Our Christmas Wish
A time of year for joy and giving,
For festive parties, mistletoe,
for poems expressing thankfulness,
Read by a fireplace's glow.
For coziness and snuggling,
While winter's snowflakes fall,
And warm mugs filled with spicy wine,
By Christmas trees so tall.
For those of faith, reflection time,
With hymns sung with conviction,
Of thoughts of goodness towards all men,
The blessed benediction.
Each Christmas day that comes to pass,
Is respite from one's strife,
With childhood memmories envisioned,
So long ago, a simpler life.
A Merry Christmas from our hearts,
Another in a happy year,
Best wishes from us all, and joy,
To those you hold so dear.
Mark Worden
12/15/05
Friday, December 16, 2005
Friday, November 11, 2005
Veteran's Day--A Personal Essay
Veteran's Day
"Thoughts"
My father was part of the "Greatest Generation" and fought in WWII. Based on his scrapbook, which he left me, he fought throughout Europe and in the "Battle of the Bulge, was wounded twice, and decorated with a Bronze Star for bravery on the battlefield. I also have his medals.
He never shared any stories of the war with me. I guess like others who had similar experiences, perhaps their stories were best pushed to the back of their memory so they could try to get on with a normal life. I have a void in my understanding of who he was because of that war, and the fact that he could not share the full story of his life experience with me.
I was born in 1942 when my dad was 19 and just entering the army. I have only vague memories of those early war years, and no memory of my father who was not there for the first 3-4 years of my life. I am now always saddened when I think of him as a 19 year old teenager being transported from a Minnesota farm by train to a ship and then to Europe to be thrust into such a violent and horrific experience at the beginning of his young adult life.
But, that is how he became a "veteran".
He got back from the war and I was no longer a baby, but a small boy! My understanding of the war remained limited as I grew up. My father was active with the local American Legion Chapter, and in a small town, it was the main social club for men. Most all the men of my father's age group were members, so it seemed to me that all the men in town were "veterans"!
I remember going to the club with my dad on Saturday sometimes, and listening to the Milwaukee Braves baseball game on the radio. I still remember some of the names, Lou Burdette, Eddie Matthews, and I think, Sal "The Barber" Maglie. In those days the Braves were in the world series on occasion. The Braves were "cool" and to a young boy, it was also cool to be a "veteran".
I remember when I was in high school, I played "American Legion" baseball in the summer. The American Legion was big on baseball and had a national baseball program for youth.
Because my dad was so active, I was also selected by the local chapter to attend "Boy's State". That was a national program to help teach youth about government. I remember that I got to go to a college and stay in a dorm, and participate in a week's activity of elections learning about our democratic system of government.
My roommate at Boy's state was the son of a TV personality who introduced afternoon matinee movies on a Minneapolis TV station. I was somewhat impressed, but I remember that he was messy, and never made his bed in the morning. Upon reflection, He probably thought it was weird that I made mine!
So my understanding of what being a veteran was all about was my connection through my father to his buddies in the American Legion. I tagged along, got a pat on the head, and some teasing, played baseball, went to Boy's State, and that was the level of appreciation I had for veterans.
Vietnam exploded when I was in college, and when I graduated, it was get drafted and be a G.I. army grunt or take all the tests for officer training and hope for the best. I was fortunate and got into Navy OCS in Newport R.I.. I did not make it to Vietnam. My toughest duty was in Kodiak, Alaska, and best duty was in Naples, Italy. I had it easy!
So, I am considered a "Veteran of the Vietnam Era". (As compared to a Vietnam War Combat Veteran" who actually got shot at). I am aware of who the "real" veterans are.
Regardless, I think my father was proud of my service as a Navy Officer. (He was a SSgt), although he never said so. All I remember was that he said he couldn't understand why I was getting out after four years, when I had such a great career opportunity as an officer. I guess there was always a gap of understanding between his generation with the great depression in his youth and WWII experience as a young adult, and mine which came to adulthood out of the 60's and Vietnam.
I got out of the Navy in 1969. I had spent three years away from the U.S. before there was the "www" and CNN and MTV. When I got back there were new expansion pro football teams I had never heard of! One of my college friends was the starting fullback for the L.A. Rams. What had I missed? When I stepped off the plane at JFK, I walked down the stairs and actually kissed the ground! My absence made me realize that there was no better place to be in the world than the good ole USA!
I remember visiting an American Legion Club after I had returned to Minnesota. I had a drink at the bar. But somehow, it wasn't the same. I didn't feel that I belonged there. It was my dad's place and I felt that it was rooted in WWII.
With the experience of military service, maturity, and reflection on history, I am very serious about honoring our country's flag as it passes in parade, and singing the national anthem with feeling and sometimes teary eyes. Veteran's Day, to me, is a day for thought. It is a day above all others, when I think of my dad and all his buddies who fought bloody battles in the middle of a fierce European winter, and put themselves in peril of loss of life and limb. It shaped their generation.
It is my dad's day of remembrance.
Mark Worden
Encinitas
Veteran's day
11/11/2005
"Thoughts"
My father was part of the "Greatest Generation" and fought in WWII. Based on his scrapbook, which he left me, he fought throughout Europe and in the "Battle of the Bulge, was wounded twice, and decorated with a Bronze Star for bravery on the battlefield. I also have his medals.
He never shared any stories of the war with me. I guess like others who had similar experiences, perhaps their stories were best pushed to the back of their memory so they could try to get on with a normal life. I have a void in my understanding of who he was because of that war, and the fact that he could not share the full story of his life experience with me.
I was born in 1942 when my dad was 19 and just entering the army. I have only vague memories of those early war years, and no memory of my father who was not there for the first 3-4 years of my life. I am now always saddened when I think of him as a 19 year old teenager being transported from a Minnesota farm by train to a ship and then to Europe to be thrust into such a violent and horrific experience at the beginning of his young adult life.
But, that is how he became a "veteran".
He got back from the war and I was no longer a baby, but a small boy! My understanding of the war remained limited as I grew up. My father was active with the local American Legion Chapter, and in a small town, it was the main social club for men. Most all the men of my father's age group were members, so it seemed to me that all the men in town were "veterans"!
I remember going to the club with my dad on Saturday sometimes, and listening to the Milwaukee Braves baseball game on the radio. I still remember some of the names, Lou Burdette, Eddie Matthews, and I think, Sal "The Barber" Maglie. In those days the Braves were in the world series on occasion. The Braves were "cool" and to a young boy, it was also cool to be a "veteran".
I remember when I was in high school, I played "American Legion" baseball in the summer. The American Legion was big on baseball and had a national baseball program for youth.
Because my dad was so active, I was also selected by the local chapter to attend "Boy's State". That was a national program to help teach youth about government. I remember that I got to go to a college and stay in a dorm, and participate in a week's activity of elections learning about our democratic system of government.
My roommate at Boy's state was the son of a TV personality who introduced afternoon matinee movies on a Minneapolis TV station. I was somewhat impressed, but I remember that he was messy, and never made his bed in the morning. Upon reflection, He probably thought it was weird that I made mine!
So my understanding of what being a veteran was all about was my connection through my father to his buddies in the American Legion. I tagged along, got a pat on the head, and some teasing, played baseball, went to Boy's State, and that was the level of appreciation I had for veterans.
Vietnam exploded when I was in college, and when I graduated, it was get drafted and be a G.I. army grunt or take all the tests for officer training and hope for the best. I was fortunate and got into Navy OCS in Newport R.I.. I did not make it to Vietnam. My toughest duty was in Kodiak, Alaska, and best duty was in Naples, Italy. I had it easy!
So, I am considered a "Veteran of the Vietnam Era". (As compared to a Vietnam War Combat Veteran" who actually got shot at). I am aware of who the "real" veterans are.
Regardless, I think my father was proud of my service as a Navy Officer. (He was a SSgt), although he never said so. All I remember was that he said he couldn't understand why I was getting out after four years, when I had such a great career opportunity as an officer. I guess there was always a gap of understanding between his generation with the great depression in his youth and WWII experience as a young adult, and mine which came to adulthood out of the 60's and Vietnam.
I got out of the Navy in 1969. I had spent three years away from the U.S. before there was the "www" and CNN and MTV. When I got back there were new expansion pro football teams I had never heard of! One of my college friends was the starting fullback for the L.A. Rams. What had I missed? When I stepped off the plane at JFK, I walked down the stairs and actually kissed the ground! My absence made me realize that there was no better place to be in the world than the good ole USA!
I remember visiting an American Legion Club after I had returned to Minnesota. I had a drink at the bar. But somehow, it wasn't the same. I didn't feel that I belonged there. It was my dad's place and I felt that it was rooted in WWII.
