilets. There's no reason to pay for water that's been purified for those reasons. <br />
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I did take advantage of yesterday's dry weather, though, to plant the zucchini and acorn squash. I noticed that something had already eaten one of the brussel sprouts and my neighbor, Tom, gave me an entire bucket of coffee grounds to spread around the plants, saying that squirrels don't like the smell. He goes to the local coffee shop and gets buckets of grounds (yesterday he had three bucketful) so we'll see if squirrels/rabbits/insects stay away. I figured it couldn't hurt. I know one animal that loves coffee grounds is the earthworm.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The paving stone at the bottom of the barrel anchors it in case of high winds. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A gorgeous day to dry clothes. We dry our clothes outside almost all year long. Why use a machine and energy when there's a perfectly good dryer that comes up in the east every morning? </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mackerel sky. Hope it brings a little rain. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yellow squash seedlings. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thirsty yellow squash seedlings.That's mint and Jerusalem artichokes in the background. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coffee grounds spread around plants to deter squirrels. I'll let you know how it works. </td></tr>
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<br />ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-58105960192148816672016-05-22T18:24:00.002-04:002016-05-22T18:25:16.682-04:00An urban garden takes shape<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Planting lettuce in the spring between onions that were planted last fall. </td></tr>
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I don't think there is anything more optimistic than a gardener. Every year we plant our babies with so much hope and vision. And then, it's all pretty much out of our hands. Oh, we can bring in water if it doesn't fall out of the sky. We can weed. But there isn't much we can do if Mother Nature decides to invoke her wrath in the form of insects, scorching heat, or even some other kind of voodoo. For a couple of years now, I haven't been able to grow peppers in the little plot I garden. I've talked to my neighbors who seem to have the same problem I have. Everything is lush, except for their peppers. This year I'm trying to grow them in a box on my porch. If that doesn't work, I'll try something else. Like most things, there's always so much to learn. Today at the garden center a woman and her young grandson were picking out plants, and I said to the woman, That's how I learned, from my grandmother in Indiana. I've been gardening since my parents started sending me to work on relatives farms during the summer, and it's something I've loved to do ever since. I think just about every place I've lived, I've left a garden behind. <br />
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For a number of years, we've been working a backyard urban garden in Quincy, Massachusetts, just south of Boston, where we rent an apartment. It now takes up more than three-fourths of the backyard, but it started with the landlord letting us take a small corner for a couple of tomato plants. A few fresh tomatoes hung in a bag on his doorknob, and the corner grew to a little square. More tomatoes and zucchini and a handful of strawberries, and a couple of years ago Steve said to take the whole backyard. I sealed the deal when I persuaded him to let me put barrels under the downspouts, telling him he wouldn't even have to pay for water since in comes out of the sky for free. Herbs and smaller vegetables we grow in packing crates I found alongside the road and turned into garden boxes. <br />
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The garden has been a big part of our journey as we move, as best we can, to a more organic way of living. The garden is 100% organic; we compost all of our organic food scraps including coffee grounds and eggshells. As we like to say, we use even the smallest part of the buffalo. I am, though, worried about the quality of the runoff that comes down the downspouts, and I've put off having the soil checked for lead and other heavy metals the same way I put off a colonoscopy for ten years: I'm just afraid of what I'll find out. Our backyard garden has become a big source of our food, especially during the summer when we eat a lot of greens. Just last night we used up the last of the pesto made from basil we grew last year, and it was only a few weeks ago we finished the tomato sauce from last year that we froze.<br />
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It saves us money, makes up happy; an hour's work in the garden is equal to I don't know how many hours in the gym or with your therapist. I can't explain it but weeding gives me such satisfaction, not only because the end result is so pretty and the physical exercise so cathartic, but the simplicity of being outdoors makes me forget for that little bit of time the inanities of the modern world. Gardening puts me back in touch with nature. I follow the weather and seasons. I can feel myself taking that trip around the sun.<br />
