Twas never a city so hated and loved as that Presidio hilltop viewed. My last breath on American soul, my crucifix neck bound I clinch, To Siagon I will land to life, victory or death to vietcong-blood clinched sand.
-It was 1964
Twas never a bridge so lonely, forlorn. Last object sloping to sea then deep darkness. That foggy October evening as the weakened summer heat from the mojave wispered quietly in the ear of our television, Candlestick shook violently. My heartbeat echoed gutteral pounding, stacks of street buckled on top of humanity.
-It was 1989
Twas never a sunlight so cold and shy. My final chance to catch that clanging, groaning mule of an invention. Took it right to the top of the hill by Powell. I never perspire, I only hope. Looking out over the bay at the "wharf" I realize my stories more gentle than his and less tragic than their's.
-It is 2001
*Now really! Did you think as a writer I would go without writing a piece about San Francisco, one the truest "writer's" cities in the world. It is rude and snooty but awe inspiring in beauty. It is truly a muse for any writer who has ever passed over it's hills only to be chilled by it's "summer winds." This is a piece about what the city has stood for, for so many individuals over time. It's was and is a place where a person meets their final destination concerning eternity and their individual dreams and desires about what they want to be, what they tell convention when they leave it behind for imagination beyond their wildest dreams. Geographically it is the final stop on the North American continent. Concerning the human conscious, it is the final boundary between the imaginary and "normal." Stanza one involves a young marine being sent to Vietnam. San Francisco was the last stop before a day's flight over the Pacific. It was the last of home some would ever see. The second stanza involved the tragic earthquake of 1989- broadcasted live, horrifically, during the World Series between the San Francisco Giant's and the Oakland A's. I was in the living room watching it live right as mom was setting the table for dinner. The final stanza is about my visit to the city with a friend right before 9/11. Again, it was a "boundary" moment in America's life as well as mine. It was the last summer of innocence, until that fatefull morning roughly three months later. It is also about my difficult attempt to catch a cable car after eating dinner. But when I did I fully realized the depth of it's groans as the conductor flashed the breaks. It was an echo of all the groans of trepidation that each person coming from or going to has felt about the city, as they feared that "change" was in the cold winds blowing. An echo of a "boundary" that once they crossed over they could never go back. Finally, it was the echoes of all the groans each artist has when producing something new. It was a "birth pain" and a realization that a relationship with such a place would produce countless amounts of "children" (artistic works) and "birth pains" because there was so much to write and sing about. San Francisco is the final frontier between being average and being a creator of something that has never been created by anyone else!
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Friday, December 23, 2011
"Andrea" A vision of a future lover
You've awakened vision
casting darkness outside of eternity
Don't let go - don't slumber, don't sleep
Open your eyes to all possible
As you have mine
Burn my fever for you into mist
All I've ever experienced is in your eyes
All moments are in your eyes
The movement of light into soul is in your eyes!
J.C.B.
casting darkness outside of eternity
Don't let go - don't slumber, don't sleep
Open your eyes to all possible
As you have mine
Burn my fever for you into mist
All I've ever experienced is in your eyes
All moments are in your eyes
The movement of light into soul is in your eyes!
J.C.B.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
"Through and Through"
Fermi caughed and blew progressive science into a new day.
shattering block after block west to Cicero and east to Twelfth Street Beach
A cold wind blew down Wall Street, whistling through Madison Avenue, Times Square
shattering trees freezing ponds and shivering the transient of Central Park
A steel smell of motin' iron, screeching through Deep Ellum, Highland Park rusting,
shattering the heat of North Texas dixiecratic, aristocratic pretense into a heap of ash pulp.
A blanket wrapped warm 'round my body, as my Illinois grandfather's voice
shattering the winter shadows wraps warm around my imagination
It was told a city built up by my ancestors not supposed a legacy to leave
shattering doubter's opinions that it was just a lakeside swamp.
A cold wind blew off of the Lake they call Michigan into my soul
feeling it with brass strenght of pride to my family connection with a city so surly.
A cold wind blew around the top of the Hancock over Sears into the legs of the red and black
shattering the hopes of their orange and blue adversaries from Manhattan that early June night
A cold wind blew out of my soul, as I bodly walked down Dallas streets with head held high
shattering judgements maybe rendered by the unseen eyes of Highland Park's pretensious
A cold wind will one day blow out of my unborn child's cries
reminding him of a legacy left behind by generations of those before
Their mind will recall how they said it was worthless land
shattering the concept that nothing is out of reach
Head and shoulders above it all, it's snow effect lightening, frightened New York-froze Dallas
shattering their foundation in a thunderous roar
A cold wind carried our flight aloft, north that memorial day weekend two years back,
shedding a tear in memory of my late grandfather, as we landed a sweet breeze told me welcome home-your in Chicago!
*This is a poem about my dad's family's origins in Illinois after they came over from Britain via Virginia, North Carolina and Kentucky. Finally, settling in southwest Illinois they became a prominent family in the state. Along with other frontier families they helped build up half the state. There was a city, fort "something or the other"-I forgot the name, that was proposed as the next great city of the midwest. There was another area not yet a fully incorporated city on swampland next to Lake Michigan that families tried to develop. My family, along with others, tried to develop this area and soon became the scorn and mockery of the families promoting fort "such and such." We'll "such and such" never came to fruition and does not exist as the other area became known as Chicago. This is a source of pride for me. There are references about the buildings in Chicago as well as about my favorite pro basketball team the Bulls and their rivalry with the New York Knicks representative of a rival city to Chicago. Yes New York has their fashion and media. So does Dallas as these are two cities I chose that are polar opposites in personality to Chicago that would make great antagonists in this work. But make no mistake no city has the masculinity, the grit or the "toughness" as this amazing city. I feel that no city can capture my soul than it. Each time I visit I swell with pride. The moral of the story is next time someone mocks your attempts at greatness, just remember you never know where your paths will lead. A "cold wind" may blow helping you seize the day!
JCB
shattering block after block west to Cicero and east to Twelfth Street Beach
A cold wind blew down Wall Street, whistling through Madison Avenue, Times Square
shattering trees freezing ponds and shivering the transient of Central Park
A steel smell of motin' iron, screeching through Deep Ellum, Highland Park rusting,
shattering the heat of North Texas dixiecratic, aristocratic pretense into a heap of ash pulp.
A blanket wrapped warm 'round my body, as my Illinois grandfather's voice
shattering the winter shadows wraps warm around my imagination
It was told a city built up by my ancestors not supposed a legacy to leave
shattering doubter's opinions that it was just a lakeside swamp.
A cold wind blew off of the Lake they call Michigan into my soul
feeling it with brass strenght of pride to my family connection with a city so surly.
A cold wind blew around the top of the Hancock over Sears into the legs of the red and black
shattering the hopes of their orange and blue adversaries from Manhattan that early June night
A cold wind blew out of my soul, as I bodly walked down Dallas streets with head held high
shattering judgements maybe rendered by the unseen eyes of Highland Park's pretensious
A cold wind will one day blow out of my unborn child's cries
reminding him of a legacy left behind by generations of those before
Their mind will recall how they said it was worthless land
shattering the concept that nothing is out of reach
Head and shoulders above it all, it's snow effect lightening, frightened New York-froze Dallas
shattering their foundation in a thunderous roar
A cold wind carried our flight aloft, north that memorial day weekend two years back,
shedding a tear in memory of my late grandfather, as we landed a sweet breeze told me welcome home-your in Chicago!
*This is a poem about my dad's family's origins in Illinois after they came over from Britain via Virginia, North Carolina and Kentucky. Finally, settling in southwest Illinois they became a prominent family in the state. Along with other frontier families they helped build up half the state. There was a city, fort "something or the other"-I forgot the name, that was proposed as the next great city of the midwest. There was another area not yet a fully incorporated city on swampland next to Lake Michigan that families tried to develop. My family, along with others, tried to develop this area and soon became the scorn and mockery of the families promoting fort "such and such." We'll "such and such" never came to fruition and does not exist as the other area became known as Chicago. This is a source of pride for me. There are references about the buildings in Chicago as well as about my favorite pro basketball team the Bulls and their rivalry with the New York Knicks representative of a rival city to Chicago. Yes New York has their fashion and media. So does Dallas as these are two cities I chose that are polar opposites in personality to Chicago that would make great antagonists in this work. But make no mistake no city has the masculinity, the grit or the "toughness" as this amazing city. I feel that no city can capture my soul than it. Each time I visit I swell with pride. The moral of the story is next time someone mocks your attempts at greatness, just remember you never know where your paths will lead. A "cold wind" may blow helping you seize the day!
