The Muddled Mess

If you wish to understand yourself, you must succeed in doing so in the midst of all kinds of confusions and upsets.

Emyo
**********
First of all I must give my love and appreciation to those who offered their sympathy and understanding about my computer nightmare over the weekend into Tuesday.

I'm sifting through the ruins of my files to see what I cn salvage. I had over 200 photos, most of them are lost, but I managed to save a few from my camera and some email archives. My stories are still there on my Vagabond Tales blog, but all the notes and research I did is gone. I will have to do a lot of rethinking about the story I'm currently working on. Three of my unfinished stories are lost.

Also being pulled out of the soggy chaos of my records are some lessons. Always back everything up is, of course, one of them, but it's the very simplest one. Some people have said I was patient for putting up with 23 hours on the telephone over the three days. That's an arguable point. To a certain degree I felt I had no choice. But it moight have been lessened by beginning with a different attitude.

Desperation: I was so concerned about getting things fixed that I became reactive instead of proactive. The tech supporter needed me to unplug something from the back of computer. I was crawling around on the floor trying to find it when we got disconnected. I should have stopped and waited for her to call back. But I stubbornly insisted on finding that cable first and in the process I accidentally pulled one of the cords out of the back of the phone. She did call back but couldn't get me so she left a message. When I finally found the cable and unplugged it I had to call which meant I got a different tech support person and had to start explaining everything from the beginning which is why the first restoration didn't work and why the files were incorrectly backed up.

Rage: I got into such a fury about the problems that I wasn't thinking straight by the time I was 5 hours into the process and hence made some hasty moves that had to be redone.

Distress: Not being able to access my backed up files after carefully following the directions to back them up put the squeeze on my nerves. I tried to compensate with too many cups of coffee and too many cigarettes which only made things worse. By the time I reached 13 hours on the phone I was a manic mess.

Frustration: Life is full of frustrations. It's how we react to them that matters. I piled up in my mind all the previous computer problems I have had and was pounding on the door of heaven asking why I had to suffer all this when some people just turn their computers on and never bother with all the trouble I have had. I was trying to throw myself on the mercy of a benignly uncaring universe.

Sorrow: When it became for certain on Tuesday evening, after over 20 hours on the phone, that my files were never going to be recovered, I felt robbed, not only of my personal and important information and pictures, but of three days of the time and energies of my life. When I had been looking forward with joy to 4 uninterrupted days of reading, writing, painting and thinking, I had spent it on the phone in the mundane and uninspiring task of trying to get my computer working again in all of it's facets. I really felt strongly like giving up.

Dependence: The whole experience made me realize how dependent I am, and many others are, on this electronic and technical marvel that didn't even exist 50 years ago, and, at the same time, how vulnerable it is to breaking down, much more vulnerable than an automobile. How in less than ten years has it come to run so much of my life that life stops if it stops. For an aged man who lives in a town where very few know him, the contact with the world and the invisible friends I have as a result are about as important to me as food. But that also means I am chained to it with all its vagaries.

These are some of the lessons I've gleaned from the muddled mess that was the result of my 3 day war on malfunctioning machinery. I'm sure there are other bits of wisdom still to be salvaged out of the chaos, and I'm still rummaging for them.

DB - The Vagabond
**************************
WINTER QUESTION
(This is not a contest)

What was the most significant even that happened in 2010?

dbdacoba@aol.com

I await your answer.
DB
******************************

computer blog 12/30

One of the worst, most tragic and distressing parts of the three day nightmare I just went through is the fact that it robbed me of time and chance to do any serious thinking. why is my brain confused with a mze of useless, mundane material which I needed to know just to send a comment on someone's emai?

I was saying recently to someone, I think it was Sue, the computer companies are like the IRS. The IRS expects us to keep careful records of every penny we spend, save all receipts, carefully labeled and categorized, keep up to date books of assets and liabilities and to understand all the intricacies of the tax codes. To them,that is the most important thing. We can live our lives, go to work, cook, clean and raise our kids in our spare time.

Fortunately the various computer companies can't prosecute us, fine us and imprison us if we mess up, but no doubt that's coming some day. But they will expect us to know what they are talking about and sometimes be mercilessly condescending to us if we don't know.

You don't need to know all the intricacies of your furnace in order for it to heat your house. And if it stops working and you call the company, you won't get someone from some nameless country who tells you to twist this gismo and fiddle with that gadget.

With each passing year the systems get more complicated and hence more vulnerable and more out of reach of the basic user. I am more than frustrated. This recent nightmare has just about robbed me of my desire, my enthusiasm and my sense of humor.

DB

computer blog 12/29

An accumulation of 23 hours on the telephone and $110 over the past 3 days it took me 65 minutes to log on this evening.

No Entries

Dear Ones

I may get back to posting entries on Vagabond Journeys one day soon. I hope so, but right now I don't feel like it. It's been three days of hell. After two full back to factory restorations my computer is worse off than it was before the crash. My settings don't stay set. The desk top doesn't fit the screen such that the Start button is hidden, it spite of changing the screen resolution. I have trouble logging on each time. I learned Tuesday night that my backup files are inaccessible even though I followed the directions carefully. I have spent many hours on the phone over three days squinting to try to read instructions in small white font on a gray background until my head hurts. The new systems are very poor and not designed for a guy like me. I have lost a lot of freedom and flexibility. If I can do anything it will be reading blogs and emails and commenting. I won't try to save anything else.

DB

Sunday 5 hours on the phone
Monday 8 hours
Today 10 hours, 10:30 to 8:15
Trying to save my files, documents and photos.
Failed.

Chase The Bag

The truth of the matter is that you always know the right thing to do. The hard part is doing it.

General Schwartzkopf
***********************
One day last week I was sitting outside on a bench. It was a cold day but the sun was shining brightly. Now and then there was a breeze. The air was very fresh. The street and sidewalk were clear and I was enjoying the sunshine.

Suddenly an empty plastic bag came floating by me in the wind. It was so out of place and ugly I decided to pick it up and eventually throw it in the trash. So I stood up, went over to it, leaned down to retrieve it and just as I did the wind blew it away from me.

I was soon caught up in that famous old game of catch the thing before the wind blows it again. Each time I reached down for it the wind took it just far enough so that I couldn't grasp it.

I began to laugh because I was remembering a day when my brother was trying to retrieve my grandmother's hat which had blown off her head. He was going through the same ritual of reaching it, bending over to pick it up and having it scoot away from him again. My grandmother, who was watching the whole thing, got the giggles. Soon we were all laughing at my brother's antics. Poor Henry, he was just trying to save my grandmother's hat and his efforts became something to laugh at.

What makes something like that so funny is the timing. For some reason, only Nature knows, the object of pursuit doesn't move until you are sure you have it. It makes one think that Nature itself has a sense of humor. If Henry thought he was going to outwit the wind by running around to the other side and, like some third baseman, catch the hat as it came, he was wrong. The wind would simply blow it in another direction.

I'm sure there is an invisible sardonic clown out there waiting for us to try to do something right and proper so it can play it's mischievous little tricks.

Some times the trickster's acts are not so light hearted. He's the joker that hides your car keys in a pocket you would never put them in, he slips an important bill down behind the sofa making you forget to pay it until you get a nasty note from the oil company or the vet and he removes two eggs from the carton inside your refrigerator. He makes you forget the one name you're trying desperately to remember, he makes you forget your phone number only when someone asks you for it and, if he has nothing else to do, he will grab something out of your hand and throw it on the floor. I'm sure you can think of a hundred other things this rascal has done to you.

This malicious jerk is the one who steers you to the shortest line in the supermarket because he knows it's the one that will move the slowest and when you finally reach the front he makes sure the cash register malfunctions. Then when you're bagged up and on your way home he reminds you you forgot to buy the butter which he made you forget while you were there. If you're rushing to get somewhere he will put up a barricade and make a detour or stall a truck in the center lane and create a traffic jam.

This is the same thorny creature that makes your cat run off one afternoon and worry you half to death only to have it show up the next morning dirty and scruffy and demanding to be fed.

This creep likes to make sure that all commodity shares go up except the ones you're holding, that the day after you sell them they split and to make it uncertain who won certain elections so he watch otherwise intelligent people counting ballots.

So the next time the figures don't add up, your checkbook doesn't balance and the recipe doesn't work as well as it did last time, remember me chasing after the plastic bag and realize you are in the hands of Nature's funny man, invisible stand up comic and magician extrodinaire.

DB - The Vagabond
*************************
WINTER QUESTION
(This is not a contest)

What do you think was the most significant event that happened in 2010?

dbdacoba@aol.com

I await your answer.
DB
******************************

email address

Folks, pay no attention to a notice saying I changed my email address. It is and will remain dbdacoba@aol.com

It's not spam, it was a temporary lateral move to get me back on to AOL after the recovery of my computer's manic nervous breakdown.
D

The Tale Of Olaf

He who does not look ahead remains behind.

Mexican proverb
*********************************


This is the tale of Olaf.

