A SUMMER POEM

Vagabond Journey

No. 2,009

The World Hath Needs

Awake ye sunshine, night has had it's day.

It's time to lay down darkness and kiss the ground.

Send light across each branch and through each nook.

The earth hath need of you.

Awake ye blossoms, open your mouths to the light.

Let the warmth of the sun heat your ovens

And stir sweet aromas from your breasts.

The air hath need of you.

Awake ye birds and sing your morning songs.

It's the day to push the fledgling from the nest

In it's private Kitty Hawk, to 12 seconds of life changing flight.

The trees hath need of you.

Awake ye cats and dogs. Stretch the claws and prowl.

Wag the tail and bark. Make your presence known.

Establish your rights as residential beasts.

The neighborhood hath need of you.

Awake ye people, rise and greet the day.

Sign the contract, make the sale, win the case.

Finish the thesis, do your Due Diligence and smile.

The human race hath need of you.

Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

INDEPENDENCE

Vagabond Journey

No. 2,008

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The consciousness of having attempted faithfully to discharge my duty, and the approbation of my country will be a sufficient recompense for my services.

(George Washington)

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Hello George

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I've been an American for just over 74 years. My body was born in Port Chester. My heart was born in Provincetown. My mind was born in Boston. My life was born and hammered out on the streets and sidewalks of New York City. My courage was found on a mountain top in Conway and my erroneous self in the valley. My spirit comes from the strings, horns and timpani of the Metropolitan Opera. My soul was shaped by thousands of hours on the stage. I never tried to be an actor. It was a gift. I tried to sing, and I did. I tried to dance, and I did. I am not a typical American, but, in fact, there are none.

As we struggle alone through the undergrowth in the search for the elusive happiness we do things. You may play the trumpet, walk a tight rope or balance the books. You may pull a tooth, dig a hole, pitch seven innings or rescue a cat. Whatever you do you are an American and there is nothing typical about you.

America is not the marble halls of courts and governments, nor the fancy logos of large corporations, nor the hermetically sealed sky scrapers. Those things are salad dressing. America is a bunch of atypical people. And every time one of us does something well America will silently approve.

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Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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HAVE MERCY ON ME

June 27, 2013

Vagabond Journey

No. 2,007

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The quality of mercy is not strain'd,

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath:

(Shakespeare)

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Hello Linda

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I sat out on the porch this evening in the gentle rain. High in the sky the lightening was flashing. Unconcerned with them thunder rumbled distantly. The rain felt good on my shoulders and head. There were no voices out there. People were inside, at home, with each other, safely away from the gentle storm.

But what does a loner do in such a storm? Is it really safe to go inside to be by myself. Wouldn't it be better to stay outside safely away from myself, to let the rain cleanse me and protect me from the eternally unfinished business of my life?

I sat in the rain thinking about how deeply we must dig to really know ourselves, uncovering ancient artifacts of tests not passed, ignorant mistakes, forsaken loves, forlorn losses. Why do we keep on living when fumbling through such ruins?

The birds and bugs don't mind the cleansing rain. They have no regrets. The people in their homes with rights and wrongs can change the subject if necessary. But what does the loner do?

Two of the most important words we will ever speak are "forgive me." I will forgive myself. I will try. Tonight I was cleansed by the gentle rain of mercy. I am the place beneath. I will have mercy on myself. I will try again.

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Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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ANCIENT FATHERS

June 16, 2013

Vagabond Journey

No. 2,006

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Happy the man, and happy he alone,

He who can call today his own.

(John Dryden)

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Hello Beth

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There has been rain, serious rain, enough to claim itself as a typhoon if it wants to. Then there has been the long slow steady rain that isn't dangerous but just enough to leave everything damp and soaking.

There have been flashes of light in the sky, startlingly unexpected in the night. Lightening not concerned with the mundane earth but rather speeding across the upper atmosphere in a race with its neighboring bolts.

There has been thunder, deep and dark. Distant groans, rumbling long and loud, often strong enough to shake my building.

There has been wind. Trash cans thrown across the parking lot. Too cool on my face when I step outside my door. I close the windows or the papers will be strewn around the room.

There has been sunshine, bright, warm, liquid light to make one forget the rain, wind and thunder. Warm beams across the pages lighting up the shadows.

And through it all, the days and nights have been mine, mine to call a few friends and share good news, mine to read and write, mine to think and paint, mine to search, to stretch, to reach, to climb into the secret places of the day, to discover, to rediscover the endless wine of wisdom from the ancient philosophers, ancient poets and ancient scientists.

My father died in 1943. He was a World War One hero and veteran. Here I sit, in my day, a 21st century man, so far removed from my father's world, and yet so aware of the seeds planted in the long ago which made his world and my world what they are.

Today, my day, I celebrate the Ancient Fathers.

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Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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TAKE THE RIDE

June 1, 2013

Vagabond Journey No. 2,005

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There is no shortage of good days. It is good lives that are hard to come by.

(Annie Dillard)

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Hello Margie

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For some reason, I can't remember why, I have a lot of photos of roller coasters in my screen saver file. For many roller coasters are a lot of fun, although for some the idea of being whipped around at a dangerous speed and plunging down a steep descent into an unseen and unknown destiny does not appeal to them.

Nevertheless roller coasters hold a fascination for many people. You can think about them, hear about them, read about them, see pictures of them or go to the amusement park and watch them. But it is just not the same until you ride one.

I haven't ridden one in many years. There are none around here to tempt me. I would enjoy another trip around the winding rails but if I tried I would probably be stopped at the gate by some kindly attendant who would say "Yo, where do you think YOU'RE going, old timer?" So what, I would still give it a try.

The last coaster I rode was years ago at the Westchester County Fair in Yonkers, NY. It had a double loop and I carefully slipped my hat and my pen under my thigh so they wouldn't fall to the ground when we went upside down. Truthfully, the whole ride went so fast I don't even remember being upside down.

When I was a teenager my buddy Paul and I used to find roller coasters that were closed for the Winter, sneak in and walk the tracks. We would start from the end so that we would climb the first big cascade. We though it was probably safer than trying to walk down it. Some of them had tunnels which were creepy and noisy places. Eery step we took reverberated through the whole tunnel. I'm surprised we weren't arrested. I guess no one was watching, or if they were they were admiring our bravado.

I don't watch television now. I don't even own one. When I was in NYC I only watched if there was a program I wanted to see. But when I lived in New Hampshire I used to watch every night. Since it was a small northern New England community with no cable and only an internal antenna, I could only get one channel. As a result I had no choice but to watch the Tonight Show with a host I considered insipid and world-ignorant. Today I rue the many hours I spent glued to that TV set watching that irrelevant program.

Why was it irrelevant? Because the net work was giving me only something that resembled life. It wasn't real life. It didn't involve me beyond my eyes and ears. To watch and listen was to do something instead of life. When I woke up to that I realized in how many other ways I was not living my life. That realization took me out of New Hampshire and back to New York City and the frightening but courageous marathon of starting my acting career all over again.