With the experience of military service, maturity, and reflection on history, I am very serious about honoring our country's flag as it passes in parade, and singing the national anthem with feeling and sometimes teary eyes. Veteran's Day, to me, is a day for thought. It is a day above all others, when I think of my dad and all his buddies who fought bloody battles in the middle of a fierce European winter, and put themselves in peril of loss of life and limb. It shaped their generation.
It is my dad's day of remembrance.
Mark Worden
Encinitas
Veteran's day
11/11/2005
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Slumber--a poem
Slumber
The Sun sails,
Into the night.
Shoulders slump.
Eyes cloud over, droop.
A head nods,
and jerks upright.
Stairs cause stumbles,
When ascended.
Clothes strewn,
On the floor.
A trail from bed,
to door.
Comforter to comfort.
Pillows piled,
And fluffed,
To receive a roll,
Into bed,
Under covers.
Too hot?
Too... cold?
Too.......late.
Too..........tired.
Too..............decide.
Too...................asleep.
Mark Worden
Encinitas
10.24.05
The Sun sails,
Into the night.
Shoulders slump.
Eyes cloud over, droop.
A head nods,
and jerks upright.
Stairs cause stumbles,
When ascended.
Clothes strewn,
On the floor.
A trail from bed,
to door.
Comforter to comfort.
Pillows piled,
And fluffed,
To receive a roll,
Into bed,
Under covers.
Too hot?
Too... cold?
Too.......late.
Too..........tired.
Too..............decide.
Too...................asleep.
Mark Worden
Encinitas
10.24.05
Friday, October 14, 2005
Columbus Day---a poem
Columbus day
I went to the post office on Monday.
It was closed!
I was puzzled!
I bought a stamp out of the machine!
I looked at the opening time on the door!
I looked at my watch!
The postal workers were late!
I wondered why!
Imagination took over,
and I thought perhaps
I had missed some calamity!
There was no sign on the door.
The world appeared normal.
Stores were open.
The barbarshop was open.
But traffic was light!
At work,
The office receptionist was at her desk.
I asked,
Why was the post office closed today?
It's Columbus Day, She said!
I thought,
That means that there's no mail today!
And the banks are closed!
It's kind of a holiday,
Easily forgotten.
But I goofed off some,
Anyway!
Mark Worden
Del Mar
10/14/05
I went to the post office on Monday.
It was closed!
I was puzzled!
I bought a stamp out of the machine!
I looked at the opening time on the door!
I looked at my watch!
The postal workers were late!
I wondered why!
Imagination took over,
and I thought perhaps
I had missed some calamity!
There was no sign on the door.
The world appeared normal.
Stores were open.
The barbarshop was open.
But traffic was light!
At work,
The office receptionist was at her desk.
I asked,
Why was the post office closed today?
It's Columbus Day, She said!
I thought,
That means that there's no mail today!
And the banks are closed!
It's kind of a holiday,
Easily forgotten.
But I goofed off some,
Anyway!
Mark Worden
Del Mar
10/14/05
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Ode to a Buyer Unfulfilled--a poem
Ode to a Buyer Unfulfilled
Real estate is so much fun,
No game of mystery!
Why, everyone's an expert,
at least they seem to be!
They all express opinions,
And seem so very sure,
They know the true direction,
Of housing trends d'jour!
The times the market's hot to touch,
And realtors all say "Buy!",
The experts all just tend to grouch,
"The prices are to high!"
"The market's going down!" they cry,
"Just wait and see", they say.
"If now's the time you want to buy,
You'll surely rue the day!"
So buyers watch the prices grow,
While waiting for the fall.
Keep paying rent with all their dough,
Their experts on the ball!
The years go by and prices rise,
So far it makes one spin!
The housing experts still advise,
"Just wait! You're sure to win!"
Then, when the market tends to slow,
They smirk and look so wise,
And chime right out, "I told you so!"
Just as the buyer dies!
Mark Worden
10/29/05
Real estate is so much fun,
No game of mystery!
Why, everyone's an expert,
at least they seem to be!
They all express opinions,
And seem so very sure,
They know the true direction,
Of housing trends d'jour!
The times the market's hot to touch,
And realtors all say "Buy!",
The experts all just tend to grouch,
"The prices are to high!"
"The market's going down!" they cry,
"Just wait and see", they say.
"If now's the time you want to buy,
You'll surely rue the day!"
So buyers watch the prices grow,
While waiting for the fall.
Keep paying rent with all their dough,
Their experts on the ball!
The years go by and prices rise,
So far it makes one spin!
The housing experts still advise,
"Just wait! You're sure to win!"
Then, when the market tends to slow,
They smirk and look so wise,
And chime right out, "I told you so!"
Just as the buyer dies!
Mark Worden
10/29/05
Monday, September 19, 2005
Golfing--a poem
Golfing
Oh, to split a fairway in the middle,
with a ball hit like a rope!
Alas, for me it's but a riddle,
with no answer, with no hope!
I took heed of all the lessons,
and read up on all the books,
with expectation of golf's blessings,
elimination of my hooks!
But, despite my efforts to succeed,
my balls just don't take flight,
unless to areas well treed,
and into darkness as the night!
I'm told to keep my elbow straight,
and swing so very slow,
but then it seems the club is late,
and makes a glancing blow!
So, then I deign to speed my pace,
and make a mighty slash,
a grimace set upon my face,
my ball sails left, and splash!
The game of golf seems just like life,
a challenge to the will,
an occupation filled with strife,
where every drive's uphill!
Each round seems like a painful birth,
of some new found disaster!
One wonders if it's ever worth,
returning to the pasture!
But here I am, up on the tee,
with great anticipation!
Perhaps today will be for me,
a game of exclamation!
Mark Worden
Encinitas
9/15/05
Oh, to split a fairway in the middle,
with a ball hit like a rope!
Alas, for me it's but a riddle,
with no answer, with no hope!
I took heed of all the lessons,
and read up on all the books,
with expectation of golf's blessings,
elimination of my hooks!
But, despite my efforts to succeed,
my balls just don't take flight,
unless to areas well treed,
and into darkness as the night!
I'm told to keep my elbow straight,
and swing so very slow,
but then it seems the club is late,
and makes a glancing blow!
So, then I deign to speed my pace,
and make a mighty slash,
a grimace set upon my face,
my ball sails left, and splash!
The game of golf seems just like life,
a challenge to the will,
an occupation filled with strife,
where every drive's uphill!
Each round seems like a painful birth,
of some new found disaster!
One wonders if it's ever worth,
returning to the pasture!
But here I am, up on the tee,
with great anticipation!
Perhaps today will be for me,
a game of exclamation!
Mark Worden
Encinitas
9/15/05
Friday, September 09, 2005
Ants--a poem
Ants
A long black line,
Determined!,
Meanders across a counter,
In my Kitchen!
I am attacked!,
By multitudes,
Of tiny beings,
with attitude!
Their destination,
A cat's crumb,
Smothered in a swirl,
Of gluttony!
Minute beings,
In peril of ultimate,
Destruction,
By WMDs!
Unknowingly,
Pursuing life,
In conflict with,
A higher intelligence!
Windex spray,
With ammonia,
Breaks their ranks,
The movement stops!
The long black line,
Is wiped away,
As easily as,
Dust!
A skirmish,
In a continuing war,
Against a foe,
Without end!
Mark Worden
Encinitas
9/9/05
A long black line,
Determined!,
Meanders across a counter,
In my Kitchen!
I am attacked!,
By multitudes,
Of tiny beings,
with attitude!
Their destination,
A cat's crumb,
Smothered in a swirl,
Of gluttony!
Minute beings,
In peril of ultimate,
Destruction,
By WMDs!
Unknowingly,
Pursuing life,
In conflict with,
A higher intelligence!
Windex spray,
With ammonia,
Breaks their ranks,
The movement stops!
The long black line,
Is wiped away,
As easily as,
Dust!
A skirmish,
In a continuing war,
Against a foe,
Without end!
Mark Worden
Encinitas
9/9/05
Friday, September 02, 2005
Katrina--A poem
Katrina
It's breezy today!
The sun shines,
In the hazy sky,
Not quite warm,
But trying!
I'm unsettled!
Awakened at three am,
Drawn to CNN images,
Of the aftermath,
Of Katrina!
My nightmare,
Unreal in the night,
It could not happen,
In that wonderful place,
A flickering glare on TV!
Islands of humanity,
Marooned by the sea,
Pushed by a breeze,
On steroids, circulating,
Causing havoc!
