Western Blues

Nothing to Say

2007-02-23T11:36:00.000-07:00

Everyday there's someone asking
what is there to do?
Should I love or should I fight
is it all the same to you?
No I say I have the answer
proven to be true,
But if I were to share it with you,
you would stand to gain
and I to lose.
Oh I couldn't bear it
so I've got nothing to say.
Nothing to say.

Every morning pressure forming
all around my eyes.
Ceilings crash, the walls collapse,
broken by the lies
that your misfortune brought upon us
and I won't disguise them.
So don't ask me will I explain
I won't even begin to tell you why.
No, just because I have a name
well I've got nothing to say.
Nothing to say.

Climb a tower of freedom,
paint your own deceiving sign.
It's not my power
to criticize or to ask you to be blind
To your own pressing problem
and the hate you must unwind.
So ask of me no answer
there is none that I could give
you wouldn't find.
I went your way ten years ago
and I've got nothing to say.
Nothing to say.

Eye of Leo

2007-01-20T23:26:00.000-07:00

Indian bracelet, circa 1930s

2007-01-14T10:46:00.000-07:00

From the Heard Museum, Phoenix.

Heard Museum, Phoenix

2006-12-25T00:48:00.000-07:00

This is a cool place, dedicated to Native American history, culture and art. I went there on Thursday.

take a hike

2006-12-19T23:21:00.000-07:00

2006-12-10T11:46:00.000-07:00

Photo by Leo
Mom made beans for dinner
you know I ate em all
said come get your coat on
going to the mall
gonna visit Santa and sit upon his knee
but all that I could think about
was how not to cut the cheese
waiting there for Santa
thought that I'd explode
the gas bubble grew bigger
with every ho ho ho
try my best to hide that I was doing swell
but when I sat down on Santa’s lap he hollered what’s that smell ?

~chorus~

I farted on Santa’s lap now
Christmas is gonna stink for me
I farted on Santa’s lap
now I'll get &*&*&*& under my Christmas tree

I asked him for a baseball
I asked him for a bat
I asked him for some ice skates
but I'll get none of that
I asked him for a lot of things
I'll have to do with out
when I sat down on Santa’s lap
I let one slip out

~chorus~

On Christmas eve I snuck out
of my bed with out a sound
went down to the living room
to take a look around
and then I saw Santa next to the Christmas tree
his arms were full of presents
and they were all for me
put them in a pile got up to turn around
then blew a fart with such great force
our tree all most fell down
so I'll always cherish that special moment when
I realized even old Saint Nick rips one now and then

Year-round, night or day

2006-12-06T00:37:00.000-07:00

Yep. Bisbee AZ.

Mele Kalikimaka

2006-12-05T07:49:00.000-07:00

Photo by Leo

Mele Kalikimaka is the thing to say
On a bright Hawaiian Christmas Day
That's the island greeting that we send to you
From the land where palm trees sway
Here we know that Christmas will be green and bright
The sun to shine by day and all the stars at night
Mele Kalikimaka is Hawaii's way
To say "Merry Christmas to you."

thanksgiving camp

2006-12-03T15:35:00.000-07:00

Joyous Holidays

2006-12-02T17:42:00.000-07:00

Photo by leo
I will attempt, over the next few days, to take on a festive and holiday inspired spirit. To than end, I will only post holiday related stuff with witty and avuncular commentary. Ho, ho, and all that.

Chiricahua Wilderness, Southern Arizona

2006-12-01T02:52:00.000-07:00

wilderness pool

2006-11-30T23:40:00.000-07:00

If the wilderness was good enough for Moses and Jesus, then it is good enough for me.

Another Offering

2006-11-28T21:20:00.000-07:00

Yoiks. The archives are overflowing. Newly re-discovered art of a high degree has surfaced, bringing to yet another generation images of the halcyon days of youth.Photo by Leo

Here pictured is the ever-youthful Mike, "The Woz", Wozniak. Cameraman for a PBS affiliate and charter member of the daring-do f2.8 photographic consortium, Woz is remembered as the winner of the first f2.8 best of show trophy for his print of nothing particularly memorable, except than when he developed the print, he immediately dried it and sealed in black plastic until the contest, skipping the fix and final rinse. Lo and behold, as we critiqued the images of the night, Woz's print changed colors under the bright light and slowly faded to black. A true piece of performance art for which he will long be remembered.

Visions of the Past

2006-11-28T09:29:00.000-07:00

Photo by our friend Jan @ Security S&L

Photo by Leo

XXX

2006-11-27T21:14:00.000-07:00

Photo by Leo 1979

2006-11-27T14:48:00.000-07:00

This little operetta was on the radio yesterday after I read the Chronicler's post

I. Paradise
Boy:I remember every little thing As if it happened only yesterday Parking by the lake And there was not another car in sight And I never had a girl Looking any better than you did And all the kids at school They were wishing they were me that night
And now our bodies are oh so close and tight It never felt so good, it never felt so right And we're glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife C'mon! Hold on tight!C'mon! Hold on tight!
Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night I can see paradise by the dashboard light
Girl:Ain't no doubt about it We were doubly blessed Cause we were barely seventeen And we were barely dressed
Ain't no doubt about it Baby got to go and shout it Ain't no doubt about it We were doubly blessed
Boy:Cause we were barely seventeenAnd we were barely dressed
Baby doncha hear my heart You got it drowning out the radio I've been waiting so long For you to come along and have some fun
And I gotta let ya know No you're never gonna regret it So open up your eyes I got a big surprise It'll feel all right Well I wanna make your motor run
And now our bodies are oh so close and tight It never felt so good, it never felt so right And we're glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife C'mon! Hold on tight!C'mon! Hold on tight!
Though it's cold and lonley in the deep dark night I can see paradise by the dashboard light Paradise by the dashboard light
You got to do what you can And let Mother Nature do the rest Ain't no doubt about it We were doubly blessed Cause we were barely seventeen And we were barely--

We're gonna go all the way tonight We're gonna go all the way An tonight's the night...

Radio Broadcast:Ok, here we go, we got a real pressure cooker going here, two down, nobody on, no score, bottom of the ninth, there's the wind-up and there it is, a line shot up the middle, look at him go. This boy can really fly!He's rounding first and really turning it on now, he's not letting up at all, he's gonna try for second; the ball is bobbled out in center, and here comes the throw, and what a throw! He's gonna slide in head first, here he comes, he's out! No, wait, safe--safe at second base, this kid really makes things happen out there. Batter steps up to the plate, here's the pitch--he's going, and what a jump he's got, he's tryingf or third, here's the throw, it's in the dirt--safe at third! Holy cow, stolen base! He's taking a pretty big lead out there, almost daring him to try and pick him off. The pitcher glance over, winds up, and it's bunted, bunted down the third base line, the suicide squeeze in on! Here he comes, squeeze play, it's gonna be close, here's the throw, there's the play at the plate, holy cow, I think he's gonna make it!