In my early 20's a blessed teacher implanted in me an energy cell of enthusiasm for life. That cell has brought me through dangerous attempts, out of hopeless failures, plunged me into not too safe adventures and to the gates of gratifying successes. Timidity is not an option.

You can think about life, read about it, hear about it, you can even watch it. But it's just not the same until you get on board and live it.

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Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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MAKE A JOYFUL NOISE

May 29, 2013

Vagabond Journey No. 2, 004

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The woods would be very silent if no birds sang except the best.

(Henry Van Dyke)

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Hello Linda

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The other day I heard an opera broadcast on the radio. (It was The Masked Ball by Verdi, for those of you who know opera.) The performance was from a provincial opera company in Italy. Though some were better than others they were not the best singers in the world. But they all sang with an earnest passion and love for the music. And that alone made it an enjoyable experience.

Listening to them I felt a kinship with them and their lives. I may not have been the best actor in the world but I was good enough to be appreciated by my peers and sometimes even by the critics. But the one remarkable blessing that stands as a pinnacle in my memory is the joy of performing. For the performing artist a performance is a time of being totally alive. For the actor the place he occupies on the stage is his own private tree branch from which to sing his song.

I happened to run into a group of actors from the local theatre during a short break and realized how much I miss being with those people. It made me feel like the show was going on and I was on the other side of a closed, locked door.

But there will be no more acting for me until I get myself out of debt, my body repaired and my address changed to a place in the cosmos where theatre lives. In the meantime I write blogs and stories, paint pictures, am solitary, alone, lonely and sometimes depressed.

Draw me looking ahead but color me blue.

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Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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ON DOPE

May 28, 2013

Vagabond Journey No. 2003

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Better shun the bait than struggle in the snare.

(John Dryden)

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Hello Sandy

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For a year I lived across the street from a high school playground. I would sometimes see a man in a dark blue zippered jacket enter the playground and approach one of the boys who was obviously expecting him. They wouldn't look at each other but the boy reached behind him and dropped an envelope on the ground. Blue jacket would pick up the envelope, look inside, reach into his pocket, take out a plastic bag and drop it where the envelope had been. Then blue jacket would turn and leave and the boy picked up the bag. Any guesses as to what was in the bag?

When I was young teen I watched a documentary of a heroin addict who was coming off the dope unassisted. There were no medications to help withdrawel in those days. He was alone in a room under constant surveillance. The film, which spanned a few weeks, was over an hour long. The horror that poor man went through, which I won't describe, was a more articulate lesson, than anything I could imagine, to stay away from drugs.

I knew a young man, a good musician. He had his own band, and it was successful. One day he took too much cocaine and he died.

Over the past several months I've seen some documentaries about meth (Methamphetamine) addicts, in Europe, Asia and the United States. There are a very few people who can take such a drug and come out fine. But most of them are lost. And most of them are young. Their arms, legs, necks and gums are filled with injection wounds. Many of them got hooked because their parents gave it to them. Many of them have to steal or whore themselves to buy it. If they are on the street they have to go into alleys and behind buildings to cook the stuff so they don't get arrested. If they do they may get clean while they suffer in jail but when they get out they go right for it again. One addict said he has to have the meth just to feel "normal." Many of them admit that they began by smoking marijuana and went down from there. They never expected it to happen to them.

Legalizing drugs may take a huge chunk out of organized crime and smuggling, but what is it going to do for the determined addict, depressed, forlorn, wasted and lost. Besides meth you can make in your own kitchen. The ingredients are obtainable, all poisonous, and the recipe is on the Internet.

I don['t want to hear anything more from politicians about a high moral ground or from pastors saving people from sin. Our government needs to protect us from cyber attacks before our enemies get the technology to destroy us and society (pastors, teachers, doctors, parents, people who really care and don't just make talk and TV shows) needs to focus on why drugs are destroying the lives of so many young people.

Peace and power.

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Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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LOVE AFFAIRS

May 27, 2013

Vagabond Journey No. 2,002

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If you can still hold hands, then you know the romance is still going on.

(Joannie Thayer)

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Hello Jon

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Yesterday I watched an older couple get out of their car and head for the church. Right away he held out his hand, she took it and thus they proceeded, side by side, on their way.

I knew of a man who, getting ready to board a train for a long trip and for which he had a ticket, stopped to buy a poinsettia for his wife. While he was doing that the train whistle blew and the train started to leave the station. But he finished his transaction, ran after the train and caught it. The wife and her poinsettia were more important than the ease of getting on the train.

The artist Henri Matisse on leaving his studio for the day went to look for a gift for his wife. His friend said to him "You are still courting her." He replied "C'est vrai." (It's true.)

I live a solitary life. I don't have a hand to hold or a wife or lady friend to buy flowers for but, in this cruel, disintegrated society, it pleases me to know that some relationships are still solid and romance in it's best form still exists.

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Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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THE DANCE OF THE SEVEN VEILS

May 26, 2013

Vagabond Journey No. 2,001

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The illusion of the good inside ourselves must be wiped out, and the veil, with which self love conceals our moral infirmity, must be torn away.

(Immanuel Kant)

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Hello Sue

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How much of who you think you are are you willing to relinquish? I've observed that the creature who eats, sleeps and walks around inside my skin is often someone I don't want to know. I think I'm a fairly good guy, until I start remembering the stupid and cruel things I've said and done or the intelligent and beneficial things I haven't said and done.

Oh, I can dwell on the good things about me, just as most people do about themselves. But I've also come to realize that those blossoms come from the same meadow as the weeds do.

It is certainly a good thing to respect oneself, but who this self is I am trying to respect has become elusive and enigmatic to me. Knit together, the characteristics, patterns, traits and talents that go to make my person, resemble the skins of the onion, the veils that are covering the naked Salome who doesn't reveal her true selfhood until the veils are off.

The troublesome thing about those veils is that the more we live the more veils we have woven for ourselves and the more we believe the pretensions they display and the less likely we are to peek behind them to see our naked selves.

But to live with our true selves with self respect and no regrets is a strip show, taking off those self made veils, one at a time until we uncover what needs to be cleaned, repaired, focused and saved. Unlike the onion which has no center there is an amazing being behind the veils.

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Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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ANOTHER ONE THOUSAND TO GO

May 23, 2013

Vagabond Journey no. 2,000

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You have created love in my soul and it has grown to be a mountain.

(John Newbrough)

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Hello Everyone

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I received some very good suggestions about what to do with my 2,000th Vagabond Journey. Some of those thoughts tended to looking at my life with an analytical eye. So I decided to dip into the recent past to see what I had written 4 years ago and trace the changes and improvements, if any, in my basic views and writing ability. So here, unedited, is my blog for May 23, 2009 complete with some excellent comments, two from people who still comment and one from someone I never hear from any more. After it I will make my own comments

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Veritable Values 5/23/09
Appreciation is a wonderful thing. It makes what is excellent in others belong to us as well.

Voltaire
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Welcome
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People often waste a lot of time criticizing other people for this and that, finding fault and down grading what they do. Why is that? There usually is some low grade reason for it, such as making comparisons, which Shakespeare says are "odorous" or simple prejudice. Other times the reasons are more sinister such as envy, jealousy or hatred.

