Fathers Day today.
A quiet Sunday in suburbia.
I spent the day trying to pot my annuals outside.
Was forced to plant between showers... a very wet day.
Nature... opened a new bag of potting soil. (Bought last Fall.)
There was a hole chewed through the plastic bag.
Inside was a mouse burrow made from lint and fuzz and fur... no mice.
Last year, I'd dumped a small bag of potting soil into a large pot, not seeing
the family of mice who'd been holed up in there. A short time later, I was
startled by the sight of six young, gray, mice scrabbling out of the pot I'd just filled.
I imagine that a burrow dug inside a bag of potting soil that is stored in a tool shed
makes a better home than a hole dug in the ground... fewer predators with access, anyway.
-Fini
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
18 JUN 09
Could Brecht have seen the future???
_________________________________________________
Contemplating Hell by Bertolt Brecht
Contemplating Hell, as I once heard it,
My brother Shelley found it to be a place
Much like the city of London. I,
Who do not live in London, but in Los Angeles,
Find, contemplating Hell, that is
Must be even more like Los Angeles.
Also in Hell,
I do not doubt it, there exist these opulent gardens
With flowers as large as trees, wilting, of course,
Very quickly, if they are not watered with very expensive water. And fruit markets
With great leaps of fruit, which nonetheless
Possess neither scent nor taste. And endless trains of autos,
Lighter than their own shadows, swifter than
Foolish thoughts, shimmering vehicles, in which
Rosy people, coming from nowhere, go nowhere.
And houses, designed for happiness, standing empty,
Even when inhabited.
Even the houses in Hell are not all ugly.
But concern about being thrown into the street
Consumes the inhabitants of the villas no less
Than the inhabitants of the barracks.
__________________________________________________
Dunno??
Seems prescient to me.
-Fini
_________________________________________________
Contemplating Hell by Bertolt Brecht
Contemplating Hell, as I once heard it,
My brother Shelley found it to be a place
Much like the city of London. I,
Who do not live in London, but in Los Angeles,
Find, contemplating Hell, that is
Must be even more like Los Angeles.
Also in Hell,
I do not doubt it, there exist these opulent gardens
With flowers as large as trees, wilting, of course,
Very quickly, if they are not watered with very expensive water. And fruit markets
With great leaps of fruit, which nonetheless
Possess neither scent nor taste. And endless trains of autos,
Lighter than their own shadows, swifter than
Foolish thoughts, shimmering vehicles, in which
Rosy people, coming from nowhere, go nowhere.
And houses, designed for happiness, standing empty,
Even when inhabited.
Even the houses in Hell are not all ugly.
But concern about being thrown into the street
Consumes the inhabitants of the villas no less
Than the inhabitants of the barracks.
__________________________________________________
Dunno??
Seems prescient to me.
-Fini
17 JUN 09
Been 10 days... time does fly.
Played the Georgetown gig Sunday.
Set up on a flat-bed trailer at the south end of the street.
The flooring was multiple sheets of plywood, which left just one flat area big enough to fit a drum set. So, we ended up arrayed in line abreast across the front edge of the stage.
This was OK until we began playing... had a big monitor speaker blasting Joey's guitar into my right ear. I'm usually sitting behind the other two and rely on my own small moniter to keep track of Joey's singing so that we stay in sync. Yesterday, I could feel my ear drum pulsing with his chords. I didn't have my ear plugs with me. I endured instead. Mistake. Today, I have a persistant ringing in my right ear that echoes every word I speak. Very annoying.
Lesson: ALWAYS have your ear plugs with you!
Same gig, different topic... there was a young woman in the crowd. She was with a group of people waiting to hear the act following us. She was spectacular. (In every way.) Rob kept pointing her out to me, saying how he was "in love." The problem here... Rob falls in love at least once each gig. He needs to find a girl friend, soonest. I'll give him credit though... he's stopped smoking and has begun a diet to lose weight.