II. Let Me Sleep On It
Girl:Stop right there!I gotta know right now!Before we go any further--!
Do you love me? Will you love me forever?Do you need me? Will you never leave me? Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life? Will you take me away and will you make me your wife? Do you love me!?Will you love me forever!? Do you need me!? Will you never leave me!? Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life!? Will you take me away and will you make me your wife!? I gotta know right nowBefore we go any furtherDo you love me!!!? Will you love me forever!!!?
Boy:Let me sleep on it Baby, baby let me sleep on it Let me sleep on it And I'll give you my answer in the morning
Let me sleep on it Baby, baby let me sleep on it Let me sleep on it And I'll give you my answer in the morning
Let me sleep on it Baby, baby let me sleep on it Let me sleep on it And I'll give you my answer in the morning
Girl:I gotta know right now!Do you love me?Will you love me forever?Do you need me?Will you never leave me?Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life?Will you take me away and will you make me your wife?I gotta know right now!Before we go any furtherDo you love me?And will you love me forever?
Boy:Let me sleep on it Baby, baby let me sleep on it Let me sleep on it And I'll give you my answer in the morning Let me sleep on it!!!
Girl:Will you love me forever?
Boy:Let me sleep on it!!!
Girl:Will you love me forever!!!

III. Praying for the End of Time
Boy:I couldn't take it any longer Lord I was crazed And when the feeling came upon me Like a tidal waveI started swearing to my god and on my mother's grave That I would love you to the end of time I swore that I would love you to the end of time!
So now I'm praying for the end of time To hurry up and arrive Cause if I gotta spend another minute with youI don't think that I can really survive I'll never break my promise or forget my vow But God only knows what I can do right now I'm praying for the end of time It's all that I can doPraying for the end of time, so I can end my time with you!!!

nobody paved paradise

2006-11-26T14:30:00.000-07:00

nor did they put up a parking lot

I took this photo in Portal, Arizona, on the eastern side of the Chiricahua Mountains. Spectacular region.

where i will spend thanksgiving

2006-11-23T02:08:00.000-07:00

I will backpack in the Chiricahua Wilderness again. It is my tradition. It's the kind of place that prompts one to spontaneously express joy at G-d's awesome wonders.

mountainside restaurant

2006-11-22T14:04:00.000-07:00

Here's how I rate the best restaurants on Arizona 92, south of Sierra Vista:

1. Adobe
2. Ricardo's
3. Mesquite Tree

holy man of brown canyon

2006-11-20T15:49:00.000-07:00

If a cougar ever leapt upon Dave's back, it would be thwarted by the hard case of his guitar.

fierce cats

2006-11-19T19:00:00.000-07:00

Cougar. Puma. Mountain lion. They are the same thing.

This photo was taken in the 1950s and 1960s. These cats were killed in "Brown's Canyon." This canyon is one of several that are surrounded by 9,600-foot peaks on the breathtaking eastern flank of the Huachuca Mountains of southeastern Arizona. These mountains are also notorious for their labyrinth of smuggling routes from Mexico.

But the mighty cougar ...

-- The cougar can run up to 45 mph.
-- It can leap 20 feet from a standing position.
-- It can jump vertically 8 feet. (One was seen jumping 12 feet into a tree, while holding a deer in its jaws)
-- Males can be 8 feet from nose to tail and average 150 pounds in weight.
-- Their life span in the wild is about 10 years.

oktoberfest at the elks

2006-11-15T22:45:00.000-07:00

German potato salad, sauerkraut, a brat and a beer. Delicious.

Arizona Folklore Preserve

2006-11-12T20:48:00.000-07:00

If you have not yet taken in a cowboy poetry performance at this venue -- then, I'm sorry -- you have not yet experienced all the treasures that life has to offer.

I might add: Dinner at the Adobe Southwestern Cuisine afterward was simply scrumptious.

silly sibs

2006-11-12T03:54:00.000-07:00

endless energy

2006-11-12T03:51:00.000-07:00

makers of camera batteries will never be able to outpace youth

leo's kids

2006-11-11T01:29:00.000-07:00

cell phone photo by theo

Bluetooth and Turquoise

2006-11-09T18:24:00.000-07:00

Headin’ out from Mesa
Valley of the Sun
No stoppin’ for cerveza
On this midnight run

Baby calls me “Daddy”
Calls on my new Bluetooth
“Come and see me sometime
Miss you, that’s the truth.”

Turquoise ‘round her neck
Squash blossom on her heart
Bluetooth in my ear
We were fools to ever part.

Runnin’ up to Window Rock
My baby’s on my mind
Chasing home my dreams
Livin’ on Dineh time.
Ain’t been there with her
Since Bluetooth came around
Runnin’ up to Window Rock
I ain’t Chinle bound.

Baby calls me up again
When I hit ol' 254
Highway takes me home
Ain’t wandering no more.

Baby says “I’m waitin’”
Says, “Daddy what’s keepin’ you?
I been waitin’ here all lonely,
Lord knows I’m feelin’ blue.”

All of a sudden another call
Hits my new Bluetooth.
Baby up in Window rock cries
“Daddy, tell the truth.”

Runnin’ up to Window Rock
My baby’s feelin blue
Her sister’s callin’ me and now
I can’t tell what to do.
Her sister’s got a razor
A little bitty phone
She’s callin’ me to meet her
Lord, I ain’t never getting’ home.

I turn around my Mazda
on old 254
St. Michael’s is behind
Ain’t ahead of me no more.

Goin’ to the interstate
Fast as I can go
Winslow’s my destination now
Still too far I know.

Turquoise ‘round her neck
Squash blossom on her heart
Bluetooth in my ear
We were fools to ever part.

chris

2006-11-09T00:03:00.000-07:00

Chris is a custodian at my office. He is an expert on floor care, having practiced his trade for more than 30 years, including such places as Walter Reed U.S. Army Medical Center in Washington, D.C., where he was in charge of THE cleanup crew. Chris grew weary of mopping up after bloody surgeries, and so he moved to Nirvana (the great Southwest) like Leo and me.

Chris was an Army combat medic in Vietnam. We don't go there very often.

A Shreveport native, Chris is conversant on spiritual things, UFOs, the blues, professional basketball and football, and many other topics.

Chris and I agree that one day he and I will get to enjoy the ultimate waxed-and-buffed floor: the promised Streets of Gold.

Yes, gold so pure that it's transparent. Chris taught me that a properly stripped, waxed and buffed floor will significantly enhance the lighting in a room.

Can you just imagine those Streets of Gold? Chris and I can.

bling

2006-11-07T17:36:00.000-07:00

I'm wearing my recently-acquired Native American turquoise-and-silver bracelet and my Bluetooth® wireless hands-free headset for my cell phone. Bluetooth® is so amazing that I think somebody should design the earpiece as a gadget that is part of the phone design, but detachable. It would be like a shuttle leaving the mother ship. Everywhere my cell phone goes, my Bluetooth® goes with it.

My bling — sort of a merger of ancient traditions and Star Trek.

OK, I get it.