I used to be a critical, fault finding fellow. I was brought up that way. But, thank heaven, I learned the pointlessness of it. I also learned the detriment to myself of not appreciating what others do, no matter what it is. I learned to enjoy what I see others do and to be grateful. As an actor, I can enjoy great acting when I see it without feeling jealous. Just as I can enjoy a great musician or a great ball player. It seems strange but I can also feel a sense of participation in what they do.

But then it's not strange. Even though the work of some artists is so magical that it seems they came to earth from another planet or as a result of a meteor shower, the fact is they are human beings and thus are doing what a human being is capable of. Those who excel at something are the leaders, teachers and way showers. I may not take the path of the ball player or opera singer but I can see what I am capable of if I did. It is in me because it is human.

As my friend Barry Pearl wrote "One's appreciation, admiration for another's abilities, means that there is a place inside the admirer that has the same ability."

Those who do things that we admire show us that we have the capability to be admired, and those who excel at what they do show us what excellence is and that we are also capable of it, because we, like they, are human.

DB Vagabond Journeys
____________________
Blow some bubbles of joy today.
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Posted by

DBat5/23/2009 12:05:00 AM
Labels:admiration,appreciation,Barry Pearl,excellence,Voltaire

3 comments

: Cathysaid...It's close to impossible NOT to entertain the human desire to be critical. And ppl learn from that too - if no one expressed their critique for what I say and do I'd have no feedback hence no way to calculate if I'm offending someone, being sympathetic, or just wasting time. Your ability to have a critical eye is, to my mind, a talent. May 23, 2009 at 1:21 AM

Bucko (a.k.a., Ken)said...I had to learn to operate in a negative environment when I went into nuclear power. Because our focus is the health and safety of the public, we have 2 second celebrations when things go well, but we focus on what can be improved most of the time, which means you are always finding fault. I find my time away from work I am quieter because I need to think about what I am going to say, and make it positive. It is like having two personalities. May 23, 2009 at 7:14 AM

Arlene (AJ)said...I've always found criticizing anyone only ends friendships without the one realizing that doing this is hurtful to not only them but, you also. I find accepting someone for who they are is the best route to go, I don't have to agree with their stance or thoughts, etc. but I'll listen with respect. Keeps the friendship and door open to my friends and loved ones, to enjoy another day with them.

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And so what has become of those four years? I've done a lot of reading and writing since then, many blogs, some stories. I've been published in a local paper. I've also made some interesting paintings, exhibited them and sold a few.

I've lost three friends, one is quoted above, because in spite of the well intentioned but miscalculated urges of two of them I refused to take the path in life they had decided for me. The third lost friend betrayed my friendship and broke my heart.

I had to go from a cane to crutches in order to walk, but by determination have overcome the crutches. I moved from one apartment to another, from despair to hope.

I haven't been on the stage for 12 years, but I look forward to some day, perhaps, going back to it. I accumulated some staggering debts which are being taken care of. I will e solvent by October. Then I can focus on repairing myself and maybe even returning to New York City, my true home.

I still agree with everything I wrote above in '09, and maybe I've added some lightness and humor to my thoughts, and more love I still look for the summit of that mountain and am ready for the next 1,000 journeys.

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Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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COMPLETE THE JOB

May 15, 2013

Vagabond Journey No. 1,999

The glory consists in doing what deserves to be written, in writing what deserves to be read.

(Pliny the Elder)

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Hello Rose

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I once knew a country music singer who said that everyone's life is a song. She meant that a life lived could be told in the music and lyrics of a song, with all its metaphorical lessons and experiences.

Similarly I have said that everyone's life is a book, a story, some longer than others. "We spend our years as a tale that is told." (Psalms 90) I have also written that

"Life is unfinished business." We face our daily tasks with one degree or another of joy, satisfaction, weariness or dread. But hidden between the pages of our experiences, our past, our current affairs and our hopes, plans and worries about the future, is a greater objective which when identified and understood will generate a grander perspective about who we are and what we mean to the world.

The country song, the book, the "tale that is told" are evidences of a life being lived, a manifestation of being. What a wonderful opportunity that realization gives us. We set down not only footprints and trail markers but the actual experience of life in its most graphic form.

But with that opportunity comes a personal obligation to live life in its fullness, to live a complete life, for ourselves and for those whose lives we touch.

My daily tasks need to be done but I believe they are better done with my eye on the biggest objective possible, the book my very existence is writing.

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Dear Reader, according to Google this is my 1,999th blog entry. If my computer keeps working the next one, whenever I post it, will be a landmark for me. I want to make it special. So I'm open to any suggestions you may have for what I should do. You may leave a comment here or email me at dbdacoba@aol.com. I would really like your input. Thank you.

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Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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A NEW HUMAN

May 12, 2013

Vagabond Journey No. 1,998

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I know how to do anything, I'm a Mom.

(Roseanne Barr)

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Hello to all you mothers

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Last night, at about 1 a.m., I heard a baby crying. It's very rare to hear a baby in this neighborhood. There are a lot of children running around and shouting outside in the afternoon, but the sound of a baby, a brand new human, is an unusual event.

I knew from whence the sound was coming. It was on the other side of my bedroom wall. The folks next door brought the little girl home from the hospital about a week ago. So not only is there a brand new baby but there is also a brand new mommy. Of course, as could be expected, a couple of brand new grandmas showed up to assist in the process of adjustment.

So the little girl. Emmy, set to a good healthy bawling to express her outrage at being taken from the soft security she knew and thrust into an alien world she doesn't understand and in which she is incapable of taking care of herself.

The baby's cry is the language. It's the only way for the infant to communicate that she needs a diaper change, she has a pin sticking into her, she's hungry, needs to burp or just needs some company. So, immediately,, Mom is on the case.

Her crying does not disturb me in the least. In fact I'm happy to hear it. It's good to know there is new life happening right next door to me. Proud parents, fussy grandmas, healthy little girl.

A child is a wondrous thing. Life goes on.

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Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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THE WANDERER

April 30, 2013


Vagabond Journey No. 1,995



Have no fear of moving into the unknown.

(Pope John Paul II)

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Hello Lily

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I'm a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger;

I can tarry, I can tarry but a night.

Do not detain me, for I am going

To where the fountains are ever flowing;



There the glory is ever shining;

O, my longing heart, my longing heart is there.

Here in this country so dark and dreary,

I long have wandered forlorn and weary:

(Mary Shindler)



Many of the years of my vagabond life I moved, not to go somewhere but to get away from where I was,. It wasn't that I was dissatisfied with where I was but I knew in my heart that it was only temporary. That is a result of my youth when I had to keep moving for financial reasons. There are no roots. I never learned what a home is.



It is the same with people. I have no friends from my boyhood or teen age years. My only friend left over from my 20's is Charles, but even with him we were out of contact with each other for about 25 years. I have no friends in this dreary town. I wrote somewhere that I've lost more friends than I ever had. I have managed, in one way or another, to alienate a few of the friends I had. Some have turned cold before they ever became friends. I have moved away from some, others have moved away from me.