JCB
Saturday, December 10, 2011
"A City To Busy To Hate" -What We Can Learn From a Great Southern City" a synopsis
The clank of the tracks and the intercom let us know that two more stops and we have arrived at the Georgia Dome/World Congress Center in downtown Atlanta. It's late November and it's a typical North Georgia late fall with mist so heavy you feel washed as if you had just finished your pre morning shower. The sky is the gray that inspired one local bands mid ninety's song "December." Marta, Atlanta's mass transit system, has taken us from it's most western point Holmes/Hightower station to it's termination mentioned above. Dad and I are once again enjoying our annual ritual of receiving 35 yard line, row twenty-five $ 200 value tickets for free to view an Atlanta Falcon's football game. His company, which has a regional office in Atlanta, is always gracious enough to offer these tickets once a year at no cost. This year's opponent, the Tennessee Titans, were chosen as the game we wanted to see over others based upon one important expectation. They, being another southern club relatively close to Atlanta, were expected to bring in several more fans than other clubs further away, creating a festive pre game atmosphere similar to more of the local colleges in the region. After all, me being a Chargers fan and dad a Steelers fan, we really did not have "a dog in the fight" as they say in these parts. And disappointingly, due to a poor season, Tennessee fails to bring the large group that we have hoped; causing the game atmosphere to be as somber as the weather outside. After the first three quarters which are dominated by the Falcons, the Titans make a run but come up short. Atlanta wins again which always seems to happen when we attend. But if you stop and realize the history of this great city you will find that winning is a legacy that the ATL has left behind for years.
A Brief History
Known as Terminus, the whole purpose of it's birth was due to the fact that it was the meeting place of the Western & Atlantic Railroad. A last depot for supplies going coastal to Savannah and other port cities of the South. Much akin to it's kindred city in Texas, Dallas, it had no natural mineral resources around it. It had no major water ways, no major ports of call and therefore no reason to become what it has become. But as history has shown sometimes a place's greatest resource are it's citizens. A citizen's greatest resource is their heart.
A City Too Busy To Hate
During the nineteen thirties, forties and fifties Atlanta was the same size as Birmingham, Alabama. Compared to Atlanta, Birmingham had more natural resources due to the iron ore and coal found in the hills and uplands surrounding the city. Based on this fact alone, Birmingham should now be even larger than Atlanta. So what happened? After the Civil War an era came to the South known as "the Reconstruction." It was a horrific time of Black America attempting to pull itself up from it's past while dealing with stiff and often violent opposition from a culture that was emasculated by Union Troops years before and still smarting from it. A culture who did not desire to see a people group, thought of as inferior, as equal partners in building a "new South."When Alabama, particularly Birmingham, shouted out with Bull Conor, Jim Crow, attack dogs, water hoses and just plan hate; Atlanta answered with a more noble idea. Progress! Born were Dr. Benjamin E. Mays, Martin Luther King and Jimmy Carter. Born was the idea "that change was coming." Atlanta woke up one morning and look across it's pillow at Birmingham and saw it's need for rehab. It looked at the grotesqueness of a city that was addicted to the drug of hate. In essence, Atlanta new it could stay resistant, as most of the rest of the region, or it could accept the "new reality" therefore capitalizing on it. Boy, has it ever done so!
Atlanta in the eyes of the World
One warm morning in March of 2007 I was sitting at the gift shop of South Fork Ranch just this side of Dallas in Parker Texas. Yes, the same home of the famous Ewing clan years past featured in the blockbuster t.v. series "Dallas." Rummaging through over priced memorabilia I came across old DVDs of "Dallas" reruns. Coming to the conclusion this is what I desired to purchase upon a sea of posters, rhinestone and cowboy hats/boots. After all, I had to pace myself as I still had not visited the Texas School Book Depositor/Grassy Knoll area made famous for JFK's death. At the checkout counter I struck up a conversation with the clerk. As with most people in this friendly city she and I had a heartfelt conversation. Naturally, she asked me where I was from. I told her Birmingham via Gadsden. Since Gadsden is only full of 35, 000 strong, I also offer the caveat that it is close to Atlanta. She and I began to discuss that great city and she expressed a deep interest in visiting. Being a resident of the Dallas area this blew me away. I mean after all, Dallas was a "well known" city in it's own right. How could Atlanta capture the curiosity of a citizen of such an American Icon. But it had. It was the city of Scarlet and Rhett, "Matlock", "Designing Women" and the 1996 Olympics. At that moment chills ran down my spine as the magnitude of my dearest neighbor weighed heavily on my conscious. There would be other experiences as such years later. In September 2008 I felt those same chills as I boarded a bus in San Diego, California's Lindberg Airport on the way to the car rental station. Seated next to me on the bus was a young man on Labor Day vacation from none other than the "Peachtree City." This was after sitting on the flight over with another young man from metro Atlanta. This is significant since my plane left from Birmingham changing only in Houston, not Atlanta! Finally, in May of this year while waiting on "baggage issues" in Frankfort Germany I spent my time looking at the vast flight schedules of all arriving and departing flights to and fro Frankfurt. Homesickness weakened as as American cities showed up next to those such as Vienna, Budapest and Krakow. Listed were: Philadelphia, Chicago, Detroit and San Francisco. These warmed my heart. But below those sprung Atlanta. Once again, like a school girl asked to prom by the "quarterback" chills ran down my spine. It was then that I knew that I could never escape the allure of such as special place no matter where I went in this world. And during most weeks popular media presents that same infatuation. Take a look at Hollywood and it presents a who's who of stars from our region. Now, it seems that one out of four has connections to ATL. The CW, a network geared toward teen/young adult programming, is almost dominated by references to the city in some form. Half the cast of one primary Tuesday evening show are from the Atlanta area. Another CW show, just last fall, featured the Georgia Dome and the Falcons as a backdrop. While another is filmed inside the city. Some of Hollywood's most well known names have connections to the city or are spotted shooting a project in it. It has become a mecca for the film industry as a locale for shows and movies. Concerning script settings, it should be more prevalent in the future.
What it means to me and what it should mean to you
Just like people, cities have their own personality. A unique way of presenting themselves to the world you could say. Our regional cities are no different. Miami, is like that obnoxiously, flamboyant "belle of the ball" that every guy knows is trouble. She wears too much makeup. She is loud, conceited, arrogant but none the less charming in a dangerous way. You know she will break your heart but you pursue her anyway. New Orleans is like that girl that was the classroom outcast to the untrained eye. The girl that was eccentric, hip, poetic, creative, mysterious and fun. The one that would take you out to a pasture and present to you an illegal drink for your age to help you forget about the "Miami's" of the world that had broken your heart. The one that could sense your heart and that you were hurting and needed a friend. The one that was rejected by the others on the surface because she was different but grudgingly respected and even envied by those same people. The one that could care less. The one that made you feel like a man again and made you realize that life is to be taken "with a grain of salt." The one that would show up in your yearbook years later as most "interesting." The one that would leave a lasting impression on your heart every time you'd recall her. Then there is Atlanta. She is the one that during your younger years you did not take a long look at due to the fact that others were seen as more captivating at the time. But she always knew who you were. She knew your potential, even when you did not. At the ball she would not necessarily be the "sexiest" but the prettiest. There she was, standing in her white one piece as a southern girl with so much grace should. She would smell like honeysuckle, azaleas and dogwoods in April as they were her corsiage. She could arouse your soul in a much more deeper way than any of the others could. She would always say yes to you but would say no to those that would break her heart. She had a disdain for those who pursued the Miami's. She needed more substance. Her reason for relationship was to make those around her better. To make those around her believe in themselves. To make those around her believe that they could fail but try again. To make those believe that forgiveness and progress were the greatest qualities of a potential husband. To make those believe that the future presented endless possibilities. She was one that after you matured you would marry and live happily ever after with!
Leave Your Hate at the Door
I write all this to display the outcome of what can happen when we make a conscious effort to forgive and forget. And believe me it is hard. Today's world is hardened, rude, self serving, crass and even nihilistic. But by learning how Atlanta took it's opportunity to hate and regress and smashed it by accepting reconciliation, progress, hard work, creativity and hope it is my hope that for the new year you will take a lesson from this wonderful teacher. She has showed us how be reach our full potential when there where so many excuses not to. I hope to see eveyone at next Fourth of July's Peachtree Road Race!
J.C.B.
