We watch what Hollywood has cooked up to modify our behavior, influence our thinking process, stir up emotions.
The best thing tonight is strawberry shortcake that brings back memories of standing in a field of strawberries in Los Angeles. You could eat the strawberries off the vine there but there wasn’t any vanilla ice cream to be had at seven in the morning on a busy street.
This evening we watch Spenser Tracy in ” Bad Day at Black Rock. ”
It is an eerie feeling watching movies where everyone in it, and who made it, are ghosts now too,.
Movie night, especially with strawberry shortcake, is one of my favorite nights of the week.
Seeing things that happened, but are no longer there, is almost the same as reading about Scotttreks moments that are only alive in my mind and on this blog.
Golf carts are a standard at most courses. They speed up play,bring revenue to the course, and make the course more accessible to players who aren’t in good enough shape to walk.
This cart is parked by the Paradise Hills Clubhouse while it’s owner.operator fills up with hot dogs and a beer before tackling the back nine.
This is a privately owned affair and would have been the cat’s meow in San Pedro Town, Belize where golf carts are the preferred mode of transportation.
These golfers are also Bronco fans.
Bronco football hasn’t been up to par in the last few years but they will turn it around if they can find another Elway type quarterback who can throw the football with accuracy,the entire length of the field, and shake off hard charging linebackers with mayhem on their minds.
I’m not sure this cart will improve your swing but if you get fed up you can still drive in style and give yourself an X on the scorecard.
” A tumbleweed is a structural part of the above-ground anatomy of a number of species of plants, a diaspore, that once it is mature and dry, detaches from its root or stem, and tumbles away in the wind….”
“Tumbleweeds” is also a Roy Rodgers cowboy song, sung around the campfire with fellow cowhands on a starry night, with a crackling fire, when the herd is quiet and coyotes are howling harmony.
The song’s lyrics are plaintive as the western landscapes shared by cowboys, Indians, outlaws, and cattle.
” See them tumbling down/Pledging their love to the ground/Lonely, but free, I’ll be found/Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds.
Cares of the past are behind/Nowhere to go, but I’ll find/Just where the trail will wind/Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds.
I know when night has gone/That a new world’s born at dawn/I’ll keep rolling along/Deep in my heart is a song/Here on the range I belong/Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds… ”
The last lines of the song crawl into my tent and bite me.
We all have songs to sing, but tumbling is what I do best.
The map on one of the Starbuck’s walls shows several continents.
When you spread the world out, pin it to a wall, you take out all its bumps, contours, unknowns, inconsistencies.
When Columbus laid out his world map on the sturdy table in his Captain’s quarters his map didn’t show him his crew’s fears, terrible ocean squalls and rolling waves taller than the three little ships in his expedition, stacked one atop the other..
When John Glenn walked on the moon, the maps in NASA headquarters didn’t tell the consistency of the sand that he hit his golf ball off of.
This world map focuses on longitudes and latitudes best suited for growing coffee, just one of Starbuck’s many products.
Our world has knitted together so tightly that we can enjoy foods from far away, foods that Kings used to have difficulty procuring. Now we don’t have to travel to a coffee zone to enjoy fresh coffee.
This little girl is talking to her mother on her Apple wrist phone. The only person on the planet using wrist communication devices when I was her age was the newspaper comic strip hero – Dick Tracy. Kids have come a long way since the 50’s.
What new technologies will come true in this little girl’s lifetime?
Will she see scientists grow and replace dysfunctional human organs? Will she be transported through time and space? Will her kids take their food in pills? Will her children be taken from her to be raised by the State? Will her world be without borders? Will there be off-world colonies turned into travel destinations?
This morning I’m reflective.
It is good to have children in our world but they have to grow up quicker than we did.
Bernalillo is a little rural town just minutes north of Albuquerque on the way to the Santa Ana Casino.
The town has some dirt roads, manufactured homes in disrepair, livestock grazing in back yards, Obama signs in front yards.
The Rio Grande River and Bosque, a cottonwood forest, run through town on their way to Mexico, New Mexico and Mexico have never lost touch and stroll, hand in hand, along the river on warm spring nights,cotton ball flowers dropping into their dark hair.
By the freeway, on the South Hill frontage road, is the Kaktus Brewery and a Wednesday night Blues Jam.
The brewery has taken over an old fashioned 1950’s house modified to fit the business needs of a 2019 craft brewery. When you enter what used to be someone’s living room, the brewing area is visible through a side door. In the bar,an older group of pony tailed fans, men and women, drink. The blues jam is happening in an outside patio area where previous owners barbecued ribs and listened to Mozart.
Blues, as I usually think of them, belong on a front porch in Mississippi on a hot humid evening. An old black man sits on the edge of his porch, guitar strings sticking up like copperheads from the river. He hits a few chords and then his sad story comes out. The old man’s old favorite hound lays on a corner of the porch, his tail tapping the wood deck as his master’s knarled fingers move across the guitar frets.
Women light the place up tonight and their blues are always about sex and love getting in each other’s way.
The vibe at the Kaktus tonight is partly spiritual, partly venal, mostly party.
Rebekah plays clarinet and sings. Dan handles tenor sax. Dave plays bass. Louise is on piano. Andy plays drums and Jim plays guitar. It is Saturday afternoon after three.
This audience comes to drink beer, watch sports on TV, gossip and network. The music, as Rebekah reminds everyone softly, has to be soft.
The band’s music comes from ” The Great American Songbook. ” Composers of the songbook are Jerome Kern,Cole Porter, Irving Berlin, George Gershwin, Vernon Duke, Rodgers and Hart and others. They composed before and after World War 2 and moved music from concert halls to dance floors.
Clarinet and Tenor Sax sound good together and Rebekah’s vocal reminds me that I should sing more on my Alto Sax.
Having lyrics you can understand is refreshing but these melodies are almost too sentimental, nostalgic, hopeful and sweet for our rough edged times.
In them, I hear Broadway, see men in tuxedos and women in black gowns, see servicemen returning from World War 2 to marry waiting sweethearts and start a family, see fashionable ladies and gentlemen at a table in a dark night club with little candles flickering on the white linen tabletop.
Some musicians play. Some musicians teach. Some musicians both play and teach.to pay their bills.
There are lots of filters that can keep a teacher’s message from reaching his students gas tank. If Chadd could just run a USB from his brain to our student brains, he could download his considerable music knowledge and wouldn’t have to wait for us to catch up.
Chadd teaches and Scott tries to be teachable.
At the heart of every jazz solo is technique, clarity of thought, pureness of emotion, and an intent to sing and swing.
Teachers can only get us so far and then we have to take ourselves the rest of the way..