So why am I adrift, forlorn and weary, solitary in my ways, apt to pick up and disappear down some road to shining fountains that I think must be there, somewhere? I don't know where they are or where I'm going. I can only say in general where I will stop, if I ever do. There will be space and water, water with waves. I wish to own a tree, and a cat to climb it, and a dog to watch the cat climbing, and young people, and a commerce of ideas.



I can visualize such a place, but can I visualize remaining there? Wherever I am it seems that in my heart I am still a pilgrim and a stranger. A wanderer. A vagabond.

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Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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GET IN THE LIGHT

April 29, 2013


Vagabond Journey No. 1,994



We can readily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark, the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.

(Plato)

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Hello Arlene

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The realities of life happen in the broad daylight, and that's why most people don't notice them. A lot of attention has been paid to the victims of the Boston bombings who need artificial limbs as a result. But how many of those people will not be able to afford them.



One evening in New York City a man entered the subway car sitting on a wheelchair. He had no legs. He didn't say a word, he didn't need to. He merely passed through the car with a cup in his hand and people gave him money. When he passed me I put a dollar in his cup. Two words passed between us. I said "Nam?" and he said Yup." Why was that man begging?



Then there's the irony of the homeless. I remember a woman who said she wanted to give her leftover Thanksgiving dinner to the homeless but she didn't know where they live.



Again in New York there was an outdoor book store in Columbus Circle. It was run by the homeless. I bought a few books from them. They were polite, orderly and looked out for each other's books. One day the police came and took them all away. A wealthy and therefore powerful woman had complained about homeless people living in her neighborhood.



The number of children who die everyday in Africa is appalling. The list of wrongs goes on and on and yet it goes unnoticed by all except a few. Politicians, governments, news media, church leaders are the ones who should be shining the bright lights on the world,s problems but they don't because they are afraid..



Churches that should mobilize people to confront and solve the obvious but overlooked circumstances of real life are cloistered in dogmas. The media spends a lot of time worrying about their popularity, telling a lot of stories that look good and asking stupid questions like "What went through your mind?" Congress wastes our money arguing about unimportant things because none of them have the guts to step outside of the party line and face facts.



Go live on the street Senator and see how many peopled don't notice you, pass you buy or cross the street to avoid you. Make friends with the other smelly homeless guys and learn the ropes. And if the police come to take you in, do what they say and don't argue. I've been homeless and I've been a beggar. I know what I'm talking about.

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Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never give up.

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STEP ON A BETTER SCALE

April 27, 2013


Vagabond Journey No. 1,993



Man's greatness lies in the power of his thought.

(Blaise Pascal)

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Hello Beth

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Watch out, now, it's evaluation time, judgement day. It's time to measure yourself against the perfect person you want to be. Are you as pretty as your sister? Are you stronger than the bully in the playground? Are you smarter than the geek in the horn rim glasses at school? When you step on the scale do you like the number that comes up? No, to all of the above? Well, shame on you.



Shame on you? Nonsense. Shakespeare wrote "Comparisons are odorous." I have worked with better actors, heard better musicians, seen better paintings, red better stories and had conversations with very intelligent and knowledgeable people. None of those experiences has robbed me of a single element of my worth. I've learned things from the actors, the painters and the people I've talked with.



There are some positive thinking experts who are vendors of good advice, but they will tell you that if you want to lose weight think "thin" and if you want to have more money think"wealth." If you want to be better looking think"beautiful." And so on and on. But it's the wrong road. It puts you into a contest between who you want to be and who you think you are. Take a U turn. Comparisons, disappointment, self doubt, self criticism and self condemnation are the poisonous fruits of trying to be someone else.. The antidote is self evaluation.



The objective of trying to improve yourself is not to become a better human being but to be a better and happier you. To do that means to identify and hold in your thoughts the special qualities, the benefits and blessing you provide for yourself and the world, to really understand how valuable you are to yourself. Measure yourself on a scale of personal worth. You will be surprised at what happens.

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Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never give up

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A CURIOUS DAY

A Spectacle of Life Living


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Hello Barbara

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The tiny white beast flutters from bush to bush too fast for any predator to catch her.



The gray cat watches with fascination from his perch on the railing of the porch..



I watch them both from my chair.. And I wonder. I wonder what makes the little white creature scurry so fast through the bushes. What is she looking for? I wonder at the gray creature's unmoving focus and curiosity about the little white one. What does the gray beast think of the white one. And I wonder how I fit in to this scene. I want to read metaphors.



Maybe I don't see metaphors. Maybe what I see is archetypes, lessons from the daylight, symbols of life living itself. Am I a little white creature dashing around to find my subject? Am I a stolid gray furry creature staring with curiosity into the world around me? Am I an arrow zinging through space to find a target? Am I a rumbling tank, slow to move but focused? Am I a laconic phrase? Am I a mystical epic? Am I a spark of thoughtt dashing through space? Am I the rolling of worlds?



I watch the little winged creature and the bewhiskered spectator with wonder and delight.

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

Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

No. 1,992

Never Give Up

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

SPRINGLING (revised)

The computer gremlin was at work here. This verse was supposed to read.




On the lawn the dandelions grow.

Trees push out their blossoms just for show.

The rain comes, now not cold. .

Folks walk out no longer old.

Back yard barbecues for sale.

The worker fastens every nail.

Lovers find a place to smooch.

I dress up like Scaramouche.

SPRINGLING

April 20, 2013


Vagabond Journey no. 1.191

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

Hello Marty

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



On the lawn the dandelions grow.

Trees push out their blossoms just for show.

The rain comes, now not .

Folks walk out no longer old.

Back yard barbecues for sale.

The worker fastens every nail.

Lovers find a place to smooch.

I dress up like Scaramouche.

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

Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never give up.

HOW LARGE IS YOUR ROOM?

April 19, 2013


Vagabond Journey no. 1,990



The value of experience is not in seeing much, but in seeing wisely.

(William Osler)

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

Hello Val

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

We are always being told to think outside the box. But the fact is that we all live in boxes, and we expect to function appropriately and successfully inside that box whether its our home, job, school or other place of activity.



Original thought is an excellent quality to posses and use. I often write about it. But it isn't necessary to leave one's home or place of employment to exercise it. What is necessary is to look up, realize and explore the unfamiliar places in one's thinking. The real room we live in is the room of consciousness.



I sometimes feel claustrophobic, confined in some tight space I can't get out of. I have had bad dreams about it. But I know what those dreams are about. They are symbolic of a great dislike for anything inane, anything that wears the cloak of ignorance and stupidity, expressed in my life or the lives of those around me.



My room is filled with ideas, mine and other people's. It isn't in order to expand my consciousness, my room. The room is large enough already. It's to have as much wisdom as I can to use as tools for my own thinking.



Outside my window is a parking lot. There's a car parked in it. At first it's an automobile. Then it becomes a symbol of transportation. It soon becomes a gesture of defiance against stolidity and immobility. It eventually returns to being a car, but it has taken on solid expressions of itself that define it in the larger scope of things. And so it is with the ideas in my room.