A Brief History
Known as Terminus, the whole purpose of it's birth was due to the fact that it was the meeting place of the Western & Atlantic Railroad. A last depot for supplies going coastal to Savannah and other port cities of the South. Much akin to it's kindred city in Texas, Dallas, it had no natural mineral resources around it. It had no major water ways, no major ports of call and therefore no reason to become what it has become. But as history has shown sometimes a place's greatest resource are it's citizens. A citizen's greatest resource is their heart.
A City Too Busy To Hate
During the nineteen thirties, forties and fifties Atlanta was the same size as Birmingham, Alabama. Compared to Atlanta, Birmingham had more natural resources due to the iron ore and coal found in the hills and uplands surrounding the city. Based on this fact alone, Birmingham should now be even larger than Atlanta. So what happened? After the Civil War an era came to the South known as "the Reconstruction." It was a horrific time of Black America attempting to pull itself up from it's past while dealing with stiff and often violent opposition from a culture that was emasculated by Union Troops years before and still smarting from it. A culture who did not desire to see a people group, thought of as inferior, as equal partners in building a "new South."When Alabama, particularly Birmingham, shouted out with Bull Conor, Jim Crow, attack dogs, water hoses and just plan hate; Atlanta answered with a more noble idea. Progress! Born were Dr. Benjamin E. Mays, Martin Luther King and Jimmy Carter. Born was the idea "that change was coming." Atlanta woke up one morning and look across it's pillow at Birmingham and saw it's need for rehab. It looked at the grotesqueness of a city that was addicted to the drug of hate. In essence, Atlanta new it could stay resistant, as most of the rest of the region, or it could accept the "new reality" therefore capitalizing on it. Boy, has it ever done so!
Atlanta in the eyes of the World
One warm morning in March of 2007 I was sitting at the gift shop of South Fork Ranch just this side of Dallas in Parker Texas. Yes, the same home of the famous Ewing clan years past featured in the blockbuster t.v. series "Dallas." Rummaging through over priced memorabilia I came across old DVDs of "Dallas" reruns. Coming to the conclusion this is what I desired to purchase upon a sea of posters, rhinestone and cowboy hats/boots. After all, I had to pace myself as I still had not visited the Texas School Book Depositor/Grassy Knoll area made famous for JFK's death. At the checkout counter I struck up a conversation with the clerk. As with most people in this friendly city she and I had a heartfelt conversation. Naturally, she asked me where I was from. I told her Birmingham via Gadsden. Since Gadsden is only full of 35, 000 strong, I also offer the caveat that it is close to Atlanta. She and I began to discuss that great city and she expressed a deep interest in visiting. Being a resident of the Dallas area this blew me away. I mean after all, Dallas was a "well known" city in it's own right. How could Atlanta capture the curiosity of a citizen of such an American Icon. But it had. It was the city of Scarlet and Rhett, "Matlock", "Designing Women" and the 1996 Olympics. At that moment chills ran down my spine as the magnitude of my dearest neighbor weighed heavily on my conscious. There would be other experiences as such years later. In September 2008 I felt those same chills as I boarded a bus in San Diego, California's Lindberg Airport on the way to the car rental station. Seated next to me on the bus was a young man on Labor Day vacation from none other than the "Peachtree City." This was after sitting on the flight over with another young man from metro Atlanta. This is significant since my plane left from Birmingham changing only in Houston, not Atlanta! Finally, in May of this year while waiting on "baggage issues" in Frankfort Germany I spent my time looking at the vast flight schedules of all arriving and departing flights to and fro Frankfurt. Homesickness weakened as as American cities showed up next to those such as Vienna, Budapest and Krakow. Listed were: Philadelphia, Chicago, Detroit and San Francisco. These warmed my heart. But below those sprung Atlanta. Once again, like a school girl asked to prom by the "quarterback" chills ran down my spine. It was then that I knew that I could never escape the allure of such as special place no matter where I went in this world. And during most weeks popular media presents that same infatuation. Take a look at Hollywood and it presents a who's who of stars from our region. Now, it seems that one out of four has connections to ATL. The CW, a network geared toward teen/young adult programming, is almost dominated by references to the city in some form. Half the cast of one primary Tuesday evening show are from the Atlanta area. Another CW show, just last fall, featured the Georgia Dome and the Falcons as a backdrop. While another is filmed inside the city. Some of Hollywood's most well known names have connections to the city or are spotted shooting a project in it. It has become a mecca for the film industry as a locale for shows and movies. Concerning script settings, it should be more prevalent in the future.
What it means to me and what it should mean to you
Just like people, cities have their own personality. A unique way of presenting themselves to the world you could say. Our regional cities are no different. Miami, is like that obnoxiously, flamboyant "belle of the ball" that every guy knows is trouble. She wears too much makeup. She is loud, conceited, arrogant but none the less charming in a dangerous way. You know she will break your heart but you pursue her anyway. New Orleans is like that girl that was the classroom outcast to the untrained eye. The girl that was eccentric, hip, poetic, creative, mysterious and fun. The one that would take you out to a pasture and present to you an illegal drink for your age to help you forget about the "Miami's" of the world that had broken your heart. The one that could sense your heart and that you were hurting and needed a friend. The one that was rejected by the others on the surface because she was different but grudgingly respected and even envied by those same people. The one that could care less. The one that made you feel like a man again and made you realize that life is to be taken "with a grain of salt." The one that would show up in your yearbook years later as most "interesting." The one that would leave a lasting impression on your heart every time you'd recall her. Then there is Atlanta. She is the one that during your younger years you did not take a long look at due to the fact that others were seen as more captivating at the time. But she always knew who you were. She knew your potential, even when you did not. At the ball she would not necessarily be the "sexiest" but the prettiest. There she was, standing in her white one piece as a southern girl with so much grace should. She would smell like honeysuckle, azaleas and dogwoods in April as they were her corsiage. She could arouse your soul in a much more deeper way than any of the others could. She would always say yes to you but would say no to those that would break her heart. She had a disdain for those who pursued the Miami's. She needed more substance. Her reason for relationship was to make those around her better. To make those around her believe in themselves. To make those around her believe that they could fail but try again. To make those believe that forgiveness and progress were the greatest qualities of a potential husband. To make those believe that the future presented endless possibilities. She was one that after you matured you would marry and live happily ever after with!
Leave Your Hate at the Door
I write all this to display the outcome of what can happen when we make a conscious effort to forgive and forget. And believe me it is hard. Today's world is hardened, rude, self serving, crass and even nihilistic. But by learning how Atlanta took it's opportunity to hate and regress and smashed it by accepting reconciliation, progress, hard work, creativity and hope it is my hope that for the new year you will take a lesson from this wonderful teacher. She has showed us how be reach our full potential when there where so many excuses not to. I hope to see eveyone at next Fourth of July's Peachtree Road Race!
J.C.B.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
"So Pressed Against" An excerpt of Scenes 8 and 9 (Acts I) of 11/ page 10-12 of 31 by John Charles Brown
Setting: Just outside the research triangle cities of Raleigh-Durham in Greensboro, North Carolina. As well as the coastal city of Morehead City, North Carolina and mountain village of Blowing Rock, North Carolina. (Intimate setting) o Russell house, a three bedroom ranch style home, in the Sulfur Creek subdivision of Greensboro-October 2002
Main Characters:
Davis Russell: Husband of Holly Russell and friend of Cary Conner. Graduate of Wake Forest University employed as a biochemical engineer
Holly Russell: Wife of Davis Russell and fundraiser for the Christian Coalition of Central North Carolina-graduate of Liberty University with a MA from Wake Forest in Political Science where she met Davis at an open sorority party
Cary Conner: best friend and old roomate of Davis' from Wake Forest
Katherine "Kat" Mullens: best friend of Holly's from Briarcrest Baptist Church in Greensboro.
Supporting Cast:
Stangood and Amelia Russell: Davis' parents from Greensboro
Thomas "Tom" and Kate Crenshaw: Holly's parent's from Winston Salem
Alicia Blackstone: desk clerk at Pine Ridge Bed and Breakfast-Blowing Rock, North Carolina
Jackson Cuffson: Deep sea charter captain of "Fathom Wisperer"-Morehead City, North Carolina
Anthony "Tony" Rizzoli: Captain of Cutter # 5 Station 19 Smith Island-Brunswick County, North Carolina and Horry County, South Carolina
Albion "Al" McDermott: first mate to Tony Rizzoli
Billy "Buck" Walker: Watauga County, North Carolina sherriff's deputy
Rex Stansfield: Boone City Fire and Rescue Captain
Jason Bonner: Co chief and Liutenant to Rex Stansfield
Scene 8 Act I
(It's Thursday morning of the following week. A weak and lazy shade of sunshine limps through their bay window as Holly and Davis embrace timidly, quickly and at half arms length as if they are brother and sister being photographed for a family holiday photo. The day has arrived for Holly to head west to Blowing Rock and Davis east to Morehead, City. Holly leaves in her silver 1999 Honda Accord turning right of out the driveway. Davis leaves in his navy blue Jeep Cherokee turning left out of the driveway. By now Holly has passed Winston Salem leaving behind Intrastate 40 for Highway 421 which will carry her to Boone then south to Blowing Rock. Celine Dion is playing on the radio.)