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This year is going to be an experiment. A la Barbara Kingsolver and her incredible book, <a href="http://www.animalvegetablemiracle.com/" target="_blank">Animal, Vegetable, Miracle</a>, which leapfrogged us into trying to live more healthy lives as we increasingly began to mistrust just about every institution in society, but especially our food delivery system. This little backyard is us pushing back on what we feel is a system that has gone completely out of control. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Part of the backyard urban garden we make every year. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my all-time favorite tools for preparing the soil: A small pick mattock.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swiss chard, brussel sprouts, lettuce, and peppers. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Planting lettuce between rows of onions. Good exercise: the stretching and reaching is worth a gym's membership. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We utilize every inch of the garden. We've learned that from seeing other gardens when we travel. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Compost. We have two bins that cook our yard and kitchen organic waste. </td></tr>
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<br />ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-57031079971002203212016-01-15T16:29:00.000-05:002016-01-15T16:29:39.794-05:00Dolly Parton, Tammy Wynette, and Loretta Lynn: Silver Thread and Golden NeedlesI didn't know where else to post this. The energy and joy and confidence these three women possess just makes me smile, but I'm afraid if I posted it on my Facebook page I'd lose even more followers and friends. Progressive Bostonians just can't handle country, in any of its forms, with their smarty pants, button-down shirts, and hipster stance.<br />
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But I just had to share this....somewhere.<br />
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<br />ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-37386318834463803312015-10-25T11:50:00.004-04:002015-10-25T11:57:27.388-04:00The Dying Garden10.25.15<br />
11:33 a.m.<br />
Sunday.<br />
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There is beauty in death and decay. A vibrant life. Youth. Productive. And now it's at a different stage of its life. It's not just because I just turned 60. I've been thinking about this my entire life. And now, I've reached a stage of my life that when I hear of someone dying, rather than wondering what they died of, the first thing I want to know is, how old were they? An actress that just died this week was 71, and I immediately did the math: 11 years more. When she was my age, she only had 11 years more. That's not very much at all. It's a pffft of a life.<br />
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We value youth; so much in this city of Boston, it's like one enormous kindergarten. And in our society, it's all about youth and beauty. If you're not young (and pretty), you're a nobody. A young man who we met this past time in Paris had lived in Miami for awhile, and he suddenly became serious and said, in Miami, it was all about how much money you had and how pretty you were. So, he returned to Paris. <br />
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And we compare ourselves to celebrities and people who think and act like they're celebrities. We are as individual as raindrops (notice I didn't use the cliche, snowflakes?) in a rainstorm.<br />
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The beauty of a garden in the throes of autumn. Spent. Still trying to push out fruit, but the energy just isn't there anymore. But it still doesn't stop it from trying. This garden didn't produce as much as last year's. So what? This summer was hotter, and it rained less than last year. This year's garden was this year's, and you can't compare it to last year's. Any more than you can compare people.<br />
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<br />ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-64982398997452771242015-09-07T15:12:00.000-04:002015-09-07T15:41:48.375-04:00The Mainstream Media and MeSue and I do our best to stay out of the mainstream. We both learned long ago we don't fit in to normal society. We think a little differently, act a little differently, live our lives a little differently. We don't try to be this way, we just are. Sometimes we view our lives, <span class="st"><i>vis</i>-à-<i>vis </i></span> society, as having a free, front-row seat at the circus. <br />
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We haven't owned a television for maybe ten years now. I don't think Sue had a television when we met; she was backpacking around the world and didn't have room in her pack for a television; I got rid of my television long before it became hip to jettison it. When we moved in together we decided that, for us, most of the programming was pure drek. It wasn't worth the exorbitant amount of money Comcast was asking, and we'd rather put all of that money toward travel. So much of popular culture--movies, celebrities, TV shows--we just don't know who or what they are. Game of Thrones, Downton Abbey, the Patriots football team--mean absolutely nothing to us. And we're ok with this.<br />
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We're not Luddites, mind you. We get all of our info through the laptop and Sue's in her car a lot and listens to NPR. She comes home from work and mentions something she heard on the radio, and we Google it. We peruse the New York Times, the Globe, the Guardian, RT, Al Jazeera, and we have a subscription to Neflix, although we don't watch any of the popular television series. Frankly, even though I don't want to spend my time watching a television show, I have to say hardly any of the content interests me. I think I watched one episode of Madmen and was bored to tears. A friend of mine once spent about twenty minutes telling me about The Wire. I have to admit the concept intrigued me, but not enough that I even checked out some clips on YouTube. I don't want to spend my time on earth watching television. I'd rather be the one creating.<br />
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And more importantly, I sense that all of popular culture, and here I'm lumping in the mainstream media, is extraordinarily and even dangerously manipulative. It wants us all to be like it, so we'll spend money on the all of the trappings to be like it. <br />