I shun cliches. I don't like wise old sayings that hang on walls and are ignored. "Love thy neighbor as thyself." That's a good idea but how many people practice it. In fact how many people love themselves enough to practice it.



The truth of things, the real wisdom, may not lie outside the box, if the box is large enough to hold it.

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

Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never give up.

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

I AM A COMPASS

April 14. 2013




Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

(Shakespeare)

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

Hello Bruce

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

One day in New York City I was standing on the corner of Lafayette and Houston Streets. (In NY it's pronounced Howstin, as in how now brown cow.) I was waiting for the light to change so I could cross. On the other corner was a family looking at a map. The man crossed over to me and, in a think German accent, politely asked me "Vich vay is vest?" I pointed to the west. He thanked me and went back to his family.



It is very easy for tourists to get lost in New York. In fact it's very easy for New Yorkers to get lost there. In my early years, growing up in the New York City area, my destinations were limited and predictable. But when my career began I had to travel all around the city for interviews, auditions and jobs. And sometimes I would come out of a subway onto an avenue and not know vich vay vas vest.



One day I got smart, went to EMS and bought a compass. It was a small pocket model but it was a good one. That compass allowed me to know where I was on the perpendicular tapestry of Manhattan.



A compass works because the magnetized needle on its face always points to the magnetic north pole of the earth. That's an amazing astronomical fact that most compass user take for granted.



High above the north pole there is a star, Polaris, the north star, "the star to every wandering bark." The north star has been used for centuries by marinas to chart their way through the oceans because it is in a fixed position, another amazing astronomical fact. Seamen can find their position and direction by observing how the other stars are in relation to it.



We all have our own magnetic north pole our own north star which always enables us to know where we are and where we are going. It can also tell us if and where we have gone astray. "Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds." Through all the temptations, opportunities, influences, entertainments, activites and obstacles of the urban or natural jungles or over the roaring waves, through all the hurricanes, tornadoes and droughts it is the one thing we love the most that guides us home. Love is "the ever fixed mark that looks on tempest and is never shaken."



Love is not just hope, affection or desire. It's all of those things and more. It's that which once you are focused on it there is a calm in the waves, a sense of peace, an awakening and a realization of who you are, where you are and what you really want in life. The most important thing in your life is what you love. Fix your sights on that star and follow it.

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

Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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

ABOV E AVERAGE

April 13, 2013




Enlightened people seldom or never posses a sense of responsibility.

(George Orwell)

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

Hello Lora

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

I have been noting how often in my youth and even into adulthood I have given over to some authority my right to choose for myself. I remember back to advice given from people I should not have believed, standards of behavior which have since fallen victim to progressive thinking, moral standards that were proscriptive and based on irrational ideas, fantasies about life and my place in it.



The smarter I get, ok, the older I get, let's leave "smart" for now,

the less respectful I get for the ideas that have been dangling in front of me for decades. I could go into tales of the wrong school, the wrong mate, the wrong moves, the wrong professional choices and the wrong remarks to illustrate the troubled life I've had because of being influenced by someone or something I should have ignored.



A psychologist could probably describe to me a pattern of behavior that has caused me the troubles I've had. But if he did he would only be telling me something I have already learned. And it's the danger of repetition. If you are sure you are doing the right thing and you fail, and if you try it again and you fail again, don't try it again just because some standard of behavior is written on your mental wall. Patterns can be dangerous things. That's why most snakes wear them.



"Have a nice day" the checkout girl said as she handed me my bag of groceries. I did not want to insult her. I thanked her and said "But it's raining out there and it's cold." I only wanted to suggest a retreat from the automaton mind set she has been talked into.



Somewhere way back I learned to question things, almost everything. I questioned my motives, my actions, my responses, my attitudes, my beliefs and my ideas. I tried to rub everything against the touchstone of my own sense of honesty. There were many times in the past I might say something I didn't really mean. Now if someone says "How are you?" if I'm not feeling fine I don't answer. Because if they really want to know they will get a catalogue of what's wrong with me. I would rather say nothing and appear rude.



Cliched ideas and cliched words grow like dandelions in our heads. They steal away original thinking and fill up the spaces where enlightened deeds may grow. I try to flee from those cliches. I do not need to be responsible for thinking, saying or doing anything because that is the so-called normal way of it.



We all start off average, but there is no reason we have to stay that way.

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

Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

-------------------

Never give up.

ABOVE AVERAGE

April 13, 2013




Enlightened people seldom or never posses a sense of responsibility.

(George Orwell)

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

Hello Lora

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

I have been noting how often in my youth and even into adulthood I have given over to some authority my right to choose for myself. I remember back to advice given from people I should not have believed, standards of behavior which have since fallen victim to progressive thinking, moral standards that were proscriptive and based on irrational ideas, fantasies about life and my place in it.



The smarter I get, ok, the older I get, let's leave "smart" for now,

the less respectful I get for the ideas that have been dangling in front of me for decades. I could go into tales of the wrong school, the wrong mate, the wrong moves, the wrong professional choices and the wrong remarks to illustrate the troubled life I've had because of being influenced by someone or something I should have ignored.



A psychologist could probably describe to me a pattern of behavior that has caused me the troubles I've had. But if he did he would only be telling me something I have already learned. And it's the danger of repetition. If you are sure you are doing the right thing and you fail, and if you try it again and you fail again, don't try it again just because some standard of behavior is written on your mental wall. Patterns can be dangerous things. That's why most snakes wear them.



"Have a nice day" the checkout girl said as she handed me my bag of groceries. I did not want to insult her. I thanked her and said "But it's raining out there and it's cold." I only wanted to suggest a retreat from the automaton mind set she has been talked into.



Somewhere way back I learned to question things, almost everything. I questioned my motives, my actions, my responses, my attitudes, my beliefs and my ideas. I tried to rub everything against the touchstone of my own sense of honesty. There were many times in the past I might say something I didn't really mean. Now if someone says "How are you?" if I'm not feeling fine I don't answer. Because if they really want to know they will get a catalogue of what's wrong with me. I would rather say nothing and appear rude.



Cliched ideas and cliched words grow like dandelions in our heads. They steal away original thinking and fill up the spaces where enlightened deeds may grow. I try to flee from those cliches. I do not need to be responsible for thinking, saying or doing anything because that is the so-called normal way of it.



We all start off average, but there is no reason we have to stay that way.

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

Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

-------------------

Never give up.

ON BEING SPRING

April 11, 2013




and eddieandbill come

running from marbles and

piracies and it's

spring

(e e cummings)

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

Hello Rose

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

I can't believe that it actually crossed through my mind, briefly, that I might actually get married again. Feh! Impossible. Who would have me? I realize that such thoughts are the symptoms of the illusions, the madness, of that once a year phenomenon known as Spring.