Any man can tell you that some of the most arcane literature can be found written on men's room walls. Contrary to what most people think, and against old wives tales, I don't remember ever reading anything that said something like:

"For a good time call Daisy"

with a phone number attached. But there are statements that seem to find their way onto all the men's room walls of the world. If I have to read one more time:

"I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy"

I think I will kick the wall in a rage. Maybe it was mildly clever the first time around, 35 years ago, maybe, but enough is enough. It is worth noting that in some rare cases something can be found of interest. Near a theatre I used to manage was a bar and grill that I liked to frequent at night after the show was over. Among the other nonsense on the walls of the men's room someone had written:

"What's hot and swims"

That curiosity kept me and my colleagues amused for some time.

I used to live in northern New Hampshire, near the White Mountains. It was a tourist town. Almost all year round people would come up from southern New England, what the locals called Flatlanders, to enjoy the recreational aspects of the area. In the winter that meant skiing. There was a cocktail lounge with food and entertainment not far from where I lived, and I used to like to go there for a beer and some lunch after my radio shift was over.

It was usual that there would be plenty of snow by mid to late December for the visiting skiers. But one year the snow was late in coming. And on the men's room wall someone, probably a frustrated flatlander, had written:

"There's no snow"

A few days later I was in the same restaurant and underneath it someone else had written:

"Olaf knows why there is no snow"

As the winter progressed with still no significant precipitation some one else had written:

"Why, Olaf, is there no snow?"

The winter came and went. During the Spring the walls of the men's room had been painted, thus erasing all communications to and about Olaf.

But the next winter's weather was comparable. Folks were waiting and hoping for a major snow storm that wasn't happening. I ventured into that men's room one afternoon and, sure enough, there on the wall someone had written:

"Where's the snow"

After about a week I found written this plea:

"Where is Olaf when you need him?"

That seemed like a serious, ongoing saga about Olaf and the lack of snow when a few days later another men's room journalist had written

"Olaf moved to North Carolina"

It seems that in North Carolina they had mastered the art of making snow. And thus ended the tale of Olaf.

DB
******************
WINTER QUESTION
(This is not a contest)

What was the most significant even that happened in 2010?

dbdacoba@aol.com

I await your answer.
DB
******************************

computer

Up all night with a sick computer. Back on now but lost a lot of things, or mislaid them. Formatting is awful. Sizes crazy. Not the same as i had . Difficult to fix. Going to sleep now. 11:06 AM
DB

Waiting For The Light

Not knowing when the dawn will come, I open every door.

Emily Dickinson
*****************
"I know nothing except the fact of my ignorance." said Socrates. That realization made him a wise man. I enjoy reading the philosophers of the past and present, and what do I find? I find men and women who are searching, yes. They are searching for truth, for virtue and righteousness. But I also find another amazing trait. I find them waiting.
Some of those philosophers are scientists, some are historians or teachers, some are priests, imams and rabbis or other religious figures, some are artists, some are sailors, farmers, fishermen. But they all poke their mental fingers into every aspect of human life and probe into all the issues of human existence, from the most mundane to the most universal, trying to determine what we are, what our destiny is and what is the best life to have. They pose questions and ponder answers.

But the very best thinkers have become aware that there is a greater truth to come, a wisdom that is beyond wisdom, a place beyond the realm of simple, sane reason into a cosmic metaphysic. Enlightenment.

What makes these thinkers different from the rest of us is that they know it is there and we don't. They know that all the accumulated knowledge in the world is still ignorance when it comes to the great dawn of understanding. They also know that it is not something that can be pursued. One cannot throw a rope around it, jump off a horse and tie it up. Martin Heidegger said that when we go thinking after the most important thing to think about it retreats from us.

But to know the great truth is there and that it will come on its own terms in its own natural way if one remains prepared for it humbles the thinker into a blessed state of expectation and patience. And because no one knows when and where it will come, the philosopher is required to be perpetually alert to the rhythm of new ideas and new wisdom. The thinker's waiting is not passive. He is a watchman, a guard, a careful observer of whatever he does and what is happening around him. Bias, prejudice, assumption, foregone conclusion are not his tools. He may not have found the way but he knows the way is there and is not what we think it is.

DB - The Vagabond
*************************
Weekend Contest

Here we are a few days into Winter and I still don't have a Winter Question. I have some ideas but I open the meeting to anyone who would like to propose a good question to intrigue and inspire the readers to come forth with interesting answers.

1 response so far.

Thank you.

DB

***************************

A Dozen Days

Success is getting what you want. Happiness is wanting what you get.

David Gardner
**********************
On the twelfth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
12 dreamers dreaming
, 11 rappers rapping
10 bikers revving
9 ladies singing
8 stars a-dancing
7 critics clapping
6 geeks rebooting
5 onion rings
4 happy kids
3 big hugs
2 pumpkin pies
And an ipod on my Christmas tree.

Have a merry day.
And may angels dip their fingers in your egg nog.

DB - The Vagabond
****************
Weekend Contest

Here we are a few days into Winter and I still don't have a Winter Question. I have some ideas but I open the meeting to anyone who would like to propose a good question to intrigue and inspire the readers to come forth with interesting answers.

1 response so far.

Thank you.

DB

***************************

Consider The Sax

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.

Marcel Proust
*********************
The world is indeed a strange place.

Yesterday I went for a walk in order to purchase something I needed. The walk takes about 25 minutes. It is hard for me to walk even in the best weather but it was below freezing with a strong, bitter wind blowing almost constantly. About half way to my destination there is a pocket park which consists of a row of iron benches surrounding a stone structure. In the warm weather that structure is a circular pit with a fountain in the middle. It's a pleasant little place and in the summer the squirrels come and visit, looking for a handout, and the birds will perch on the edge and sometimes dip in to refresh themselves in the water. But now the fountain is covered over by a cloth which is tied down from the wind. It has the appearance of a ghostly object mysteriously sticking up from the empty pit around it.

I sat on one of the benches to rest and must have seemed to any passer as a spectral object myself, bundled up in my overcoat, sitting where no sane person would expect to be sitting in that weather.

I knew it was a fountain because I have sat there many a summer's day. But I wondered what someone would think of it who had never seen it uncovered and gently splashing with water. It resembled an unexplainable, mystical shrine of some pagan variety. One would have to imagine what it was and what it did.

Consider a saxophone. If you had never seen one before, never saw anyone playing it or knew what it was called, do you think you would identify it as a musical instrument. It's a twisty metal thing that comes to a point at one end, folds out into a well with a hole in it at the other end and in between are a bunch of holes, looking like an octopus's tentacle, with covers over them. Would your imagination tell you it was for making music or would it devise a different use, such as a planter for vines.

I had a friend who liked to visit me during my radio shift when I was a broadcaster. She would sit in front of the consol and just stare at the knobs, switches, buttons, meters and the strange inert but dangerous looking thing that stuck up into her face. She would ask me what this thing was for and what that thing did. She knew that the end result was a radio broadcast but that consol might just as well have been a wall in an ancient Egyptian tomb.

What about a foreign language? If you saw the characters of Hebrew or Arabic for the first time and didn't know it was a language would you imagine those funny looking squiggles and curves would render spoken sound, or letters, words, sentences, ideas?

I, like most people, have been fascinated with the strange objects of the world and, like my friend at the radio station, I want to know what this thing is, what it does and what it's for.

Once you know what a thing is and what it does you can start asking why. That's a delicious task for the imagination. What makes the water spout up, how does a saxophone work, why is a radio station consol built that way, why do those particular shapes make sounds and letters. I have an essay that attempts to describe a metaphysical meaning behind each of the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet. Are there similar meanings behind the fountain, the saxophone and the radio consol?

Einstein said that he wasn't particularly intelligent but that he was just very curious. Imagination and curiosity are the tools we all possess that can turn the ordinary, every day, hum drum things in the world into brand new landscapes.

DB - The Vagabond
**************************
Weekend Contest

Here we are a few days into Winter and I still don't have a Winter Question. I have some ideas but I open the meeting to anyone who would like to propose a good question to intrigue and inspire the readers to come up with interesting answers.
Thank you.
DB
***************************

AUTUMN QUESTION ANSWERS

AUTUMN QUESTION

(This is not a contest.)

At what event of the past do you wish you could be present? Why?




What immediately comes to mind is the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II of England.
I was probably only about 6 or 7 when this happened on June 2, 1953. I remember hearing about it, I remember seeing pictures in magazines and the cover of Life Magazine. It was talked about for months. This is the stuff that fairy tales are made of for a young girl in the 1950’s. We did not have a TV then so had to rely on pictures and radio news. The pomp, the pageantry, the crown jewels, the oaths and rituals, the royals with all their crowns and tiaras and coronation finery. The church, the music, the thousands of people in attendance, the procession with the gold coach. Elizabeth was about to become MY Queen. It still takes my breath away.
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Autumn Answer: I would like to be present for the first public reading given by Jane Austen.
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1 My answer (Krissy's) is seeing my Grandparents, the Majorossy's, viewing the Statue of Liberty as they came to Ellis Island from Hungary. They must have thought about the good fortune they would have in America as opposed to Hungary. I wish I could have been present bc I would have liked to feel their excitement and know what they were thinking about -- know their hopes and dreams. I am glad they did make the journey, as I feel I am in the best country in the world today!
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2 John's answer is seeing one of the original Shakespeare plays being performed at the Globe Theatre, because he finds Shakespeare spectacular.
-------------------------------------------
.Q. At what event of the past do you wish you could be present?
A. The Big Bang.
Q. Why?
A. Who would not like to play God when Time creates the stage?
Liz
--------------------------------------------------------------
I don't know if I could pick just one event to be present for because so many important events are only important afterward. For example, the birth of Christ was probably just like the birth of every other baby (that's not quite the bible's version, but I'm certain it was) so for "fun" factor only, I'd have to say my parent's wedding. :) According to all the stories, it was a pretty good time.