Dots wading in water,
Waist deep, towing boxes,
Like barges,
Filled with what's left,
Of life!
Hands reaching skyward,
From a mass of hunger,
Seeking manna,
From those above,
Unable to respond!
Lives lost,
Among those weakest,
Now flotsom,
In the flow,
Of rivers newly formed,
Katrina! A name,
No longer romantic,
A song,
Never to be written,
Unless in sorrow!
Mark Worden
9/2/05
It's breezy today!
The sun shines,
In the hazy sky,
Not quite warm,
But trying!
I'm unsettled!
Awakened at three am,
Drawn to CNN images,
Of the aftermath,
Of Katrina!
My nightmare,
Unreal in the night,
It could not happen,
In that wonderful place,
A flickering glare on TV!
Islands of humanity,
Marooned by the sea,
Pushed by a breeze,
On steroids, circulating,
Causing havoc!
Dots wading in water,
Waist deep, towing boxes,
Like barges,
Filled with what's left,
Of life!
Hands reaching skyward,
From a mass of hunger,
Seeking manna,
From those above,
Unable to respond!
Lives lost,
Among those weakest,
Now flotsom,
In the flow,
Of rivers newly formed,
Katrina! A name,
No longer romantic,
A song,
Never to be written,
Unless in sorrow!
Mark Worden
9/2/05
Friday, August 26, 2005
Beachcombing--a poem
Beachcombing
by Mark Worden
Gentle breezes riffle the sea,
Wafting the warmth of the sun,
Caressing my bared skin,
As my feet leave a toed trail,
At water's edge.
The shade of a hat protects eyes,
Which scan the surf and tidal flow,
For spiral shells and what nots,
From depths and distances,
Of unknown origin.
It matters not to me,
That treasures I might seek,
Appear, then wash away,
Returned back to the deep,
Before I find them on the shore.
The quest I'm on, a search for things,
More meaningful than shells or stuff,
The flotsom of humanity,
My beachcombing is as a dream,
That brings me great serenity.
Encinitas
8/26/05
by Mark Worden
Gentle breezes riffle the sea,
Wafting the warmth of the sun,
Caressing my bared skin,
As my feet leave a toed trail,
At water's edge.
The shade of a hat protects eyes,
Which scan the surf and tidal flow,
For spiral shells and what nots,
From depths and distances,
Of unknown origin.
It matters not to me,
That treasures I might seek,
Appear, then wash away,
Returned back to the deep,
Before I find them on the shore.
The quest I'm on, a search for things,
More meaningful than shells or stuff,
The flotsom of humanity,
My beachcombing is as a dream,
That brings me great serenity.
Encinitas
8/26/05
Friday, July 08, 2005
Friday's 5 minute poem--7/8/05--"July"
July
July, July, July, July,
rolls off the tongue with glee.
it puckers lips, it's very sly,
the month the mouth goes whee!
It works for both a boy or girl,
July, July, July.
Anticipation of a thrill,
like rockets in the sky!
There's not another month the same,
when said forms quite the bliss.
An invitation to the game,
to flirt and then to kiss.
M. Worden
7/8/05
July, July, July, July,
rolls off the tongue with glee.
it puckers lips, it's very sly,
the month the mouth goes whee!
It works for both a boy or girl,
July, July, July.
Anticipation of a thrill,
like rockets in the sky!
There's not another month the same,
when said forms quite the bliss.
An invitation to the game,
to flirt and then to kiss.
M. Worden
7/8/05
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
The Marine Biologist
My daughter graduated this last year from UC Santa Cruz as a marine biologist, and is currently working for the Long Marine Lab in Santa Cruz studying various near shore sites along the California coast. The tide sets the schedule for her field work and often she is up very early in the morning or works late into the dusk of the day observing life in the tidal zone. Her wierd hours of work recently inspired me with a poetic vision of her activity:
"The Marine Biologist"
"The rythmn of the sea controls the ebb and flow of your life.
At the tidal low, in-shore marine life is exposed to your prying mind,
as you wade the shallow pools to solve the mysteries of tiny creatures of the sea.
You are forced from the field as powerful waves wash back to the shore,
covering the algae laden rocks and crannies, and flushing the shoreline with fresh nutrients.
The natural cycle of your internal clock adjusts to the shifting rythmn,
and you are one with the surging sea,
as the wonder of discovery turns to enlightenment!"
M. Worden
6/13/05
"The Marine Biologist"
"The rythmn of the sea controls the ebb and flow of your life.
At the tidal low, in-shore marine life is exposed to your prying mind,
as you wade the shallow pools to solve the mysteries of tiny creatures of the sea.
You are forced from the field as powerful waves wash back to the shore,
covering the algae laden rocks and crannies, and flushing the shoreline with fresh nutrients.
The natural cycle of your internal clock adjusts to the shifting rythmn,
and you are one with the surging sea,
as the wonder of discovery turns to enlightenment!"
M. Worden
6/13/05
Monday, June 13, 2005
Friday, June 10, 2005
Pol Porn--a poem
Porn is a always a great target for the politicians. Someone is always at the pulpit attacking dirty pictures, Howard Stern, Paris Hilton's commercials, etc., etc. . Sometimes the ones talking the loudest turn out to be not what they seem.
For example, there was recently a pol up in the state of Wash who was publically anti-gay rights, yet was himself outed as gay because of his "man seeking man" activity on the internet.
Watch out for the person who is the loudest in opposition. He probably has skeletons in his closet.
"Pol Porn"
Porn is so political,
a target to be scorned,
why, everyone is critical,
altho' we all have "porned"!
We all with lust look at the girls,
and some go for the boys,
but all have given it a whirl,
some even buy the toys!
There's something there for everyone,
way out in cyberspace,
and none of the politicos,
control that "dirty" place!
So porn it seems is here to stay,
a business just as big,
as all the bosums on the broads,
and manhood's biggest rig!
The politicians go "Tsk Tsk!",
and all have sermonized,
to show that they above all else,
are pure and sanitized.
But we all know the truth to be,
that underneath the bluster,
they too will try to sneak a peek,
whenever they can muster!
M. Worden
6/10/05
For example, there was recently a pol up in the state of Wash who was publically anti-gay rights, yet was himself outed as gay because of his "man seeking man" activity on the internet.
Watch out for the person who is the loudest in opposition. He probably has skeletons in his closet.
"Pol Porn"
Porn is so political,
a target to be scorned,
why, everyone is critical,
altho' we all have "porned"!
We all with lust look at the girls,
and some go for the boys,
but all have given it a whirl,
some even buy the toys!
There's something there for everyone,
way out in cyberspace,
and none of the politicos,
control that "dirty" place!
So porn it seems is here to stay,
a business just as big,
as all the bosums on the broads,
and manhood's biggest rig!
The politicians go "Tsk Tsk!",
and all have sermonized,
to show that they above all else,
are pure and sanitized.
But we all know the truth to be,
that underneath the bluster,
they too will try to sneak a peek,
whenever they can muster!
M. Worden
6/10/05
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Fairest of the Fair--Friday's 5 minute poem
Fridays 5 minute poem
Fairest of the Fair
Some say that June is gloomy,
the coastal clouds stay late,
until the morning's almost gone,
three hours after eight.
But I'm all bright and sunny,
cause I anticipate,
the Del Mar Fair that's coming,
and I can hardly wait.
I check the paper,
for all that's new this year,
who's here to play or sing a song,
and food that goes with beer.
This year it's ZZ Top that's hot,
The Village People too!
And Hall and Oates are on the stage,
a "Fairable" who's who!
There's pigs that race and monster trucks,
guys junping motorbikes.
Why, something for most everyone,
to fit just what one likes.
It all ends up with fireworks,
a concert by the band.
We all stand up, salute the flag,
and give the troops a hand.
The "Fairest of the Fair" presides,
a pretty, local girl,
so June seems not so gloomy,
just give the Fair a whirl!
M. Worden 6/9/05
Fairest of the Fair
Some say that June is gloomy,
the coastal clouds stay late,
until the morning's almost gone,
three hours after eight.
But I'm all bright and sunny,
cause I anticipate,
the Del Mar Fair that's coming,
and I can hardly wait.
I check the paper,
for all that's new this year,
who's here to play or sing a song,
and food that goes with beer.
This year it's ZZ Top that's hot,
The Village People too!
And Hall and Oates are on the stage,
a "Fairable" who's who!
There's pigs that race and monster trucks,
guys junping motorbikes.
Why, something for most everyone,
to fit just what one likes.
It all ends up with fireworks,
a concert by the band.
We all stand up, salute the flag,
and give the troops a hand.