Holly: "I've been over you for some time now baby" (Holly mimics Celine's voice with tears of nostalgia in her eyes as she remembers this song playing in the car on her and Davis' first date) I don't miss your kiss like before now anymore now." (Wiping tears on her sleave she stops) "Man Holly get a grip! This weekend was preordered to avoid all this."
(By now Davis has made better progress just east of Raleigh on Intrastate 264-Greenville bound.)
Davis: "Dad! Que Pasa! Guess what-headin' for Onslow to catch stripe 'n' bluegill."
(Stangood is tall with long thin limbs and a classic pattern of male baldness. Amelia, Davis' mother of similar build for a women but with deep brown eyes and shoulder length brown gray speckled hair sits by Stangood with Barney their 17 year old Bassett Hound on their tan love seat.)
Stangood: "Son! Wait hold on your mother is trying to say hello!"
Amelia: "Dee!"
Davis: "Mom!"
Amelia: "How are things with you and H?"
Davis: "Better! Especially after this weekend I hope!"
Amelia: "I hear your going trolling! Please, be careful. There's a 'cane out just off of Myrtle Beach."
Stangood: (Interrupting in the background) "Sweety, it's a depression-no longer a hurricane!(To Davis) "Sorry!" You know how mom gets melodramatic and such. Don't freak but be careful. Seas should be ten to fifteen feet. Might even scare up something rare like a big Whitey or Tiger."
Davis: (Turning the car into road 11 headed toward Kinston) "I know, I know. Trust me this captain has ten years charter experience, referred by no other than Conner."
Stangood: "Jimminy Cricket! Conor!" (Chuckling) "Well, I guess it's O.K. He's not dead yet. Although, sometimes I wonder......Son! use good judgement!"
Amelia: "Sweety! wear your life jacket!"
Davis: "I will! Love you guys!"
Amelia/Stangood: "You much always goodbye! (Davis turns right onto Highway 70 toward Morehead City and Bogue Sound).
Scene 9 Act I
(By now Holly is checking in at the front desk at Pine Ridge Bed and Breakfast. Pine Ridge's proprietor is Alicia Blackstone. A widow with plump limbs soft green eyes and alabaster skin. She presents an air of tranquility that could only be brought on by a season of trauma then a season of encouragement by something spiritual, or in these parts Jesus Christ!)
Alicia; "Gooday hun! glad 'ya made it. You're Thursday through Sunday, Right?"
Holly: "Yes! When is checkout?"
Alicia: " Standard eleven o'clock. But I can work with 'ya. 'Ya look like you'd take care of things. People come here with many demands. 'Ya know pool temp, pillow fluff" (Rolling her eyes). "When it comes to life it's meaning what people expect, they seem so pressed against. 'Ya know what they desire and what they deserve. Here's your key." (She hands her a key with the number 75) "Oh, and dinner is served buffet style at six sharp, but there is a steakhouse a block away on Spruce street that serves Bison. Jes, let me know sweety!"
(Holly, lumbering away from the counter with her bag standing half her height-she turns left down the hall)
Holly: "Yes mam! Thank You!"
END SCENE 9 ACT I
Main Characters:
Davis Russell: Husband of Holly Russell and friend of Cary Conner. Graduate of Wake Forest University employed as a biochemical engineer
Holly Russell: Wife of Davis Russell and fundraiser for the Christian Coalition of Central North Carolina-graduate of Liberty University with a MA from Wake Forest in Political Science where she met Davis at an open sorority party
Cary Conner: best friend and old roomate of Davis' from Wake Forest
Katherine "Kat" Mullens: best friend of Holly's from Briarcrest Baptist Church in Greensboro.
Supporting Cast:
Stangood and Amelia Russell: Davis' parents from Greensboro
Thomas "Tom" and Kate Crenshaw: Holly's parent's from Winston Salem
Alicia Blackstone: desk clerk at Pine Ridge Bed and Breakfast-Blowing Rock, North Carolina
Jackson Cuffson: Deep sea charter captain of "Fathom Wisperer"-Morehead City, North Carolina
Anthony "Tony" Rizzoli: Captain of Cutter # 5 Station 19 Smith Island-Brunswick County, North Carolina and Horry County, South Carolina
Albion "Al" McDermott: first mate to Tony Rizzoli
Billy "Buck" Walker: Watauga County, North Carolina sherriff's deputy
Rex Stansfield: Boone City Fire and Rescue Captain
Jason Bonner: Co chief and Liutenant to Rex Stansfield
Scene 8 Act I
(It's Thursday morning of the following week. A weak and lazy shade of sunshine limps through their bay window as Holly and Davis embrace timidly, quickly and at half arms length as if they are brother and sister being photographed for a family holiday photo. The day has arrived for Holly to head west to Blowing Rock and Davis east to Morehead, City. Holly leaves in her silver 1999 Honda Accord turning right of out the driveway. Davis leaves in his navy blue Jeep Cherokee turning left out of the driveway. By now Holly has passed Winston Salem leaving behind Intrastate 40 for Highway 421 which will carry her to Boone then south to Blowing Rock. Celine Dion is playing on the radio.)
Holly: "I've been over you for some time now baby" (Holly mimics Celine's voice with tears of nostalgia in her eyes as she remembers this song playing in the car on her and Davis' first date) I don't miss your kiss like before now anymore now." (Wiping tears on her sleave she stops) "Man Holly get a grip! This weekend was preordered to avoid all this."
(By now Davis has made better progress just east of Raleigh on Intrastate 264-Greenville bound.)
Davis: "Dad! Que Pasa! Guess what-headin' for Onslow to catch stripe 'n' bluegill."
(Stangood is tall with long thin limbs and a classic pattern of male baldness. Amelia, Davis' mother of similar build for a women but with deep brown eyes and shoulder length brown gray speckled hair sits by Stangood with Barney their 17 year old Bassett Hound on their tan love seat.)
Stangood: "Son! Wait hold on your mother is trying to say hello!"
Amelia: "Dee!"
Davis: "Mom!"
Amelia: "How are things with you and H?"
Davis: "Better! Especially after this weekend I hope!"
Amelia: "I hear your going trolling! Please, be careful. There's a 'cane out just off of Myrtle Beach."
Stangood: (Interrupting in the background) "Sweety, it's a depression-no longer a hurricane!(To Davis) "Sorry!" You know how mom gets melodramatic and such. Don't freak but be careful. Seas should be ten to fifteen feet. Might even scare up something rare like a big Whitey or Tiger."
Davis: (Turning the car into road 11 headed toward Kinston) "I know, I know. Trust me this captain has ten years charter experience, referred by no other than Conner."
Stangood: "Jimminy Cricket! Conor!" (Chuckling) "Well, I guess it's O.K. He's not dead yet. Although, sometimes I wonder......Son! use good judgement!"
Amelia: "Sweety! wear your life jacket!"
Davis: "I will! Love you guys!"
Amelia/Stangood: "You much always goodbye! (Davis turns right onto Highway 70 toward Morehead City and Bogue Sound).
Scene 9 Act I
(By now Holly is checking in at the front desk at Pine Ridge Bed and Breakfast. Pine Ridge's proprietor is Alicia Blackstone. A widow with plump limbs soft green eyes and alabaster skin. She presents an air of tranquility that could only be brought on by a season of trauma then a season of encouragement by something spiritual, or in these parts Jesus Christ!)
Alicia; "Gooday hun! glad 'ya made it. You're Thursday through Sunday, Right?"
Holly: "Yes! When is checkout?"
Alicia: " Standard eleven o'clock. But I can work with 'ya. 'Ya look like you'd take care of things. People come here with many demands. 'Ya know pool temp, pillow fluff" (Rolling her eyes). "When it comes to life it's meaning what people expect, they seem so pressed against. 'Ya know what they desire and what they deserve. Here's your key." (She hands her a key with the number 75) "Oh, and dinner is served buffet style at six sharp, but there is a steakhouse a block away on Spruce street that serves Bison. Jes, let me know sweety!"
