tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21369838616503224582024-03-05T21:19:38.951-05:00Vagabond JourneysDBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.comBlogger1976125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-64122429324666509892013-07-11T00:07:00.004-04:002013-07-11T00:07:19.690-04:00A SUMMER POEM<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: medium;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">Vagabond Journey</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">No. 2,009</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
The World Hath Needs</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
Awake ye sunshine, night has had it's day.</div>
<br />
<div>
It's time to lay down darkness and kiss the ground.</div>
<br />
<div>
Send light across each branch and through each nook.</div>
<br />
<div>
The earth hath need of you.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
Awake ye blossoms, open your mouths to the light.</div>
<br />
<div>
Let the warmth of the sun heat your ovens</div>
<br />
<div>
And stir sweet aromas from your breasts.</div>
<br />
<div>
The air hath need of you.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
Awake ye birds and sing your morning songs.</div>
<br />
<div>
It's the day to push the fledgling from the nest</div>
<br />
<div>
In it's private Kitty Hawk, to 12 seconds of life changing flight.</div>
<br />
<div>
The trees hath need of you.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
Awake ye cats and dogs. Stretch the claws and prowl.</div>
<br />
<div>
Wag the tail and bark. Make your presence known.</div>
<br />
<div>
Establish your rights as residential beasts.</div>
<br />
<div>
The neighborhood hath need of you.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
Awake ye people, rise and greet the day.</div>
<br />
<div>
Sign the contract, make the sale, win the case.</div>
<br />
<div>
Finish the thesis, do your Due Diligence and smile.</div>
<br />
<div>
The human race hath need of you.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
Dana Bate</div>
<br />
<div>
Vagabond Journeys</div>
<br />
<div>
Never Give Up</div>
DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-8481521716458021372013-07-04T00:09:00.003-04:002013-07-04T00:09:37.718-04:00INDEPENDENCE<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: medium;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">Vagabond Journey</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">No. 2,008</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">------------------------------------------------------</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">The consciousness of having attempted faithfully to discharge
my duty, and the approbation of my country will be a sufficient recompense for
my services.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">(George Washington)</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">********************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
Hello George</div>
<br />
<div>
****************************</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
************************</div>
<br />
<div>
Dana Bate</div>
<br />
<div>
Vagabond Journeys</div>
<br />
<div>
Never Give Up</div>
<br />
<div>
***************************</div>
DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-50431903275949672792013-06-27T00:17:00.003-04:002013-06-27T00:17:40.330-04:00HAVE MERCY ON ME<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: medium;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">June 27, 2013</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">Vagabond Journey </span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">No. 2,007</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">*****************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">The quality of mercy is not strain'd,</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Upon the place beneath:</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">(Shakespeare)</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">**********************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">Hello Linda</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">****************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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?</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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?</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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?</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">**********************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">Dana Bate</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">Vagabond Journeys</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">Never Give Up</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">**********************</span></div>
DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-51877154923108168692013-06-16T00:05:00.002-04:002013-06-16T00:05:23.539-04:00ANCIENT FATHERS<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: medium;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">June 16, 2013</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">Vagabond Journey</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">No. 2,006</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">-------------------------</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Happy the man, and happy he alone,</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">He who can call today his own.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">(John Dryden)</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">*********************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">Hello Beth</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">*********************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">There has been thunder, deep and dark. Distant groans,
rumbling long and loud, often strong enough to shake my building.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
Today, my day, I celebrate the Ancient Fathers.</div>
<br />
<div>
**********************</div>
<br />
<div>
Dana Bate</div>
<br />
<div>
Vagabond Journeys</div>
<br />
<div>
Never Give Up</div>
<br />
<div>
******************</div>
DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-40602573659486962792013-06-01T00:05:00.000-04:002013-06-01T00:05:06.295-04:00TAKE THE RIDE<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: medium;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">June 1, 2013</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">Vagabond Journey No. 2,005</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">------------------------------------</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">There is no shortage of good days. It is good lives that are