2006-11-06T22:18:00.000-07:00

Another Leo Sprint Camera-Phone Shot

I get the point.

When I started this blog business, I envisioned it as sort of a corporate effort. Kinda like the Bowery Boys meet the Merry Pranksters or something. Somehow, we/I have strayed from the initial premise and become rather erudite. To get back to those humble beginnings, I'd like to share this short story....

A duck goes into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender, astounded, asks wheer he's from.

"I hang drywall at the building site across the road", responds the duck.

"Wow!" says the bartender. "Have you ever thought about going to work for the circus?"

To which the duck replies, "The circus? What the hell would they need a drywaller for?"

###

The Photo? Means absolutely nothing.

chew on this

2006-11-06T20:33:00.000-07:00

This is very tasty candy. This particular brand is made in Japan, but is popular throughout Southeast Asia.

See, Leonard? Nothing effervescent, sardonic and witty there. Hey! It's a blog on a free site. What do you expect? So, c'mon. Get back to the everyday stuff. If I want Melville, I'll go the library and read Melville. Besides, Melville is certainly not making other plans OR having a life that is happening right now. There! How's that? Existential enough for you?

HEH HEH :-)

Oh, and, Botan Rice Candy has a free stick-on tattoo inside every box.

squeeze the lemon

2006-11-05T17:45:00.000-07:00

These cute little lemons can be found on trees at the University of Arizona campus in Tucson. They are very sweet and juicy.

Here's a simple recipe: Squirt a little lemon into a glass of Coca Cola. Serve chilled.

Into the Sun

2006-11-04T20:00:00.000-07:00

Sprint Phone Photo by Leo

Sometimes you don't have any choice but to keep pushing forward. Face it, going back is out of the question, no matter how tempting, no matter how humbling. All you can do is scream forward, caution to the wind, ride this thing 'til the wheels fall off and burn. There's no escape and as Brother Morrison intoned, no one gets out alive. I figure people can talk about me plenty when I'm gone, but I also know it will be a short lived discussion. The dread of the day will inevitably win out over my tawdry pile of sins.

Nope, no time to hide. Just forward, into the heart of the sun.

Benedictus

2006-11-02T14:30:00.000-07:00

Ok. I get it. I've been remiss, neglegent in my postings at this esteemed conclave of memorabilia and nonsense non-sequiturs. Sometimes a guy has just nuttin' to say. The stresses of having to produce on demand are overwhelming, even for a macho guy like me. Seems if it ain't the women wanting me to come across, it's the likes of The.Chronicler wanting me to be effervescent, sardonic and witty. Then Spoke goes and swallows his gum and the whole place is in an uproar, a world gone wrong yearning for new insight and smart repartee.

As I have long noted, us wordsmiths are a touchy bunch. The call of the ambiguous is always in the back of our minds and the misperceptions of the huddled masses push us to the brink of insanity. I think that it started when entertainment stopped being entertaining, reality programming destroying forever the escape from dour existence. Made for Television movies about real people's sad stories, contrived relationships in Bora-Bora or some soundstage in Burbank, crime scene investigator shows that don't do the whodunit like the old days but instead become vehicleees of the new pornography, titilating the viewer with cruxified rape victims in prime time. Truth, truth, truth... Is reality really enterrtaining? Bah. I think not.

Where is Leo?

2006-11-01T23:11:00.000-07:00

Leo don't post here no more.

2006-11-01T06:28:00.000-07:00

This is an ancient Maori ceremonial axe made from greenstone and attached to an ornately carved handle. The toki pou tangata was a pre-European tool normally made of stone and used for chipping. Today these distinctive Maori items are internationally recognized for their fine craftsmanship. As an historical artifact, the axe commemorates its origins and captures a piece of New Zealand�s history.

Photo by Chester Arthur Burnett

windshield, brown canyon

2006-10-29T17:39:00.000-07:00

Amish gentlemen prefer blondes

2006-10-25T21:21:00.000-06:00

Yes, there's something for everyone at Helldorado Days, even thy straight-and-narrow Amish fellows. However, you gotta watch out: Sometimes the gum loses its flavor.

dr. doolittle still exists

2006-10-19T18:43:00.000-06:00

we call her "sue"

the place is brown canyon, huachuca mountains, southeast arizona

nirvana

my piano

2006-10-13T19:57:00.000-06:00

Now roll them cases out and lift them amps
Haul them trusses down and get 'em up them ramps
'Cause when it comes to moving me
You guys are the champs
But when that last guitar's been packed away
You know that I still want to play
So just make sure you got it all set to go
Before you come for my piano

Mexican band

2006-10-10T08:57:00.000-06:00

They were performing in Naco, Sonora, Mexico, on the eve of Independence Day (Sept. 16). They were quite good and very spirited. I'm not sure what these two guys were doing there in front of the band. They seemed to be intoxicated by the music. I think they were sort of a combination of groupie/security/roadie type.

2006-10-06T02:32:00.000-06:00

Leo and his ax

2006-10-04T23:48:00.000-06:00

We DO play "that kind" of music around here.

Chinese antique store

2006-10-04T03:10:00.000-06:00

Lots of wonderful old stuff ... like Leo's dendrites and neurons ... in Old Bisbee, of course.

Me and Chovy

2006-10-01T20:17:00.000-06:00

Ho hum. Part of my job is to influence international players and events. Here I am meeting with Lorenzo ''Chovy'' Villegas, the mayor of Naco, Sonora, Mexico. Now I have a standing invitation to return and party with Chovy.

2006-09-28T15:26:00.000-06:00

Len, here's a picture I took while climbing a Mayan pyramid in the ruins at Coba. See how tranquil everything is? I think you gotta calm down and take it easy or you're gonna explode.
Photo by Chester Arthur Burnett

Come and Visit

2006-09-28T00:05:00.000-06:00

I'm on a serious streak and have started writing elsewhere for a while. Don't take anything without a doubt. Never accept what you see wikthout question. Free your mind and your ass will follow. bluesmonday.blogspot.com

Don't drink. Don't take drugs. Walk righteously and freely with your God. Keep your mind clear. Just don't pray to God and Allah and Buddah and then expect to win the lottery. In the end, none of them care if you win or not. The message is bigger than what they can do for you and me. It's who they are. More exactly, it's who God is.

I don't pretend that all religions who adhere to monotheism praise the same God. I'm just saying there is one God and his name is mystery to us all. All we can do is know him if we seek him. His ways are not ours and that is a good thing. We'd really be in trouble if he did what we wanted. We are better off just trusting him.

brown canyon

2006-09-27T03:11:00.000-06:00

Ask Leonard.

He can explain.

Old School House Bed & Breakfast, Bisbee

2006-09-24T16:53:00.000-06:00

If I Knew The Way, I Would Take You Home

2006-09-21T20:33:00.000-06:00

I knew it's been coming for quite a while now. The realization that I am gonna get a whole lotta shit is inevitable to me. Face it. I've tilted with windmills long enough, far longer than Quixote did. Hell, Brer Quixote went out after a quest. His love was Rosciante. No, wait. That was his horse. Damn. I'm confused.

