Thursday, July 11, 2013


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

Thursday, July 4, 2013


Vagabond Journey

No. 2,008


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)


Hello George


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.


Dana Bate

Vagabond Journeys

Never Give Up