----------------------------------------------------
The event I would want to be present at in history would be when Congress voted for us to not be part of The League of Nations.
I would want to go to that event because that was probably one of the things that caused us to end up on WWII. If we had been part of the LON, we could've made it so that the Treaty of Versailles was not as harsh on the Germans and they would've been less likely to go to war with everyone our is resentment for having nearly everything taken away from them. I'm learning a lot about this in history class right now which is why I'm so interested in it.
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Woodstock.
Because of the feeling.
--------------------------------------------
Given my current interest in politics, I would have liked to have been present at the meetings that produced the U.S. Constitution. I know it wasn't a one-time event, but was the product of much discussion over time. I would love to have heard the discussions that went on, with people like Jefferson, Madison, and Franklin pounding out the details of what would become the law of our land. Amazing!
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Reason Ahead

We have the power to believe where others deny, to hope where others despair, to love where others hurt.

Brenen Manning
++++++++++++++++++++++++
Not only do we have the power to be positive, forward looking and progressive, we have the right and having the right we also have the obligation., the duty. Backward thinking, recidivism and regression are negative qualities of human thought and behavior, cave dwelling. A stop sign is a temporary pause, not a turn back sign.

It seems the world is filled with nihilists and deniers. If they had their way we would never have established nations of laws, survived the plague, sailed across the ocean, grown crops on New England land, established a new country, saved Europe from mad destruction and flown to the moon.

Right where the denier says it won't work and can't be done, right at that very place is where the progressive thinker is needed to change from a bad attitude to a right one. Arms must be taken up because the negative thinker will do anything to prove his opinion. Light must be defended against darkness and allowed to shine. Ropes must be climbed, cliffs scaled, life lines let down for the weak, ill and confused. With knuckle rapping discipline those who maim and murder must be educated. Compassion must be poured on the victims of the world. Healing must be found and applied. We must never relapse into places we escaped from, into worn out ideas we discarded, into the darkness of despair. We must never give up.

Shakespeare (my main man) wrote "Impossible be strange attempts to those who weight their pains in sense." Negativity thrives where no one can see the alternatives. "Where there is no vision the people perish" says the Bible (another great book). A negativist wail tell you it's foolish to have utopian ideas. That sort of pessimism is the enemy of progress. "I have a dream" said Martin Luther King, Jr.

We have the right, the power and the duty to be positive, to draw the best from the past without returning to it, the live joyfully in the present with expectations of good and to visualize and proceed confidently into a better future.

DB - The Vagabond
************************

What's Your Opinion?

Holding an opinion which is in fact correct, without being able to give a reason for it, is neither true knowledge nor ignorance

Plato
***********************
You've heard the remark "Even a stopped clock is right twice a day." To those suffering from ignorance it is a comforting thought. There is no crime in trying to be right without the basic knowledge and even though one misses the mark most of the time at least to aim at it is worthy.

But some people simply play lottery with knowledge, taking for granted that something is true because one heard it somewhere or because one thinks of it oneself. People will aggressively hold on to and defend an opinion for many reasons. One of them is so they won't appear stupid. There are those who will ridicule you if you don't know the answer to something. I used to get that treatment a lot when I was growing up. It took me most of my life to accept the idea that "I don't know" is a legitimate answer to something. It seemed to me there was no compassion for ignorance anywhere in the world.

Having incorrect facts is another reason for holding an opinion. One's opinion may be correct but it's based on wrong information. You take the right road for all the wrong reasons but you get there anyway.

Another type of opinion defender has nothing to do with reasons or knowledge of the facts. It's based on a hunch, intuition, a gut reaction. Someone expresses an opinion as if it was a fact. When you ask him why he thins tht way he will say "I don't know. I just think it's right." If it turns out that he has one of those stopped clock times, he will be trusting his own guts instead of the truth of things.

Given the reasons for opinion building as stated above and many others, the worst kind of opinion not based on knowledge is the opinion we might have of another person. We re frequently put in a position of having to make a value judgment about someone else for some reason. Maybe we are interviewing them for a job, or deciding if we want to see them socially, or if we want to buy something from them or sell it to them. Without living someone else's life we can't possible know everything we need to know about them to make the correct assessment. So it is very important how we frame an opinion about that person and we must avoid doing it superficially by the way they look or the sound of their voice. I've served on juries and it was usually very difficult to figure out who was lying and who was telling the truth. I pity the poor judge who has to do that day in and day out.

Thee is an ocean of difference between ignorance and stupidity. Ignorance is curable.

DB - The Vagabond
*********************

Seasons Greetings

joy to the world

may all the various traditions,
celebrations, holidays and festivals
bundle together in this dawn of winter
and climax of the decade
to express love,
compassion and respect for all creatures
and to begin a serious search
for peace on earth.

Dana Bate
Vagabond Journeys
*****************************

What Are You Laughing At?

Men show their character in nothing more clearly than what they think laughable.

Goethe
*****************************
Two of us were sitting around the announcers' lounge one day waiting for our shifts to begin. We were visited by another announcer, a port time person who was brought in to cover someone's vacation. While there he told us about a good buddy of his who loved to make his pet cat jump forward and smack its nose against the wall. Then he laughed at the image. The other announcer said "I would say your buddy has a problem." I said "I agree."

The guy who told the story stopped laughing in surprise. Why didn't we think it was funny? It was suggested that his friend had a lot of character building to do. I noted, as I have often, if any one laughs at another creatures suffering, then he better be prepared to laugh at his own.

It does seem amazing what some people find funny. One year the Village Voice, in NYC, held a contest. They asked readers to send in the funniest photograph they could. The winning picture was of a man standing in his boat and peeing into the water. That's not funny, but peering around the corner of a large building, with it's big smile watching him was the huge Mickey Mouse balloon. The picture was very funny.

But the Voice printed an editorial about the contest saying they had received hundreds of photographs of little naked boys. What was so funny about a little boy's genitals was beyond their comprehension. I knew a woman who when she saw a baby boy or toddler who was naked would go into uncontrollable laughter. The people standing around thought she was crazy.

I'm not against laughter. I enjoy a good laugh. I enjoy the ironies and absurdities of life, the banana peels we all slip on now and then. It is healthy when people can laugh at themselves when the banana peel trips them up because it means they are not taking themselves too seriously.

I know I've told this story before but it illustrates what I'm saying and is also one reason for my own sense of humor. I was just 14 when my grandmother died. She knew she was about to die and asked my mother to come and get her. My grandmother was a product of the 19th Century and never went out unless she was fully dressed with fox stole and hat with a veil. When we approached the stairs leading up to our apartment she realized she couldn't climb them. We got a chair and put her in it. While she sat there primly with her hands in her lap we lifted her up step by step. I was wearing a tie and jacket. Every time I leaned over to grab the back of the chair my tie fell in front of her face. After a couple of times she got the giggles. When my grandmother laughed every one around would laugh.

I never saw her again after that day. She died a few days later. But the image of her having the strength of character to find something to laugh about at her own passing has never left me and it showed that there is an amusing side to everything.

DB - The Vagabond
**************************

Weekend quiz, answers.

Comet's driver (5) Santa
Headless egos are helpers (5) elves
Precipitation sound to gentle creatures prancing (8) reindeer
Sooty entrance for bag man (7) chimney
Herb's digit up above (9) mistletoe
Receptacle for feet hanging (8) stocking
Charles' festival song (1, 9, 5) A Christmas Carol

DB
***************

A Knock At The Door

Individualism is the fountain that all can drink from, and for each and everyone, hopefully the taste is different.

Ken Riches
*******************
Being an artist is many things, it is like being an indentured servant, it is a blessing, it is a process of discovery that seemingly never ends, it is being an alchemist, it is being an explorer, it is being astonished, it is providing wisdom and joy, it is knocking at doors which have never been opened, it is an overcoming of limits, it is humbling, it is sharing life with an unknown deity.

As an actor I spent as much time and mental energy trying to understand what I was actually doing as I did on preparing and performing a role. In the grandest sense my work was a journey into myself, into the dark cave and gentle grotto of my own being and reason for living.

As a pillow underneath and soft light surrounding the weary head of my life as an artist with all the difficulties and hardships inherent in that life, I consider myself fortunate to have lived long enough and to have worked enough to begin to understand the practical destiny of my life in terms of the actor's obligations and experience.

There is a place where words and actions stop. Beyond it is pure thought and experience. The words and actions are steps leading up to that mysterious place.

An actor begins with a story, usually a script, with a character defined by the author in terms of words and behavior. After penetrating deeply enough into the story the actor will know certain fundamental things about the character he is portraying. Those things are all threads of an overall fabric of the character's life. Within the given circumstances of the story he plays out the parts of his character's individuality. And all of those parts are tied together by an objective, a wish, a desire, a search.