End result... it was a good day, a good gig. We were tight, drew a small crowd and held them awhile before the street fair coaxed them away to sample wares.
The biggest boon... got complimented by the sound crew. They were pros, hired by Georgetown for the event. They said they'd been forced to listen to a bunch of amateur noise makers 'til we came along.
-Fini
_______________________________________________________________
Different day... it's now 16 AUG 11, and Rob has a girl friend.
Her name's Bernice.
Played the Georgetown gig Sunday.
Set up on a flat-bed trailer at the south end of the street.
The flooring was multiple sheets of plywood, which left just one flat area big enough to fit a drum set. So, we ended up arrayed in line abreast across the front edge of the stage.
This was OK until we began playing... had a big monitor speaker blasting Joey's guitar into my right ear. I'm usually sitting behind the other two and rely on my own small moniter to keep track of Joey's singing so that we stay in sync. Yesterday, I could feel my ear drum pulsing with his chords. I didn't have my ear plugs with me. I endured instead. Mistake. Today, I have a persistant ringing in my right ear that echoes every word I speak. Very annoying.
Lesson: ALWAYS have your ear plugs with you!
Same gig, different topic... there was a young woman in the crowd. She was with a group of people waiting to hear the act following us. She was spectacular. (In every way.) Rob kept pointing her out to me, saying how he was "in love." The problem here... Rob falls in love at least once each gig. He needs to find a girl friend, soonest. I'll give him credit though... he's stopped smoking and has begun a diet to lose weight.
End result... it was a good day, a good gig. We were tight, drew a small crowd and held them awhile before the street fair coaxed them away to sample wares.
The biggest boon... got complimented by the sound crew. They were pros, hired by Georgetown for the event. They said they'd been forced to listen to a bunch of amateur noise makers 'til we came along.
-Fini
_______________________________________________________________
Different day... it's now 16 AUG 11, and Rob has a girl friend.
Her name's Bernice.
07 JUN 09
With yesterday having been the D-Day anniversary, there have been stories and remembrances posted all over the internet.
This one article got to me:
http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/196011/omaha
I mentioned in yesterday's blog that I'd walked those Normandy beaches, back about 1975... as a serving soldier, the question at the back of my mind was always,
"Would I have had the balls to step off one of those landing craft on that day?"
I'm sure the same question rests in the mind of any soldier or marine visiting Normandy today.
-Fini
This one article got to me:
http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/196011/omaha
I mentioned in yesterday's blog that I'd walked those Normandy beaches, back about 1975... as a serving soldier, the question at the back of my mind was always,
"Would I have had the balls to step off one of those landing craft on that day?"
I'm sure the same question rests in the mind of any soldier or marine visiting Normandy today.
-Fini
06 JUN 09
D-Day anniversary today.
I remember walking the beaches of Normandy in 1975, or so, and marveling at the distance from waterline to cover for the infantry landing there. My respect for the deeds done that day increased a thousand fold.
The actor, Charles Durning, landed in Normandy this day with the First Infantry Division. He earned a silver star for actions later in the war.
Corporal Edward Stegg was there as well, also with the Big Red One. He was awarded the Silver Star for his actions that day. He survived the war, returned home to Camden, NJ. He married and had a son and daughter. He opened his own business, HVAC. I dated his daughter... went steady with her. I met them both while playing with the Runnemede Fire Company String Band. Ed played tenor sax and was a big fan of both Boots Randolf and Cadillac convertables. I found out about his service by accident. He never talked about it. I came across a picture of him, in combat uniform, holding a Thompson sub-machine gun. He was standing in some dunes, surrounded by saw grass. His wife told me the story when I asked her about it.
Heroes...
they do walk among us, unannounced.
I had thought that the English actor, David Niven, had landed in Normandy on D-Day but after checking out his bio page, found out he landed a few days later. He's credited, instead, with participating in the "Invasion of Normandy."
