Tuesday, February 16, 2021
There is something about snow that always brings me back to my childhood: I could not wait to put a couple of bread sacks between two layers of socks and get out in it. Out in it till the point that I couldn’t wait to get back in the warm house -- hours and hours later.
This morning, as I looked out the window at the current wonderland, I saw them: Snow Diamonds = ice crystals sparkling in the sunshine. Interesting, at least to me, is how only a handful of crystals choose to sparkle for me at any given time. Out of thousands of square yards of snow blanketing the backyard and field behinds us, only a handful of “diamonds” sparkle at any given time. I see them as tiny glimmers (reminders) that there is still beauty in this world.
Blizzards disrupt our lives. Blizzards put our lives at a standstill. But, when the blizzard is over and the sun shines, there are glimmers of hope.
Blizzards offer of day or two of slowing down -- giving us time to reflect our inner light — or at least a reflection on how we can offer little “diamonds” to brighten the lives of our fellow “flakes” in this sometimes frozen world.
In the meantime,
WATCH OUT WHERE THE HUSKIES GO
AN' DON'T YOU EAT THAT YELLOW SNOW
-- Frank Zappa
Do people still save bread sacks for playing in the snow?
Carpe diem Life,
Tuesday, February 9, 2021
Monday, February 1, 2021
Tuesday, January 26, 2021
So, I thought I introduce you to yet another Cigar Box Guitar build I’m attempting. This one is long from finished, but I thought I’d show it off — for the history of it.
One of their most iconic brands was Charles Denby.
Colonel Charles Denby (June 16, 1830 – January 13, 1904) was a U.S. Union officer in the Civil War and diplomat to China. Evidently, he was quite an individual. From the net: In 1853, he removed to Evansville, Indiana, which remained his home until his death. Evansville was then a town of six thousand inhabitants, which, from its position on the Ohio River, at the terminus of the Wabash and Erie Canal, seemed destined to a great development. At Evansville, Denby devoted himself to the study of law and to newspaper work. He represented his county in the Indiana House of Representatives during the session of 1856-57.
Back to the cigar box guitar I’m attempting a fretless slide guitar w/ a piezo. I opted to make my own neck out of maple and walnut fret-less board. Tuners were extra from a pack of six I bought for the last build. I don’t know what I’m eventually going to do with the nut and bridge. Like I said, it’s a work in progress.
You all remain well out there.
Carpe diem Life,
Tuesday, January 19, 2021
True. However, every item I've saved tells a story (even if I can’t remember what that story is now). This one is special!
First of all, I believe the ballpoint pen changed the world — and not for the better. A pen was once a valuable and sacred object to be nurtured and cared for. You only had one, so you took great care of it. If you wanted to write, you needed your pen. Also, because pens were so messy, or at least potentially messy, you had better take your time. Be mindful.
The ballpoint pen changed all that. It was so cheap it was even sold in multi-packs. They were so cheap that companies would put their names on them and give them away. Give them away! They seemed to multiply like Tribbles (A late-60s TV show reference). As a result, if you lost one, no bother. Just go get another one.
Ballpoint pens were practically trouble-free, so you would write with reckless speed and abandon. Mindlessness — at least for me.
And then there was the cap. It wasn’t secure. Caps routinely got taken off and placed somewhere — lost. No worries, the thing worked without one. Another cool feature about the ballpoint pen was that they could be turned into weapons: Take off the two end caps and pull out the ink cartridge and you have a spitball rifle barrel.
So, as you can see, these things didn’t survive intact for very long. This brings me back to this particular object: This is the ONLY ballpoint pen I’ve ever owned that was purchased new, used all the ink, all while retaining all the original parts. The ONLY one. The ONLY one, to my knowledge, in the history of the world. Go ahead, ask around. I challenge you to find another one -- at least this old (mid 70s).
Take a moment to look around your own life. How many pens do you see in your environment?
Next time you pick a pen up, wonder about it. Slow down. Be mindful.
Take a few minutes to study the history of pens and writing. It’s quite a story. And you’re looking at perhaps the most wondrous of them all!
Tuesday, January 12, 2021
Another holiday is behind us. Some would say different, but we've gone through different before. Christmas seems to be that one holiday that measures "different." Every Christmases is a "first" for something: Age-appropriate gifts change through the years, Grandparents pass away, spouses enter, kids enter, kids believe in Santa, kids stop believing in Santa, kids leave for college or careers, parents pass, a virus shows up instead of Santa, . . .
At some point, it's time to take down the decorations. That's what we did this weekend at my Mother-in-law's and at our house. A lot of people decorate with enthusiasm and undecorate with a sense of sadness and emptiness. I don't know, I rather enjoy the undecorating part as well. It's an affirmation that this is a new year. A new opportunity to do and discover new things. To continue practicing this thing we call life.
Happy New Year!