As the actor reaches into his own well of experience to fashion the movement of his character through the story, he comes upon another objective, that of the play itself. Then questions arise. Why do this play? What is important about it? What does it say?

The answers to those questions have to do with the authors' own objectives, his search for answers to his own practical destiny. And if he is a prolific writer each play is another thread in the tapestry of his own life. Each is a search for an answer to life's fundamental questions. Is Shakespeare's "Hamlet" a search for the source and dimensions of being? Is "Othello" a search for the evil that causes doubt, suspicion and loss of faith? Is "Merry Wives of Windsor" about the loss of artificial and foolishly assumed dignity? Is "The Tempest" a search for the moaning of the loss and regaining of power and place? Most of his plays have to do with loss of some kind.

Even though I don't perform it any more I read Shakespeare all the time because there was a genius who proceeded bravely into the necessary objective of his own life. It was a super objective that ordered him, like an indentured servant, to write. I want to know what it was.

Which makes me approach the last door in my own journey, or at least the latest one. What is it that made me become and actor and do it in spite of the difficulties and hardships? Behind all the roles I've played, the wigs and make up, the costumes and scenery, the speeches and actions, the lifetime of being an entertainer there is a super objective of my life to which all the other parts are related like threads in the tapestry of my very being. It is only and specifically mine and I need to know what it is. It is the fountain I want to drink from and to taste my reason for being.

I perceive myself now as a novice, a neophyte at the temple, knocking at a door that has never been opened. Other philosophers who have reached a similar door write more deeply and more eloquently than I, but I believe that at the other side of that door words and action cease and pure thought and pure experience begin.

DB
Vagabond Journeys
*****************************

Weekend quiz, answer the following clues. It's easy

Comet's driver (5)
Headless egos are helpers (5)
Precipitation sound to gentle creatures prancing (8)
Sooty entrance for bag man (7)
Herb's digit up above (9)
Receptacle for feet hanging (8)
Charles' festival song (1, 9, 5)

DB
***************

Let It Be

If in the Fall the trees get to let go of a whole year of hard thinking, why can't we erase just as much.

Chris Bursk
********************
One thing I've noticed about trees is that once they let go of a leaf or a branch it is no longer of any interest to them what happens to it. If it falls to the ground and remains under the shade of the tree, fine, if it is blown away by the wind, so much the better.

One day I was standing by a fence when a large branch came crashing down in front of me from a nearby tree. It seem like such an apocalyptic event I wondered why there wasn't some follow up to it. But all I observed was that once the tree let go of the branch it was turned over to the law of gravity which brought it to the ground. The tree simply let go, it didn't throw the branch to the ground. The only result is that some groundskeeper would soon come and gather it up. or else it would slowly degrade into the earth.

I sometimes ponder what became of the artifacts, the branches of my life that I have had to let go of, for one reason or another. The places, dwellings, neighbors, books, scenes and sights, where are they now, who's lliving there, who has my old phone numbers, who has my books and do they love them as much as I did.

Perhaps the tree did not want to let go of the branch. It had been a part of the tree for perhaps a hundred years. But it was time to let go of it for the health of the tree. So was it healthy for me to need to lose the people and things I thought I cherished? I am a human being so, of course, I cared about them. I was unhappy about being forced to move and lose things, but like a friend who recently lost everything she had in a fire, I started over.

Life is never the same when you start over. You can never completely recreate the life you had. It's a new life and you are a different person. Watching the branch fall in front of me taught me that. I never wanted a vagabond life, but by the time I was a teenager I knew that is what I had and was going to have. Adjustments are continuous. All the physical force and will power in the world is not going to open a door to let you out that refuses to open. The exit is somewhere else.

Now that i have once again been deprived by the irresponsible Microsoft system of all of my Word files, the stories I was working on, the two years of Vagabond Journey archives, the Autumn Question and the answers, the copious notes I've made, the links to various important places, even if I can get the files to open I am inclined to delete the whole thing and let it fall to the ground for someone to come and gather up or else to slowly rot.

I would find some more reliable way of preserving what can be preserved and think not of the many hours I spent researching and finding the artifacts of my thoughts and studies.

DB - The Vagabond
***************************

Weekend quiz, answer the following clues. It's easy

Comet's driver (5)
Headless egos are helpers (5)
Precipitation sound to gentle creatures prancing (8)
Sooty entrance for bag man (7)
Herb's digit up above (9)
Receptacle for feet hanging (8)
Charles' festival song (1, 9, 5)

DB
***************

Dig We Must

Don't blame yourself for missing the target. Blame yourself for not aiming at it.

Bate _ The Vagabond
***************************
I really didn't care for summer camp when I was a lad. I found most of the activities boring. But one thing I was fairly good at was archery. Whenever I shot the arrow there was always either of two results. I would hit the bulls eye or miss the target completely. Eventually I learned that overconfidence from my perfect shot would keep me from aiming carefully the next time.

One day a young man, fresh out of college, who had worked crew on a productions I was in and had watched me prepare, rehearse and perform my role, asked me if I would teach him about acting. I agreed.

So we met. He had an audition speech that he did for me. When he finished I had one word for him. "No."

He was trying to tear up the stage and impress me with his passion and great dramatic flair. In the meantime nine tenths of the speech was lost. He missed the target.

So we sat down and calmly went over the speech to discover who he was talking to, why, what was his purpose, what did he hope to gain from it, why did he choose the particular words and images, what had happened to bring him to the point of speaking out in such a way? There was a myriad of questions that needed to be asked and answered and as we addressed them he was getting more deeply into the speech and the situation. Slowly his bellowing was being replaced by intensity, structure, intelligence, feeling: real drama.

If you want to build a house you first have to prepare the ground and that usually means digging a hole. I used to like watching them build skyscrapers in New York City. They put up a big wooden fence around the area. On the outside was an architects drawing of the finished building. But there were holes in the fence so people could watch them working on it. They started with a big pit and had to remove the solid, immovable Manhattan bedrock, which meant dynamite. A backhoe would spread a great meshed metal blanket over the area and then they set off the charges. When the blanket was removed the men went in with picks and sledge hammers to break up what was left into smaller pieces to put in a dump truck and have them hauled away. When one sees the giant building aiming it's arrow-top against outer space it's hard to imagine the original hole in the ground but without it there would be no building.

Any endeavor in life worth doing requires careful preparation. We must aim at the target.

DB - The Vagabond
*************************
Now, since I can't get into my Word files, I can't post the Autumn Question or any of its answers.

So I'll start the Weekend Quiz early

Weekend quiz, answer the following clues. It's easy

Comet's driver (5)
Headless egos are helpers (5)
Precipitation sound to gentle creatures prancing (8)
Sooty entrance for bag man (7)
Herb's digit up above (9)
Receptacle for feet hanging (8)
Charles' festival song (1, 9, 5)

DB
***************

The Wild, Wild West

Whipping posts are on all sides, but there is a clear road between them.

John Newbrough
************************
This is a true story. It was told to me by one of the two men who lived through this experience. He is a friend and colleague and I know him to be an honest and trustworthy fellow. Both of the men involved in this frightening episode are black, which is important to the story as you will eventually learn.

One December day, many years ago, they started out from somewhere in the Midwest in an old Chevrolet to drive to California. After several days they made it across the plains and headed for the mountains. When they reached the mountains they began their ascent up the mountain highway. Soon it began to rain. As they kept going the rain turned into freezing rain and then into snow.

They thought of putting in somewhere, perhaps for the night, and waiting out the storm. But nothing was open. The truck stops, shops and motels were all closed and locked up. So they kept going.

The snow became very heavy. It blanketed everything. There was no other traffic on the road, no car tracks to follow, and it was difficult to see. They would occasionally slip and slide on the icy road.

Night came. The snow was now coming down in great globs, The headlights were showing nothing but snow falling. There was also a very strong wind which whipped up the snow in front of them. They couldn't see far enough ahead of them to know if they were even still on the road.

My friend said he was so frightened he curled up on the back seat and closed his eyes, certain that at any moment they were going to plunge over the side of a cliff and die. But his buddy, the driver, just kept going.

My friend said the wind was so strong it would push the car from the side and make it slip on the ice, the wheels would spin before they grabbed the surface. They didn't know where they were. They could see nothing.

After a long time they began a descent. As the snow let up they could see that they were still on the road. And then the snow became freezing rain. The road was very slippery and treacherous. The danger of lunging over the side was great. But they kept going.

Torrents of warmer rain came and made the driving difficult but no longer dangerous. Eventually that rain let up and it was morning. They made it down to level ground, the day was breaking and they were almost out of gas, the meter was reading empty.

Up ahead they spied a truck stop, with gas pumps and a diner, so the parked the car with great relief and went inside.

Inside was a counter and some tables. There were stuffed animal heads hanging from the walls, a snake skin tacked up over the rest room door, a rifle hanging in a rack and other items to tell them they were in red neck territory.

The owner poured two cups of coffee and brought them over with some menus tucked under his arm. He asked them where they came from and if they had come over the mountain pass during the night. Then he put the menus down in front of them and went to the pay phone. He made a couple of calls and spoke in a low voice about two guys who just came in. My friend said he couldn't hear the conversation but he did hear the owner say to call some of the boys.