Anyways, El ingenioso hidalgo Don Quixote de la Mancha was a fighting fool. He went like loco after something most of us miss completely. He went to fight injustice in the name of his beloved, the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso. He loved her first and Roscinate, his beloved steed, took him on this weird and worried quest. Both ladies deserve blame and respect simultaneously.

See, the guy went in a most quixotic way (gee, did I steal that?) after the bad and damnable. He was, alas, in a senile state. Thankfully, he was under the care of his self-proclaimed squire Sancho.

Why do I always think of the Cisco Kid right now, even when his name isn't Pancho?

Or Lefty?

I guess what I'm looking at is the idea that the senile and twisted among us are sometimes the leaders, the seers that show the way to redemption. Sometimes they fight the hardest because they wanna get out. It's almost like the obsessive and compulsive run the earth, rather than the clear and concise? I don't know. Most of the time I can't figure out even who I am in the mix.

But look at the comparison. Who would you rather listen to? The weird and trusting souls like Quixote, or the concise and calculating beings that formulate every move and step you and I take? Who is easier to trust? For me, it's always been rhetorical.

It's funny how, in an historical retrospect, someone like Nixon or Carter seemed easier to follow than Clinton or Bush. In spite of their fairs and fouls, Dick and Jimmy were, somehow, men you could count on. You knew where they stood. You knew who was in charge.

Like George, Teddy, Jefferson, Abe, they were leaders. Strong or weak, they distinguished themselves as leaders and never made excuses for their failings. The people loved them and the people hate them. There was little neutral ground for their likes.

Carter and Nixon as the new heads on Rushmore? Why not? Why not all of 'em? I guess anyone that can want to lead a weird and twisted people like us (remember, they represent all of us) deserves a place of honor. I can't think of a president that I haven't felt some sort of loyalty for, no matter their shortcomings or sins.

Yeah, even Nixon.

Darkness on the face of the deep...

2006-09-19T21:29:00.000-06:00

I don't know how long I've been pretending that all is well. In retrospect, probably most of my life. Sure, I can blame my upbringing and the characters I love called parents. But, at this resolve, what's the difference?

I don't ever recall being someone who relinquished responsibility for choices, good or bad. I know I've made them both and I have a pile of sins to pay for and I ain't got time to hide. Have I avoided the consequences of the bad? Sure, no doubt there. Am I willing to take the consequences for the bad? Sure, again no doubt.

So, you ask, what's the problem? It's the "big picture". You know, El Schema del Dio. It's the big image. How do I fit in the Cosmic dust, the debris of the ages? Conversely, does it matter besides today?

Oh, yeah. Today is what we live with. Yesterday is now a non-existent fact and tomorrow is all speculation. Repentance is important, individually, but does it change the master plan? Maybe redemption is the master plan and I, silly me, have broken free of the angst of tomorrow and the guilt of yesterday.

The guy with the answers, somehow, keeps avoiding me, it seems. "Gimme some light" I beg. The answer? An eternal smile.

I've been remembering the writing of Par Lagerkvist of late. In his story "The Eternal Smile", the guilty and unredeemed of the world go out searching for God to give meaning to their wretchedness and guilt.

God, in the guise of Mr. Pedersen the grocer, is innocently cutting wood, maybe sawing logs, when they, the children of the earth, approach HIM and demand an answer to the meaning of all their struggles and strife.

His answer, "I only meant that you shouldn't be bored".

The river's on the rise and we all fight for higher ground. A few more years of toil and a thousand years of happiness. Just can't go back to paradise. I killed a man back there.

Homecoming dance

2006-09-18T00:22:00.000-06:00

My daughter Sarah and her main squeeze, Marc, on Friday night. *SIGH* They grow up too fast, don't they?

Viva!

2006-09-16T02:53:00.000-06:00

Viva Mexico!

2006-09-16T02:49:00.000-06:00

Mexican Independence Day celebration in Naco, Sonora.

Mimosa meat-cutter

2006-09-13T21:15:00.000-06:00

He's cooking up something back there but I don't know what. Maybe some pesto.

Gold strike in Bisbee

2006-09-12T01:40:00.000-06:00

Every year this couple from Scottsdale, Arizona, enjoy vacationing in this vintage-Airstream trailer park that collectively is operated like a motel and has an authentic 1950s-style diner nearby to quell hunger pangs.

Bisbee mansion

2006-09-11T01:21:00.000-06:00

Got a pile of sins to pay for and I ain't got time to hide.

2006-09-09T17:34:00.000-06:00

"I'd walk through a blazing fire, baby, if I knew you was on the other side."

"Everything I've ever known to be right has been proven wrong
I'll be drifting along
The woman I'm loving she rules my heart
No knife could ever cut our love apart.

Today I'll stand in faith and raise
The voice of praise
The sun is strong, I'm standing in the light
I wish to God that it were night"

Nettie Moore by Bob Dylan -2006

Mimosa Market

2006-09-08T02:52:00.000-06:00

On the upper end of Brewery Gulch in Bisbee, Arizona, the Mimosa Market has everything a person could need from a grocery store: fresh fruits, vegetables, meats, beverages, candies and much more.

Bisbee has it all

2006-09-04T22:47:00.000-06:00

backlit beauty and her beast

2006-09-03T18:48:00.000-06:00

This was taken at the Lavender Pit in Bisbee, Arizona. I won't tolerate any comments alleging hyperbole in the title of the photo. This was merely an exercise of natural backlighting, taught to me by the great photo wizards Larry and 'The Clux' somewhere near Crawfordsville, Indiana, circa 1985.

fixer-upper in Bisbee

2006-09-03T00:31:00.000-06:00

2006-08-30T08:45:00.000-06:00

I don’t know sometimes. Why am I so stubborn? I don’t get it. Why, when I know what to do, do I avoid it and then do what I want, all the while knowing I’ll be ripped to shreds?
I guess it may go back a ways. I’m not going down memory lane looking for that magical moment when all went to hell in a bucket. But yet...?
And yet here I find myself, sleeping under the stars, seeing the band of the milky way like never before, that strip of stars that almost seem to perforate our tiny piece of cosmos. Out here in the desert, on a moonless night, the stars are so bright that it almost makes my brain hurt. Our ancient brothers and sisters saw shapes and visions in the stars, a dot-to-dot realization of the creator’s power.

But now, in the post American century, it’s hard to see shapes or characters or signs in the stars. Now, in the so-called post-Christian era, it’s hard to see the hand of the creator pushing spots of light through the sky.
As knowledge heavy and sophisticated as we are, why do we overlook the obvious? How come we are so jaded in this daily walk? I know I’m not the only one seeking, searching for that magical place, that place to call home. I’m not the only one looking for the mystical place of origin.
And then again, if I found it, would I know what to do once I got there?