hard to come by.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">(Annie Dillard)</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">***********************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">Hello Margie</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">*******************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
*************************</div>
<br />
<div>
Dana Bate</div>
<br />
<div>
Vagabond Journeys</div>
<br />
<div>
Never Give Up</div>
<br />
<div>
**************************</div>
DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-62811278296713455452013-05-29T00:05:00.003-04:002013-05-29T00:05:44.930-04:00MAKE A JOYFUL NOISE<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: medium;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">May 29, 2013</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">Vagabond Journey No. 2, 004</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">----------------------------------</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">The woods would be very silent if no birds sang except
the best.</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">(Henry Van Dyke)</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">***********************************</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">Hello Linda</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">******************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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. </span></div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
Draw me looking ahead but color me blue.</div>
<br />
<div>
********************</div>
<br />
<div>
Dana Bate</div>
<br />
<div>
Vagabond Journeys</div>
<br />
<div>
Never Give Up</div>
<br />
<div>
********************</div>
DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-74746903439681338872013-05-28T00:05:00.005-04:002013-05-28T00:05:39.608-04:00ON DOPE<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: medium;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">May 28, 2013</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Vagabond Journey</span> No. 2003</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*********************************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Better shun the bait than struggle in the snare.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">(John Dryden)</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">********************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
Hello Sandy</div>
<br />
<div>
*****************</div>
<br />
<div>
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?</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
Over the past several months I've seen some documentaries about meth
(Methamphetamine<strong>)</strong> 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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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. </div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
Peace and power.</div>
<br />
<div>
******************</div>
<br />
<div>
Dana Bate</div>
<br />
<div>
Vagabond Journeys</div>
<br />
<div>
Never Give Up</div>
<br />
<div>
*******************</div>
DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-35972584396391933232013-05-27T00:05:00.000-04:002013-05-27T00:05:01.196-04:00LOVE AFFAIRS<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: medium;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">May 27, 2013</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">Vagabond Journey No. 2,002</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">******************************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">If you can still hold hands, then you know the romance is
still going on.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">(Joannie Thayer)</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">*********************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
Hello Jon</div>
<br />
<div>
**********************</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.)</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
***************************</div>
<br />
<div>
Dana Bate</div>
<br />
<div>
Vagabond Journeys</div>
<br />
<div>
Never Give Up</div>
<br />
<div>
****************************** </div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-82124005112466934442013-05-26T00:05:00.001-04:002013-05-26T00:05:10.615-04:00THE DANCE OF THE SEVEN VEILS<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: medium;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">May 26, 2013</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">Vagabond Journey No. 2,001</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">******************************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: medium;">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.</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: medium;">(Immanuel Kant)</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: medium;">******************************</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: small;">Hello Sue</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: small;">****************************</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: small;">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.</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: small;"></span></strong> </div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: small;">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.
</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: small;"></span></strong> </div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: small;">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.</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: small;"></span></strong> </div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: small;">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.</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: small;"></span></strong> </div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: small;">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.</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: small;">**************************</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: small;">Dana Bate</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: small;">Vagabond Journeys</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: small;">Never Give Up</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: small;">*********************</span></strong></div>
DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-42553129466662532912013-05-23T01:36:00.003-04:002013-05-23T01:36:38.825-04:00ANOTHER ONE THOUSAND TO GO<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: medium;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">May 23, 2013</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">Vagabond Journey no. 2,000</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">***************************************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong>You have created love in my soul and it has grown