The "Fairest of the Fair" presides,
a pretty, local girl,
so June seems not so gloomy,
just give the Fair a whirl!
M. Worden 6/9/05
Spring in Borrego--2 haiku
winters clouds give way
sharp thorns soften in sunlight
desert cacti bloom
sands shimmer with heat
lizards seek shaded crannies
noontime siestas
sharp thorns soften in sunlight
desert cacti bloom
sands shimmer with heat
lizards seek shaded crannies
noontime siestas
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Borrego in Bloom
April 5, 2005
It was our 31st anniversary. With all the rain we received over the winter months the desert was in bloom. We had not been to Julian or Cuyamuca State Park since the big fire of a year ago had almost burned through the town, and in fact, had burned through 80% of Cuyamuca State Park and even destroyed the old ranch house which had served as park headquarters. Was there a better way to spend the day together than hopping in the old Mercedes and cruising up to Julian for some apple pie, stopping at Cuyamuca to see how the park was doing, stopping in at the lake to check out the trout bite, and then heading over the mountains to see the desert flowers in bloom at Borrego Springs State Park Nature Center. Nancy agreed with my suggestion, so we packed a picnic lunch and headed east towards Ramona and the mountains. Ramona has a certain romance to it. It is still a very rural area in east county, but tract homes are starting to pop up here and there in the area. There are still lots of ranches in the valley raising everything from thoroughbred racing horses to turkeys.
About 10 miles east of Ramona is a junction in the road and the small village of Santa Isabel. There are a few houses, a gas station, a couple of antique stores, and, of course, Dudley's bakery. We always stop there for fresh bread and pastries, but unfortunately the sign on the door said it was closed on Monday's. Bummer. They must have had Monday off to recover from the weekend crowds who line up to buy all those fresh baked goods right out of the oven.
We pressed on to Julian and in about 30 minutes had climbed up the mountain and were at about 4500 ft. It was a sunny and bright day and could not have been more beautiful in Julian. Since the fire last year, tourism had dropped off considerably and many of the merchants had been faced with a big drop off in business. Since it was a Monday, the main street was relatively quiet, but there were some obvious visitors like ourselves walking the street and wandering in and out of the shops looking for that special deal on locally crafted doo-dads.
We walked up and down the street, and as we walked the north end noticed the old cemetary. We wondered why we had not walked among the old tombstones on one of our many prior visits. While sunny, it was kind of a windy day, and as we walked up the hill to the cemetary I had to hold onto my cap. It seemed that the spirits were afoot and howling as they rode the winds around the hill. We tried to find the oldest marker, and found some from the late 1800's, and traced the dates all the way to a recently dug hole waiting to be filled. It wasn't a very big cemetary for its age. But then, I suppose that not many people chose to be buried there. Most of the population is seasonal and I would expect that only permanent long time residents end up on that windy hill. As we left the cemetary, a group of pre-teens from the local school was being led onto the hill by their teacher for a local historical tour. As we passed I told them to hold onto their caps and watch for the howling ghosts whirling around the hill. Nancy said I didn't used to be so talkative, and wondered about my aging brain!
We hopped back into the car and headed south towards Cuyamuca. We came to the lake and were amazed at how much water had accumulated. We had not seen the lake so full for at least 12-15 years. we stopped at the cafe and ranger station and asked the ranger how the fishing was going, and like every good fisherman he gave a positive picture of our prospects if we were to come up fishing.
We pressed on towards the park and Paso Pacacho Campground.
Every time we have gone to the park in the past, we have spotted some deer, and as we came around a curve we spotted 3 deer in a meadow near some willows. That was a good sign. The park was rapidly recovering from the fire. While there were alot of pine trees which were burnt and black, most of the underbrush and grasses had recovered and the forest floor was lush with greenery. We reached the campground and drove through and found that alot of pines were burnt, but the Oaks seemed to be recovering, and other plants had recovered and provided a green carpet to the forest floor. The campground buildings had escaped the fire, and all the damage to the rest of the facilities had been repaired--it almost looked as we remembered it.
I thought that we needed to come up for a weekend and go fishing.
It was a relief to see Cuyamuca on the rebound, so we turned up the road to head over the mountain to Borrego. We had never really been to Borrego during a year when there was a big bloom of desert flowers. A big bloom depends on the amount of rain that gets over the mountain in the fall and winter months, and this year was the second most rainfall in the area's recorded history. The bloom was even a bit early. As we climbed the mountain and neared the crest we saw large swaths of yellow blooms on the mountain plateau. We headed down into the desert and looked out across the valley and saw patches of color here and there on the desert floor. We knew that in a month or so everything would again be brown, but for now, the desert was alive with life and color. We rolled into the small town of Borrego Springs around noon. In the summer it would have been about 110 degrees, but on this day in April it was still in the low to mid 80's. Nancy said something about an ice cream, so we stopped and she got a big scoop in a cup, which lasted her the two miles we drove out of town to the State Park Nature Center.
When the desert is in bloom, there are always lots of visitors. Tour buses come from all over, and everyone looking for a fun destination takes a drive out to see the cacti flower. Even during the week the parking lot at the Nature Center was almost full. Most of the visitors during the week are an older crowd. I thought we were among the youngest couples! We took the hiking trail around the desert garden, sat on a bench while Nancy finished her ice cream, went shopping in the nature center "store", and then broke out our lunch of cheese and fruit and ate at a picnic table under a canopy of palm fronds. There was a family with younger children at a table near us that reminded me of the times we had camped at the campground with Matthew and Sara when they were younger. As a family we had visited the Nature Center and saw the fossilized bones in the nature lab, hiked the Palm Canyon trail to the "oasis" up in the canyon, and all slept squeezed together in one tent with the wind blowing the side of the tent over Nancy, who always seemed to get the worst location when it came to sleeping arrangements. Borrego was always our winter camping spot because the weather in winter was so mild.
It was about 2:30 and time to head home, so we decided to start climbing the mountain. We took a different route back up the mountain that climbed rapidly by switchback right up to elevation within about 15 minutes. We were soon over the crest and the Borrego Valley was behind us. We stopped at a viewpoint on the top where we could view the expanse of the Salton sea about 60 miles to the east. We cruised down the mountain and through the windy canyons lined with California Oaks until we reached a junction with the road leading back to Santa Isabel. Dudley's was still closed as we turned towards Ramona and headed west to the ocean and home.
Anniversaries should always celebrate wonderful shared memories. Our 31st anniversaary trip to Julian, Cuyamuca, and Borrego was a reminder of all the other great family times we spent together in our prior camping visits as a couple and with Matt and Sara.
M. Worden
It was our 31st anniversary. With all the rain we received over the winter months the desert was in bloom. We had not been to Julian or Cuyamuca State Park since the big fire of a year ago had almost burned through the town, and in fact, had burned through 80% of Cuyamuca State Park and even destroyed the old ranch house which had served as park headquarters. Was there a better way to spend the day together than hopping in the old Mercedes and cruising up to Julian for some apple pie, stopping at Cuyamuca to see how the park was doing, stopping in at the lake to check out the trout bite, and then heading over the mountains to see the desert flowers in bloom at Borrego Springs State Park Nature Center. Nancy agreed with my suggestion, so we packed a picnic lunch and headed east towards Ramona and the mountains. Ramona has a certain romance to it. It is still a very rural area in east county, but tract homes are starting to pop up here and there in the area. There are still lots of ranches in the valley raising everything from thoroughbred racing horses to turkeys.
About 10 miles east of Ramona is a junction in the road and the small village of Santa Isabel. There are a few houses, a gas station, a couple of antique stores, and, of course, Dudley's bakery. We always stop there for fresh bread and pastries, but unfortunately the sign on the door said it was closed on Monday's. Bummer. They must have had Monday off to recover from the weekend crowds who line up to buy all those fresh baked goods right out of the oven.
We pressed on to Julian and in about 30 minutes had climbed up the mountain and were at about 4500 ft. It was a sunny and bright day and could not have been more beautiful in Julian. Since the fire last year, tourism had dropped off considerably and many of the merchants had been faced with a big drop off in business. Since it was a Monday, the main street was relatively quiet, but there were some obvious visitors like ourselves walking the street and wandering in and out of the shops looking for that special deal on locally crafted doo-dads.