(Holly, lumbering away from the counter with her bag standing half her height-she turns left down the hall)
Holly: "Yes mam! Thank You!"
END SCENE 9 ACT I
Friday, November 25, 2011
"A North Georgia Luv Story"
I once told a luv I'd show her around the world
As a blossoming dogwood our dreams unfurled
I told my love I'd take her to Athens and Rome
To consumate our love far from home
When we crossed the Georgia state line
with no airport in sight-no scheduled flight
Rome Georgia behind-we pulled off the road
over a well worn slot-and she dumped me
on the spot! a slap to the face burnin' hot
she dumped me on the spot!
As a blossoming dogwood our dreams unfurled
I told my love I'd take her to Athens and Rome
To consumate our love far from home
When we crossed the Georgia state line
with no airport in sight-no scheduled flight
Rome Georgia behind-we pulled off the road
over a well worn slot-and she dumped me
on the spot! a slap to the face burnin' hot
she dumped me on the spot!
"Dewlickers"
I have been livin' in this house for only a short while, couple of years maybe. It seems to me that my family is always having to cope with life's changes. Everyone lays their burdens at my side since they know that I cannot speak. They know I can't spout off criticism or my own irrational opinions.
Cassie, the youngest of four siblings, is about to enter the seventh grade. A wrapping of blue eyes and blond hair, she definitely takes after her father. She's just entering the collosal sea of adolescence and cannot totally define her place in our family, much less the world.
'Sampson, precious Sampson, which dress do you think I look best in?" She asks me as if she was central Mississippi's top debutante. "I guess I'll go with black, after all it really brings about my figure. Justin, the starting quarterback and my date, would prefer me in red. But I being a Shillingsworth, am persuaded by no man even if he is of blue-blooded nobility. Well, Sampson your right again definitely black. Most positively, absolutely black, amazingly, sexy black." With the gait only a Southern women would have she leaves the room and I alone in a cloud of curiosity.
"Touchdown, touchdown! Hot Damn Hotty Toddy Gosh Almighty Who the Hell Are We." Grant, the oldest, is scolding and embracing our only television set. Ya see, the University of Mississippi, better known as Ole Miss in these parts, has just scored a go ahead touchdown over rival Mississippi State with three seconds to go. He has just completed his degree in business management from Ole Miss!
Once dad died he solely took over at the lumber factory. Shillingsworth's lumber company has been an example of only a few constants in our town of Meridian, or in Mississippi for that matter. At first, wanting to slowly learn about the ins and outs of the business, Grant had to press his luck. He flipped the hand given to him and cashed it in like a Natchez river boat gambler in order to keep the company running. All in all I believe that this onslaught of sudden responsibility has made him better equipped at the bigger challenge of the responsibility of caring for a family.
"Lacybird, almost done? I cannot imagine celebrating a Rebel victory on an empty stomach!" "Has Roland prepared the table like I asked him?" Lacy, the oldest daughter, has an almost foreign spirit about her. Her coffee colored eyes and raven hair definitely come from the cajun side of the family. Our mother's name was Leone and her family owned much land just this 'side of New Orleans. She met dad at a fraternity social while at Ole Miss. Although, she is sixteen her responsibilities render her a dynamic of maturity beyond biological years. She plays mother to Grant's father. "Can't you think of anything else besides food and stuffin' yo innards G.S. "Like I said before, a Rebel victory always gives me hunger pangs." G.S. it always also gives 'ya gas and if it's a victory over State or Auburn you become sloppy drunk." "But, hey Lace, at least I'm happy all the way through it. Besides it's the way of a "Southern Gent" to live and indulge a little."
"Cassandra, Roland let's grub," shouts Grant as the two make their way down the stairs into the kitchen. " What kinda redneck talk is that for a college educated and sophisticated man?" states Lace as she sets the turkey at the center of the table. "True Southern vernacular and only a Mississippian can get away with it, even if he is of partial blue-blooded birth." To a man I laugh at this though as all members of the family bow to pray.
"O.K., who wants to pray grace? Roland, Cassie, Grant! Grant!" Lacy looks sharply at Grant. After a second of quick tension Roland speaks up. "I will, I'll do it! Dear fabber in heben we ask ya ta bless this turkey and bread that will fill our head-so we also thank you for the love as well as the grub. AMEN!" Amen, whispers the others. "Look at this sort of backward influence that yer havin' G.S." Grant is unable to defend himself due to a mouthful of dressing. Lacy smiles warmly at Roland and pats him on the back.
Roland, equally half Shillingsworth and half Leone, is seven and therefore the youngest. I personally see great things for Rolls, as he is effectionately called. With a gleeful smile and quick wit, for a seven year old, he will be successful in any career. He also just might be successful with the most sparklin' of the debutantes this fine community has to offa! With soft sandy hair and beagle dog hazel eyes he is the radiance of the family. But don't tell Cassie 'cause she thinks she is.
The growing shadow in the hallway and the clock chimes signal the five o' clock hour. I begin to slide unto the couch for a nap. But before I do this I must remind Lacey, in my own subtle way, to take her pain medicine. You see! Lace has bone marrow cancer and has yet to begin chemo. She has chronic pain in her knees, neck and arms. Through all this, she perseveres and has a steadfast faith in the Creator.
Roland is a paraplegic who had a severe bicycle accident just barely a year ago. Judging by his warmth and desire to learn about all "THERE IS TO KNOW" people soon take his paralysis for granted. If there is anyone who will walk again using their sheer willpower it will be Rolls. He sure has my support.
Cassie's handicap is not as obvious as Lacy's or Roland's. Her physical beauty is evident in her taunt, junior high school body. But because of Ma 'en Pa's death, due to a capsize on the family skiff off of the Chandalier's, she can no longer feel anything beautiful inside of her. By becoming self-absorbed she can rely on herself and not be at the mercy of outside heavens that could full and crush her dreams once more.
Grant, once a young man who had big dreams and a soft smile has to carry the weight of the family. He has to handle the blow of a reality that crushes his creativity and brings about a somberness to his life. Although, he knows better he finds his muse in the bottle. But in the end I know he is a better man and he will come out of it in all magnitude.
As for myself, well, some see me as the family mutt; who chews up bones and upholstry. Others may view me as the ladybug perched on the orchids by the window sill. Or maybe I'm just the families' guardian angel who hears my sisters and brothers as they speak to themselves and think that no one is listening. Like the morning dew that comes and soaks thirsty grass, I was put here to give nourishment to these people that I love so much. That's why I call them "DEWLICKERS!"
Cassie, the youngest of four siblings, is about to enter the seventh grade. A wrapping of blue eyes and blond hair, she definitely takes after her father. She's just entering the collosal sea of adolescence and cannot totally define her place in our family, much less the world.
'Sampson, precious Sampson, which dress do you think I look best in?" She asks me as if she was central Mississippi's top debutante. "I guess I'll go with black, after all it really brings about my figure. Justin, the starting quarterback and my date, would prefer me in red. But I being a Shillingsworth, am persuaded by no man even if he is of blue-blooded nobility. Well, Sampson your right again definitely black. Most positively, absolutely black, amazingly, sexy black." With the gait only a Southern women would have she leaves the room and I alone in a cloud of curiosity.
"Touchdown, touchdown! Hot Damn Hotty Toddy Gosh Almighty Who the Hell Are We." Grant, the oldest, is scolding and embracing our only television set. Ya see, the University of Mississippi, better known as Ole Miss in these parts, has just scored a go ahead touchdown over rival Mississippi State with three seconds to go. He has just completed his degree in business management from Ole Miss!
Once dad died he solely took over at the lumber factory. Shillingsworth's lumber company has been an example of only a few constants in our town of Meridian, or in Mississippi for that matter. At first, wanting to slowly learn about the ins and outs of the business, Grant had to press his luck. He flipped the hand given to him and cashed it in like a Natchez river boat gambler in order to keep the company running. All in all I believe that this onslaught of sudden responsibility has made him better equipped at the bigger challenge of the responsibility of caring for a family.
"Lacybird, almost done? I cannot imagine celebrating a Rebel victory on an empty stomach!" "Has Roland prepared the table like I asked him?" Lacy, the oldest daughter, has an almost foreign spirit about her. Her coffee colored eyes and raven hair definitely come from the cajun side of the family. Our mother's name was Leone and her family owned much land just this 'side of New Orleans. She met dad at a fraternity social while at Ole Miss. Although, she is sixteen her responsibilities render her a dynamic of maturity beyond biological years. She plays mother to Grant's father. "Can't you think of anything else besides food and stuffin' yo innards G.S. "Like I said before, a Rebel victory always gives me hunger pangs." G.S. it always also gives 'ya gas and if it's a victory over State or Auburn you become sloppy drunk." "But, hey Lace, at least I'm happy all the way through it. Besides it's the way of a "Southern Gent" to live and indulge a little."