to be a mountain.</strong></span></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">(John Newbrough)</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">*************************</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">Hello Everyone</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial;">*************************</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">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</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">***************************************************</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>Veritable Values
5/23/09</strong></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><br /><strong>Appreciation is a
wonderful thing. It makes what is excellent in others belong to us as
well.<br /><br />Voltaire<br />***************<br />Welcome<br />-------------------<br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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."</strong></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>
</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong><div>
<br />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.</div>
<br />
<div>
<br />DB Vagabond Journeys<br />____________________<br />Blow some bubbles of
joy today.<br />***************************<br /><br />Posted by</div>
</strong><div>
</div>
</span><div>
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>DB</strong></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>at</strong></span><a href="http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/2009/05/veritable-values-52309.html"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>5/23/2009 12:05:00 AM</strong></span></a><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>Labels:</strong></span><a href="http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/search/label/admiration"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>admiration</strong></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>,</strong></span><a href="http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/search/label/appreciation"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>appreciation</strong></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>,</strong></span><a href="http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/search/label/Barry%20Pearl"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>Barry Pearl</strong></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>,</strong></span><a href="http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/search/label/excellence"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>excellence</strong></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>,</strong></span><a href="http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/search/label/Voltaire"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>Voltaire</strong></span></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>3 comments</strong></span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong></strong></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>:</strong></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/13788060917420508410"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong><img a="" alt="" class="photo" gt="" height="35" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hIQUBCgWe_g/SXpNcSIaZmI/AAAAAAAAC0Y/7TCzYd3Qq00/S45/2008.png" width="35" /></strong></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/13788060917420508410"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong> Cathy</strong></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>said...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.</strong></span><a href="http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/2009/05/veritable-values-52309.html?showComment=1243056104873#c7185220680761548897"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong> May 23, 2009 at 1:21 AM</strong></span></a></a></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong></strong> </div>
<br />
<div>
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/09425810816600512504"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong><img a="" alt="" class="photo" gt="" height="35" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYJPDQcR4vGgIKe_h979djGnq4RcAkXOLgMI5hqG4SNIOjt8SsWWnigyI27jI2q2JxNLSTk2AZBrC7KIyMcW97SqgLZwgmi3DyzWVbQRmQ2sWhRBUKvbHgnsC-WZnnuwMI-hqoHmE4DDv/s45/Ken+Riches.jpg" width="35" /></strong></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/09425810816600512504"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong> Bucko (a.k.a., Ken)</strong></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>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.</strong></span><a href="http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/2009/05/veritable-values-52309.html?showComment=1243077258515#c1828692750523650459"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong> May 23, 2009 at 7:14 AM</strong></span></a></a></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong></strong> </div>
<br />
<div>
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/15447163140897697509"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong> Arlene (AJ)</strong></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>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.</strong></span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><strong>_____________________________________________________</strong></span></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">--------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">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.</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"></span></strong> </div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">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.</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"></span></strong> </div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">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.</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"></span></strong> </div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">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.</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"></span></strong> </div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">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.</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">*****************************************************************</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">Dana Bate</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">Vagabond Journeys</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">Never Give Up</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">***********************</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">****************************************************</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"></span></strong> </div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"></span></strong> </div>
DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-16610427552612436792013-05-15T00:04:00.001-04:002013-05-15T00:04:14.386-04:00COMPLETE THE JOB<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: medium;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">May 15, 2013</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">Vagabond Journey No. 1,999</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">The glory consists in doing what deserves to be
written, in writing what deserves to be read.</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">(Pliny the Elder)</span></strong></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">**********************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">Hello Rose</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">*********************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">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 </span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">"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.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
******************</div>
<br />
<div>
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 <a href="mailto:dbdacoba@aol.com">dbdacoba@aol.com</a>. I would really like your
input. Thank you.</div>
<br />
<div>
*******************************</div>
<br />
<div>
Dana Bate</div>
<br />
<div>
Vagabond Journeys</div>
<br />
<div>
Never Give Up</div>
<br />
<div>
******************* </div>
DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-39206255865398484852013-05-12T00:05:00.002-04:002013-05-12T00:05:17.820-04:00A NEW HUMAN<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: medium;">
</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">May 12, 2013</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">Vagabond Journey No. 1,998</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;">*********************************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I know how to do anything, I'm a Mom.</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">(Roseanne Barr)</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">**********************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">Hello to all you mothers</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">*************************</span></div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
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.</div>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
A child is a wondrous thing. Life goes on.</div>
<br />
<div>
***********************************</div>
<br />
<div>
Dana Bate</div>
<br />
<div>
Vagabond Journeys</div>
<br />
<div>
Never Give Up</div>
<br />
<div>
**********************</div>
DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-88921823702213092362013-04-30T00:12:00.003-04:002013-04-30T00:12:47.488-04:00THE WANDERERApril 30, 2013<br />
<br />
<br />
Vagabond Journey No. 1,995<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Have no fear of moving into the unknown.<br />
<br />
(Pope John Paul II)<br />
<br />
*************************<br />
<br />
Hello Lily<br />
<br />
***************************<br />
<br />
I'm a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger;<br />
<br />
I can tarry, I can tarry but a night.<br />
<br />
Do not detain me, for I am going<br />
<br />
To where the fountains are ever flowing;<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
There the glory is ever shining;<br />
<br />
O, my longing heart, my longing heart is there.<br />
<br />
Here in this country so dark and dreary,<br />
<br />
I long have wandered forlorn and weary:<br />
<br />
(Mary Shindler)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
*****************************<br />
<br />
Dana Bate<br />
<br />
Vagabond Journeys<br />
<br />
Never Give Up<br />
<br />
******************************<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-6286258231320140702013-04-29T00:14:00.001-04:002013-04-29T00:14:30.337-04:00GET IN THE LIGHTApril 29, 2013<br />
<br />
<br />
Vagabond Journey No. 1,994<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
(Plato)<br />
<br />
*************************<br />
<br />
Hello Arlene<br />
<br />
*************************<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
*****************************<br />
<br />
Dana Bate<br />
<br />
Vagabond Journeys<br />
<br />
Never give up.<br />
<br />
*******************<br />
<br />
. DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-34175395797216474942013-04-27T00:26:00.003-04:002013-04-27T00:26:33.571-04:00STEP ON A BETTER SCALEApril 27, 2013<br />
<br />
<br />
Vagabond Journey No. 1,993<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Man's greatness lies in the power of his thought.<br />
<br />
(Blaise Pascal)<br />
<br />
**********************<br />
<br />
Hello Beth<br />
<br />
*********************<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
**********************************<br />
<br />
Dana Bate<br />
<br />
Vagabond Journeys<br />
<br />
Never give up<br />
<br />
**************************DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-73200175153521894552013-04-25T01:45:00.003-04:002013-04-25T01:45:29.861-04:00A CURIOUS DAYA Spectacle of Life Living<br />
<br />
<br />
******************************<br />
<br />
Hello Barbara<br />
<br />
*********************<br />
<br />
The tiny white beast flutters from bush to bush too fast for any predator to catch her.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The gray cat watches with fascination from his perch on the railing of the porch.. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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? <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I watch the little winged creature and the bewhiskered spectator with wonder and delight. <br />
<br />
***********************<br />
<br />
Dana Bate<br />
<br />
Vagabond Journeys<br />
<br />
No. 1,992<br />
<br />
Never Give Up<br />
<br />
*************************<br />
<br />
DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-4147846001232251092013-04-20T10:14:00.000-04:002013-04-20T10:14:07.659-04:00SPRINGLING (revised)The computer gremlin was at work here. This verse was supposed to read.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
On the lawn the dandelions grow. <br />
<br />
Trees push out their blossoms just for show.<br />
<br />
The rain comes, now not cold. .<br />
<br />
Folks walk out no longer old. <br />
<br />
Back yard barbecues for sale.<br />
<br />
The worker fastens every nail.<br />
<br />
Lovers find a place to smooch.<br />
<br />
I dress up like Scaramouche. DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-81612366976871973002013-04-20T00:07:00.001-04:002013-04-20T00:07:21.916-04:00SPRINGLINGApril 20, 2013<br />
<br />
<br />
Vagabond Journey no. 1.191<br />
<br />
******************************<br />
<br />
Hello Marty<br />
<br />
*****************************<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
On the lawn the dandelions grow. <br />