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Still, we are interested in the world, and it can be so hard to keep up. As I said, we peruse sites, but we're not immersed in them, and so we often do feel behind in current events. Things in the world are moving fast. China and its affect on the world's economy. The migrant issue in Europe, that's connected to the Middle East and ISIS. Crazy as it sounds, we would watch Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert to pick up on what stories in the news to follow. (Don't even get me started about how Comedy Central became a legitimate news source, and what that says about society.) Now both of them are off the air, we're both working hard at our jobs which makes it hard to work at keeping up with the world, which all coincided with us deciding to dip our toes back into the pond. Interestingly, we turned back to the MSM. I guess it's just because it's an easy move, like reaching for a bowl of cereal when you're too tired to cook. <br />
<br />
We've been getting the New York Times Sunday paper for a couple of weeks now that gives us unlimited access to its web site, and not just the ten free stories per month that we were doing. We subscribe to the Boston Globe online edition. And we're getting The Atlantic, which used to be my favorite monthly magazine, way back when. I'll also pick up The New Yorker occasionally. So that's a pretty fair sampling of the liberal press right there. <br />
<br />
And it's extraordinary now, when you've been away from the MSM for so long, to see that no doubt, the NYT, The Atlantic, The New Yorker all have an agenda (they probably call it an editorial slant) no different than Fox News has its agenda. Everyone in the world wants to tell you what to think and how to act, don't they? And they think they are so right about things. Not a lot of room for a differing opinion, is there? Yeah, Donald Trump is a clown, and a racist and a mysogynist, but he's right about taxing hedge fund managers and bringing business back within US shores to protect our economy. Or at least that's what I think, but according to the liberal press, I can't think like that. I also think that if you think like I do, and believe that the president has very limited power and that the country and especially foreign policy is run by the military, that the presidential election ceases to have the importance that the mainstream media gives it, and therefore mainstream America believes it has, and suddenly, Trump becomes something the press could never see: That he is a very entertaining diversion, that he is bringing to the forefront a lot of nasty things about American society that we need to face and are afraid to admit about ourselves, and that he would make a very good character in a play, which might tell us more about our electoral process than a year's subscription to the MSM. Let's put it this way: He makes for very good dramaturgical/anthropological/political research about the United States. Instead of simply reporting on the election, including I might add, reporting that once again a women is running for president of the United States, the MSM is upset because Trump is screwing up their scripted programming. Seriously, they would rather have Mike Huckabee and Scott Walker put us through a snoozefest than report on Trump? <br />
<br />
I'm afraid if I keep reading a steady diet of this, I might actually lose my independence and ability to think independently. <br />
<br />
Except for maybe the front section of the NYT that is actually reporting on news, the rest of the paper really is strongly opinionated, telling me how I'm supposed to feel and think about the likes of Stephen Colbert and the importance of him taking over a TV show from David Letterman. People's television shows are like a heroin addict's needle, aren't they? Or how a story about the AFC East is written in the same voice that the political writers take when talking about ISIS, that it is imperative for the the football teams in the AFC East to defeat the New England Patriots, as if the Patriots were forcing their opponents to play in burkas Just drumming up interest to keep that billion-dollar sports industry going, is all that seems that story is about. I read three pages about chambray shirts--a fancy name for blue collar shirts, according to the Times--and all that it means about people who wear them, when actually blue-collar people would never wear something called a chambray shirt. They would probably mistake it for cheese. <br />
<br />
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And finally, I don't know who Alton Brown is. As I said, celebs mean nothing to me. Mr. Brown could be sitting next to me on the subway tomorrow morning (doubtful) and I wouldn't know it. I would just hope, as always, that he would keep his elbows to himself. But I was reading the interview with him, where I'm supposed to pick up on what all new and trendy in the foodie world, and I found myself looking at his picture thinking, "Now, that's a nice suit. Oh, he's wearing a button-down white shirt with it--nice. Love the glasses. How does he keep his beard so neat? Probably a special electric razor. I could pull off this look--except for the shoes, of course." And that's what I'm talking about. Before I knew it I was sucked in. If I hadn't snapped out of it, I would have gone to Macy's and dropped a few hundred on a shiny suit and a beard trimmer.<br />
<br />
There are always strings attached in society, and the strings are usually attached to your wallet. ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-9331459315708957072015-08-30T15:59:00.001-04:002015-09-10T21:15:00.043-04:00Sunday 3:45 p.m.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A lazy Sunday afternoon. The last weekend in August. Not really the end of the summer, but...close. So close. <br />
<br />
