Entries 519
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Music immortals
For the first time in many years I finally have a lot of that that precious commodity called “time.” I worked full -time until I retired in 2017 and continued on taking care of my mother who suf...
“The Green, Green Grass of Home”
I was going my afternoon ritual of surfing though YouTube this afternoon, and just happened upon a clip from a U.K. TV station about Tom Jones on the occasion of his 80th birthday (two months ago...
Revisiting the old mill pond of my youth
This is a follow-up entry to my previous posting on memory, wherein I dug far back into my online journal archives, as well as my old print journals, to retrieve writing on this most fascinating ...
Gazing into the deep pool of memory
It’s puzzling how one remembers many of the things that of happened to them in the past. It is even more strange how some of these things are so small and unimportant. Yet, you seem to want to...
The Sixties and the Songs of Our Lives
I have a theory about getting old. First you’re a teenager, and then you’re in your 20s feeling big. Then things get a bit blurry, and the next thing you know you’re 70 and wondering where it...
When I was taking of care of Mom as her dementia and physical infirmity grew worse year by year, I had a number of shields that, looking back now, protected me from succumbing to depression and d...
Queen of the Southern Garden
It’s July 18, but there’s more than a calendar date to tell me the middle of summer is here with all its furnace-like heat and humidity. There are also summer’s uniquely timeless and mood-evokin...
No one is safe from Covid-19
…Worst of all, too many Americans seem not to understand that the novel coronavirus is still very much with the U.S. - and people are dying every day because too many people are ignoring the simp...
In the afternoons lately I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, sitting on the big sofa in the den in a quiet empty house day after day. My thoughts constantly keep coming back to the Covid crisis,...
To teach is to unlock the doors to knowledge and wisdom
Once upon a time in a land not so far away, I was an English teacher, and I loved it. It didn’t last long, that career I thought I might have, but I spent three of the best years of my life i...
White peacock
Just when the news about the pandemic, the economy, and the sad state of our country keep getting worse and worse, someone sends me something to remind me of the truly spectacular and wondrous ...
Caregiving’s ultimate reward
Last year, the actor Rob Lowe wrote an impassioned opinion piece in USA Today about the urgent need to assist the millions of Americans who are caregivers for loved ones, a third of whom do it al...
Maps of the known and unknown
My fascination with maps goes back a very long time. In fact, I can trace the exact year — it was 1959, and we lived in a suburb of New Orleans in a small two-bedroom apartment. I was nine year...
Stages of grief — loneliness
I get up late. I have my bowl of oatmeal, fruit, orange juice and coffee. Strong coffee. I need it. I’m sitting on the sofa in the den, the same sofa Mom spent all her waking hours on in her ...
Stages of grief — loneliness
I get up late. I have my bowl of oatmeal, fruit, orange juice and coffee. Strong coffee. I need it. I’m sitting on the sofa in the den, the same sofa Mom spent all her waking hours on in her ...
An anthem from the 60s
One of my favorite songs from the 60s was a critically acclaimed hit by The Youngbloods in 1967, the year it was released. But the group itself remained relatively obscure, despite the success a...
The subject of masks in the age of the pandemic
First, the surgeon’s mask is designed to prevent the wearer’s viral-laden aerosols spreading to others. The moisture droplets “impinge” upon the inner lining. When you inhale, most of the air is ...
Life in the pandemic: hair cutting blues and memories
This is one of those entries I can’t believe I’m writing as I read it over. Like fear of grocery stores in this New Age plague time, who in the world would have ever thought it would be danger...
Nights of protest and rage: we are paying the price
Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, a...
This day, this hour, this moment
Look to this day! For it is life, the very life of life. For yesterday is already a dream, and tomorrow is only a vision; But today, well-lived, makes every yesterday a dream of happiness, and ev...
The stages of grief: four months
This Thursday will mark four months since Mom passed from this earth. After taking care of her for so long, I still can’t believe she’s gone. But I have to correct myself. She may be gone in a...
Yes, I watch a lot of YouTube videos. I would not say I’m addicted, but if all the multiple universes of places on the Internet, YouTube is probably right at the top or near it for go-to informa...
Newspaper Days
(Note: This is a continuation of a series of entries in OD and PB over the years, dealing with my career in journalism.) A tropical storm off the coast of Florida has moved out of sea. It was t...
Travel, backroads and memory
Deep in the stillness of another night of the coronavirus quarantine, my mind is relaxed and wandering off into the past where the present has taken me. So many things are different now that I...
Mother’s Day
May 10, 2020 I have a confession to make. I didn’t remember it was Mother’s Day! I woke up this morning (actually it was 1 pm because I stay up all night) with a dull headache. I felt slightl...
Book Description
Short essays from the interior of my life.