The Aztec origin myth says that they emerged from the earth and settled in Aztlan, a place without physical description. In their language (Nahuatl), the roots of Aztlan are the two words: aztatl tlan(tli) meaning "heron" and "place of," respectively. The connotative meaning, due to the plumage of herons, could be construed as “Place of Whiteness”.

Many of my fellow white Americans fear that Aztlan is some sort of codeword used by our brown brothers, a suggestion of revolution or rebellion. They fear the immigration that's now occurring in the southwest is some sort of attempt at taking over the United States. Me? I don't know. I just know we all look for that place called home, whether we be white or black or brown, Palestinian, Israeli, gypsy, no matter who we are...

“You can't run and try to hide away
Here it comes, here comes another day
If you're long down that highway
No matter where you are
You're never really far
Good morning Aztlan”
-David Hidalgo/Louie Perez

Gadsden Hotel, Douglas AZ

2006-08-28T16:57:00.000-06:00

american guru

2006-08-15T01:55:00.000-06:00

This is Freedom Road. The name, he says, was given to him by the angels. Freedom lives in the purple truck. He is approximately 80 years old. He is a strict vegetarian and performs yoga to absorb energy from the Earth. For his meager material needs, he uses his Social Security check. He loves the city park and cannot fathom why people would wear shoes there. He takes showers at the community pool. Freedom plans to relocate soon either to California or Barcelona, Spain. Also, he has received word from the angels that it is time for a name change. Earth Angel is now his name. He changes his name about every 16 years. He has an interesting spiritual reasoning behind this, but I will not attempt to explain it here.

Old Photos and Old Thoughts

2006-08-13T22:04:00.000-06:00

I keep on telling everyone exactly the same thing. When you feel the urge to show old photos and relive the halcyon days of youth, you gotta keep it all together and publish the mess. Maybe no one buys it, but when you can riffle your thumb through 75 pages of "YOU", it's a real hoot!

This tome, by the way, is available for purchase at: www.lulu.com/content/189006 for a mere $10.99 plus shipping and handling. I'm sure Pig and Foghorn have a ton of this kind of stuff. Let's go. As the used to say in the old TV cop shows, "No one moves, no one get's hurt".

our man in black walking the line

2006-08-07T18:41:00.000-06:00

Mean Mr. Mustard

2006-08-06T00:24:00.000-06:00

In response of sorts to the Chronicler's last post, and out of necessity since I can't post on the PONDERING PIG'S BLOG, I come here, from the beer halls and intellectual centers of the southwest to teach a lesson on the color of mustard.

Why, you ask? Easy. The PONDERING PIG doesn't have the time and I have nothing but time. Exile will do that to you, but that's another story. Anyways, Brer Pig has been predisposed in a search for new digs and I thought I'd help him understand why mustard is yellow, a question that seems to come to the forefront of his porcine mind from time to time.

Sooooo, here's the mustard story in a nut, or seed if you perfer.

Mustard is an indigenous plant in any part of the world where things grow out of the ground. I guess, from reading, that it doesn't grow abundantly in Greenland, Iceland, Siberia, or other higher arctic regions. But, in the end, if you got dirt and water, you got mustard nearby.

Ninety percent of the world's supplies of mustard seeds are produced in Canada, just not up north too high too much. Maybe our blog friends in the upper part of North American knew that, maybe not. It's just a statistic.

Yellow mustard seed originated in Europe. The seeds are pale straw yellow colour and about 3mm in diameter. The taste is mild and "eggy" - not pungent.

In any event, people who consume yellow mustard are predominantly of Euro descent, while the rest of the world consumes more of the brown or black mustard. Dijon is yellow, but they use different vinegar when preparing it. I read where, in England, they call that "made" mustard.

Well. anyhow, most of the rest of the world went for the darker mustard seeds, for the more pungent flavors. Maybe because the meat tasted bad and maybe because they like more spice than the Norther Euro brothers. In any event, the whole damn world eats mustard, yellow on "Nathan's Hot Dogs" from Coney Island to damn hot mustard on oriental cooking of all sorts.

Me? I prefer the damn hot stuff.

Mustard has been grown and traded and cherished for many millennia. Consider the power of the little seed.

Jesus, in teaching the value of faith, used the tiny seed for analogy, telling his disciples that if they had faith he size of a mustard seed they could do marvelous and wonderful things. This thought, more than the yellow color has intrigued me for a long time.

Dig. First is the obvious size thing. This seed the size of near nothing produces huge and abundant plants. I know this for certain. When I moved to the desert southwest some 20 years ago, my first attempt at a desert garden included mustard, for the greens. When I moved from the rented house I was living in, I told the landlord that I'd planted the year before and some stuff might sprout the next season. He pretty much blew me off.

Then, the next year, there were no tennants on that property and the yard grew wild for most of the year. It grew and seeded and grew and seeded... until today, 20 years later, there is mustard growing in every yard for almost 3 blocks and uncontrollably wild in the vacant acreage behind where we lived.

The other lesson is in the power in the tiny seed. That source of new life has flavor that just don't quit. Jesus, when telling the disciples about mustard seeds was re-iterating the knowledge they already had. It was, basically, that the little seed of no consequence had a kick to it and they should culitvate that kind of faith in people that followed after. I think they did that in many over the centuries. Some like Dietrich Bonhoffer, Mother Theresa, and M.L. King come to mind because of their affect on my life personally, but I know other people know others who let that little seed spice their lives to the extreme. They are our heroes, our saints, our models for life.

The little seed is sufficient.

2006-08-05T15:49:00.000-06:00

"The blogosphere is half forensic lab and half tavern."

-- Michael Cornfield, political management professor, George Washington University, 2005

Cananea, Sonora

2006-07-30T19:29:00.000-06:00

It's a busy little city about 30 minutes southwest of Naco. Traffickers of every stripe are here, but copper mining is the main economic engine of this city of 30,000 people. Aurelio Rodriguez, who spent nine seasons with the Detroit Tigers, came from here. He was known for his strong defensive skills.

My first live rattlesnake

2006-07-30T19:20:00.000-06:00

He was just a wee fella, but I'm told those can be the most dangerous ones because they'll inject ALL their venom into you. I was wearing street shoes, hiking through mud along the river and through lots of brush. A little guy like this could have tagged me easily.

Huachuca Mountains, from Mexico

2006-07-30T16:33:00.000-06:00

This is near the headwaters of the San Pedro River, which originates in Sonora, Mexico.

More or less today...

2006-07-25T19:18:00.000-06:00

Image by Leo
The sky grayed and the clouds of dust came down from the north. Shadows got weird. The eternally present mountains of my youth were suddenly swallowed in brown blowing dirt. Lightning struck horizontally, vertically, anyway it wanted, burning the back yard about ten acres from here. Enough electricity in the air to power a city like Chicago for a week.

And it continues and continues.

Hail pelted steadily, no, crazily, as we tried to secure our little piece of the terra firma.

They call this the desert but, today, it is a running riverbed. While the rest of America suffers the warming effect, we here are finally cooled with 65 degree breezes and grey

Pacific Northwest skies.