Spaghetti sauce made from the last tomatoes of the garden, are simmering on the stove, seasoned with (lots of) basil, oregano, and two kinds of parsley from the garden.<br />
<br />
And tomorrow is another work day, so a sunny couch and the Sunday New York Times is the definition of luxurious. <br />
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<br />ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-27932757128814164412015-08-25T20:57:00.000-04:002016-05-22T11:33:46.842-04:00It's Monday And I'm Late For Work...And I Don't Care<style>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m late—way late—and I’m walking
toward the T station and my train is pulling into the station and I think, “To
heck with it. You’re going to be very late.” And I let it go. It’s the same
feeling I get when I’m traveling by plane, and the second I feel the wheels
leave the runway and if I’ve left the iron on, well, it’s out of my hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After getting carted off to the
hospital a couple of times with chest pains when I was an up-and-coming
go-getter, I decided a while back I wasn’t ever going to risk a heart attack
running for a train. I’ll get to work eventually, and, since I’m on an hourly
contract, I won’t get paid like salaried employees dawdling this morning. My
employer can dock me, though God forbid I should work a minute over my allotted
35 hours. Then this university with the winning football program would have to
start handing out benefits to contractors. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the hiring agreement. When you give your all and
you’re still not looked upon as deserving benefits, you start to view the
workplace and the world in general with a jaundiced eye, with a lot less regard
for a career and more watchful for well-paying contracts. </span><br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Some mornings it just takes
longer to get started, especially Mondays when the weekend teases you with the
idea that you might be gaining just a little control of your life. I currently
have a contract where I have to go, as it’s called, on-site. That means I
actually have to go to an office and sit at a desk and in order to do that I
have to be on a strict schedule. I know most people might say, so what? Isn’t
that kind of the definition of a job? But when you’re a freelancer, when you’ve
been working for yourself for most of the 21<sup>st</sup> century, when your
name is associated with two successful theaters that you started in Boston, and
yes, while I enjoy just about everything about the contract, the idea of
preparing for the office is a bit old school. And at this point, I do have to
make myself clear: I do enjoy this contract. It’s my fourth time in five years
working at this site. It is a good gig. It pays relatively well, and it’s a
polite, professional work environment, nothing close to the infamous Amazon
workplace that just came out in the news this past week, with intelligent co-workers
who respect one another’s talents and enjoy one another. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">No, it’s not the job, but the
preparation, that gets to me. In order to get on-site, I have to get up at 6:15
and spend the next hour and fifteen minutes making myself presentable for being
“on-site”— showering and shaving and putting on clothes that are inappropriate
for summer weather before heading out the door for an hour-and-a-half commute
courtesy of Boston’s limping public transportation system. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An hour-and-a-half commute one way
translates into three hours per day times five days equaling 15 hours, or two
full extra workdays that I’m not getting paid for. So what? a lot of people
might say. This is what people do to make money; stop your complaining, at
least you have a job. But when you’re working for yourself, you’re more wired
to think like the person running the show and in this case, billable hours—wasted
time, isn’t something the typical commuter thinks about. To them, it seems to
me, the commute is just one more thing to endure, like a moody manager. </span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Lots of people like being
on-site. The office is so much a part of them that they will whole-heartily
admit they like coming to work. They like the office, its familiarity and
structure. They like the clothes and the culture and the social aspect. They
don’t see being on-site as a loss of their freedom; some I think see it exactly
opposite. The last time I worked at this particular site, there was an
executive there who decreed that all of the men should wear ties. This was a
new arrangement since the last time I had worked there, and I actually had to
go out and buy some ties. I bought two, both black and skinny, the least
mainstream ties I could find. And even then I felt like I was dressed like an
ice cream scooper at the local Dairy Queen. That executive is now gone, and I
heard the no-tie rule took about a month to be instituted, but my biggest fear
this time was that I would still be asked to cut my shoulder length hair. I
still pull it back in a ponytail and wear a little less jewelry than I normally
do, just to try to fit in. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Many people do get
self-satisfaction from the office—using their talents to do something they’re
good at and sometimes it’s just fun to be good at something, they’re also
furthering a cause or an organization that they can get behind. There are
people who work for the same organization for thirty or forty years. Thirty or
forty <u>years</u>! That’s how long you might get sent to prison for a really
heinous crime. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Different strokes. Organizations
need people who are more structured, and also, thankfully for me, people who
are less so. This contract will be up in four months, and when it’s over I’ll
find something else. Hopefully something I don’t have to dress and shave to do.