Around here Nature is waking up, the trees are showing the blossoms they have been dreaming about all winter, birds are back in town from wherever they have been vacationing, while the tiny Winter birds, no bigger than my thumb, who somehow thrive in the ice, snow and freezing temperatures have headed back to their homes on the Canadian tundra, flowers and Frisbees are featured on the market shelves. Signs are all around. In spite of predictions of nasty weather in some places, temporary interruptions in the natural cosmic dance, it can't be denied.



Spring is a time for waking up. It's a time for nudging into reality the winter dreams. A time for weary fingers to push into the ground the seeds of Autumn's wishes. It's a time of returning, revivifying and creating new memories. It's a time for listening to the messages whispered by the breezes that come through the trees or down the streets. It's a time to enjoy quiet,harmless insanity. It's the time to find joy in a single blossom or a simple song. It's a time to admire the wondrous things Nature can do.



Spring.The sign of regeneration and of life living itself.

Invite it in.

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

DB - Vagabond Journeys

Never give up.

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

WHAT IS TRUTH?

April 7, 2013


I wish to be always at the point of discovering.

(Dana Bate)

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

Hello Ken

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

An honest philosopher will not tell you the truth, but he will tell you how he searches for it, and in the process he may uncover a lot of lies and tell you about those. The fact is we squeeze truth out of ourselves by the lives we live and by the yeses and nos we are wiling to admit into consciousness.



To apply for the job of philosopher takes two huge requirements. First of all one must be able the see, hear or read without interpreting, but with a clear understanding of what the event is, whether it's the recipe for meatloaf, the account of a baseball game, or a Psalm of David.



"God sent hurricane Sandy to punish us for our sins." To make a statement like that opens a door on a jungle of interpretations. What does the word God mean? What is sin? Who is this God that punishes, even what does sending mean? A philosopher would never make such a statement. It's much too complicated.



The other requirement is to question all authority. "Most of the authorities in the world aren't." it says in my Jottings Blog http://vagabondjottings.blogspot.com/ and look at how many so-called authorities stand up to proclaim the true facts of one matter or another. Even the authoritative theories of science get dumped out now and then in favor of a better one..By-passing all the authorities and finding his own road through the invisible universe of wisdom is the true philosophers job and joy.



I'm not a philosopher but I enthusiastically read them. I enjoy the ride.

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

Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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

He's Old Now

April 6, 2013




You can't help getting older, but you don't have to get old.

(George Burns)

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

Hello Val

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

About 35 years ago I was directing a production of "The Fantasticks" for a high school in New Hampshire. There is a line in the show which is spoken by the boy about his girl friend. "She makes me young again." The student playing the part kept on saying "She makes me feel young again." That was cute, but not as funny as the correct line, especially coming from the mouth of a high school boy. After several futile attempts to get him to remember to speak the line properly, I told the following true story.



While I lived in New Hampshire I very much enjoyed hiking in the White Mountains. One group is called the Moat Range, North, Middle and South Moat mountains. I was hiking up Middle Moat one day in early Autumn. I had my shirt off, tucked into my belt, and had my back pack on my shoulders. I was feeling good.



The timber line for the mountain is very near the base, so it's mainly hiking up rocky slopes. Up ahead I saws two people coming down. It's not unusual to see others on those mountains. As they approached I saw that they were two teenage girls. We nodded to each other as they passed. One was talking to the other about a boy she knew and I heard her say "Well, I still see him, but he's old now, he's almost twenty."



I resisted the temptation to turn around and give her a lecture on oldness.



After I had told the story I asked the actor his age. When he said he was 18 I said "Oh, my God, you're almost 20. You're old. You past your prime. You're all rusted out. It's all down hill from here. You're old." We all got a laugh over it and I then asked him "What does she do for you?" He replied "She makes med young again." He never messed up the line after that.



I was 4 years old when my father died. He was 52. I grew up thinking 52 was old until I crossed that line myself. Now, more than 20 years later, I'm what's known as a "Senior Citizen" which is a euphemistic term for an old man, aged, past my prime, rusted out, headed down hill. The only problem is I don't feel old. There are parts of me that don't work as well as I would like, but some of those parts weren't working so well anyway.



The hardest part of my senior citizenship is isolation, loneliness. I don't like where I live, hove no local friends I can visit, and I don't have things to do. I spent my working life as an actor. Theatre is collaborative art form. There were always interesting people around working with me. The atmosphere was vital, creative and shimmering with ideas. So how did I end up living next to a parking lot, in a town with no conveniences near me, no friends to visit, in a place where I can't have the life I used to have and want again? Don't ask.



I guess it's time to take off my shirt, put my back pack on my shoulders and start climbing. Who knows, I may meet a couple of chatty teenage girls along the way. That sure would liven up my senioristic self.

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

Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

---------------------

Never Give Up

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

it's not easy

April 4, 2013




The simpler the truth the longer it takes to arrive at it.

(Constantine Stanislavski)

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

Hello Bruce

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

When someone asked me about acting I would sometimes say "Acting is simple, but it's not easy." I suppose that's a remark that could be made about many human endeavors. In many cases what makes it simple is also what makes it difficult. Why is that?



Think about learning to drive a car or any such task. The automobile is a very complicated piece of machinery. The average driver knows little or nothing about the inner complications of the vehicle. But he must learn what the tools of the driver are and how to use them safely and successfully. After much trial and error the experienced driver can hop in, start the car, release the brake and pull out on to the road without much thought. It's simple, but how difficult it was to get to that simplicity.



After years of study, guessing, experimenting and calculating, a great,finally discovered scientific truth may be expressed in a very simple formula.



One wonders why, if it's so simple, it wasn't obvious to the viewer, why was it hidden from sight? It's the mental mountain top experience, I think. When you reach the summit the view is clear and you know where you are. It's simple, but it sure wasn't easy to get there.



The violin student struggles over fingering, bowing, scales, exercises and intonation, trying to make music. It may take years of dedicated study but one day the mysteries of the violin reveal themselves and from then on he can play anything he wants to,



The beginning actor has similar struggles with voice, movement, actions, dynamics, objectives, learning to keep himself under control and faithfully represent the authors work. Along the way he may hear a lot of nonsense from directors, critics nd even other beginning actors. But one day it comes clear, he's reached the mountain top and can go comfortably out on the stage being not only entertaining but believable. Then he will say "Acting is simple, but it's not easy."

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

Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

-------------------

Never Give Up

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



.

Say Yes

We may consider him who is hardened to all sorts of events as a happier man than the one who takes all the joy out of living by looking only on the bleak side of life.


(Immanuel Kant)

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

Hello Stuart

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

One of life's mysteries is why some people enjoy the good things of life who haven't really put much of themselves into it, while others who may have spent much of themselves living and helping others to live never have a full cup. Nature knows nothing about equal rights.



We have all been knocked about, pushed over, had the floor disappear from under us, been lied to, betrayed and beaten up, some of us more than others. But even the most successful and healthy men and women have something to complain about if they want to. There are many temptations lurking in the mental and emotional alleys to do harmful things to ourselves and others. If we are wise we resist them.



One of the worst temptations and one of the most dangerous because it's popular and seems so innocuous is the desire to think and speak negatively about life. Things are not 100% right. So what? Why dwell on them? Set them right, if you can. If you can't, forget it and get on with life.