We walked up and down the street, and as we walked the north end noticed the old cemetary. We wondered why we had not walked among the old tombstones on one of our many prior visits. While sunny, it was kind of a windy day, and as we walked up the hill to the cemetary I had to hold onto my cap. It seemed that the spirits were afoot and howling as they rode the winds around the hill. We tried to find the oldest marker, and found some from the late 1800's, and traced the dates all the way to a recently dug hole waiting to be filled. It wasn't a very big cemetary for its age. But then, I suppose that not many people chose to be buried there. Most of the population is seasonal and I would expect that only permanent long time residents end up on that windy hill. As we left the cemetary, a group of pre-teens from the local school was being led onto the hill by their teacher for a local historical tour. As we passed I told them to hold onto their caps and watch for the howling ghosts whirling around the hill. Nancy said I didn't used to be so talkative, and wondered about my aging brain!
We hopped back into the car and headed south towards Cuyamuca. We came to the lake and were amazed at how much water had accumulated. We had not seen the lake so full for at least 12-15 years. we stopped at the cafe and ranger station and asked the ranger how the fishing was going, and like every good fisherman he gave a positive picture of our prospects if we were to come up fishing.
We pressed on towards the park and Paso Pacacho Campground.
Every time we have gone to the park in the past, we have spotted some deer, and as we came around a curve we spotted 3 deer in a meadow near some willows. That was a good sign. The park was rapidly recovering from the fire. While there were alot of pine trees which were burnt and black, most of the underbrush and grasses had recovered and the forest floor was lush with greenery. We reached the campground and drove through and found that alot of pines were burnt, but the Oaks seemed to be recovering, and other plants had recovered and provided a green carpet to the forest floor. The campground buildings had escaped the fire, and all the damage to the rest of the facilities had been repaired--it almost looked as we remembered it.
I thought that we needed to come up for a weekend and go fishing.
It was a relief to see Cuyamuca on the rebound, so we turned up the road to head over the mountain to Borrego. We had never really been to Borrego during a year when there was a big bloom of desert flowers. A big bloom depends on the amount of rain that gets over the mountain in the fall and winter months, and this year was the second most rainfall in the area's recorded history. The bloom was even a bit early. As we climbed the mountain and neared the crest we saw large swaths of yellow blooms on the mountain plateau. We headed down into the desert and looked out across the valley and saw patches of color here and there on the desert floor. We knew that in a month or so everything would again be brown, but for now, the desert was alive with life and color. We rolled into the small town of Borrego Springs around noon. In the summer it would have been about 110 degrees, but on this day in April it was still in the low to mid 80's. Nancy said something about an ice cream, so we stopped and she got a big scoop in a cup, which lasted her the two miles we drove out of town to the State Park Nature Center.
When the desert is in bloom, there are always lots of visitors. Tour buses come from all over, and everyone looking for a fun destination takes a drive out to see the cacti flower. Even during the week the parking lot at the Nature Center was almost full. Most of the visitors during the week are an older crowd. I thought we were among the youngest couples! We took the hiking trail around the desert garden, sat on a bench while Nancy finished her ice cream, went shopping in the nature center "store", and then broke out our lunch of cheese and fruit and ate at a picnic table under a canopy of palm fronds. There was a family with younger children at a table near us that reminded me of the times we had camped at the campground with Matthew and Sara when they were younger. As a family we had visited the Nature Center and saw the fossilized bones in the nature lab, hiked the Palm Canyon trail to the "oasis" up in the canyon, and all slept squeezed together in one tent with the wind blowing the side of the tent over Nancy, who always seemed to get the worst location when it came to sleeping arrangements. Borrego was always our winter camping spot because the weather in winter was so mild.
It was about 2:30 and time to head home, so we decided to start climbing the mountain. We took a different route back up the mountain that climbed rapidly by switchback right up to elevation within about 15 minutes. We were soon over the crest and the Borrego Valley was behind us. We stopped at a viewpoint on the top where we could view the expanse of the Salton sea about 60 miles to the east. We cruised down the mountain and through the windy canyons lined with California Oaks until we reached a junction with the road leading back to Santa Isabel. Dudley's was still closed as we turned towards Ramona and headed west to the ocean and home.
Anniversaries should always celebrate wonderful shared memories. Our 31st anniversaary trip to Julian, Cuyamuca, and Borrego was a reminder of all the other great family times we spent together in our prior camping visits as a couple and with Matt and Sara.
M. Worden
Friday, June 03, 2005
June--Fair month
June has such a nice sound to it. Its soft and sounds warm and cozy. Schools get out. It's summer! There is less traffic. The water gets warmer at the beach and fishing seems to get better. There are lots of sand crabs to use for bait when surf fishing. Life seems easier.
Nancy always works at the county fair for the whole month of June. She likes to do it, but it changes our routine since she works alot of nights and generally long hours for the whole month and through July 4th. For the last 10 years or so I have spent July 4th at the fair, going to the concert and watching the fireworks by myself. I have got to the point where I even get one reserved seat for myself each year right down in front of the stage. Matt never goes with me, and even when Sara was around she worked the fair too. I need to find a date!
During June I eat alot of microwaved leftovers from whichever nights Nancy makes it home to cook during the week.
During June I spend to much time goofing off. I think I should change that this year. I have all ready been goofing off to much in May.
Nancy also gets free tickets to the fair, so whenever I want to see her I go. I have gotton pretty bored with it, but have tried to pick a few of the evening concerts to go to--alot of the time I find that the sound system is so loud I have to leave. I have to pick concerts I think will not be so loud. Rock is obviously out, and sometimes country, so I just hope that there is someone good who has a band that is not all bass guitar. I better get the list of concerts and see if I should get reservations for any besides the 4th of July concert by the Navy Band.
I always wonder if they are going to make any big changes at the fair, but it usually is the same old stuff. In a way, that is comforting. I bet there are people who go every year with certain expectations, and if something is missing would be disappointed. Even I have a certain routine of expectations for certain things to eat and exhibits to view each year. But it is a very short list.
It starts June 10.
Nancy always works at the county fair for the whole month of June. She likes to do it, but it changes our routine since she works alot of nights and generally long hours for the whole month and through July 4th. For the last 10 years or so I have spent July 4th at the fair, going to the concert and watching the fireworks by myself. I have got to the point where I even get one reserved seat for myself each year right down in front of the stage. Matt never goes with me, and even when Sara was around she worked the fair too. I need to find a date!
During June I eat alot of microwaved leftovers from whichever nights Nancy makes it home to cook during the week.
During June I spend to much time goofing off. I think I should change that this year. I have all ready been goofing off to much in May.
Nancy also gets free tickets to the fair, so whenever I want to see her I go. I have gotton pretty bored with it, but have tried to pick a few of the evening concerts to go to--alot of the time I find that the sound system is so loud I have to leave. I have to pick concerts I think will not be so loud. Rock is obviously out, and sometimes country, so I just hope that there is someone good who has a band that is not all bass guitar. I better get the list of concerts and see if I should get reservations for any besides the 4th of July concert by the Navy Band.
I always wonder if they are going to make any big changes at the fair, but it usually is the same old stuff. In a way, that is comforting. I bet there are people who go every year with certain expectations, and if something is missing would be disappointed. Even I have a certain routine of expectations for certain things to eat and exhibits to view each year. But it is a very short list.
It starts June 10.
4 Summer Haiku for June's bursting out
school doors tightly closed
tassels and robes
teenyboppers freedom
summer rays shimmer
at blue waters edge
seaside solstice
tan bodies strewn
with gee string bikinis
beaches in baja
limes sliced from trees
mate ala mexicana
santa ana cabana
m. worden
6/3/05
tassels and robes
teenyboppers freedom
summer rays shimmer
at blue waters edge
seaside solstice
tan bodies strewn
with gee string bikinis
beaches in baja
limes sliced from trees
mate ala mexicana
santa ana cabana
m. worden
6/3/05
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Whatsup in the world of Golf!
Last year when I decided to take my golf game more seriously, I joined a men's club at a fairly chaallenging privately owned but public play course called San Loius Rey Downs (slrd.com), and set some goals for 2005. One was to get my handicap down to a single digit, and another was to break 80. I actually took a couple of lessons to get me going on the right track. While I had been scoring in the high 80's and low 90's with regularity and had my index at about 13, my first lesson with the "pro" indicated to me that my grip was wrong, my posture was poor, my swing plane was way inside, and my alignment was askew! It was not that I was a poor golfer, it was just that I had developed some very bad moves over the years which limited my ability to improve. He showed me my swing on video, and compared it to Tiger's on the split screen.
I immediately knew why I was not on the pro tour!
No wonder I was so inconsistant and hitting balls right and left of my target so often. So, I changed my grip, stood up more erect, worked on my "takeaway", and developed a pre-shot routine to help me with alignment.
The first time I played with my new grip, I failed to break 100 for the first time I could remember. I hit all my shots dead right. By the third week of play I was back in the mid 90s, and with some extra work on the range finally got back to my normal scoring range in the high 80s most of the time.