Some people like structure. Some of us don’t. </span></div>
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ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-4085780841457123932015-07-09T11:02:00.000-04:002015-07-09T11:14:37.345-04:00#TBT 7.9.15<style>
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“John!!! I got new shoes!” <br />
<br />
“John, my Mom got a new car and we’re taking Alex to the doctor in it!” <br />
<br />
“Hey John, my Mom gave us Fruit Loops for a snack!” This is Laura, my neighbor. Laura tells me everything that’s happening in her life, usually at the top of her lungs and running towards me at full tilt. She’ll skitter to a stop, still talking, ignoring the limits of personal space any other civilized person might acknowledge. This is not to say she’s uncivilized; she’s five, and exuberant. <br />
<br />
“Jjjjjooohn. Wewewewe got Ffffruit Loops.” says Alex, Laura’s little brother, stuttering in that curious way some three-year-olds have when they’re just learning to talk, and, also corroborating that Fruit Loops rumor. These two little people comprise my fan club.<br />
<br />
Emerson said one of the marks of success was winning the affection of children. This is because children only include in their world the things that give them pleasure. It’s certainly an ego boost to get ranked right up there with Fruit Loops. <br />
<br />
For whatever reason, all of my life I’ve gotten along with small children and animals better than any of the larger examples of the population. Even my closest adult friends can be characterized as play babies: They would much rather garden, watch movies, and play musical instruments than have a productive day in the office. It’s pretty clear I’m an over-aged kid who refuses to give up stuffed animals and the sandbox. <br />
<br />
Still, I realize that some might think it questionable, or even suspicious that a grown man counts among his friends a five and a three-year-old. We’ve grown paranoid in this last decade, and it’s a shame. Sure there are kooks and nuts in the world. There also are many men who enjoy children -- their enthusiasm, curiosity, viewpoint, even their tiny voices. This is no cause for suspicion, but nonetheless, we are all suspicious. <br />
<br />
Allison, my oldest, had a wonderful kindergarten teacher in the person of Mr. Leonard. He left a successful career in the defense industry in his mid-forties to become a teacher. I’m ashamed to say that, during the summer prior to kindergarten, I thought it odd that a man would teach children that young. A man teaching the upper grades seemed perfectly normal to me, but why, I wondered, would a man choose to teach small children? I have never been more wrong. Mr. Leonard, now retired, was a warm, caring teacher who, for the 20-odd years that he taught completely understood the five-year-old mind. He was a perfect match for Allison, and we were so lucky to have him teach our child. <br />
<br />
I recently spent a productive afternoon putting covers on the windows of the chicken coop with Laura and Alex taking turns handing me screws, holding my hammer, or fetching things from my toolbox. They’re a perfect age for this sort of thing. My Kathryn, going on five, kept passing on her turn to help. My kids have had plenty of chances at “helping” to the point where they now think of helping as work. But Laura and Alex helped with intense concentration, and later I thanked their mom for the use of her kids. “Sure, any time,” was all the harried mother could muster, never having seen that side of her children before. <br />
<br />
An adult’s relationship with a small child has special dynamics which I can’t begin to fully understand. When I look at Alex fully in the face, he grins at the attention, then suddenly turns embarrassed and retreats a few steps. What is it he sees that makes him blush? What does he feel that overwhelms him? I wish I knew. I suspect it has something to do with him being so small, and me being, to him, so big. As a big, clumsy, oafish adult, I can only sense something is there through Alex’s reaction, the way scientists detect the smallest or most distant parts of the universe by their reaction to something else. I wish he could tell me. By the time Alex grows up, he may have it forgotten. I know whatever I knew, I forgot. <br />
###ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-8668077928718077832015-07-07T13:34:00.000-04:002015-07-07T13:34:46.246-04:00#TBT 7.2.15<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2joQbKwZR3c/VZwMywdUJcI/AAAAAAAAB64/b87qTCGiVxQ/s1600/Kathryn%2Bin%2Boveralls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2joQbKwZR3c/VZwMywdUJcI/AAAAAAAAB64/b87qTCGiVxQ/s400/Kathryn%2Bin%2Boveralls.jpg" width="400" /></a>Kathryn spit at a kid on the school bus today. She thought he had spit
at her first, so she let loose with a shot of her own. Here’s one right
back at ya. <br />
<br /> Kathryn is six and loves ponytails and headbands,
dresses and shoes, and other pretty clothes. She is small for her age,
but she has a big heart. She is generous with her hugs and kisses,
wrapping her arms around your neck so tightly that you think your head
is going to pop off. She tends to skip instead of walk, and hums and
sings to herself when she’s alone. She is all girl.<br />
<br /> Kathryn also
enjoys a nightly game of chess before she goes to bed. She derives glee
from beating her dad at the game, which rarely happens, but I can see
the day coming when her victories will be more common. Every so often
she unleashes a move that takes you completely by surprise. She’s at
her best when playing Uno; she almost never loses. She really is all
girl.<br />
<br /> When she and her friend, Christina, are together you might
think you have Thelma and Louise on your hands, especially when they’re
on their bikes. Chloe, her quiet friend, comes out of her shell when
she’s with Kathryn. Chloe’s mother says Kathryn brings out Chloe’s wild
side. Kathryn, (and Christina and Chloe) are all girl.<br />
<br /> It turned
out that the kid on the bus really didn’t spit at Kathryn; she only
thought he had. “Shoot first and ask questions later” seems to be her
motto. She didn’t want to talk about the incident when she got home.
She said J and I were making “too big of a deal out of it.” But I told
her I wanted to talk about it and she started to cry. Then I told her I
wasn’t angry, that I thought what she had done had been a good thing.