My friend said they were beginning to get scared. They were certqin they were the only black men around those parts and they didn't know what was going to happen. They thought maybe they should get out of there and run, but with no gas in the car they weren't going to get very far.

The owner didn't ask them what they wanted to eat, he just scrambled up some eggs and threw some sort of meat on the griddle. They jumped with fright when they heard the toast pop up.

Soon they were served a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. While they were eating a pickup truck arrived. They could see the American flag decals, a rifle in the back and other signs of a local cowboy. The driver got out, took a paper bag out of the back of the truck and came into the diner. He sat down next to my friend and asked if they were the boys who came over the mountain that night.

My friend said the cowboy spoke very slowly and quietly and said that it was the worst storm in a hundred and fifty years, that they closed down the roads and evacuated all the people. Then he reached into the paper bag, took out a six pack, pulled off two cans for each of them and one for himself. After a moment another pick up came with another cowboy and another six pack. He came in and shook the hands of the two men and pulled out some more beer. Pretty soon more trucks and cars arrived with more beer. My friend said they told the story of their trip across the mountains at least ten times. By mid morning the diner was full of cowboys getting drunk, congratulating the two adventurers and whooping it up.

They were heroes. Their breakfast was paid for, their gas was paid for and they were put up in a motel for the rest of the day and night. The next morning they were on their way west.

DB - The Vagabond
************************
AUTUMN QUESTION

(This is not a contest.)

At what event of the past do you wish you could be present? Why?

Only 9 responses so far. Autumn is almost over. I await your answer.

dbdacoba@aol.com

Thank you.
DB
************************

The Touch Of Silence

Does not everything depend on our interpretation of the silence around us?

Lawrence Durrell
**********************
I awoke at 7 o'clock in the morning. It was 19 degrees. That's -7.22222 Celsius for my Canadian, English and Australian friends. An hour later it had dropped to 18 degrees. I don't much mind the cold. Having spent half my life covered in a blanket of ice and pummeled by the freezing rain of New England winters, my steel has been properly tempered.

With the Winter Solstice knocking at the door it's a signal for the end of the year festivities. Since I am in a better place mentally and emotionally than I was last year when I had the wolves circling around my life, growling and snarling, I've been wondering if I should do something to celebrate Christmas, like decorate.

The first winter I spent here I bought a small fibre optic tree and set it up on the front porch. The next day it was gone. Someone stole it. Since then I haven't thought much about any tokens of celebration. This apartment is too small for a real tree and since no one is coming to visit me, to share Christmas dinner or anything else, there will be no prettily wrapped packages to put under it anyway. I could hang some colored lights, I suppose, but way up here in my third floor aerie no one would see them from the street. So maybe I'll just make some cranberry cookies for my housemates and let it go at that.

In the apartment below me lives Dan. He's a nice fellow, intelligent and friendly, but he has a temper. He works as an odd job carpenter and hearing him tell stories of some of the people and circumstances he has to work with I'm not surprised. Sometimes he slams his door. I always jump when he does that because it's unexpected. I don't mind it because I know what it is, and in fact I'm glad he does it because it tells me there is life going on in the building. It is also, sometimes, the only sound I hear.

I've never before lived in a place that was so quiet. The other half of my life I spent in New York, which is not only the city that never sleeps, it's the city that never shuts up. There's 24 hour noise. If I wasn't there I was living with someone, so there was human conversation and activity around me. But here there is such delicious quiet that it sometimes seems I am alone in the universe.

I have come to enjoy and cherish the quiet and also to respect it. It is a blessing to trade the cacophony of the world for silence. Abiding graciously the loneliness from the lack of human contact affords me the gift of sharing with myself my own best company.

I will play music which helps to define the silence like a frame around a work of art. But silence is the best music. Silence invites me to listen, it unfolds things that can't be heard in any other way, it opens a dialogue of ideas, impressions and realities which only it knows. And silence listens, without judgement or argument, to my thoughts, and forms them to fit it's own accumulated wisdom. It gives back more to me than I give to it.

Sometimes I talk out loud to myself just to put the sound of my voice into my space. The silence waits patiently for me to finish and then fills up the empty space with it's own oratory, richer and more majestic than the mere plodding of human thought.

How do I interpret the silence around me? In bright daylight or dark of night as a friend, a companion, a teacher, a traveler who has been everywhere and knows everything, an unlocked chest of treasures, a benign and mysterious ghost frightening only in its grand and persistent presence.

DB - The Vagabond
***********************
AUTUMN QUESTION

(This is not a contest.)

At what event of the past do you wish you could be present? Why?

Only 9 responses so far. Autumn is almost over. I await your answer.

dbdacoba@aol.com

Thank you.
DB
************************

The Ship Of Life

We'll catch up some other time.

Frank Sinatra
**********************
The longer we live the more anchors life attaches to us. Life then becomes loosing ourselves from the encumbrances that prevent clear sailing.

It all begins the day we're born. We've pushed our way out of the limiting confinement of the womb into a world where bright lights and activity are going on all around and yet we can't do anything except flail our arms, kick our legs and bawl. We are helpless creatures totally dependant on others for food and warmth, creatures we can't understand and who don't understand us.

After a while we develop some simple but workable forms of communication. Then we learn to move around and investigate things. But we notice the big creatures around us walking and we wonder why we are crawling and they aren't. There's an anchor holding us down. We have to get rid of that limitation. So one day we get up and take a step or two. After the frustration and rage of falling down a few times we finally manage to stay up. Now we have a great sense of mobility. The anchor is gone and we can go anywhere and do anything. We're free. The world is ahead of us. They shy's the limit. We set out to embrace the world and everyone in it. Then life ties another anchor to us. School.

Now our days and hours are determined by other people and we have to be in certain places at certain times and do what we're told. What happened to the great adventure of life?

"Oh, well, We'll catch up some other time."

So we're learning to make adjustments, one of life's primary lessons. We have to learn stuff we hate in order to learn stuff we like. But it's not so bad. We have some friends and are proving ourselves on some basic levels of society. Things aren't so bad. Until one day life ties another totally unexpected anchor on us. Hormones.

Suddenly the carefree days of childhood are gone. We notice the opposite sex. Now there are challenges we are not prepared for. Now our embraces are more selective and more passionate. Life was much simpler and made much more sense before this happened.

"Where has the time all gone to?
Haven't done half the things we want to.
Oh, well, We'll catch up some other time"

Romance, pursuit and capture, success, failure, a broken heart, sex. Life has become very complicated and so has its anchors. This one is not so easy to shake off. But somehow we make it through school, or we don't, but we find an answer to the romance anchor. We just allow life to attach another anchor to us. Marriage. And shortly after that comes a family, from one direction or another. Our ship of life is now surrounded and there are anchors all over it. People are expecting things and needing things from us. We are anchored to a job, a career, a home, financial responsibility. Where are the dreams of yesterday?

"This day was just a token.
Too many words are still unspoken.
Oh, well. We'll catch up some other time."

The family grows up and leaves or maybe it brings some new children for us to see and remember those times when we were free and had no anchors on us. But the responsibilities are still holding us, it's fun but we don't have time for childish things. We lose some friends, maybe some family, there is sadness, grief, depression. We still have some anchors to lose. We're not getting any younger, someone reminds us. Grab a hold of what's left of life, embrace it and get things done.

"Just when the fun is starting
Comes the time for parting
But let's be glad for what we had
And what's to come."

Now we're "advanced in age," "a senior citizen," "old." We may have some physical anchors picked up along the way that hold us back, but there's one big anchor, stronger and sturdier than all the rest. It was the one we allowed life to tie to us from the beginning. But in the meantime it has gathered barnacles and seaweed and made its home securely in the bottom of our lives.

"There's so much more embracing
Still to be done, but time is racing.
Oh, well, We'll catch up some other time."
----------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------
(Lyrics by Frank Sinatra)
----------------------------------

DB - The Vagabond
******************************
AUTUMN QUESTION

(This is not a contest.)

At what event of the past do you wish you could be present? Why?

Only 9 responses so far. I await your answer.

dbdacoba@aol.com

Thank you.
DB
************************

Seven Steps To The Entrance

Learning never exhausts the mind.

Leonardo da Vinci
*************************
Seven Principles of da Vinci

Curiosity
Although nature commences with reason and ends in experience it is necessary for us to do the opposite, that is to commence with experience and from this to proceed to investigate the reason.

Demonstration
I have been impressed with the urgency of doing. Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Being willing is not enough; we must do.


Sensation
For once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skywards, for there you have been and there you will long to return.

Sfumato
Life is pretty simple: You do some stuff. Most fails. Some works. You do more of what works. If it works big, others quickly copy it. Then you do something else. The trick is the doing something else.

Art/Science
Human subtlety will never devise an invention more beautiful, more simple or more direct than does nature because in her inventions nothing is lacking, and nothing is superfluous.

Corporeality
I love those who can smile in trouble, who can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. 'Tis the business of little minds to shrink, but they whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves their conduct, will pursue their principles unto death.

Connection
Beyond a doubt truth bears the same relation to falsehood as light to darkness.

(:Leonardo da Vinci)
===========================

DB
*******************
AUTUMN QUESTION

(This is not a contest.)