But that would not do! Improving from a 13 index to a 9 index is alot more difficult than moving from a 25 index to a 15 index. The lower one's index, that harder it is to trim strokes. Since I turned in some high scores following the two lessons I took, my index actually went up a bit to about 13.5.
It is hard to make an index move downword playing only once a week, with an occassional practice bucket of balls at the range. However, I have seen some improvement the last few weeks.
There were other things I did to improve, as well.
Three weeks ago I played with someone who marked his ball with a line to assist him in lining up his putts. He showed me the little plastic gadget that was 1/2 a sphere with a slot in it that fit on the ball and made it easy to make a straight line with a marker pen about half way around the ball.! I marked my ball, and found it was a big help in aligning not only putts but also tee shots. Since getting one of those ball "line" gadgets and starting to mark my balls, I think that I have saved 2-3 shots a round. That is substantial! I note that Tiger also marks his ball the same way--must be something to it!
In addition, I recently upgraded my driver to a 460cc model which is a big as they can legally make these days. I thought a bigger "sweet spot" would provide better results on "misses" with the driver. I have played with it once, and had pretty good results. So that may be a plus. If that helps with a couple strokes, I am getting close.
Two weeks ago I posted an 82, and this week I posted an 83. I see light at the end of the tunnel!
This week I was playing with someone who was using a "belly" putter, and still missing a lot of very shot putts. He was pulling and pushing them and lipping out. I had him mark his ball with my gadget, and on the back nine he was holing out every putt within 5-6 ft and couldn't believe the difference. The first thing he did after the round was to head for the pro shop to buy one of the gadgets to mark his ball. That's good reinforcement!
I played golf for many years when I was younger and usually shot in the low to mid 80's consistantly. I think I remember breaking 80 only once in my life and that was at Torrey Pines North when I played there once a week in my 30's. Wouldn't it be great to play my best golf in my 60's.
On the other hand, this week I read an article that said that the average golfer's scores had not improved during the last 10-20 years. That, despite all the improvements in balls and equipment. The article stated that the golf manufacturers do not go out of their way to publicize that bit of information. But I also remember that even when woods were really made out of wood, and all the shafts were made of steel, every golfer out there was still a sucker for anything new that he thought might improve his game. Even if all the new technology in equipment hasn't helped the average golfer as much as might be expected, the quest for that bit of an "edge" would still drive the market to come up with new gadgets and clubs. Look at me with my new 460cc titanium driver with a composite graphite top, a titanium alloy face, and a lightweight Fujikura "stiff" graphite shaft for maximum accuracy and distance, my new Calloway X-18 Irons with cavity back design and low center of gravity for more forgiveness, my Calloway Steelhead 3 and 7 woods with "regular flex"graphite shaft for accuracy, and my Titlelist ProV1 ball at $40 a doz.
Wow! I am right up to date on equipment, but still playing at about the same level as I did when I was 30 yrs old, when I was swinging my old Wilson Staff woods and irons and hitting a cheap Top Flite ball with a BF Goodrich logo on it that I could buy 3 for $1 at the local tire store.
One thing about golfers, they always hope to hit it further and score better!
MW
I immediately knew why I was not on the pro tour!
No wonder I was so inconsistant and hitting balls right and left of my target so often. So, I changed my grip, stood up more erect, worked on my "takeaway", and developed a pre-shot routine to help me with alignment.
The first time I played with my new grip, I failed to break 100 for the first time I could remember. I hit all my shots dead right. By the third week of play I was back in the mid 90s, and with some extra work on the range finally got back to my normal scoring range in the high 80s most of the time.
But that would not do! Improving from a 13 index to a 9 index is alot more difficult than moving from a 25 index to a 15 index. The lower one's index, that harder it is to trim strokes. Since I turned in some high scores following the two lessons I took, my index actually went up a bit to about 13.5.
It is hard to make an index move downword playing only once a week, with an occassional practice bucket of balls at the range. However, I have seen some improvement the last few weeks.
There were other things I did to improve, as well.
Three weeks ago I played with someone who marked his ball with a line to assist him in lining up his putts. He showed me the little plastic gadget that was 1/2 a sphere with a slot in it that fit on the ball and made it easy to make a straight line with a marker pen about half way around the ball.! I marked my ball, and found it was a big help in aligning not only putts but also tee shots. Since getting one of those ball "line" gadgets and starting to mark my balls, I think that I have saved 2-3 shots a round. That is substantial! I note that Tiger also marks his ball the same way--must be something to it!
In addition, I recently upgraded my driver to a 460cc model which is a big as they can legally make these days. I thought a bigger "sweet spot" would provide better results on "misses" with the driver. I have played with it once, and had pretty good results. So that may be a plus. If that helps with a couple strokes, I am getting close.
Two weeks ago I posted an 82, and this week I posted an 83. I see light at the end of the tunnel!
This week I was playing with someone who was using a "belly" putter, and still missing a lot of very shot putts. He was pulling and pushing them and lipping out. I had him mark his ball with my gadget, and on the back nine he was holing out every putt within 5-6 ft and couldn't believe the difference. The first thing he did after the round was to head for the pro shop to buy one of the gadgets to mark his ball. That's good reinforcement!
I played golf for many years when I was younger and usually shot in the low to mid 80's consistantly. I think I remember breaking 80 only once in my life and that was at Torrey Pines North when I played there once a week in my 30's. Wouldn't it be great to play my best golf in my 60's.
On the other hand, this week I read an article that said that the average golfer's scores had not improved during the last 10-20 years. That, despite all the improvements in balls and equipment. The article stated that the golf manufacturers do not go out of their way to publicize that bit of information. But I also remember that even when woods were really made out of wood, and all the shafts were made of steel, every golfer out there was still a sucker for anything new that he thought might improve his game. Even if all the new technology in equipment hasn't helped the average golfer as much as might be expected, the quest for that bit of an "edge" would still drive the market to come up with new gadgets and clubs. Look at me with my new 460cc titanium driver with a composite graphite top, a titanium alloy face, and a lightweight Fujikura "stiff" graphite shaft for maximum accuracy and distance, my new Calloway X-18 Irons with cavity back design and low center of gravity for more forgiveness, my Calloway Steelhead 3 and 7 woods with "regular flex"graphite shaft for accuracy, and my Titlelist ProV1 ball at $40 a doz.
Wow! I am right up to date on equipment, but still playing at about the same level as I did when I was 30 yrs old, when I was swinging my old Wilson Staff woods and irons and hitting a cheap Top Flite ball with a BF Goodrich logo on it that I could buy 3 for $1 at the local tire store.
One thing about golfers, they always hope to hit it further and score better!
MW
4 haiku for a 3 day weekend
mountain calls echo
down narrow canyons
cascading water
melodies fill the sky
feathers ruffle
spring's ritual dance
palm fronds shade
hot desert sands
dust devils in summer
tent poles uplift
temporary shelters
three day weekend
down narrow canyons
cascading water
melodies fill the sky
feathers ruffle
spring's ritual dance
palm fronds shade
hot desert sands
dust devils in summer
tent poles uplift
temporary shelters
three day weekend
Friday, April 22, 2005
Friday's 5 minute poem--04/22/05
In honor of all BMW drivers
"Beemers"
There is nothing like a Beemer
A real drive-ING machine!
It vrooms along the freeway,
So fast it makes you scream!
The clutch goes in, the shifter thrusts,
Directly up the gears,
As smooth as silk, the engine whines,
And allays all your fears,
That going fast is dangerous,
It seems so effortless.
Until you start to skid a bit,
And then you're in a mess!
Thank God the Beemer's built so well,
It skid and then it crashed!
It's fortunate your belt was on,
Your face could have been smashed!
It certainly was fun to know,
That Beemer was so fast!
But driving up to it's top speed,
Made it come in dead last!
Mark Worden
04/22/2005
"Beemers"
There is nothing like a Beemer
A real drive-ING machine!
It vrooms along the freeway,
So fast it makes you scream!
The clutch goes in, the shifter thrusts,
Directly up the gears,
As smooth as silk, the engine whines,
And allays all your fears,
That going fast is dangerous,
It seems so effortless.
Until you start to skid a bit,
And then you're in a mess!
Thank God the Beemer's built so well,
It skid and then it crashed!
It's fortunate your belt was on,
Your face could have been smashed!
It certainly was fun to know,
That Beemer was so fast!
But driving up to it's top speed,
Made it come in dead last!
Mark Worden
04/22/2005
Friday, April 15, 2005
Beware the "Ides of April"?--a poem
"March, July, October, May
The Nones are on the seventh day"
Anon. (Roman?)