I remember walking the beaches of Normandy in 1975, or so, and marveling at the distance from waterline to cover for the infantry landing there. My respect for the deeds done that day increased a thousand fold.
The actor, Charles Durning, landed in Normandy this day with the First Infantry Division. He earned a silver star for actions later in the war.
Corporal Edward Stegg was there as well, also with the Big Red One. He was awarded the Silver Star for his actions that day. He survived the war, returned home to Camden, NJ. He married and had a son and daughter. He opened his own business, HVAC. I dated his daughter... went steady with her. I met them both while playing with the Runnemede Fire Company String Band. Ed played tenor sax and was a big fan of both Boots Randolf and Cadillac convertables. I found out about his service by accident. He never talked about it. I came across a picture of him, in combat uniform, holding a Thompson sub-machine gun. He was standing in some dunes, surrounded by saw grass. His wife told me the story when I asked her about it.
Heroes...
they do walk among us, unannounced.
I had thought that the English actor, David Niven, had landed in Normandy on D-Day but after checking out his bio page, found out he landed a few days later. He's credited, instead, with participating in the "Invasion of Normandy."
04 JUN 09
How did it get to be the 4th already??
It seems that the Midnight Blues have a couple of gigs coming up... there's the Georgetown Street Fair, later this month and in October we're scheduled to perform at the Connecticut Garlic Festival!! The Garlic Festival... oh... oh... well, it pays $500.
Farewell and good night.
________________________________________________________________
Still 04 June 09...
Must have written the above just after midnight... seems like days ago.
Back on 02 JUN, I wrote about shedding the military persona... but sometimes, the past comes washing back over you without your trying.
Read a poem and was thrust back... to the smell, the heat, the smoke and dust... the ATTITUDE that was war in Vietnam.
Here it is:
OK Corral East
Brothers In The Nam
Sgt. Christopher and I are
in Khanh Hoi down by the docks
in the Blues Bar where the women
are brown and there is no Saigon Tea
making our nightly HIT - 'Hore Inspection Tour
watching the black - digging night sights
- soul sounds - getting tight
the grunts in the corner raise undisturbed hell
the timid white MP has his freckles pale
as he walks past the high dude
in the doorway in his lavender jump-suit
to remind the mama-san quietly of the curfew
- he chokes on the weed smoke
- he sees nothing his color here
and he fingers his army rosary - his .45
but this is not Cleveland or Chicago
he can't cringe any one here and our
gazes like brown punji stakes impale him
we have all killed something recently
we know who owns the night
and carry darkness with us
.... a poem by Mr. Horace Coleman
Reminds me, somewhat, of a day...
I was on a duty roster to courier classified documents off planes landing at the
Hue/Phu Bai Airport.
Drove over, this one day, with an armed guard, in an M-37, 3/4 ton truck.
(This was the same truck that I was driving when I got a SPEEDING ticket from USMC military police while making this same drive! But that's a story for another day.)
After picking up the satchel, I watched as a group of marines deplaned from a 130 just in from Khe Sanh. They were filthy and tattered and unbelievably tired-looking... but walking proud. I, suddenly, felt... diminished... in their presence, with my clean and starched fatigues, my shined boots. (No matter that "clean and starched" was SOP for everyone living on the combat base.) Same war... but I'd been sleeping dry and drinking iced beer while they'd been living in mud holes, under constant artillery and small arms fire.
Seems that all gave some but some just gave more to the cause.
Photos:
http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3022/2976155647_f2fb8a88c3.jpg
Me, back then, 1968, Phu Bai Vietnam... the dry season.
http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3412/3644113688_8a3fd8a515_o.jpg
The approach road to Hue/Phu Bai Airport.
http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2455/3644113622_aa3501d50f_o.jpg
Transient area, where I'd usually park while waiting for the plane.
http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2454/3656182061_328b9b57c3_o.jpg
M-37 3/4 ton truck... a fine vehicle.
________________________________________________________
Been thinking about this posting.