At what event of the past do you wish you could be present? Why?

Only 9 responses so far. I await your answer.

dbdacoba@aol.com

Thank you.
DB
************************

Weekend Contest Results

WEEKEND CONTEST RESULTS

You were to give me a title or a lyric of a song and replace one of the worlds with the word "pumpkin." This was a popular contests it seems. Below is a list of the entries.
*********************************

Pumpkin in the way she moves.
For he's a jolly good pumpkin
Bother can you spare a pumpkin
Midnight pumpkin to Georgia
The Pumpkin is a Tramp
Up on the Pumpkin
One Oclock Pumpkin
Always a Pumpkin there to remind me…
Pumpkins just want to have fun..
Pour some pumpkin on me..
How much is that pumpkin in the window…
Oh Holy Pumpkin
The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzpumpkin
We Wish You a merry Pumpkin, We Wish You a merry Pumpkin.
Pumpkins Keep Falling on my Head
He Ain't Heavy, He's My Pumpkin
Puff The Magic Pumpkin
What if The Pumpkin was one of us
Yeah, yeah, The Pumpkin is good...
Yeah, yeah, The Pumpkin is great...
The Pumpkin is watching us, The Pumpkin is watching us
**************************
Congratulations every one. After frightening deliberations the judge has awarded first prize of a solid aluminum plated pumpkin seed to Val of the Blogspot Tigers for "Pumpkins keep falling on my head" which actually got a chuckle out of the old fart.

Thank you all
DB
*********************8

There Is Something More

I would put myself in the way of revelation.

Bate - The Vagabond
***********************
Years ago I knew a lay preacher at a large Baptist church in Harlem. She wasn't clergy but she was a good woman, very devout and dedicated. She would often preach to the congregation of that church which she said had some members who had come through terrible times of poverty and drug addiction. Even though I was not a member of her church or even a church goer myself, and she knew it, she seemed to think I had positive advice to offer her and so she would discuss her sermons with me

One day she went through a list of Bible references and concluded that if you are a believing Christian then the answer to all of life's problems is faith. Well, that answer wasn't good enough for me, so I asked her if that was all there was to it. What else could there be? She went back into her references and said that she guessed love for God and man was part of it. "What else?" I asked. Then she came across things like honesty, compassion, obedience and so forth, and she finally said "You know what? You're right. There is always something more."

I had a conversation with a friend's 14 year old daughter who said her favorite thing to study in school was science. I asked her if she preferred lab science or field science and she said she wanted to do them both. It must be a very interesting and rewarding life to be a research scientist, not someone who mixes the same old formulas over and over again, but someone who is always in the process of discovery.

One of the great pleasures in my retirement is reading. I read all the time, books, magazines, newspapers. It's slow going because I have to use a magnifying glass, but I don't care. If I get my eyesight back I think I would read just as methodically as I do now because I don't want any ideas to pass me by. There are old forgotten ideas to rediscover, new discoveries, discoveries hidden in familiar material that I missed before, there are even discoveries within discoveries. Some discoveries are surprising and some are awesome.

My black lady preacher friend also said that even if we don't know they are there they remain to be revealed. One of the greet discoveries of all is that behind each new idea, even behind the process of discovery itself is something which has to be experienced to be understood. Even the most sublime idea is merely a sign post, a trail marker pointing us toward revelation, toward the awakened land of enlightenment. That I will find that road and stay on it is where my faith is.

Bate - The Vagabond
***********************

WEEKEND CONTEST

You are to give me a song title or a lyric substitution for one of the words the word "pumpkin" as in "Somewhere over the pumpkin" of "My pumpkin 'tis of thee"

Enter as often as you want. The winner will be whoever can get the sour, angry, nihilistic judge to laugh so hard he pees in his knickers.,

Good luck
DB
***************

Extra! Extra!

The good news is that the truth is never far away. It's right here, in fact, posing as backdrop.

Erik Hansen
*****************
When I was growing up in New York during the 40's and 50's there were seven daily newspapers: The New York Times, The Daily News, The Daily Mirror. The New York Post, the World Telegram and Sun and The Journal American. They were all important papers with serious journalists and committed to their readers.

These days only the giants are left, the Times, the News and the Post. I worked off and on for The New York Times as a radio announcer. I was once interviewed by the News and my acting has been reviewed by critics from all of the papers.

One Christmas season I worked for a book store, a very large book store, one of the biggest in the country. The owner and manager knew a lot about books, publishers, authors, designers and so forth. When there was a book sellers convention and he stood up to speak everyone listened to him because of what he knew. He knew everything about books, except what was in them.

Today in New York there are also many newspapers printed in foreign languages. There's El Diario, the Spanish language paper, Il Progresso, the Italian paper. La Monde for French speakers and papers I don't know the titles of in Russian, German, Greek, Arabic, Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Thai and other languages.

To ride the subway in New York is to often see people reading one of these different newspapers, a sign of the rich and varied sophistication and cultural diversity of the city.

I sometimes receive offers in the mail to subscribe to a club which will send me the world's great literature in tasteful, leather bound tomes that will look very nice on my bookshelf if I had one. Those books aren't meant to be read. Reading them might spoil the look. They are for decoration and some of them are collectors items. Besides, if you are going to read "Moby Dick," which few people ever do, you will probably get the Penguin paperback.

Marcel Proust once made the suggestion that all the frivolous passing news of the day should be published in expensive leather bound books along with the weather reports, sports scores and other simple stuff you find in newspapers while all the great writing of the centuries should be published in the daily papers. It would certainly have an impact on the accumulation of wisdom among the general population. What do you think?

DB - The Vagabond

Weekend Contest

WEEKEND CONTEST

You are to give me a song title or a lyric substitution for one of the words the word "pumpkin" as in "Somewhere over the pumpkin" of "My pumpkin 'tis of thee"

Enter as often as you want. The winner will be whoever can get the sour, angry, nihilistic judge to laugh so hard he pees in his knickers.,

Good luck
DB
***************

This final, most joyful, effusive, high-spirited yes to life is not only the highest insight, it is also the most profound, the most rigorously confirmed and supported by truth and study.

Friedrich Nietzsche
**********************
It has been bitter cold here the past several days, not Arctic cold, perhaps, but colder than places south. Fortunately we haven't had a dusting of snow or a light rain or we would have ice all over.

I live in a part of the world where I get to see the seasons come and go, and I like that very much. Like maple trees and butterfly wings no two Springs are alike nor two Autumns. Sometimes Autumn weather will last well into Winter and sometimes, like now apparently, the Winter weather will trudge unexpected into the colorful Autumn. One must be prepared for all changes.

Being prepared for changes and looking for them is important to our lives and livelihoods, and to the stability of the society we live in. Even though the seasons rotate like the planets and even though the planett describe orbits, the movement of life is forward. Even though we can't be aware of it, standing still on a moving planet means we are never in the same place we were a moment ago. Life is forward motion, and that is as it should be.

On the other hand there are the vicious cycles, the repeated returns to positions we've grown out of, that we have progressed beyond. Whenever you have a new idea or discover a new way of doing something, an improved method, someone will try to force a return to the "old ways." I am tired of the old ways. I'm tired and angry over the forces that will try to make me conform to the old ways, to ways that no longer work for me, if they ever did.

There's an old saying "There's nothing new under the sun." Maybe, but it's not the sun's fault. The scientists of old used to examine sheep's entrails to determine the outcome of battles. Today's scientists look at the same entrails trying to determine cures for diseases.

I study philosophy, science and history to see to where the world is moving, the earth in it's orbit and humanity in its thinking. But I notice with dismay that those who are the speakers and movers of politics, religion and society are moving right back away from progress and into the futility of the past like the proverbial snake swallowing its own tail. Careless disinterest in history is causing it to be repeated.

"Gimme that old time religion, it's good enough for me." Well, it isn't good enough for me or any intelligent person who wants to step off the carousel of forward and back, forward and back, and face the destiny of life in a cosmic enclosure, free of the limitations of sameness, liberated from superstitious tradition, turned away from alarming anti-intellectualism, guided by the stars of courage, curiosity and imagination, and greet it with a loud and joyful "YES."

DB - The Vagabond
***********************
AUTUMN QUESTION

(This is not a contest.)

At what event of the past do you wish you could be present? Why?

Only 9 responses so far. I await your answer.

dbdacoba@aol.com

Thank you.
DB
************************

Learning To Talk Good

Reason has always existed, but not always in a reasonable form.

Karl Marx
*******************
In my research I came across this Vagabond Journey from last Spring and it is just too much fun not to reprint it. So here once again is "Learning To Talk Good"

There is a vigorous movement in this country to make English the truly official and only language of the United States. That seems like a reasonable request. After all, if people can't understand each other when they speak they would have to carry a translator around with them wherever they go. That can get very expensive.

So let's see. First I would suggest establishing a bureau to determine what proper American English should be, perhaps a cabinet post, Secretary of Language and Verbal Communication presiding over the Department of Language and Talk, (DOLT).

Soon a Dictionary of American English should be published and every American citizen and immigrant should be required to carry one at all times and to consult it immediately if there is any doubt about proper American expression. Incorrect use of our language and any lapsing into foreign terms will be a felony.