Beware the Ides of April?
The fifteenth day of April,
Is not like March's "ides".
It's from the Roman Calendar,
Once used both far and wide.
"Beware the Ides of March!",
Warned Caesar of demise.
It's said he got his months mixed up,
Confusion proved unwise.
Rome ruled most all the ancient world.
Taught Latin, math, and such.
Yet counted dates most cumbersome,
Which proved to be to much!
The "kalends" fell upon the first,
The "nones" most on the fifth,
The "ides" fell eight days later,
Except the "nones" would shift!
In March, July, October, May,
The "nones" for some good reason,
Would fall upon the seventh day,
No matter what the season!
Eight days in March beyond the "nones",
Was "ides" to ancient Rome.
The fifteenth was the date to fear,
When Caesar left his home.
In April when the "nones" appeared,
Twas five days past day ones,
And "ides" fell on the thirteenth day,
Eight days beyond the "nones".
Well, I'm asea, perhaps it's so,
That Caesar was confused.
Forgot the little poem that kept,
The "nones" prop-er-ly used.
Mark Worden
April 15, 2005
The Nones are on the seventh day"
Anon. (Roman?)
Beware the Ides of April?
The fifteenth day of April,
Is not like March's "ides".
It's from the Roman Calendar,
Once used both far and wide.
"Beware the Ides of March!",
Warned Caesar of demise.
It's said he got his months mixed up,
Confusion proved unwise.
Rome ruled most all the ancient world.
Taught Latin, math, and such.
Yet counted dates most cumbersome,
Which proved to be to much!
The "kalends" fell upon the first,
The "nones" most on the fifth,
The "ides" fell eight days later,
Except the "nones" would shift!
In March, July, October, May,
The "nones" for some good reason,
Would fall upon the seventh day,
No matter what the season!
Eight days in March beyond the "nones",
Was "ides" to ancient Rome.
The fifteenth was the date to fear,
When Caesar left his home.
In April when the "nones" appeared,
Twas five days past day ones,
And "ides" fell on the thirteenth day,
Eight days beyond the "nones".
Well, I'm asea, perhaps it's so,
That Caesar was confused.
Forgot the little poem that kept,
The "nones" prop-er-ly used.
Mark Worden
April 15, 2005
Friday 4/15--the ides of April?
Thanks to Shakespeare, even most children know that Julius Caeser was not attentive to the warning he got regarding his predicted demise, "Beware the ides of March!". And we all know that the ides of March is the 15th!
Since today is the 15th of April, for some reason I wondered why no one ever calls the 15th of other months "The Ides" So I asked "Jeeves".
And of course, In Julius's world the Roman Calendar ruled the days and years, which was different that the Julian Calendar now used to mark the date.
In the Roman Calendar there were three dates which had names each month by which the calender was calculated:
1. The Kalends: always fell on the 1st of the month.
2. The Nones: always fell on the 5th of the month except--March, July, October, May
The Nones are on the 7th day.
3. The Ides: always fell 8 days after the Nones.
So since the Ides fall 8 days after the Nones and the Nones in March fall on the 7th day after the Kalends, then the 15th of March is the Ides. Simple, huh!
In April, the Nones is on the 5th day after the Kalends and the Ides is 8 days later or on the 13th.
The Romans expressed the date in accordance with its relationship before one of these three named days, e.g., April 15 is 16 days before the Kalends of May. March 14 is 1 day before the Ides of March. April 2nd is 3 days before the Nones of April.
No wonder the Roman Empire fell. They got confused and tangled up in their calendar, and ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm sure that is also why Latin is no longer the dominent language of the world.
So, happy 16 days before the Kalends of May!
Since today is the 15th of April, for some reason I wondered why no one ever calls the 15th of other months "The Ides" So I asked "Jeeves".
And of course, In Julius's world the Roman Calendar ruled the days and years, which was different that the Julian Calendar now used to mark the date.
In the Roman Calendar there were three dates which had names each month by which the calender was calculated:
1. The Kalends: always fell on the 1st of the month.
2. The Nones: always fell on the 5th of the month except--March, July, October, May
The Nones are on the 7th day.
3. The Ides: always fell 8 days after the Nones.
So since the Ides fall 8 days after the Nones and the Nones in March fall on the 7th day after the Kalends, then the 15th of March is the Ides. Simple, huh!
In April, the Nones is on the 5th day after the Kalends and the Ides is 8 days later or on the 13th.
The Romans expressed the date in accordance with its relationship before one of these three named days, e.g., April 15 is 16 days before the Kalends of May. March 14 is 1 day before the Ides of March. April 2nd is 3 days before the Nones of April.
No wonder the Roman Empire fell. They got confused and tangled up in their calendar, and ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm sure that is also why Latin is no longer the dominent language of the world.
So, happy 16 days before the Kalends of May!
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Biking haiku #9
mountain snows melting
spring loves building nests of twigs
ski lifts filled with bikes
spring loves building nests of twigs
ski lifts filled with bikes
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
3/25/05--An Easter Poem--Of Sorts
It's Easter Sunday!
Time to hunt for eggs!
Go to Church!
Wear funny hats!
A Christian celebration,
Like Christmas!
Commercialized,
By the Easter Bunny!
A holiday for everyone,
Who likes colored eggs,
Baskets full of jelly beans,
And honey baked ham!
Time to hunt for eggs!
Go to Church!
Wear funny hats!
A Christian celebration,
Like Christmas!
Commercialized,
By the Easter Bunny!
A holiday for everyone,
Who likes colored eggs,
Baskets full of jelly beans,
And honey baked ham!
Monday, March 21, 2005
Biking haiku #s 6-7-8
#6
bicycle dew
drips from pores
a summer day
#7
bike footprints
skid on clay
a mountain glen
#8
daring leaps
off mountain crags
knobby rubber
bicycle dew
drips from pores
a summer day
#7
bike footprints
skid on clay
a mountain glen
#8
daring leaps
off mountain crags
knobby rubber
Friday, March 18, 2005
3/18/05--Friday's 5 minute poem
Marching On
The ides of March
Have passed us by,
St. Patrick's too,
I would not lie!
March's lion roared,
And wet the sky,
Let's hope the lamb,
Ends March all dry!
The ides of March
Have passed us by,
St. Patrick's too,
I would not lie!
March's lion roared,
And wet the sky,
Let's hope the lamb,
Ends March all dry!
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Monday, March 14, 2005
Biking Haiku # 3&4
#3
hard-rock thighs
chained gears churn
high windy roads
#4
peloton at speed
flashing colors blurred
saturday a.m.
hard-rock thighs
chained gears churn
high windy roads
#4
peloton at speed
flashing colors blurred
saturday a.m.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
3/11/05--Friday's 5 minute poem--Haiku for Health
swells crest at swami's
frothy longboards cascade
black clad ho-dads
frothy longboards cascade
black clad ho-dads
Friday, March 04, 2005
3/04/05--Fridays 5 min poem--a Haiku
soft mists fall on roads
cars crawl toward dusky skies
whimpers at week's end
cars crawl toward dusky skies
whimpers at week's end
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Saturday in L.A.--Part II--Museum of Natural History
It had been awhile since we had been to Exposition Park. On the way we wanted to drive by the new Walt Disney Concert Hall at the Music Center, now home to the L.A. Philharmonic, so we decided to drive through the downtown area rather than jumping back on the Harbor freeway and heading south. We drove past what is probably the most famous city hall in the U.S.. I still remember that old 50's TV program called "Mr. District Attorney" and remember that the city hall was front and center in the credits. When it was built it was probably the tallest building in the L.A. skyline. Today it sits in a forest of newer taller buildings, but is still a distinctive and a powerful image of L.A.
The new Disney Hall is an ultra modern design by Frank Gehry, the Los Angeles architect who also designed the spectacular Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain. The "Disney" is also a spectacular building, but the location lacks the appropriate "setting" to really appreciate it as a work of art. It sits across from the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, and is surrounded with streets and buildings--an island in a sea of cement!! How nice it would have been to have space for a large plaza or park as a grand entry area to the site and building. But I guess space is a problem in the middle of downtown L.A.!
We drove around it and said wow, but didn't stop.