"Cassandra, Roland let's grub," shouts Grant as the two make their way down the stairs into the kitchen. " What kinda redneck talk is that for a college educated and sophisticated man?" states Lace as she sets the turkey at the center of the table. "True Southern vernacular and only a Mississippian can get away with it, even if he is of partial blue-blooded birth." To a man I laugh at this though as all members of the family bow to pray.
"O.K., who wants to pray grace? Roland, Cassie, Grant! Grant!" Lacy looks sharply at Grant. After a second of quick tension Roland speaks up. "I will, I'll do it! Dear fabber in heben we ask ya ta bless this turkey and bread that will fill our head-so we also thank you for the love as well as the grub. AMEN!" Amen, whispers the others. "Look at this sort of backward influence that yer havin' G.S." Grant is unable to defend himself due to a mouthful of dressing. Lacy smiles warmly at Roland and pats him on the back.
Roland, equally half Shillingsworth and half Leone, is seven and therefore the youngest. I personally see great things for Rolls, as he is effectionately called. With a gleeful smile and quick wit, for a seven year old, he will be successful in any career. He also just might be successful with the most sparklin' of the debutantes this fine community has to offa! With soft sandy hair and beagle dog hazel eyes he is the radiance of the family. But don't tell Cassie 'cause she thinks she is.
The growing shadow in the hallway and the clock chimes signal the five o' clock hour. I begin to slide unto the couch for a nap. But before I do this I must remind Lacey, in my own subtle way, to take her pain medicine. You see! Lace has bone marrow cancer and has yet to begin chemo. She has chronic pain in her knees, neck and arms. Through all this, she perseveres and has a steadfast faith in the Creator.
Roland is a paraplegic who had a severe bicycle accident just barely a year ago. Judging by his warmth and desire to learn about all "THERE IS TO KNOW" people soon take his paralysis for granted. If there is anyone who will walk again using their sheer willpower it will be Rolls. He sure has my support.
Cassie's handicap is not as obvious as Lacy's or Roland's. Her physical beauty is evident in her taunt, junior high school body. But because of Ma 'en Pa's death, due to a capsize on the family skiff off of the Chandalier's, she can no longer feel anything beautiful inside of her. By becoming self-absorbed she can rely on herself and not be at the mercy of outside heavens that could full and crush her dreams once more.
Grant, once a young man who had big dreams and a soft smile has to carry the weight of the family. He has to handle the blow of a reality that crushes his creativity and brings about a somberness to his life. Although, he knows better he finds his muse in the bottle. But in the end I know he is a better man and he will come out of it in all magnitude.
As for myself, well, some see me as the family mutt; who chews up bones and upholstry. Others may view me as the ladybug perched on the orchids by the window sill. Or maybe I'm just the families' guardian angel who hears my sisters and brothers as they speak to themselves and think that no one is listening. Like the morning dew that comes and soaks thirsty grass, I was put here to give nourishment to these people that I love so much. That's why I call them "DEWLICKERS!"
Thursday, November 24, 2011
"So why this title to a blog?" An Intraspective Synopsis
As an English major at the University of Alabama I was fortunate to be exposed to a number of fine instructors who brought out my fascination with all types of literature. Being a student at a Southern university, believe me BAMA was that as it was torched by union troops during the war, it was a given that I would be exposed to Southern Literature. BAMA is a Southern icon with it's greek revival building architecture, beautiful but snooty sorority coeds and classic football teams. Of coarse there was Faulkner, O'Conner and Welty. With their stories came countless class hours of intrigue and joy. Then there were the movements that were studied as well. In the summer of 1998 I had the priviledge of studying under Dwight Eddins. Eddins had received his post graduate training at Vanderbilt University in Nashville Tennessee. Aside from being a gentleman and a scholar, Eddins's Vandy connection brought even more of a familiar attraction. Several close relatives of mine had attended this prestigious university. Being a hard working, but not as naturally gifted student as those family members, Vandy was never a real option for me. Also, with my father having a great salary but two boys in college together, it was understood that the public state university was the only true option for me. So making the best of this I took all the finest literature courses that Alabama was known for.
I will never forget our study that summer on a literary movement called Southern Agrarianism. Half asleep, probably from the road trip to Gulf Shores the night before, I was ready to assume my usual position at the back of the room, head down-eyes closed. Eddins begins to discuss Vanderbilt and his training there. He then discusses the literary agrarian movement and how he was specifically trained by some of the movement's fathers. Well, it's safe to say that I was awake with head up-eyes wide open.
I say all this to tell you why this movement is so important to the South. And why it is so important to Southern writers like myself. Briefly, it reminded the rest of America what writers from our region had to offer. It was a response to critics such as H.L. Mencken and those who thought that urbanism will and should change the face of literature. A face that looked itself in the mirror only to see liberalism, secularism, anti God-Country-Family. But these men took heart in the belief that each corner of America should be judged fairly, even if their part of America had not done so to those unfortunately maginalized. Simply put, the essence of this movement, contained an idea that life on the farm was still ideal. Dogwoods and Azaleas bloomin' in April on any Georgia country side was as magnificent as the canals of Venice. Fried chicken after church hymns was heaven on earth.
So with all this being said there was really only one choice in naming my pub "Modern Agrarian's Southern Writer's. Just as the Southern Agrarians, aka 12 Southernors, aka Vanderbilt Agrarians aka Fugitive Poets came before us; Faulkner, Welty and O'Conner came before them. Our work weaves together each on of us from past to present. As a "torch bearer" for agrarian style writers future tense, it is my honor to carry on the legacy of this movement any way I can. And make no mistake! No matter if your from Ohio, California or New Hampshire "agrarianism" has no bounderies. Her beauty is not regionalized, but is in the soul of those who love the simple things and praise their essence through writing, song, dance and theater. She kindly accepts all races and nationalities as well. So pull up a stool and tell us your favorite story. Because the ghost of the past are never too far away and have always loved to share a pint of their favorite spirit with new friends.
J.C.B
I will never forget our study that summer on a literary movement called Southern Agrarianism. Half asleep, probably from the road trip to Gulf Shores the night before, I was ready to assume my usual position at the back of the room, head down-eyes closed. Eddins begins to discuss Vanderbilt and his training there. He then discusses the literary agrarian movement and how he was specifically trained by some of the movement's fathers. Well, it's safe to say that I was awake with head up-eyes wide open.
I say all this to tell you why this movement is so important to the South. And why it is so important to Southern writers like myself. Briefly, it reminded the rest of America what writers from our region had to offer. It was a response to critics such as H.L. Mencken and those who thought that urbanism will and should change the face of literature. A face that looked itself in the mirror only to see liberalism, secularism, anti God-Country-Family. But these men took heart in the belief that each corner of America should be judged fairly, even if their part of America had not done so to those unfortunately maginalized. Simply put, the essence of this movement, contained an idea that life on the farm was still ideal. Dogwoods and Azaleas bloomin' in April on any Georgia country side was as magnificent as the canals of Venice. Fried chicken after church hymns was heaven on earth.
So with all this being said there was really only one choice in naming my pub "Modern Agrarian's Southern Writer's. Just as the Southern Agrarians, aka 12 Southernors, aka Vanderbilt Agrarians aka Fugitive Poets came before us; Faulkner, Welty and O'Conner came before them. Our work weaves together each on of us from past to present. As a "torch bearer" for agrarian style writers future tense, it is my honor to carry on the legacy of this movement any way I can. And make no mistake! No matter if your from Ohio, California or New Hampshire "agrarianism" has no bounderies. Her beauty is not regionalized, but is in the soul of those who love the simple things and praise their essence through writing, song, dance and theater. She kindly accepts all races and nationalities as well. So pull up a stool and tell us your favorite story. Because the ghost of the past are never too far away and have always loved to share a pint of their favorite spirit with new friends.
J.C.B
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
"Protege"
when this place lost it's warmth, I really can't say
It's been a week's time since I moved back in
when this place lost it's caress, could have been any day
It's been five dreary moons since I discovered in mammal form
My protege
when night began to overun the day, I really can't say
It's been six suns watching my loneliness
and attempt to take in for my simplest needs
play out in the life of my protege.
It's been seven winds since my old roomate left with his wife
And to myself once a spirited but empty house
It's been one snap that a peanut butter and a copper/wooden trap
caused the death of my protege a young field mouse.