Sometimes it takes memories a while to bubble up to the surface from
whence they reside. I wondered... in a country filled with armed Americans, why did I need a specially armed guard to ride shotgun with me? Why not just take along somebody from my duty section? Then it came to me... the CG, 3rd MARDIV had declared the Phu Bai Combat Base area to be "SECURE," and therefore, all personnell with a non combat-arms MOS were to turn in their ammo. We were still required to tote the M-14 but were forbad bullets for it. (If I ran into trouble, I guess I could have fixed bayonet, then thrust and parried and butt-stroked my way out of it.) THAT's the reason the guy riding shotgun with me was armed with a .45 pistol. Not just anyone could carry a forty-five. One had to have been trained on how to fire it, clean it, break it down. It wasn't a weapon normally carried by EM in my unit, except for M-60 machine gun crews.
Not long after this order was issued, the '68 Tet Offensive broke out... and we all got
bloody fingers from breaking down M-60 ammo belts so we could load our magazines with 7.62mm rounds.
(NOTE: The Phu Bai Airport photos are borrowed from an 8th RRFS veterans site and were taken by Vickers.)
It seems that the Midnight Blues have a couple of gigs coming up... there's the Georgetown Street Fair, later this month and in October we're scheduled to perform at the Connecticut Garlic Festival!! The Garlic Festival... oh... oh... well, it pays $500.
Farewell and good night.
________________________________________________________________
Still 04 June 09...
Must have written the above just after midnight... seems like days ago.
Back on 02 JUN, I wrote about shedding the military persona... but sometimes, the past comes washing back over you without your trying.
Read a poem and was thrust back... to the smell, the heat, the smoke and dust... the ATTITUDE that was war in Vietnam.
Here it is:
OK Corral East
Brothers In The Nam
Sgt. Christopher and I are
in Khanh Hoi down by the docks
in the Blues Bar where the women
are brown and there is no Saigon Tea
making our nightly HIT - 'Hore Inspection Tour
watching the black - digging night sights
- soul sounds - getting tight
the grunts in the corner raise undisturbed hell
the timid white MP has his freckles pale
as he walks past the high dude
in the doorway in his lavender jump-suit
to remind the mama-san quietly of the curfew
- he chokes on the weed smoke
- he sees nothing his color here
and he fingers his army rosary - his .45
but this is not Cleveland or Chicago
he can't cringe any one here and our
gazes like brown punji stakes impale him
we have all killed something recently
we know who owns the night
and carry darkness with us
.... a poem by Mr. Horace Coleman
Reminds me, somewhat, of a day...
I was on a duty roster to courier classified documents off planes landing at the
Hue/Phu Bai Airport.
Drove over, this one day, with an armed guard, in an M-37, 3/4 ton truck.
(This was the same truck that I was driving when I got a SPEEDING ticket from USMC military police while making this same drive! But that's a story for another day.)
After picking up the satchel, I watched as a group of marines deplaned from a 130 just in from Khe Sanh. They were filthy and tattered and unbelievably tired-looking... but walking proud. I, suddenly, felt... diminished... in their presence, with my clean and starched fatigues, my shined boots. (No matter that "clean and starched" was SOP for everyone living on the combat base.) Same war... but I'd been sleeping dry and drinking iced beer while they'd been living in mud holes, under constant artillery and small arms fire.
Seems that all gave some but some just gave more to the cause.
Photos:
http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3022/2976155647_f2fb8a88c3.jpg
Me, back then, 1968, Phu Bai Vietnam... the dry season.
http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3412/3644113688_8a3fd8a515_o.jpg
The approach road to Hue/Phu Bai Airport.
http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2455/3644113622_aa3501d50f_o.jpg
Transient area, where I'd usually park while waiting for the plane.
http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2454/3656182061_328b9b57c3_o.jpg
M-37 3/4 ton truck... a fine vehicle.
________________________________________________________
Been thinking about this posting.