Then, under the benevolent guidance of DOLT we will begin eliminating all strange words from our vocabulary. No more saying "adios" to a Mexican or "bon jour" to a French Canadian. No longer saying "bravo" at a concert or "mazel tov" at a wedding. Such utterances will be illegal. If you aren't careful you may find yourself in the clink.

Americans will no longer live in "haciendas," ride "burros" or do anything
"pronto." A "Ford" is acceptable, but not a "Chevrolet."

Now let's talk about food. That thing you had with breakfast was a "crescent roll" not a "croissant." Get it? Don't go to a restaurant expecting or order "fillet mignon," chicken "cacciatore," pork "lo mien," "wiener schnitzel," "moussaka" or "pizza."

If you go to the bar you can have a Guinness or a Harp, I suppose, though you're better off with Budweiser or Miller. But don't try ordering Heineken or Lowenbrau. And for heaven sake, don't ask for a "martini." The cops will be there pronto. Excuse me, I mean in a minute.

Now about wine (that's "wine" not "vin" or "vino." See?). There's California wine, New York State wine and, I don't know, Florida wine, whatever. But we have to get rid of these alien French names: "Merlot, Chablis, Chardonnay, Beaujolais, Champagne." Stick with "wine," red, pink, white or sparkling. That's the American way.

We will no longer have to go into "bistros" or "boutiques." There will be no more "yachting,," "snorkeling" or "apres"skiing.

Some states will have to change their names to conform to the true blue American language. States like "Vermont," "Illinois" and "Colorado." Those are much too foreign sounding.

Various publishers will, of course, be important in shaping our language. For one thing they will see to it the all foreign language references are removed from their books. The Greek, Latin and French quotes will be rendered in American English only.

Music publishers will do away with references such as "Presto," "Andante" and the very suspicious "Allegro Ma Non Troppo."

Along with the new American English Dictionary will come words that every true American should know, such as "biker," "dogged," "ho," "red neck" and "yuppi,." plus the real American pronunciation of certain words like "lieberry," "Febyooary," "stoopit," "noocyooler." "punkin" and "presperation."

And finally, we should have an all-American dialect. It's a shame that a man from Maine and a man from Mississippi can't understand each other. And we certainly don't want to speak English in the strange way the English do. So, as a New Yorker, I suggest we conform our dialectic to the way they talk in Da Bronx. It seems to be the most articulate of them all.

I look forward to the day when every sign, every book, magazine and newspaper, and every word I hear spoken on radio, TV and on the street is the true, red, white and blue American language: Inlish.

DB
******************
AUTUMN QUESTION

(This is not a contest.)

At what event of the past do you wish you could be present? Why?

Only 9 responses so far.

dbdacoba@aol.com

Thank you.
DB
************************

Practicing Love

You have to be firmly grounded in yourself, you have to stand bravely on your own two feet to be able to love at all.

Friedrich Nietzsche
***********************
Yesterday I had an amusing thought. Well, not so amusing, but ironic. The only way we will have peace in the world is if we eliminate all the people. Seriously, if it weren't for the gross, rotten behavior of the miscreants in the world we might actually survive. But then we are all guilty of bad behavior to one degree or another. So why don't we just vacate the place and leave it to the birds and bugs?

I have heard so-called pious, devout Christians say they were very religious and hence believed in "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." Moses put that law into effect in order to prevent exactly what goes on these days, the escalating violence of revenge. "If you hurt my goat, I'll kill your cow to 'teach you a lesson,' then if you set fire to my barn to retaliate I'll destroy your house and every one in it" and so on until someone drops the big one and we all perish. Fortunately Jesus set aside that old law and replaced it with one about loving your enemies. It takes courage to do that instead of "getting even," "settling the score," "closure."

The Bible says "God is love." That's an equation with two unknowns, x = y, with neither x nor y concretely defined. Some of those same eye-for-an-eye Christians will say that God sends a hurricane to punish us for our sins and He visits a disease on us to test our faith. Who wants to worship a god like that, a god of disaster and disease? That so-called god is no better than the barn burner.

If God is love then practicing love is the best form of worship, and that means not only loving and forgiving your enemies but loving even the skunks and vipers of the human race. And when disaster strikes to go and help and save and not wait for God to send rain on the fire. "Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie which we ascribe to heaven" Shakespeare wrote.

I can't define love. I stand humbly in the shadow of great philosophers, poets and song writers who have been trying to do that for centuries. But it seems to me that one who truly loves is like a sturdy oak in a tempest, an oasis in a desert, a hug in someone's sorrow and a cheer in their joy.

DB - The Vagabond
**********************
AUTUMN QUESTION

(This is not a contest.)

At what event of the past do you wish you could be present? Why?

Only 9 responses so far.

dbdacoba@aol.com

Thank you.
DB
************************

It's In The Details

Nothing in life demands closer attention than the things which seem natural.

Honore de Balzac
**********************
I am currently reading, among other things, "The Black Sheep" by Balzac. If Balzac isn't the greatest French novelist, he is certainly high on the nomination list. One of his great gifts is in character descriptions. Before any action you know so much about the characters that you feel as if you know them personally.

It's an enviable ability. As a writer I tend to be more concerned with thoughts and actions than in my descriptions of characters. I suppose that is because I spent so many years as an actor where most of what I read were plays. Playwrights spend very little time on character descriptions. There is dialogue and speeches. From those the actor learns about the character and depicts him on the stage rather than in writing.

In both cases however great attention must be paid to details. An actor makes so many decisions from his imagination and intuition about the role he plays that would seem unimportant and useless to playing the role, and they are things the audience may never see, but they add dimensions to the life of the character that makes him more believable and therefore fuller and richer for his participation in the story. And as Balzac says these are often natural things that one would take for granted and not think about, such as which shoe does he put on first when dressing, what does he have for breakfast, what's his favorite music, does he bite his fingernails, what does he do that he's embarrassed about, does he like cats or not.

Each of the things the actor finds about the role he plays are tucked back into a sack of characteristics that he carries with him into the role. Some are more important than others, but all are useful.

In my current novel "The Savior" I have avoided character descriptions so far, as I concentrate on the plot, I am planning to go back and fill in the descriptions of the main characters. Balzac shows me that I better do it soon.

Then there's the matter of our personal characters. Could you write an honest, objective, third person description of yourself that would convince anyone of who you are? What would you leave out? What would you forget? And what is there to you that you don't even know about? Maybe there are habits you have, simple quirks of behavior that you consider perfectly natural (Doesn't everyone eat there peas with a knife?) but which other people might find strange and unnatural. How closely do you pay attention to your behavior and your life? The more natural it seems the more it needs to be observed.

DB
Vagabond
***********
AUTUMN QUESTION

(This is not a contest.)

At what event of the past do you wish you could be present? Why?

Only 8 responses so far.

dbdacoba@aol.com

Thank you.
DB
************************

That Old Devil Moon

The fortunes of us that are moon's men doth ebb and flow like the sea.

Shakespeare
*****************
One of the most important scientific events of the 20th Century was the discovery of the subconscious mind. Though what it is and how it works are still being argued it is undeniable that the research and understanding of something influencing us that is hidden from immediate conscious view has been a great help for doctors attempting to cure mental and emotional problems, and the resourcefulness of doctors and others to utilize what is known to carefully affect cures.

I did a season of summer stock in a theatre on the shore of the Atlantic Ocean. Summer stock is difficult work. It's very busy and takes a lot of activity all day, every day. To prepare and perform a play a week demands intense concentration and discipline. In contrast to that there was a young man who came to the beach every morning, when it wasn't raining, with a quart of beer. He would sit down, stick the bottle in the sand and stare out at the ocean. Every now and then he would take a sip of beer, but otherwise he just sat and stared. At midday he would get up and go somewhere, presumably to have lunch, and then return with a fresh bottle of beer and sit staring at the ocean until the evening.

He never spoke to anyone and was never seen in any company. I was told he was a composer. Well, maybe he wrote music at night but his day was spent in a beer fueled contemplation of the ocean. I called him a "solatic," a solitary individual who was the opposite of a lunatic.

A lunatic is someone who is wildly manic, but whose insanity is supposedly affected by the phases of the moon. The term dates back to the 14th Century. I once knew a mystic philosopher who opined that since there was liquid in the body and the moon influenced the tides there was no reason why it couldn't do the same to us. Though it may not drive us crazy, he thought, it should have some result.

The human mind to me is like a combination of a well kept garden, a beautiful forest and a jungle. I enjoy reading books and articles on psychology: Freud, Jung, Adler, Laing and others. The study of psychology itself is a trek through the jungles. The unusual flowers and plant life, the strange and dangerous beasts, the unexpected and hidden beauties of nature are all to be found under the surface of our conscious mentality.

We all experience the phenomena of thoughts popping into our heads from nowhere. Strange and unfamiliar images and ideas occur to us and we don't know where they come from. We have also learned that similar things happen unconsciously. While we can discard the conscious thoughts as being not what we really think or want to think and thus avoid any effect on our activities and behavior, or at least we can choose to do so. But what if we are influenced by appearances out of the jungle that we are unaware of and hence unprepared for? That's where reason and a clear sense of morality come to our aid. We need to know who we are, what we believe and how we allow ourselves to behave.