It's been a week's time since I moved back in
when this place lost it's caress, could have been any day
It's been five dreary moons since I discovered in mammal form
My protege
when night began to overun the day, I really can't say
It's been six suns watching my loneliness
and attempt to take in for my simplest needs
play out in the life of my protege.
It's been seven winds since my old roomate left with his wife
And to myself once a spirited but empty house
It's been one snap that a peanut butter and a copper/wooden trap
caused the death of my protege a young field mouse.
"Purely Breathable"
I levitated to the top
of the noontide sky at the age of eight
as a child I bathed my filth
I caressed you floating above
it all as pillowed dream
as real it did seem
oh blissful you are as gift
Your gentle precious heart burns
through memories so sick and feelings enslaving
to drive me toward the vision
of what a boy should be
I'm lifted high on the palm of your virginity
I'm lifted high on my affection for thee
Don't wake me
Don't wake me
of the noontide sky at the age of eight
as a child I bathed my filth
I caressed you floating above
it all as pillowed dream
as real it did seem
oh blissful you are as gift
Your gentle precious heart burns
through memories so sick and feelings enslaving
to drive me toward the vision
of what a boy should be
I'm lifted high on the palm of your virginity
I'm lifted high on my affection for thee
Don't wake me
Don't wake me
"Wayne Hooks"
On clear night in Gadsden town
a ring of hoodlums were drivin' round
They smashed the mailbox of one Mr. Hooks
He chased the neophytes down the side of Country Club
mountain as if they were crooks
At the red light they stopped Wayne took out a bat
smashin' their car trunk flat
Green flashed the new light as they sped outta sight
There once was a man named Wayne
some thought was insane
Who sped down country club mountain motor bike way
after some crooks and introduced himself as Mr. Hooks
He introduced himself as Mr. Hooks
a ring of hoodlums were drivin' round
They smashed the mailbox of one Mr. Hooks
He chased the neophytes down the side of Country Club
mountain as if they were crooks
At the red light they stopped Wayne took out a bat
smashin' their car trunk flat
Green flashed the new light as they sped outta sight
There once was a man named Wayne
some thought was insane
Who sped down country club mountain motor bike way
after some crooks and introduced himself as Mr. Hooks
He introduced himself as Mr. Hooks
"Blossom Extravaganza"
March winds blow the pale sun glows
The meadow grows into a splendid circus
Dancing with glee
The lovely pines summon the joys of life to awaken
From their dreary winter slumber
March winds blow a new start for you and me
God's nature from winter's asylum, breaks free
to hear the chirps of the blue bird
and the buzz of the honeybee
March winds blow cold and warm
Unstable air and strong winds are the norm
neighboring woods open shop
with a buzz a crackle and a pop
sun caresses me with a hug
a feeling upon my skin so snug
March winds blow as the children play
a bundle of laughter hope and joy
A parent's smile for each girl and boy
God's beautiful creation is rewarded
By Mother Nature's Praise
The meadow grows into a splendid circus
Dancing with glee
The lovely pines summon the joys of life to awaken
From their dreary winter slumber
March winds blow a new start for you and me
God's nature from winter's asylum, breaks free
to hear the chirps of the blue bird
and the buzz of the honeybee
March winds blow cold and warm
Unstable air and strong winds are the norm
neighboring woods open shop
with a buzz a crackle and a pop
sun caresses me with a hug
a feeling upon my skin so snug
March winds blow as the children play
a bundle of laughter hope and joy
A parent's smile for each girl and boy
God's beautiful creation is rewarded
By Mother Nature's Praise
"Lighting Bugs"
TO CUSP SUMMER'S PIECE OF HEAVEN
IN ONE'S HANDS
IS GLORIOUS A BEAUTIFUL FEELING
ACROSS THE FLOWER LAND
A GLOW OF POWER AND DIGNITY
BUT OF WARMTH AND PEACE
WHAT A GRACEFUL MASTER OF
ART AND BEAUTY TO SAY THE LEAST
TO COME TO GRIPS WITH SUCH A
WONDERFUL CREATURE
BRINGS LIFE TO AN INEXPERIENCED SOUL
AS DUSK TURNS TO DARK
THE BREEZE BLOWS COOL
BUT THE WARMTH OF THE LIGHTING BUG
IS HERE TO RULE
SO LIGHT MY WAY IN SUCH A DARK WORLD
BRING ME HOPE IN THE YEARS TO COME
BRING ME HOPE IN A COOL WORLD
WITH SUMMERS TO COME
IN ONE'S HANDS
IS GLORIOUS A BEAUTIFUL FEELING
ACROSS THE FLOWER LAND
A GLOW OF POWER AND DIGNITY
BUT OF WARMTH AND PEACE
WHAT A GRACEFUL MASTER OF
ART AND BEAUTY TO SAY THE LEAST
TO COME TO GRIPS WITH SUCH A
WONDERFUL CREATURE
BRINGS LIFE TO AN INEXPERIENCED SOUL
AS DUSK TURNS TO DARK
THE BREEZE BLOWS COOL
BUT THE WARMTH OF THE LIGHTING BUG
IS HERE TO RULE
SO LIGHT MY WAY IN SUCH A DARK WORLD
BRING ME HOPE IN THE YEARS TO COME
BRING ME HOPE IN A COOL WORLD
WITH SUMMERS TO COME
"The Sandbar" a swim into manhood
"The Gulf looks sorta disgusted. Whadya you think Jared?" "I don't know dad?'' "Maybe the rip current is not stronga 'nough to make for a perilous swim." "At least I hope it isn't." "Son, boy, when I was your age I swam to the sandbar with pops Newman". "He showed me that it was the thing to do if I wanted to prove my manhood!" "But, yer dad grew up in South Carolina." "Yep, he knew the shoals and currents like the back of his hand." "Jared, good try son but you're not gettin out of this so easy 'cause I see lotta you in him. Besides, he swam in the Atlantic."
"We are in the Gulf. The Atlantic has bigger waves and sometimes stronger currents. If he can do the Atlantic then you can do the Gulf!" "Yeah, but the Gulf is still bigga 'nough fer me and my geography teacher told me it's even part of the Atlantic." "O.K. dad, I will give it a try, but I will grab onto your back if I feel tired or if the summer sea lice sting me." "Deal, Jared, you have a deal. But head up at all times with eyes front and center like a marine at Normandy. Try to be tough. You know how all the young girls love tough boys. Some are on the beach probably admiring you right now." "Yeah, but mom doesn't like the idea." "Sport, she is a mature women not impressed with the wiles of adolescence. Itsa young girls you are trying to impress. Remember, just like my first trip was; thisa be your right of passage into manhood."
"Dad, dad I can't stand up anymore, iba, ima gonna guess I gotta use ma arms more." "Jared, just imagine that your are in a pool, like at the Sidmores last July 4th. That's right a big salty pool." Wuaa, was that underneath us?" "Well, son I did not see it. Wad did it look like?" "It, um, looked like the homeplate back at Kemp field." "Did it have a tail streaming out of the back?" "Yeah, it's body was black anda so was the tail." "Sport, that's called a stingray." "Then it musta um...a, sting right dad!" "Only, if you try to grab it. We're alright! We are in ten feet of water and it is at the bottom on the sand."
"Now, Jared, let's stop and feel the bottom with our feet." "But, the thingy, I mean the stingray is down there." "Ah, sport, it's a gonner. By the way I'll be here, right here next to you." "Wha, why is the water getting colder, the sand feels soft and squishy between my toes. Whew! Hey, I did it, I did it. I even stayed under for five seconds." "Felt, good didn't it Sport?" "Ya.....um but I can't touch anymore and I'm getting tired."
"Justa few more feet sport and we will be there, Ah, here it is, this is it, the sandbar. Son, this is that green line you can always see. You can see it from 98 that runs from Destin to Panama City." "But, I can't stand up and I don't see what all the commotion is." "Now, sport, here sit on my shoulders. How is that?" "Wow, I can see to the horizon. Cyan blue as if the sky gifted the water with a multitude of melted blueberries. Where does the water stop? Hey, dad turn towed the beach! Boy, the people look like ants. Like the ones in Miss Jensen's glass container in school. I bet we look the same to them. I bet they can't even see us."