<br />
Trees push out their blossoms just for show.<br />
<br />
The rain comes, now not .<br />
<br />
Folks walk out no longer old. <br />
<br />
Back yard barbecues for sale.<br />
<br />
The worker fastens every nail.<br />
<br />
Lovers find a place to smooch.<br />
<br />
I dress up like Scaramouche. <br />
<br />
***************************<br />
<br />
Dana Bate<br />
<br />
Vagabond Journeys<br />
<br />
Never give up.DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-21858578542078532332013-04-19T00:05:00.005-04:002013-04-19T00:05:46.028-04:00HOW LARGE IS YOUR ROOM?<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">April 19, 2013</span></strong><br />
<br />
<br />
Vagabond Journey no. 1,990<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The value of experience is not in seeing much, but in seeing wisely.<br />
<br />
(William Osler)<br />
<br />
**********************<br />
<br />
Hello Val<br />
<br />
**********************<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The truth of things, the real wisdom, may not lie outside the box, if the box is large enough to hold it. <br />
<br />
****************************<br />
<br />
Dana Bate<br />
<br />
Vagabond Journeys <br />
<br />
Never give up.<br />
<br />
*****************************DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-9661687318443669362013-04-14T00:05:00.004-04:002013-04-14T00:05:40.494-04:00I AM A COMPASSApril 14. 2013<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Love is not love<br />
<br />
Which alters when it alteration finds,<br />
<br />
Or bends with the remover to remove:<br />
<br />
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark <br />
<br />
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;<br />
<br />
It is the star to every wandering bark,<br />
<br />
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.<br />
<br />
(Shakespeare)<br />
<br />
****************************<br />
<br />
Hello Bruce<br />
<br />
****************************<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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." <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
******************************<br />
<br />
Dana Bate<br />
<br />
Vagabond Journeys<br />
<br />
Never Give Up<br />
<br />
*******************************<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-74027812248268478492013-04-13T00:26:00.000-04:002013-04-13T00:41:53.656-04:00ABOV E AVERAGEApril 13, 2013<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Enlightened people seldom or never posses a sense of responsibility. <br />
<br />
(George Orwell)<br />
<br />
**************************<br />
<br />
Hello Lora<br />
<br />
**************************<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The smarter I get, ok, the older I get, let's leave "smart" for now, <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
We all start off average, but there is no reason we have to stay that way.<br />
<br />
************************** <br />
<br />
Dana Bate<br />
<br />
Vagabond Journeys<br />
<br />
-------------------<br />
<br />
Never give up.<br />
<br />DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-5509511630202045702013-04-13T00:19:00.000-04:002013-04-13T00:22:30.769-04:00ABOVE AVERAGE<strong>April 13, 2013</strong><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Enlightened people seldom or never posses a sense of responsibility. <br />
<br />
(George Orwell)<br />
<br />
**************************<br />
<br />
Hello Lora<br />
<br />
**************************<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The smarter I get, ok, the older I get, let's leave "smart" for now, <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
We all start off average, but there is no reason we have to stay that way.<br />
<br />
************************** <br />
<br />
Dana Bate<br />
<br />
Vagabond Journeys<br />
<br />
-------------------<br />
<br />
Never give up.<br />
<br />
DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-82527987453553007072013-04-11T00:05:00.005-04:002013-04-11T00:05:51.348-04:00ON BEING SPRINGApril 11, 2013<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
and eddieandbill come <br />
<br />
running from marbles and <br />
<br />
piracies and it's <br />
<br />
spring <br />
<br />
(e e cummings)<br />
<br />
*************************<br />
<br />
Hello Rose<br />
<br />
*******************<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Spring.The sign of regeneration and of life living itself.<br />
<br />
Invite it in.<br />
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DB - Vagabond Journeys<br />
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Never give up.<br />
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DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-88477269376691758912013-04-07T00:04:00.003-04:002013-04-07T00:04:43.740-04:00WHAT IS TRUTH?April 7, 2013<br />
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I wish to be always at the point of discovering.<br />
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(Dana Bate)<br />
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Hello Ken<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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"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.<br />
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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.<br />
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I'm not a philosopher but I enthusiastically read them. I enjoy the ride.<br />
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Dana Bate<br />
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Vagabond Journeys<br />
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Never Give Up<br />
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********************DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2136983861650322458.post-32217426369891696712013-04-06T00:04:00.002-04:002013-04-06T00:04:25.312-04:00He's Old Now<strong>April 6, 2013</strong><br />
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You can't help getting older, but you don't have to get old.<br />
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(George Burns)<br />
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Hello Val<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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."<br />
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I resisted the temptation to turn around and give her a lecture on oldness.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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Dana Bate<br />
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Vagabond Journeys<br />
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Never Give Up<br />
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DBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09144446186279708019noreply@blogger.com3