Tomorrow will bring 100 degree plus temperatures and another cloudy afternoon. Hurricanes are fueling our air with the moisture we've lacked for most of the last decade. Some people elsewhere dread this weather, but we silly desert rats smile and dance in it, hoping the power goes out so we can stare aimlessly at the night sky, awestruck. When the clouds break, as always,

the universe is our replacement for the TV screen.

2006-07-21T10:10:00.000-06:00

A man was on holiday in Kenya. While he was walking through the bush, he came across an elephant standing with one leg raised in the air. The elephant seemed distressed so the man approached it verycarefully. He got down on one knee and inspected the elephant's foot. There was a large thorn deeply embedded in the bottom of the foot.

As carefully and as gently as he could he removed the thorn, and the elephant gingerly put down its foot.

The elephant turned to face the man and, with a rather stern look on its face, stared at him. For a good 10 minutes the man stood frozen— thinking of nothing else but being trampled. Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned and walked away. For years the man remembered the elephant and the events of that day.

One day the man was walking through the zoo with his son. As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned andwalked over to where they were standing at the rail. It stared at him and the man couldn't help wondering if this was the same elephant. After a while it trumpeted loudly; then it continued to stare at him. The man summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing andmade his way into the enclosure. He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder.

Suddenly the elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of the man's legs and swung him wildly back and forth along therailing, killing him.

Probably wasn't the same elephant.

Reptile Redux

2006-06-28T20:28:00.000-06:00

Some people, they like to go out dancing, and other peoples, they have to work. And there's even some evil mothers, well they're gonna tell you that everything is just dirt. Ya know that, women never really faint and that villains always blink their eyes, woo! And that, children are the only ones who blush! And that, life is just to die!

It Went Like This...

2006-06-16T22:21:00.000-06:00

Sam: "Uh. Mr. Ted. I think that says fortissimo not fartissimo. Mr. Bach doesn't have room for improvising"

Ted: "I know, Sam. I keep mixing up those 8th notes with the dotted half notes. I just can't keep this stuff straight. Tell me again. I before E except after high C, right? Aw... I'll never get it."

Sam: "Relax Mr. Ted. It took my dad almost a week to teach me how to read music. You gotta give it time."

Rachel: "Maybe you shouldn't do Bach first. Start with the classics. I hear tell Bach had to practice "Suzy Q" for weeks before he even thought about writing "Tocatta and Fugue in D Minor." After all, Cleveland wasn't built in a day."

Ted: "I know. I've been to Cleveland. Cleveland Rocks. Yet, one weekend in Toledo..."

Sam: "Don't start with Toledo. If I told you all that went down, it'd burn off both your ears."

Governor's chair

2006-06-11T00:11:00.000-06:00

This is the kind of thing that Larry taught me: Set up the shot, grab it and go.

This is my nephew Randy sitting at Gov. Evan Bayh's desk in the Indiana Statehouse in the mid-1990s. At the time I was working for a newspaper in Southern Indiana and had some sort of assignment to cover at the Statehouse. My nephew had completely lost interest in high school in an Indianapolis suburb, and he was nearing dropout status, so I breezed by the school that morning and made a pitch to the principal that would have made Phil Silvers smile with glee.

I was permitted to take Randy out of school to accompany me on my Statehouse mission on the condition that he wrote a report about it. At the end of the day, I stood over him like an old school, cigar-chomping editor and haranged him until he banged out an essay on a typewriter in the media room of the Statehouse.

Earlier, while we were touring the stately old Statehouse, we asked if we could take a peek inside the governor's office. Sure, why not, the security person said. The guv was not in anyway. So we were ushered into the empty room with the admonishment of looking-not-touching, sure-sure, and then the security person became busy with something else outside the room.

After a few minutes of ooh'ing and ah'ing at the trappings of these gubernatorial digs, I said, "Hey Randy, sit behind the desk. Yes. Yes! Hurry. Just do it!!" By the time Randy had alighted his butt on that chair, I had already set my zone focus using the F-stop (Larry's training), and of course the flash was powered up and ready.

*SNAP*

We both left the Governor's Office with a courteous "Thank You!" and very subtle smirks on our faces!

Raison d'être

2006-06-09T23:54:00.000-06:00

"I'm really into something bigger than life, do you know what I mean? It's really hard to explain. I was once Crown Prince of Moldavia and the Menschiveks took power in '66. The whole royal family was exiled, save me. They were dispersed all over the globe and I, yes, I remained to rout the scoundrels from my land. Then when I sent notice to the rest of the fambly, they were nowhere to be found. They'd all changed their names to things like Gottleib and Starkwell and stuff like that. So I alone am now entrusted with the lore and legends of my people. The peasants, God bless'em, call me Papa Ike. It's a nickname, see. I remind them of the noble warrior/president that saved America from the Truman years. Now, since living in Arizona these past 14 months, I don't really want to go back, having found my true niche as spiritual advisor to the Lion of Cochise. But they dog me, the peasants, with hundreds, nay, thousands of telegrams daily. They plead for my return to free them from the fetters of serfdom. I know, the Thomas Wolfe book says "You Can't Go Home Again" but I feel that I must. It's that and the blond babe with the hourglass shape that call me hence. No, maybe it's just the blond."

...like a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest.

2006-06-09T00:37:00.000-06:00

I’m sitting in a hospital waiting room and CNN is into the never-ending analysis of the death of Al-Zarqawi. He’s called the second most famous terrorist in the world today. This is, they say, an obviously huge psychological blow to world terrorism. What will be the final read? Right now it’s all conjecture, but, at this remove, the prevailing attitude is that Al-Quada won’t be sneaking home with their tails between their legs. No imminent surrender in sight. If there was a solution to suicide bombers, the Israelis would have figured that out long before now. So, in the long run, what’s the actual significance of his death? After all the debate, maybe there is no significance. But there’s no denying that at least he won’t be responsible for more deaths and it makes us feel a little better, even if only for a day or two.

I guess it really is better for man to eat, drink and be merry. As much as we try, the world really is out of our control. We want to scream a resounding no, like admitting lack of control is some sort of weakness. But it’s the essential, the unavoidable reality.

Always Surrounded

2006-06-06T21:01:00.000-06:00

Photo by Leo

Ok. I don't get it. How's come I don't feel free any more? Seems like every turn I make is trailed. Damn hounds of hell on me. The corner I turn is never without a follower, a tail. Why is that?

How come things we took for granted for so long, like the 4th amendment, get lost? Guys fight for and cling like a babe to the breast for the 2nd amendment like it's the only one, except for that 5th one.

But what about the 4th?

"The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized." (U.S. Constitution, Amendment #4.

Ok folks. here's the whole thing in a nut. I just don't feel secure any more. No, I don't feel threatened. On the contrary, I feel no threat. I guess maybe that's the thing. Life seems sterile, neutral, pointless. These days, there is no real rumble, no struggle.

Damn. Not that I want to struggle or rumble. It's just...