That even though she’s a little girl, I still want her to stand up for
herself. If she makes a mistake like today’s, well, it’s only because
she’s still learning. We even had a little laugh. “What did he do when
you spit at him?” I asked her. “He was really surprised,” she said,
and I said, “I bet he was,” and we laughed. <br />
<br /> Pretty doesn’t mean
weak. Being all girl doesn’t mean vulnerable. When Kathryn first saw
Anastasia, she yelled out during the climactic scene, “Finally, the girl
saves the boy!” I can happily say I’ll take credit for that. <br />
<br />
I’ve tried to drum into both my two little girls that Ariel in The
Little Mermaid gets into trouble because she disobeys her father, then
needs that idiot, weak-kneed prince who can’t see past his nose to bail
her out of trouble. I insist that Belle in Beauty and the Beast is my
favorite because she is smart, pretty, and saves the prince all in one
fell swoop. And that Snow White should cram the poison apple up the
witch’s big nose, and that a better title for the movie would be Snow
White and the Seven Black Belts. <br />
<br /> That Kathryn sees women as
strong and as fighters will make this dad sleep better at nights. Too
often in the corporate world I see women who are treated more like
geishas than professionals. What’s worse, some women even accept this
as their lot in life. God I pity their kids. What a terrible thing to
pass along. It makes me just want to spit.<br />
ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-7642221389554288732014-10-07T10:51:00.002-04:002014-10-07T10:56:35.836-04:00PerfectionI worry about perfection. Some people--usually people who work with me--tell me I'm never satisfied. It's true: I always think something can be improved, and things are never exactly the way I envision them in my head. And woe to the person who doesn't live up to my expectations. "That's good enough" are words that make my teeth actually grind.<br />
<br />
I try to understand that not everyone has my standards. But then, when I talk to, for example, an artistic director who I admire and say, I can't expect people to have the same level of passion that I have, and he replies, yes, you can, I feel validated.<br />
<br />
In grad school, I completed the program in one year, with a 3.96 GPA. That is really good, I know. But I always give my GPA with the added, one lousy A-. And that was with a really tough professor.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://nymag.com/scienceofus/2014/09/alarming-new-research-on-perfectionism.html" target="_blank">PERFECTION</a><br />
<br />
This might explain a few things:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.humanmetrics.com/personality/infj" target="_blank">INFJ</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.16personalities.com/infj-personality" target="_blank">And this. </a>ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-53950553523376964492014-09-15T13:58:00.001-04:002014-09-15T13:58:51.992-04:00The Miracle of the Potatoes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I think I blogged about this years ago, but can't find it now. The Miracle of the Potatoes. How at this time of year you can plunge your hands into a mound of dirt, and miracle of miracles, you can pull food right out of the earth. How the potatoes have been hidden underground, each cell dividing and growing and maturing, silent and urgent like babies in their mothers' wombs, ignored by all of the other more flamboyant vegetables--the eye-catching tomatoes, the sophisticated cucumbers, dangling on the vine like circus royalty, or the militaristic lettuce, marching in straight rows, cut down in their prime in the line of duty.<br />
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The garden has been a miracle this year. Except for the onions, we had bumper crops of everything. The freezer is packed with containers of pasta sauce. There is a veritable wall of sauce in our freezer right now. This year we moved the tomatoes to the end of the garden where they would get the most sun, and planted some Early Birds, so we've had tomatoes since June. This year we learned about spaghetti made from squash and zucchini. We're going to blanch some zucchini for vegetable soup this winter. Maybe homemade Minestrone. And we've been able to share quite a bit of our bounty with our neighbors. The boys downstairs especially love my zucchini bread. I don't want to tell them how much sugar the recipe calls for, which is what probably makes their mouths water.<br />
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The garden, though, has been on its slow decline since about August. It is almost imperceptible, but if you're out there every day you can see it. Gardening, even in a small backyard plot like ours, puts you in tune with and makes you aware of the natural world around you. Even in the most simplistic way, you note the amount of rainfall, too much or too little. But as the earth beats its way around the sun, if you leave yourself open, you can sense not only the change in temperature or the dulling of leaves, but also the intensity of light as the earth moves further from the sun in its orbit. You can tune into the same subtle cues the birds use to begin migrating, or the animals to steel themselves for the winter. It's what our modern life numbs us to, what it steals from us, our place in nature, which, by the way, still won't be denied even if we're not paying attention.<br />
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It's not even the official end of summer yet, and the garden is already looking like it's October. Weird weather. If it weren't for the garden, I might not know this subtle change in the climate, and it makes me keep a weather eye out to see if winter might not come a month earlier too. People who work the land and the oceans know about such things. We each are cells in a larger organism; in nature's petri dish. Not only creatures whose lives pass before their eyes in a second, but at the same time keeping in step with the slow, patient drumbeat.<br />