Negativism is a form of theft. By thinking and acting on the dark side of human experience we rob ourselves and other of the spirit of life,the enthusiasm,the expectation of good. We look for the trash instead of the beauty. We live with the torn fabric, the leaky faucet, the lost opportunities, the regrets, because we think it's reality to do that. We rob others because we make sure to notice and comment on their flaws and faults. It helps us to ignore our own. And the big crime is that a negative thinker will probably not see an opportunity to do good things, to improve life, to set things right.



I recently read a story about an Army Chaplain whose duties were consoling the relatives of the men and women who were returning from Iraq dead or maimed. On a daily basis he faced extreme cases of grief, resentment, rage and horror stories from the physically and emotionally wounded. Because he refused to be tempted into darkness, he found the compassion and the words to help those people reach a place of peace and acceptance..And he was commended for it by his superiors.



The real heroes of the world are those who carry the cross of healing on their shoulders, who make room for joy, who plant seeds of renewal, who deem possible the dreams of others and who say "no" to the no and "yes" to the yes.

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

Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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

TAKE A BOW

Dignity consists not in possessing honors, but in the consciousness that we deserve them.


(Aristotle)

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

Hello Geo

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

I enjoy the fact that when a player hits a home run into the stands in order to make the run count he must circle the infield touching each base before he crosses the home plate. His teammates are waiting for him for hugs and slaps, but all the way around he gets to hear the cheering crowd. It's one huge curtain call.



As an actor whenever I gave an exceptionally good performance I knew it, and the audience knew it. The applause at the end was like beautiful music to me. I felt not only approved of and accepted but also honored.



There may be no such thing as a perfect game or a perfect performance but there are excellent ones. And there is excellence in many arenas of life and human activity and when it occurs it should be acknowledged and honored.



But often it isn't. And when we don't get the cheers, applause, reimbursement, trophy, gold medal, blue ribbon,thank you note or handshake that we know we deserve, it's the time to look into ourselves to find the real reward, the knowledge of our own worth.



There is a difficult step to take from the approval of the crowd to the aloneness of realizing and appreciating ourselves in spite of all the things we know that are wrong about us. Insufficiency, disappointment, regret, dissatisfaction,loss, in short, failures, are just the shadows cast by the gold medal moments when we did something right and did it splendidly. Listen to the silent crowd and take a bow..

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

Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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

No Fooling

We should call every truth false which was not accompanied by at least one laugh.


Friedrich Nietzsche

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

Hello Diane

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

Well, it's April Fools Day. Yes it is. And of the most sacred rituals of being the April Fool is the act of unconscious rebellion. Why bother to do things right, as you are supposed to, as all your friends and neighbors do them, when with a little mindless imagination you can make a mess of things and perhaps win a blue ribbon for foolishness?



May I suggest the following evvents to ensure a day of glee and folly.



Spoon the oats into the coffee maker and put the coffee grounds in a bowl with milk and sugar.



When you crack the eggs, drop the yokes in the sink and put the shells in the mixing bowl.



Feed the timer and wind up the cat.



Wash your shoes and polish you socks.



Drive the dog to school and take the kids to the vet.



Throw out the groceries and carefully put the garbage away in the selves and fridge.



Water the driveway and sweep the lawn.



Fuel up the tires and put some air in the tank.



Put the newspaper in the washing machine a read your dishes.



Wash your teeth and brush your face.



Turn on all the lights and go to bed.

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

DB - Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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

Wake It Up

Art occurs at the point where a form is sincerely honored by awakened spirit.


Lawrence Durrell

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

Hello Bruce

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

In much of the world it's Easter Sunday,a day for bunnies, bonnets and resurrections. Outside my window Spring is trying to happen. And inside the juices are stirring in me, the budding signals that tell me I have work to do. The signals don't tell me what the work is, they merely tell me to get reedy because an order is coming from near or far, and it will start my engine. I had better be ready to get in and drive.



Why do painters clean their brushes, why do violinists tune their fiddles, why do dancers keep their legs limbered up, why do writers make notes? Because they don't want to be caught unprepared when the orders come.



One of the ways artists sometimes work is to make chaos and then make order out of it. It's a process of going from the unreal to the real. Out of the chaos will an order suggest itself? No, it will demand itself. And when it does the artist should embrace it as one who has rescued the artist from the darkness.



The form the work of art will take is then a present reality even though the work still has to be done. That's when the dialogue begins between the artist and his work, the great waking up process.



There is a lot of waking up and resurrecting going on this Easter season. As for me, I humbly await my order.

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

Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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

Am I A Fool

Laugh at yourself first, before anyone else can.


Elsa Maxwell

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

Hello Sandy

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

What is happening on the day between Good Friday and Easter? I don't mean what happened years ago in Jerusalem. But what is happening right here, right now? According to the Farmers Almanac "everything is." Spring is happening in the North, Autumn in the South. Everything is changing. Even in the darkest places in the world there may be the twitter of a bird or a baby bud poking it's head out or a full grown adult leaf fading into a brilliant color. Everything is changing, but some things never change.



Do you remember what comes after Easter this year? That's right. All Fools Day. Now if there was ever a day in which every human being in the world could celebrate it's April Fool's Day. It's my day. It's your day. It's everyone's day. There has never been a human being who walked the earth who wasn't fooled at one point or another, and most of the time we are fooled because we allow ourselves to be fooled. And that's what makes us fools.



I recently had an encounter with two fools. One was a bully, the most obvious kind of fool. I male person who considered himself strong, intelligent, sexy and profound. That was the fools costume. Underneath was a person who couldn't keep a job and who had to resort to underhanded tactics to pay his rent. I refer to him as a male person because, while he considered himself a man, his manhood was artificial. Bullyhood is not manhood. He fooled himself and he fooled others. He may have fooled many others, except another fool.



The second fool I encountered was in my own mirror. Unlike the first fool, my foolery is on my sleeve for all the world to see and scorn. I have allowed myself to be fooled by many who may not be fools themselves but are clothed in other costumes, robes of dishonesty, theft, deception, ignorance, prejudice and other garments of malicious behavior. Why did I allow myself to be fooled by those people? Because I'm a fool. And I will celebrate along with every other fool, on Monday, All Fools Day.



It is perfectly all right and honest to acknowledge your own foolishness. If you do that you can then have a good laugh at yourself, which is the best defense against the scorners. But you should never neglect to be watchful, to look out for the foolers. Every day the question should be asked "Who is fooling me?" A politician, a pastor, a teacher, a coworker, a relative, a friend. Foolers come from many places and you can't tell them by what they're wearing.

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

DB - The Vagabond

Never Give Up

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

What A Mess

THE TALE OF THE FIVE COMPUTERS




I was off line for 17 days. My computer originally went berserk on March 12th, my birthday. (Happy Birthday Dana). I called AOL and the fellow there was able to get me back on line that night. But only that night. The next morning, nothing . It behaved like an old mule that wont do anything but eat grass and poop.