Hell, I feel like we're all really fat, dumb, and happy. Don't misconstrue here. Happy is good. Fat may be inevitable. Dumb just might be the truth. It's just, like, all at once and complacency is the order of the day.

I don't want to speak for you, but the stuff seems all to evident to me. We get searched and subliminally seized on a regular basis. Phone records get pulled without warrant. Citizens get shook down because their skin is brown. Nobody wants to question reasonable cause because, well, that'd be un-patriotic. We are, after all, in a sort of war. But, jeeze, we are entitled to that right to feel secure and search and seizure should only be in exterme cases, right?

I'm just blowing steam and no one need respond. I know there's plenty who will say everything is ok and that the freedom lost stuff is for the miscreants to worry over. It's just plain frustrating though, this uncomfortable sense of security at the price of freedom. I can't help but worry. The anxiety overwhelms sometimes.

"Paranoia strikes deep

Into your life it will creep

It starts when you're always afraid

You step out of line, the man come

and take you away."

-Stephen Stills, 1966

Back to Einstein

2006-06-05T22:50:00.000-06:00

Back in the 1930's Einstein wanted to mathematically prove limits and boundaries to the universe. He was on a roll. Everything else up to that point pretty much resolved for him and he truly was the new mind, the person of the century. No matter that the century wasn't even half over.

Anyways, his quest for limits was unsuccessful and he knew it. Another good sign of an intellegent man. Stop when you're ahead. In the crap-shoot he was in there was no getting out unscathed. Say something stupid and the world'll be down your throat. Get out and do it quick.

So he started again, recognizing the imminent entropy in a closed system. See, in a closed system the first thing and the last thing are identical. The first thing to go is the energy that it takes to propel the system. As the system decays and declines and finally crashes, energy is the last thing. No more oomph. No getting to the next square. There's nothing to get you there. There's also nowhere to go.

A closed system is death, eventually. No change, no movement, no life.

So, I guess, the question is what does this possibly have to do with the rest of life? It's not all physics, is it?

Well, it probably is. Physical science, the study of things moving and why they move is the stuff of human basics. Right now, back to entropy.

I guess when we look at life and it's progression and regression we can't help but compare it to the physical world. There are those that would pursue an isolationist attitude towards the world, especially now in the neo-terrorist world we live in. There's no head burying and certainly no isolation allowed, at least not for long. In the world of the rugged individual we are stuck with each other more than ever before.

When I hear the clap-trap about illegal immigration and the idea comes up to build a wall along the southern border of the United States, I have to gag and giggle at the same time. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that illegal immigration isn't a problem. It's just that when people get that wild hair and want to erect something on the scale of the Great Wall of China rather than deal with human issues on a human level, things get weird.

Cut off the world. Retreat into your borders. Make the problem go away rather than deal with it creatively and humanely. Out of sight, eh? Yeah, right. Given the solidity of the entropy model (is that an oxymoron?), at the point of isolation begins the breakdown of energy and, eventually, the total breakdown and decay of society.

It's happened before and will happen again, but we Americans sometimes think that physical law doesn't apply to us because we're special. But how can we ignore or avoid the real things that happen around us? We can avoid or at least temper the crash if we pay attention and start thinking like we're real people instead of some wunderkind that the rules don't apply to.

Here, everyone is entitled to their opinion. A good thing, I guess. But the problem is that opinions and thoughts aren't equal. Maybe our rights make us somehow equal, but why should my opinion rate as high on something as that of the expert in the field?

Because I'm entitled, dammit. Can't nobody tell me I'm wrong, even if it's glaringly obvious. Prove it wrong and it don't matter. Wanna fight about it?

The Best!

2006-05-30T15:40:00.000-06:00

Well my youngest won the state freestyle tournament, was expected to take 3rd but Pinned his opponent with 1minute left to become the state champion and go on to the National's, you can tell by the expression from the 2nd place kid he was not happy... also my middle son 13 yr old Casey won the state championship but it was easy for him he's 6'1 220lbs and very aggressive

Number 9, Number 9...

2006-05-28T09:11:00.000-06:00

It seems sometimes that the human quest revolves around the search for constancy, the quest for something eternal. I know, Sears makes tools built to last and Ford makes trucks built to last. But that's still transient. Built to last how long?

Even the smart guys look for it. Einstein, in the '30's tried to mathematically find some formula that would somehow describe the size, proportions, and limits of the universe. He gave up, calling it a blunder on his part to even try. So, he went back to the violin.

But then...

The other night I was listening to "Coast to Coast AM" in one of those fitful moments on late night awakedness. George Noory had on this guy that calls himself the human calculator. He's one of those guys that looks at everything in numerical senses. He figures out days of the week historically from a date, does math problems from left to right ignoring place values and just lumping everything together. That's something I can't even start to comprehend. But being awake at 2:00 am and not wanting to get out of bed sort of limited my choices. So I listened.

Somewhere into the second half-hour of his business, he brought up the constancy of the number 9. Follow this, if you can.

When you count past single digits, all numbers have a relationship to the number 9. If you take a number, say 43, and add the digits 4+3 you get 7. Now subtract 7 from 43 and you get 36. 36 is not only divisible by 9, but if you add the digits 3+6 you get 9. This works with any number. Try 2117, for example. 2+1+1+7=11. 2117-11=2106. 2+1+0+6=9. OR 2106 divided by 9= 234. 2+3+4=9. How about 1967? 1+9+6+7= 23. 1967-23=1944. 1+9+4+4=18. 1+8=9.

Try 666. 6+6+6=18. Need I say more?
This works every time. Why? It just does.

Now some of you scientist types out there have probably known this all along, but it's new to me. The math isn't as important to me though as the constancy it demonstrates. It's about an idea, a piece of truth that's unshakeable.

So, what does this prove? What house of cards does this support? Frankly, I'm not certain yet. I haven't stayed awake long enough to decypher it all. Someone tell me what this all means.

For now I'm content to spend my sleepless nights trying to find a 2 digit or more number that screws this up. If nothing else, it helps me fall back to sleep. Maybe that's all it's worth, but these days that's plenty.

Long Time

2006-05-25T20:09:00.000-06:00

Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.... Larreee! Where are you? Did we scare you away? Did we become esoteric or something? Have we lost our pithy charm?

Aside from Dave's posts and Ted's great grandpappy, we seem to have found ourselves wallowing in ineptitude or something. Remember when this thing started and we'd ponder the very cores of our existences on a daily basis? Missives posted from hospital waiting rooms and pics uploaded from camera phones. We were cutting edge. We were the real deal. I remember like it was just last year, when Larry was lamenting life and dread and angst, the veritable sickness unto death, were the watchwords of the day. The words were hard and biting and yet they still embodied the whimsy of a lifetime mis-spent. We stomped on the terra, dammit. Now we sit in chaise lounges, sipping Red Bull and Stoly, and playing armchair reminiscence games like a buncha old Atari arcade junkies.

Frankly, I'm embarassed to know me. I must repent. To that end, I post this image of the prodigal himself looking particularly miffed.