Sometimes it takes memories a while to bubble up to the surface from
whence they reside. I wondered... in a country filled with armed Americans, why did I need a specially armed guard to ride shotgun with me? Why not just take along somebody from my duty section? Then it came to me... the CG, 3rd MARDIV had declared the Phu Bai Combat Base area to be "SECURE," and therefore, all personnell with a non combat-arms MOS were to turn in their ammo. We were still required to tote the M-14 but were forbad bullets for it. (If I ran into trouble, I guess I could have fixed bayonet, then thrust and parried and butt-stroked my way out of it.) THAT's the reason the guy riding shotgun with me was armed with a .45 pistol. Not just anyone could carry a forty-five. One had to have been trained on how to fire it, clean it, break it down. It wasn't a weapon normally carried by EM in my unit, except for M-60 machine gun crews.
Not long after this order was issued, the '68 Tet Offensive broke out... and we all got
bloody fingers from breaking down M-60 ammo belts so we could load our magazines with 7.62mm rounds.
(NOTE: The Phu Bai Airport photos are borrowed from an 8th RRFS veterans site and were taken by Vickers.)
31 MAY 09
Today is the true Memorial Day.
It's my belief that some holidays should not be gerrymandered to just provide for commercial and social interests. (But that's just me talkin'.)
________________________________________________________
It's been an interesting week.
Saw my granddaughter, Grace, in her school play, "The Jungle Book."
She played Kaa, the python. (Actually, she was the "head" of Kaa.)
It was a very good show, considering the cast were all 4th & 5th graders.
There were some very cleverly staged musical numbers and innovative set decorations.
I was proud and pleased.
________________________________________________________
Rob, the bass player from the Midnight Blues, joined me with the Dukes And Dutchess Ensemble. He was reluctant because he wasn't sure he could still read charts after so many years playing blues and rock. He was great, fit right in. We had an exceptional practice that night. It was as if Rob had been some sort of missing spark that the band needed but didn't know it needed. An hour, or so, into the practice we did "Summertime"... it was an ethereal experience and when we finished there was one of those brief moments where we just sat there looking at each other... thinking, "Damn! That was good." Millie took the ending up another octave and raised goosebumps on my arms and back. Her voice was so clear and pure. Hard to think of her as being 80-something. Gershwin would have smiled.
(A word about Rob playing bass... Dennis Tang had been playing bass, reluctantly, for the past couple of years. He wanted to move over to trumpet. Rob's joining the group has made everyone very happy. Dennis was an adequate bass man... but Rob is more the artist here.)
It's my belief that some holidays should not be gerrymandered to just provide for commercial and social interests. (But that's just me talkin'.)
________________________________________________________
It's been an interesting week.
Saw my granddaughter, Grace, in her school play, "The Jungle Book."
She played Kaa, the python. (Actually, she was the "head" of Kaa.)
It was a very good show, considering the cast were all 4th & 5th graders.
There were some very cleverly staged musical numbers and innovative set decorations.
I was proud and pleased.
________________________________________________________
Rob, the bass player from the Midnight Blues, joined me with the Dukes And Dutchess Ensemble. He was reluctant because he wasn't sure he could still read charts after so many years playing blues and rock. He was great, fit right in. We had an exceptional practice that night. It was as if Rob had been some sort of missing spark that the band needed but didn't know it needed. An hour, or so, into the practice we did "Summertime"... it was an ethereal experience and when we finished there was one of those brief moments where we just sat there looking at each other... thinking, "Damn! That was good." Millie took the ending up another octave and raised goosebumps on my arms and back. Her voice was so clear and pure. Hard to think of her as being 80-something. Gershwin would have smiled.
(A word about Rob playing bass... Dennis Tang had been playing bass, reluctantly, for the past couple of years. He wanted to move over to trumpet. Rob's joining the group has made everyone very happy. Dennis was an adequate bass man... but Rob is more the artist here.)
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