The Ride

The autumn air was a temperate and as blue as the cobalt sky. You know this sky, this day, this ride that invokes dreamlike states, it instills yearnings and has a calming effect; it leads to a serious inward outlook. I rode an asphalt thread through the quilted fabric of mown hay fields with great harvest spun rolls waiting, just waiting. I thundered past fenced grazing horses and large colonies of browsing bovine and cut through a breeze of manure that ties me to every cowboy and farmer that ever was. I was here and everywhere; it was me and everyone that ever was.

Framing One’s Life

Bubbie’s view waxes nostalgic. He has been framing a new porch roof on the ol’ homestead. It has been more than half his life that he has been a carpenter, and though he has moved on in his vocation, he longs for the days when he saw a manifestation of hard labor at the end of a long day.
Sweet Pea had to walk out to the garage to throw some clothes in the dryer, so Bubbie walked out with her ‘cause he knows how she’s scared of the dark. The fall air was cool and fresh as Bubbie tilted his head back to breathe deep the autumn air. The smell of kiln dried pine wisped across his senses and he gazed upon the framing above his head. In a flash he recalls many a cool evening on the porch of his log cabin he built as a young man. He was young and so was his family. Through sweat and determination he nearly single handedly built the cabin in a holler on a mountain top in Newark Valley, New York. Many an evening in those days, he’d sit on the porch and looked at each piece and part of the wooden structure and recalled how he cut and fit each of them together. He was proud that he had crafted such a fine home for his wife and children; he was a man’s man. He dreamed of the day when he could share the love of his craftsmanship with his children so that they might have a glimpse of the capacity of his love for them. And now on his little porch so far from his NY cabin, he feels the same blood pump through his veins as his heart pines away.
He hears the slam of the dryer door as Sweat Pea emerges from the side garage door. She smiles sweetly and Bubbie sees her with his heart; the same sweet girl he loved all those years ago in the cabin on the hill.

Grassroots; Remember That?

How long can we go on? Republican, Democrat; Democrat, Republican, what is the difference? Our choices for “change” are slimy succubine sycophant of the sleazy thieves they support. The independent alternatives can’t afford to compete. From Bubbie’s view, the horizon is gray and cloudy, the prognostication ugly.

We need a new vision and a new plan for America and neither the Republicans nor Democrats can keep us as a world leader and superpower. We are running out of time.

There was a time when Americans would tolerate the scandles, corruption and lies and they would rise up and demand better. But it seems as though we—you and I—are too fat, too lazy, and too stupid to try. God save us all.

The Beat Down Beatle

Uncle Bubba has always been a fan of the Beatles. The group, not necessarily the individuals that made up the group; but as musician’s blending their individual talents, there are few better. You know, Bubbie has been known to pick a guitar of two in his day. Curiously, the songs of some of them Beatles mean more to the fans than their creators. In light of the recent messy headlines, Paul McCartney, in a war masquerading as a divorce with his not-soon-enough-to-be ex-wife Heather Mills should listen to a few of the old LPs:

Can't Buy Me Love

I'll buy you a diamond ring my friend if it makes you feel alright
I'll get you anything my friend if it makes you feel alright
Cause I don't care too much for money, and money can't buy me love

I'll give you all I got to give if you say you'll love me too
I may not have a lot to give but what I got I'll give to you
I don't care too much for money, money can't buy me love

Can't buy me love, everybody tells me so
Can't buy me love, no no no, no

Say you don't need no diamond ring and I'll be satisfied
Tell me that you want the kind of thing that money just can't buy
I don't care too much for money, money can't buy me love

Can't buy me love, everybody tells me so
Can't buy me love

Let It Be

When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be