Photo by Leo

One More for Buck Miller

2006-05-24T23:04:00.000-06:00

I borrowed this image from the Milwaukee Journal/Sentinel archives. Thanks guys. I was there when this pic was new.

Buck took this pic of Georgia O'Keefe in the fall of 1977, if I recall correctly. I was in his 101 class (and about 3 more classes over two years)and he printed up this and about 5 others he'd shot the day before. He asked me and Kathy Duenkel and Mike Dawkins and about 3 other people what we thought of the photos.

The comments ranged from "Nice" to "who's she?". I don't recall what innane words I had at the time. I knew Buck from working at the Milwaukee Journal. He had been a real photographer and me a lowly clerk and here he was asking me about a portrait of Georgia O'Keefe. I was probably the schtupp that said "Nice". No doubt.

It wasn't until about 3 days later that I realized that those hands he shot, Georgia's hands, were the same ones that Alfred Steiglitz shot 60 years before when she was the love of his life and here, shit, Buck does it again as well (probably better).

He was my friend and my teacher and showed me more about photo-journalism and shooting people than I will ever remember at any one time. I know it shows up in what I shoot now and sparks my observations and commentary probably daily. I'll never do it as well as he did.

I miss Buck. He had more talent and laughs and tears than I'll ever know. There was the time when he and Larry Chatman had a party and the both shaved half their beards off, opposite sides. I believe Widen shot the pic for the invitation/poster. It was a hoot. But Buck had Air Force/Vietnam stories/images that would/will make you cry your eyes out too.

To comment on Ted's Dangerfield comment, I just have to say that Buck woulda hooted over that. He and Chatman used to do Jack Benny and Rochester. Buck was hardly Afro-American and he'd do Rochester perfectly. Larry'd do Benny and he had the same racial liability, but always did it to perfection.

Thanks Dave Gilo. I needed a reflective moment. Thanks Buck for being my friend too.

Buck

2006-05-24T14:42:00.000-06:00

Well it's been a year since my best friend passed away, Buck was a teacher for Larry & Len, I met him thru commercial gigs, He photographed some of the most famous & infamous, was nominated for the pulitzer and was an all around great guy. I really miss him...Thanks for letting me share.
Gilo

Joe and Chet

2006-05-22T18:29:00.000-06:00

I found a snap of Country Joe and Family Dog Chet from 1997. It was 30 years after you-know-what. My wife was at this anniversary event. I was passsing kidney stones at the VA hospital in Palo Alto. They had more fun than me for sure.

For the old timers

2006-05-21T23:26:00.000-06:00

I'm editing this post because everyone seems stumped.

Heres a pic of the Country Joe Band in Berkley last year. Can you pick out Country Joe? He is the one in the middle singing.

1, 2, 3, what are we fightin' for? Dont ask me I don't give a damn, next stop's Afghanistan.

Ain't no time to wonder why, Whoopee, we're all gonna die!

Great-Grandfather

2006-05-19T23:18:00.000-06:00

Dis here is my Grandfather Barker -- actually my mother's mother's father -- but that's what everbody calls him.

Came over from England in the late 1800s or early 1900s. Preached the gospel on the streets of the Bowery of NYC. Could play the piano and cornet simultaneously. Gifted watercolorist. Some of his works are housed in the Smithsonian.

Here's a piece of music he composed for piano. Sadly, he died in his 30s. Were he here today, I'm sure he'd be a blogger.

Cartoons

2006-05-18T19:39:00.000-06:00

A couple of funny cartoons from my collection.

Weird Weather

2006-05-17T17:56:00.000-06:00

Photo by Leo
It has been humid and hot here in the desert, unusually humid for May. Strange clouds forming and some serious microbursts, winds up to 60 mph. in very concentrated areas. This poor old cottonwood took a hit and literally fell apart.

Hey kids we're on a roll

2006-05-17T15:14:00.000-06:00

We went from Rick Danko to Neil Young, so heres another snap out of my album. This was in NYC in like around 1971. I think my brother Wil shot this.

Guest Contribution from The Pondering Pig

2006-05-16T12:58:00.000-06:00

The Pondering Pig Sez:"I get the newsletter from my alma mater San Francisco State U. and Neil Young is going to get an honorary Ph.D in a couple weeks."

Pegi and Neil Young, James Brosnahan to receive honorary degrees: Pegi Young, cofounder of The Bridge School for young people with disabilities, and her husband Neil Young, the musician-singer-songwriter, will each receive an honorary doctor of humane letters from SF State and the California State University system for their work with The Bridge School. Trial lawyer James Brosnahan, a senior partner at San Francisco-based Morrison and Foerster, will receive an honorary doctor of law from the CSU for his work with those who find it difficult to secure legal representation.
The degrees will be awarded at SF State's May 27 Commencement.
For more on this year's honorees, see the SF State News story.

Rick

2006-05-16T09:50:00.000-06:00

I made a reference to the great Rick Danko (R.I.P.) in a comment at the pondering pigs pad. I found this photo of Rick from the 80's sometime with Jorma Kaukonen and Mike Falzarano.

Casa Grande, Arizona

2006-05-15T18:58:00.000-06:00

To hear it from most Arizonans who I work with, the Anglos have succeeded knocking off the "e" at the end when you pronounce this city's name. They also say the "a" sound like the "a" in "mack."

This is the Francisco Grande Hotel and Golf Resort, where I stayed May 12 and 13. It's out in the middle of the desert, about five miles west of Casa Grande proper. So, I guess it's on the way to Stanfield.

I stayed on the fifth floor. Less than $100, including room tax.

gilo's silo's

2006-05-15T11:06:00.000-06:00

Here is one of the backgrounds we will be shooting next week when I get back to Stanfield.

Hair-do

2006-05-14T20:22:00.000-06:00

Photo by Leo

Sometimes things change and the location of the change is unexpected. Sometimes the back-alley hair weave is more than anyone expected. Sometimes it's just some fun. Sometimes it's more real than anyone expected.

Okay Pappy.

2006-05-12T20:59:00.000-06:00

Grandpa. Here's a clip from "Playboy After Dark" from 1969. Word has it, some prankster dosed the drinks of Hefner's guests, so they were all on equal ground. Other word is that Hef sent a letter to the boys, thanking them for a most eventful evening trip. My thought is that the Dead were probably the saner minds in the house that night. Click the Jerry Poster below and watch.

Topper

2006-05-12T20:44:00.000-06:00

Ok you young buck. That one was good. But top the boys singing Cassady on Tom Snyder about 25 years ago. I can hit the same stuff as you, you just beat me to it. Click the John Allen photo and see what happens.

One for the Patriotic minded

2006-05-12T19:29:00.000-06:00

For a once in a lifetime event, click the image of the big guy and watch Jerry and Bobby and Vince singing the Star Spangled Banner at Candlestick Park in 1993. It's by far one of the best, if not the best, rendition of the Anthem that I've ever heard. A'capella and strong. Argue with me if you want, but most folks can't even remember the words and these guys sing tight harmony on top of remembering.