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Decay is as much a part of life and birth, and a little garden is a constant reminder of that. I know we don't want to be reminded of our inevitable demise, but personally I've always like to hear the clock ticking, be reminded that my time on this planet is limited. If I have my mother's genes, there's a good chance I'll have only about ten years left on this earth. She, and a good percentage of her siblings, all succumbed to cancer at 68. You can't deny nature, and you can't deny genetics. Time--our lives--is not something we should be wasting. I stand in the middle of our garden and see it's not what it once was, yet still produces some of the most exquisite food one can imagine, and I can't help but draw a parallel to my own life. I can't run as fast or as far as I used to, though I still pass other runners, both young and old, who are also running along the bay. But, anything physical is taxing for me. A few weeks ago while moving our daughter into her new second-floor apartment, I vainly hauled a too-heavy box up the stairs, only to stop at the landing where no one could see me catch my breath.<br />
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I now need less sleep at night, and a nap in the afternoon. This change came as slowly and as undeniably as the change of seasons, until one day there was no other possibility left: You're not sick or depressed, John, you're getting old. Older. But like I said, I like to hear the clock ticking. Like a metronome keeping time, I can pace myself to still live my life the way I want to live it, only at a different pace. I can still produce, I can still create as well as I did in the springtime and early summer of my life. Probably better, because after all, I'm not a plant. This is only an analogy I'm painting here, and I've learned and harvested wisdom through experience. This is me accepting my place in my life, accepting the phase that I'm in, not denying my age as the marketers would have me do, but embracing my life and celebrating it through little act I perform, whether it's a planting a garden or writing a play or simply giving a smile to a stranger on the subway, because through my life I've learned things that I can share, as honestly and cleanly, as unabashedly and openly, as a plant offers its fruit.<br />
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<br />ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-20200516006984456412014-09-01T19:33:00.002-04:002014-09-02T04:33:33.102-04:00Empty NestToday, September 1, is the big moving day throughout Boston. Because of all of the universities in Boston, apartments typically are rented starting September 1. So you get this enormous migration of renters moving throughout the city, but primarily in the neighborhoods where younger people tend to live: Cambridge, Brighton, and Allston.<br />
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Kathryn moved out today, out of our apartment in Quincy and into her apartment in Brighton Center with two other friends. Of course she did. It's a rite of passage for so many young people in Boston. Some start in the student ghetto of Allston, and then move up in the pecking order to a nicer, airier, sunnier apartment in Brighton, Brighton Center, Oak Square, or even some combination thereof. Kathryn lived in the North End during her undergrad years, so she didn't experience Allston and its hordes of nocturnal cockroaches.<br />
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I actually lived for a few years a few streets over from her new apartment, so I know what I'm talking about. I moved there (from Allston) when Kiki's was just opening her store. I mean, she just opened, as in I was maybe one of her first ten customers. Her shelves were pretty bare, with just a jar of peanut butter here, a loaf or two of bread, maybe a jar of pickles. Now her store with its big, red, neon KIKI sign commands the big intersection back on Faneuil Street, occupying a building that used to sell oriental rugs, and also runs the laundromat, that was next door to her original store. The Y was a one-story cinder building next to the funeral parlor on Washington Street with a overly chlorinated pool and two sweaty rooms with a combination of free weights and some crappy machines. It was in that Y where I would train for triathlons. Now the Y is a big affair in Oak Square, where a gas station used to stand that had been owned by the same Middle Eastern guy who owned the gas station across the street. I remember when I learned he owned both stations, in my young, budding career in business, that I thought there was something wrong about that because he wasn't loyal to his brand. Later I figured out that he was loyal to his brand; the almighty dollar was his brand, and you never saw a person more loyal.<br />
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But it's all newer and bigger there. I stood on Kathryn's back porch and surveyed the neighborhood, and it's all pretty and neat, with comfortable porches that don't look like they might plummet three stories under the weight of partiers, houses that don't look like fire traps, and tiny fenced in back yards and patios outfitted with the nicer stuff from Home Depot and Lowes. All of the twenty-somethings unloading the wide-screens out of their economy cars looked like they had been business majors (finance, not management) or something in health care, but not doctors.<br />
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I did say to Sue as I maneuvered the big F-150 through the side streets clogged on both sides with U-Hauls and cars stuffed to the gunwales like the truck was a super tanker getting eased through the Panama Canal that I was glad that, if it were actually necessary for Kathryn to embark on this new independence, post undergrad, that I'm glad she chose Brighton and not Somerville with all of its hipsters. (I'm talking to you, Porter and Davis Squares.) There's something real about Brighton. The working-class veneer is still apparent, there's still the 57 bus (the A train used to run out there, and the tracks were still there when I lived there, but there gone now) , the big Irish bakery on Washington Street hasn't been replaced with a Chinese restaurant, and, while Elizabeth Warren does reside in Porter Square, I'm assuming Joe Kennedy still owns a house in Oak Square; is it still his district? I don't know, I'm so far away from all that now, though Boston politics were once a favorite pastime of mine. Once all that meant something to me, as other things of no import will take on great importance for Kathryn now. I was talking to her landlord, an Irishman named Mark, about the old neighborhood, and later when Kathryn teased me about my new friend, as she called Mark, I said, that will be you in thirty years. Even Beyonce will be on the oldies station someday.<br />