It took 20 minutes to finish setting up the windows, another 10 minutes of a blank screen after which a white arrow magically appeared. Eventually, during a period of time when I could have gone to the market and back, the desk top popped up. But it only had a few icons on it and they were very large. I clicked on the one that said AOL and got nothing, not even a pink slip or a nasty note. Nothing.



I clicked on Internet Explorer, got that page and typed in AOL.com. The reply was "unable to show this web page" or words to that effect. I typed in yahoo and google and got the same compassionless result.



I had a phone conversation with a friend in Princeton who said they had a good computer, a Dell, they were going to have recycled, why not give to me instead. As wary as I am of any computers entering my home I agreed. So they brought it. I should have set it up while they were there but I wanted to visit with them instead. After they left I set it up, made certain all the cables came from the old computer to the new one in the exact order and turned it on. No good. No going on line, naturally. I say "naturally" because computers and I have an adversarial relationship. Who was I to think this one was going to work?



I called Verizon and had them fuss around, passing me back and forth to several different "experts" until they finally decided to send out a technician to see for himself what the problem was. He came. Fussed around, told me all the connections were right, got on line with his lap top and told me the problem was with the Dell, and left. So I called Princeton.



Not believing that the Dell was faulty she agreed to take it into the shop to have it checked out and repaired if necessary. In the meantime she brought a lap top she wasn't using for me to use while the Dell was being made ready. But her lap top wouldn't go on line either. Surprise.



She took it and the Dell with her. "Now I am alone" using my old useless HP as a table top. During the weekend I went to the supermarket where my shopping cart broke down. I made it home with the groceries but the cart is now on the parch in a pile.



On Monday I called and was tole that it would take at least a week to find out about the Dell. I did a lot of reading. Finally I was told that there was nothing they could do with the Dell. More surprise.



Today she brought two lap tops and managed to get one to work. After much Amazonian effort, while I watched, expectantly but suspiciously, she got on line and I sat down in front of 120 emails.



Now I have a Rube Goldberg arrangement. The lap top is sitting on my HP. It's internal mouse doesn't function so my mouse is plugged into it. In front of me I have a keyboard and two monitors. One of them works. Attached to the lap top is a four way UBS socket so my printer can go into it. There is no way to plug in the speakers, so the only scratchy sound comes out of the lap top Not good for music. Some of the wires are stretched to an micro inch of their lives. And you should see the mess of wires that drools off my desk and onto the floor. No you shouldn't.



"Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we try to attached all the wires to our computers and the various devices that serve us so unpredictably.



So the Vagabond is back, with scars and with regrets that he missed out on a couple of weeks of your company.



Dana Bate

Never Give Up

March Winds

Blow, blow thou winds of March.


Scatter the leaves and the plastic bags.

Rattle the windows, clean the air,

But mind the lawn chair on the porch.   


 Dana Bate Vagabond Journeys

True Story

Summer In NYC, With Horses


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Hello Rose

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I'm telling you a story which you are not going to believe. But it is true. I know it is because I was there and I saw it happen. New York, as other major cities, has mounted police. It isn't unusual to see a pair of horses, with police on them moving slowly through the major areas of the city. The are very good for controlling crowds and breaking up traffic jams. This story is in 2 parts. Don't read Part 2 until you have read Part 1. That way you will get the full effect of an event that defies belief but is true. For scoffers I refer you to the New York Daily News which printed a story and a photograph of the closing moments.

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PART 1

There used to be a restaurant in New York called "The Cattleman." It was a steakhouse that provided a special deal to patrons wanting to go to the theatre. They offered a pre-theatre dinner special followed by a ride to the theatre district That ride was in the Cattleman Stage Coach. A team of two horses would pull it through the streets of midtown and deposit the riders at Shubert''s Alley (the center of the theatre district).



One summer evening I was sitting in a bar on 45th Street, east of Broadway, the regular route of the Cattleman Stage Coach. It was a warm night, the front door of the bar was open and I was sitting near it. I heard the stage coach coming at a fast clip, probably running a little late. I watched it from the open door and just as it came into view a small yellow Volkswagen, the driver evidently unaware of the approaching horses, pulled out of its parking space and onto the street. The horse nearest it, reared up and came down on the car with both front hooves, denting the car but otherwise causing no particular damage. The teamster pulled the horses out away from the car and continued on down 45th Street, across Times Square and on to its destination.

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PART 2

Now here's where your sorry, skeptical disbelief might begin to set in. But with my right hand on my complete Shakespeare and my left hand raised I vow to you that what happened next really, genuinely occurred.



The driver of the Volkswagen was standing there looking dazed. But another man, near by, obviously a western movie fan, stepped out into the street, pointed toward where the stage coach had gone, looked up the street in the opposite direction and shouted ""They went that-a-way." I looked up the street and there were two New York City mounted police coming down the street in full gallop, chasing after the stage coach. It was a posse. It was Marshall Dillon and Hopalong Cassidy. It was the good guys chasing down the bad guys. It was the Wild West right in the middle of Manhattan on one warm summer evening.



It was wonderful

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Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up

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A Homeless Man

The young woman offered him a sandwich while he was resting out in the cold. She thought he was a homeless man.




He can't afford a haircut. He looks like a homeless man.



He putters around his apartment but it is not his home. He feels like a homeless man.



His porch light is always on but no neighbors come to call. He is a solitary man.



No one in the town knows him well. He is a friendless man.



They canceled his lecture to the group. He is a speechless man.



He loves to paint but can't afford new paints or frames. He is an artless man.



He loves to make music but has no musical instrument. He is a soundless man.



He loves adventure but has no means of travel. He is an immobile man.



He loves to make love but has no partner. He is a loveless man.



He loves life but doesn't know where he lives. He is a homeless man.



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Vagabond Journeys

Dana Bate

Never Give Up

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A Strange Language

Laugh at yourself first, before anyone else can.


(Elsa Maxwell)

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Hello Lily

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You will need the enclosed glossary to understand the following conversation The language is spoken by a peculiar group of Americans who live in a small area.

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GLOSSARY

derz - there's

da - to

duh - the

dis - this is

euh - ear

fou - four

he - here

i - it

noo - new

nah - no

o - of

terd - third

tru - through

tanks - thanks

wes - west

whaz - what does

windas - winters

yuh - you, or your

yawk - york

yeah - year

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I enter the dry cleaners in a small town in northern New Hampshire to get my suit. The man takes my slip, goes into the back and comes out with my suit, hangs it up, puts a piece of paper on the counter and speaks.

He: Deres yuh receit, i comes to foh fifty.

I: (I pay him) Yuh from noo yawk, aren't yuh?

He looks at me with a bit of suspicion. I point to myself.

I: Upper wes side.

He: (pointing at himself Duh Bronx. Whaz i show?

I: Hah, It's in duh euh, man. Duh sounds o home. How long yuh bin he?

He: Dis is my terd yeah.

I" So yuh bin tru a few windas an know duh story.

He: Yup.

I: Well, good luck.

He: Tanks.

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Vagabond Journeys

Dana Bate

Never Give Up

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