"Hey pa, what's that greenish brown triangle swimming 'tween us and the first sandbar? Dad, what's wrong? Dontcha know what that is? You always point out all the fish. Just like you'd seen the chart in Miss Jensen's room. So tell me, what kind of fish would have a tail like that? Dad, why are you so quiet? Yer, being weird and itsa starting to annoy me!" "Whatdya, whatdya ask me son? I don't think I saw the fin that you were talk'n 'bout." "Ya know dad, ya know dad ' member ya named all of them that day you brought me lunch at Miss Jensen's class. What type of fish has a greenish brown fin?" "Son, I dunno! When we get back to the beach cottage, I'll look it up in Rutherford's Saltwater Almanac on the breakfast table." "I bet Ruthafud doesn't have the pictures that Miss Jensen's poster does."
"For now, son let's just tread water here on the sandbar." "But dad, Ima....t...tired and I want to go back to the beach and I'm startin' to ich around my arms and neck." Yes, sport , sea lice are the smallest yet largest annoyance from Navarre to Sarasota." "But, I'm tired and I want to go back to the beach!" Ah, come on sport Pops Newman would be proud of you if he could see ya treadin' water this long." "But, my side hurts and I want to be were I can stand again! Cum...on dad!" "Dammit, son it's not that hard. just a few minutes longer! I can't I can't!" "Look, Jared I'm sorry! I know yer tired. Just five more ticks 'round the clock. Grab ma hand if you get tired!"
"Well, five ticks have passed sport. Let's go!" "Hey, dad we've gotten closer to tha beach and the people look bigger. Bigger, just like the cock roaches in Mrs. Jensen's class. Ouch, something keeps stinging my leg. Ahh...Owww! my shoulder, it all hurts. What's it dad? What is stinging?" "It's the tentacles of the jelleys that have broken off of their bodies. Keep swimmin' we will be out of it in a second." "Hey, dad there is that rectangle again, it's itsa behind us now."
"Junior, race ya to tha beach. First one in get's the most ice cream tonight! Last one eats the cockroaches in Miss Jensen's class." "But, I can't. I'm Ima tired." "Dammit Junior, dontcha want ice cream? Now swim son, swim faster!" "Hey, dad I can stand up again." I told ya boy you can do anything ya set yer mind to. You did well out there and Ima proud of ya. Although, we tied you still get the ice cream." "Does that mean ya still gotta eat the cockroaches from Miss Jensen's class?" "We'll sport if she still has...um...September I'll take a chance. Alright, son last one to tha beach house is an ole skinny skeleton." "Ya, mean like the one in Miss Jensen's class!" "That's right son." "Hey, Mr. Newman ya' dropped your father's family pendant. Here I scooped it up right by waters edge. It must've made it's way offa your neck chain." "Thanks, Davis. If it wasn't for eagle eyed life guards like you I would make a pauper rich with all the important things Iva lost on this beach. I have been waitin' 3 summers to give this to Jared. Looks like he finally earned it. Davis, want to join me and sport for an ice cream cool down." "Sure!" "last one to the house is a sumabitch." "That's right Mr. Newman, just as a father who doesn't tell his son he just saw a tiger shark is one as well." "We'll Davis ya got me there." "Yessir, yours was the third sightin' this week. Yessir, the third sighting this week. I hope you have coconut and cherries. Im starvin'!"
"We are in the Gulf. The Atlantic has bigger waves and sometimes stronger currents. If he can do the Atlantic then you can do the Gulf!" "Yeah, but the Gulf is still bigga 'nough fer me and my geography teacher told me it's even part of the Atlantic." "O.K. dad, I will give it a try, but I will grab onto your back if I feel tired or if the summer sea lice sting me." "Deal, Jared, you have a deal. But head up at all times with eyes front and center like a marine at Normandy. Try to be tough. You know how all the young girls love tough boys. Some are on the beach probably admiring you right now." "Yeah, but mom doesn't like the idea." "Sport, she is a mature women not impressed with the wiles of adolescence. Itsa young girls you are trying to impress. Remember, just like my first trip was; thisa be your right of passage into manhood."
"Dad, dad I can't stand up anymore, iba, ima gonna guess I gotta use ma arms more." "Jared, just imagine that your are in a pool, like at the Sidmores last July 4th. That's right a big salty pool." Wuaa, was that underneath us?" "Well, son I did not see it. Wad did it look like?" "It, um, looked like the homeplate back at Kemp field." "Did it have a tail streaming out of the back?" "Yeah, it's body was black anda so was the tail." "Sport, that's called a stingray." "Then it musta um...a, sting right dad!" "Only, if you try to grab it. We're alright! We are in ten feet of water and it is at the bottom on the sand."
"Now, Jared, let's stop and feel the bottom with our feet." "But, the thingy, I mean the stingray is down there." "Ah, sport, it's a gonner. By the way I'll be here, right here next to you." "Wha, why is the water getting colder, the sand feels soft and squishy between my toes. Whew! Hey, I did it, I did it. I even stayed under for five seconds." "Felt, good didn't it Sport?" "Ya.....um but I can't touch anymore and I'm getting tired."
"Justa few more feet sport and we will be there, Ah, here it is, this is it, the sandbar. Son, this is that green line you can always see. You can see it from 98 that runs from Destin to Panama City." "But, I can't stand up and I don't see what all the commotion is." "Now, sport, here sit on my shoulders. How is that?" "Wow, I can see to the horizon. Cyan blue as if the sky gifted the water with a multitude of melted blueberries. Where does the water stop? Hey, dad turn towed the beach! Boy, the people look like ants. Like the ones in Miss Jensen's glass container in school. I bet we look the same to them. I bet they can't even see us."
"Hey pa, what's that greenish brown triangle swimming 'tween us and the first sandbar? Dad, what's wrong? Dontcha know what that is? You always point out all the fish. Just like you'd seen the chart in Miss Jensen's room. So tell me, what kind of fish would have a tail like that? Dad, why are you so quiet? Yer, being weird and itsa starting to annoy me!" "Whatdya, whatdya ask me son? I don't think I saw the fin that you were talk'n 'bout." "Ya know dad, ya know dad ' member ya named all of them that day you brought me lunch at Miss Jensen's class. What type of fish has a greenish brown fin?" "Son, I dunno! When we get back to the beach cottage, I'll look it up in Rutherford's Saltwater Almanac on the breakfast table." "I bet Ruthafud doesn't have the pictures that Miss Jensen's poster does."
"For now, son let's just tread water here on the sandbar." "But dad, Ima....t...tired and I want to go back to the beach and I'm startin' to ich around my arms and neck." Yes, sport , sea lice are the smallest yet largest annoyance from Navarre to Sarasota." "But, I'm tired and I want to go back to the beach!" Ah, come on sport Pops Newman would be proud of you if he could see ya treadin' water this long." "But, my side hurts and I want to be were I can stand again! Cum...on dad!" "Dammit, son it's not that hard. just a few minutes longer! I can't I can't!" "Look, Jared I'm sorry! I know yer tired. Just five more ticks 'round the clock. Grab ma hand if you get tired!"
"Well, five ticks have passed sport. Let's go!" "Hey, dad we've gotten closer to tha beach and the people look bigger. Bigger, just like the cock roaches in Mrs. Jensen's class. Ouch, something keeps stinging my leg. Ahh...Owww! my shoulder, it all hurts. What's it dad? What is stinging?" "It's the tentacles of the jelleys that have broken off of their bodies. Keep swimmin' we will be out of it in a second." "Hey, dad there is that rectangle again, it's itsa behind us now."
"Junior, race ya to tha beach. First one in get's the most ice cream tonight! Last one eats the cockroaches in Miss Jensen's class." "But, I can't. I'm Ima tired." "Dammit Junior, dontcha want ice cream? Now swim son, swim faster!" "Hey, dad I can stand up again." I told ya boy you can do anything ya set yer mind to. You did well out there and Ima proud of ya. Although, we tied you still get the ice cream." "Does that mean ya still gotta eat the cockroaches from Miss Jensen's class?" "We'll sport if she still has...um...September I'll take a chance. Alright, son last one to tha beach house is an ole skinny skeleton." "Ya, mean like the one in Miss Jensen's class!" "That's right son." "Hey, Mr. Newman ya' dropped your father's family pendant. Here I scooped it up right by waters edge. It must've made it's way offa your neck chain." "Thanks, Davis. If it wasn't for eagle eyed life guards like you I would make a pauper rich with all the important things Iva lost on this beach. I have been waitin' 3 summers to give this to Jared. Looks like he finally earned it. Davis, want to join me and sport for an ice cream cool down." "Sure!" "last one to the house is a sumabitch." "That's right Mr. Newman, just as a father who doesn't tell his son he just saw a tiger shark is one as well." "We'll Davis ya got me there." "Yessir, yours was the third sightin' this week. Yessir, the third sighting this week. I hope you have coconut and cherries. Im starvin'!"
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