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Just an aside, I was working on a novel called Action Bob Markle where Bob Markle worked as a copywriter at an ad agency and he came up with the line, Brighton Your Day, for a PSA about the neighborhood businesses.<br />
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But now, supper is over and Sue is taking a nap on the couch, and I'm writing this and it's quiet. Even the guest room is quiet where Kathryn stayed, I can feel its emptiness a room away. Somehow her presence was felt in the apartment even when she was at her job waitressing in the North End. Of course it was: When a person is active in your life, when your child's toothbrush is in the jar in the bathroom you know they're going to come home. But the toothbrush has been packed and is now in a bathroom in Brighton Center.<br />
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When the kids' mom and I separated, I used to sometimes wish that maybe I shouldn't see the kids, because it hurt so much when we parted. Of course I didn't mean it that way. Kathryn used to have a little bedroom at my apartment; Allison never once stayed there and only visited a few times in maybe seven years. But Kathryn had a little room, and more than once after she went back to her mother's house, I'd sleep in her bed, just to keep her close to me for a little while longer. Hugging her pillow for her smell. Her presence. The holidays are still like that for me now. The departure still leaves an emptiness that I find almost intolerable.<br />
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It makes me think of what it would be like without Sue. A couple of times she's traveled for two weeks or so, or just gone away for the weekend. I joke with her and tell her that I have to go first, because I'm so pathetic I can't live without her. When she's gone for awhile, I manage. I can do the day to day--get up, make coffee, do things, whatever things need to be done. But that life lacks life. It's just not the same without her. I'm afraid I'd become a recluse, rarely leaving the apartment.<br />
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<br />ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4214471865155621023.post-42247385485521129162014-08-27T23:59:00.001-04:002014-08-28T00:14:00.529-04:00Retreat<!--EndFragment--><br />
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It's hard to describe what is
going on. In my life. In Sue's. There are definitely cracks and fissures. Time is cracked like a busted windshield. Maybe there's been a wreck somewhere. Maybe I've been in a wreck, my head spidering the windshield upon impact and I haven't even woken up from it yet. I'm still in a coma. Shards of glass in my face. On life support.</div>
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Waking in the dark two nights ago, upstairs in our friends' house, I didn't know where I was, and suddenly I thought I was in a hospital bed. That's what it felt like. The assured breadth of the bed supporting me. Lying on my back. In the dark. Somewhere I felt there were nurses and I was safe.I sighed and I thought, I made it. I knew there has been some serious damage done, because our friends contacted us and said, come up, and they took care of us both. I was in a hospital bed, when you think about it.<br />
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Do you know when you can't breathe, how the doctors put an oxygen mask over your mouth and you breathe pure oxygen? No fumes. No pollutants. That's how this house was. No pollutants. Just creativity in its purest form, in everything. In the meals, in the food we ate and how it was prepared and consumed. In the conversation. Their friends came over one night, and on the porch we made music. More creativity. No judgement. Just sharing the gift of music we had, but no judgement. No snark. I hate snark. I hate the place where snark comes from: insecurity and cowardice. The cowardice to face your own self. To face your own insecurities. So they tear you down to build themselves up. I have someone like that in my life right now. She does snark, and I think people have told her its funny, that she's amusing and entertaining. I try to be patient, but only because she's popular, and I don't want to be unpopular.<br />
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I know someone else, she has to prove how good she is. It's a competition for her. It gets so dull and boring. I don't know why she does it. Probably for the same reason most people do it: to compensate for some inadequacy. To prove to themselves something. So prove it to yourself, I want to say, but leave me out of it. But we're not that close, to have that conversation. So I treat her like I would someone on the subway, who has a cold and can't stop sniffling.<br />
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Sue too. People in our lives who seem to have some real problems and we're in their splatter zone. We both try to sympathize. Be patient. But sometimes it seems the more patient you are with people, the more they stay where they are. Why should they change? Why should they work on their own shit when you're being patient? A long walk down an empty lane helps. The combination of quiet and vigor, the yin and the yang, for balance. The sound of conversation painted on a canvas of stillness.<br />
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And there's always the question of my role in things. What are others writing on their blogs tonight about me? How am I impacting others? How can I adjust to make someone else's life just a bit easier? Or even a lot easier? But I've done that. For a long time I concerned myself with the needs and desires and especially the opinions of others. Why give anyone that much control over your life? The test is, if you offer that kind of control, and the person takes it, you know it's the wrong person to give it to. Only the person who rejects it should be given power over your life.<br />
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ActionBobMarklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09345844064506256391noreply@blogger.com0