Friedrich Nietzsche wrote "Socrates established a permanent state of daylight against all dark desire - the daylight of reason." It's one of the reasons I enjoy reading philosophers. Great philosophers, like great playwrights, and great novelists are psychologists.

I was playing a scene with a young actor in which his character had a fit. I stood watching it. We were in rehearsal and in the note session the director wanted to know what I was doing during the fit and I said I was trying to figure out what his tactic was. The actor said there was no tactic and that "Sometimes a cigar is only a cigar." I said a cigar is always just a cigar but on the stage it means something and that there must be a tactic even if the character himself doesn't know what it is. The actor was impressed. He had just learned something about himself, acting and the workings of the human mind.

Reason is the human mechanism for keeping our sanity. A lunatic is one who loses it at certain moments. There was nothing apparently manic about the solatic on the beach, but, quite the opposite, a picture of a man who was unable to do anything but stare at the ocean as the tides rolled in and out.

Fortunately we have reason to protect us from the jungle creatures, to safely accompany us as we walk through the forest of imagination and to keep our fortunes from ebbing and flowing like the sea.

DB - The Vagabond
*********************
AUTUMN QUESTION

(This is not a contest.)

At what event of the past do you wish you could be present? Why?

Only 8 responses so far. Let's go, let's go.

dbdacoba@aol.com

Thank you.
DB
************************

weekend Puzzle Answers

Weekend Puzzle Answers

You were to identify these singers from the clues.
There was only one contestant, Beth, of the Blogspot Tigers. So by default she wins the genuine cotton metronome.

1. In black face. Al Jolson

2. With pips. Gladys Knight

3. Three with jazz. Lambert, Hendricks and Ross

4. Still with no band. The Persuasions

5. With blue eyes. Frank Sinatra

6. With a megaphone. Rudy Vallee
----------------------------------------
Class, next week I hope you do better.

DB
**************

Paying The Price

The large expenditures are the small ones that take place most frequently.

Nietzsche
*****************
How much would you do to save your life? The fact is our lives are ransomed in bits and pieces. There are people and times when one great heroic act has changed someone's life, but it is not those events that pay for living. The balance of the account is a slow and particular process. I's made up of moments, small, mostly unrecognized moments, relatively unimportant moments with seemingly no price tag on them.

"Sir! You dropped your gloves!" The subway train came to a stop and the door opened. When the man got up to leave the train he accidentally dropped his gloves on the floor and didn't notice it. They were a very nice looking pair of brand new gloves. I think there were a couple of guys ready to pounce on them as soon as the man left the train. But I shouted and pointed at the gloves. He thanked me, picked them up and made it off the train before the door closed. There was a flash of good will between two men who will never see each other again. I felt good, but what I didn't realize was that I had just made a small deposit in my life's account.

One of my favorite cartoons, which I remember from many years ago, was of a wide open space and in it, spread around, were scores of Roman soldiers, gladiators, men in togas, women in gowns, slave girls, and prisoners in chains. It was obviously ancient Rome, or looked like it. Only everyone was bent over staring at the ground.

It was very strange and unexplainable until you read a voice coming from the side which said "People, can we shoot the scene first and look for the contact lens later?"

At the local supermarket one day, the cashier accidentally popped a contact lens out of her eye. She ws very concerned because she couldn't find it. A couple of us bent over and looked for it. I was reminded of the cartoon. But I saw it. It had landed not on the floor, but on small ledge at the end of the checkout counter. I pointed at it and said "Is that it?" It was and she was very grateful.

About 7 years later I was in the same market with a shopping list. I could read all the items on the list, even with my glyphic handwriting, except for the first one. It began with a "b" but beyond that it was a mystery.

I stepped over to a woman who was stocking shelves and asked her if she could read what it said. She stopped what she was doing, put on her glasses and tried. "Baking soda?" "No." "Baby food?" "No" I said with a chuckle. "Bananas?" "No." I had bananas in the cart, they were further down on the list. "Brussels sprouts?" "No." She apologized that she couldn't tell.

I decided to forget it and took the list with me back to the check out. The cashier was the same woman whose contact lens I had once found. I'm sure she didn't remember me or the event. But as I was putting my purchases on the counter she saw me looking at my list and asked "Did you get everything?" I said I did but that I couldn't read the first item on my list.
"Let me see." She took the list and in two seconds handed it back and said "batteries." Of course, that was it.

Then she said. "They're right around here on the other side. I'll wait." I slid around picked up the batteries and she added them to the cost. I thanked her again and she gave me the traditional "Have a nice day."

Both of those women, even the one who couldn't but tried, had just paid a shekel or two into their life's balance.

This expenditure of heart doesn't stop with good deeds. What we think of people, when we think of them, mattes. Are our thoughts of them good ones or not. Every positive image we have of someone else has its quantum effect no matter how subtle and unrecognizable. To hold in mind a beneficial picture of someone else is dropping coins into their bank account and ours.

And finally, to damn up the flow of negativity, to deny bad and affirm good, to deny failure and affirm success, to deny wrong and affirm right, to deny sorrow and affirm joy, to deny error and affirm truth, to deny pain and affirm pleasure, to deny weakness and affirm strength, to deny cruelty and affirm compassion, to deny evil its very obligation and permission to exist and to persist in doing that is the price for a genuinely redeemed life.

DB - The Vagabond
**********************
Weekend Puzzle

Okay weekend puzzlers. I'm back.

Identify the following.

1. In black face.

2. With pips.

3. Three with jazz.

4. Still with no band.

5. With blue eyes.

6. With a megaphone.

Good luck.
DB
**************

In My World

You don't have to save the world, but you can be in the world - that's where the beauty comes from.

Daphne Zuniga
*********************
I went for a walk today. It was cold. Very cold. No snow, no wind, just cold. Classic winter type cold, dead leaves on the sidewalk, bare branches, even the sunlight seemed cold.

It was a day of promise. Winter is coming, snow is coming, Ashura is coming, Christmas is coming, Hanukah is coming, end of the year festivities are coming, a new year is coming.

I live in the Northeast. I have always lived in the Northeast, much of the time in New England, most of it in New York City, now I live in Pennsylvania. In the Northeast the winters can be brutal but beautiful. The snow piles up into barricades. The snow is a gentle miracle. Ice makes traveling treacherous. Ice covers the branches with jewels. The wind is fierce and biting. The wind makes music through the trees.

Winter in the Northeast is hard. Winter in the Northeast is beautiful.

I am grateful to be in my world.

DB - The Vagabond
*********************

Weekend Puzzle

Okay weekend puzzlers. I'm back.

Identify the following.

1. In black face.

2. With pips.

3. Three with jazz.

4. Still with no band.

5. With blue eyes.

6. With a megaphone.

Good luck.
DB
**************

What's In Your Wallet

Without discipline you wouldn't know what to do with luck.

Carl Zuckmayer
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
I hope you are very wealthy. I wish I were. But if you aren't and you suddenly became rich what would you do with the money? You hear stories of someone winning 100 million dollars in the lottery and five years later they're broke. How can that be? They squandered it, that's how.

So you look at your 100 million, or whatever part of it they let you have, and say that now you can quit your job, pay off all your debts, get some health issues taken care of and buy a new car. Then you look again and realize you have barely made a dent in your new found wealth. So what else can you do with it.

You buy a new home, perhaps a big one, a mansion, and then hire a staff to take care of it.

You say "What the hell, you only live once, let's live it up" and take your wife on a trip around the world, or maybe you go it alone.

You had such a good time doing that you buy a yacht and a crew to take care of it, so you can go to sea again anytime you want.

You wouldn't think of going into a gallery or art auction and buying a Picasso or a Matisse for a few million and have something of lasting and increasing value. No, you start collecting rare and expensive automobiles once owned by movie stars.

Now you're living an easy and comfortable life you decide to run for Governor. That ends up costing you the rest of your fortune and you lose the election,.

Now you're broke. You have to put your mansion up for sale at a loss. The same with your yacht and your used car collection. You might actually sell the yacht, but the house will languish on the market and it's costing you a lot of money to keep the cars. You finally make a donation of those to help you with your taxes.

You go looking for a job.

Does that story sound like a fantasy? It is. But it's a very real possibility for someone who doesn't have the common sense to realize he hasn't just gone straight to heaven.

If I remember correctly the first New York City resident to win the New Your State Lottery, which was one million at the beginning, was an inner city Puerto Rican gentleman who when asked what he was going to do with the money said he would retire from his job and grow a vegetable garden in his back yard. I admired that.

If you suddenly get rich, if you aren't already, and I hope you do, it is not the time to throw your sanity out the window along with everything you've worked for. Wealth is a gift, a blessing. Many people who were born into wealth don't realize that. And many people who achieve wealth in their lives don't realize how lucky they are and tend to look down on the poor as being lazy or ignorant. But those who know the discipline of a difficult life, and don't forget it if they get rich, are the truly wealthy.

DB - The Vagabond
*********************
AUTUMN QUESTION

(This is not a contest.)

At what event of the past do you wish you could be present? Why?

Only 8 responses so far. Let's go folks.

dbdacoba@aol.com

Thank you.
DB
************************