We headed south through the downtown area. Since it was Saturday, there wasn't much traffic. Considering all the streets we could have picked, we managed to pick one that had work going on, and one of the lanes was coned off. I didn't see anyone working on anything, but there were some trucks parked in a couple spots indicating the intent to repair something. Our main competition for the single lane were buses as they darted through the cones making their stops. None of us were sure exactly how to get to Exposition Park from where we were. All we knew was that we were headed in the right direction. When I came to Olympic Blvd, I decided that since Exposition Park was built for the 1930's Olympics, the Blvd had to lead us there, and made a right turn going west. We passed near the location where Nancy had worked as a designer back in the 1970's and she wanted to detour to see if the building was still there as she remembered it. It was right near the Transamerica Tower. A quick left and we were driving by the Staples Center, where the Lakers and Clippers shoot hoops, with the Convention center in the background. We found her old one story office building. Most of it was still there, although some of it had been demolished to make a parking lot. The design firm had moved long ago.
We headed west again on Olympic, through Korea town with all its Korean signage, and up to Alvarado with it's Black/Mexican/Korean mix. I knew that we needed to be south of I-10 which was still to the south, so that's the direction I headed. The neighborhood was busier than downtown and traffic was stop and go, but we soon saw I-10. A block south of that was the USC Campus. A block south of that was Exposition Park and the Coliseum.
Our target for the afternoon was the Museum of Natural History, which was like going to a zoo honoring dead animals and civilizations. It is housed in a great classically styled building just north of the Coliseum, and was a favorite of both Bert and Nancy when they were children.
I got a senior discount on my ticket, and we all put the little orange stickers on our chests showing we were paid up, and headed out to the exhibit areas. Burt, Nancy, and Kris wanted to start with the Mammals of North America Exhibit, which has been there forever. I walked around and was done looking about the time there were at the second diarama, so I decided to head out on my own and let them do their own thing. I cruised the dinosours, the bird exhibits, the insects, the Indians and South American pre-Columbians, The marine/ocean exhibit, and the African Mammal diaramas. There was a discovery center filled with 2-7 year olds making all kinds of things and sitting on the floor being "lectured" by a curater with real snakes in a show and tell session. It was a real "active" place on this Saturday afternoon.
When I re-emerged into the area near the gift shop, there was Nancy. They still had things to see and Burt and Kris were "shopping". I told her I was going to be sitting outside when they were done, so found a perch next to the entrance and plopped myself down.
There was a wide grassy area in front of the building,( it was a park!) and there was a spirited soccer game going on, with some spectators on the sideline. These were older boys or young men who were quite proficient, and I followed the ball up and down the field until a goal was scored on the south end of the field by a kick from near the sideline. A great shot! The game broke up after that!
A young Asian family came out of the museum. He was toting a camera, and she was toting two young boys, one about 4 and another about 2 years old. They sat on the steps in front of me. She pulled a couple of oranges out of her bag, and I watched as he peeled one and she the other. He ate one slice by slice, and then got his camera out and walked about 20 ft away to take some pictures while she fed slices to the boys. They were not speaking English, so I wondered if they were tourists, or were one of many families who were transferred to L.A. for a "tour of duty" working for an Asian based company. One thing for sure, they liked California oranges! It was an international family day at the museum! Dinasaurs speak all languages!
Nancy didn't find the postcard she was looking for in the gift shop. It was close to the 5 pm closing when they came out the door and saw me sitting off to the side, an old guy on a bench!! The old Mercedes made it home in time for a bottle of cheap wine from Trader Joes, and a take- out pizza from Olyo's. We called our son Matt by cell phone on the way to ensure him that we would have food for him. He was glad to see us!! So was the cat!
The new Disney Hall is an ultra modern design by Frank Gehry, the Los Angeles architect who also designed the spectacular Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain. The "Disney" is also a spectacular building, but the location lacks the appropriate "setting" to really appreciate it as a work of art. It sits across from the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, and is surrounded with streets and buildings--an island in a sea of cement!! How nice it would have been to have space for a large plaza or park as a grand entry area to the site and building. But I guess space is a problem in the middle of downtown L.A.!
We drove around it and said wow, but didn't stop.
We headed south through the downtown area. Since it was Saturday, there wasn't much traffic. Considering all the streets we could have picked, we managed to pick one that had work going on, and one of the lanes was coned off. I didn't see anyone working on anything, but there were some trucks parked in a couple spots indicating the intent to repair something. Our main competition for the single lane were buses as they darted through the cones making their stops. None of us were sure exactly how to get to Exposition Park from where we were. All we knew was that we were headed in the right direction. When I came to Olympic Blvd, I decided that since Exposition Park was built for the 1930's Olympics, the Blvd had to lead us there, and made a right turn going west. We passed near the location where Nancy had worked as a designer back in the 1970's and she wanted to detour to see if the building was still there as she remembered it. It was right near the Transamerica Tower. A quick left and we were driving by the Staples Center, where the Lakers and Clippers shoot hoops, with the Convention center in the background. We found her old one story office building. Most of it was still there, although some of it had been demolished to make a parking lot. The design firm had moved long ago.
We headed west again on Olympic, through Korea town with all its Korean signage, and up to Alvarado with it's Black/Mexican/Korean mix. I knew that we needed to be south of I-10 which was still to the south, so that's the direction I headed. The neighborhood was busier than downtown and traffic was stop and go, but we soon saw I-10. A block south of that was the USC Campus. A block south of that was Exposition Park and the Coliseum.
Our target for the afternoon was the Museum of Natural History, which was like going to a zoo honoring dead animals and civilizations. It is housed in a great classically styled building just north of the Coliseum, and was a favorite of both Bert and Nancy when they were children.
I got a senior discount on my ticket, and we all put the little orange stickers on our chests showing we were paid up, and headed out to the exhibit areas. Burt, Nancy, and Kris wanted to start with the Mammals of North America Exhibit, which has been there forever. I walked around and was done looking about the time there were at the second diarama, so I decided to head out on my own and let them do their own thing. I cruised the dinosours, the bird exhibits, the insects, the Indians and South American pre-Columbians, The marine/ocean exhibit, and the African Mammal diaramas. There was a discovery center filled with 2-7 year olds making all kinds of things and sitting on the floor being "lectured" by a curater with real snakes in a show and tell session. It was a real "active" place on this Saturday afternoon.
When I re-emerged into the area near the gift shop, there was Nancy. They still had things to see and Burt and Kris were "shopping". I told her I was going to be sitting outside when they were done, so found a perch next to the entrance and plopped myself down.
There was a wide grassy area in front of the building,( it was a park!) and there was a spirited soccer game going on, with some spectators on the sideline. These were older boys or young men who were quite proficient, and I followed the ball up and down the field until a goal was scored on the south end of the field by a kick from near the sideline. A great shot! The game broke up after that!
A young Asian family came out of the museum. He was toting a camera, and she was toting two young boys, one about 4 and another about 2 years old. They sat on the steps in front of me. She pulled a couple of oranges out of her bag, and I watched as he peeled one and she the other. He ate one slice by slice, and then got his camera out and walked about 20 ft away to take some pictures while she fed slices to the boys. They were not speaking English, so I wondered if they were tourists, or were one of many families who were transferred to L.A. for a "tour of duty" working for an Asian based company. One thing for sure, they liked California oranges! It was an international family day at the museum! Dinasaurs speak all languages!
Nancy didn't find the postcard she was looking for in the gift shop. It was close to the 5 pm closing when they came out the door and saw me sitting off to the side, an old guy on a bench!! The old Mercedes made it home in time for a bottle of cheap wine from Trader Joes, and a take- out pizza from Olyo's. We called our son Matt by cell phone on the way to ensure him that we would have food for him. He was glad to see us!! So was the cat!
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Saturday in L.A.--Part One--Alvera Street
Last Saturday Nancy and I drove up to the big city, L.A. to visit her brother Bert and his wife Kris. We usually just see them at family gatherings, and Nancy thought it would be great if we drove up to spent a day together and play tourist. We stopped at Pipe's cafe in Cardiff at about 9 am to stock up on caffiene for the trip, and we were off! The old Mercedes cruised along at 75 most of the way on an open freeway, so we made good time and were in Hawthorne just before 11 am.
After picking them up at their apartment in Hawthorne, our first stop of the day was to be lunch and shopping at Alvera street in the Spanish/Mexican historical center of L.A.. It had been 18 years since we had lived in the L.A. area, and while we remembered all the great places around town, we always didn't remember the most direct route to where they were, so when we got off the Harbor freeway downtown, we were almost amazed to find that we had picked the right exit, and were just a block or so from the central plaza in the historical district. We found parking near the plaza just across the street from the old Pio Pico hotel, which was now used as a historical society museum, and headed for Bert's favorite taco stand on Alvera Street.
It is one of those places which hasn't changed much in the last 30 years. Bert and Nancy's parents always took them there on outings when they were kids. It was almost like going on a trip to Mexico. Although the "street" is only about a half block long, it is packed with colorful shops and restaurants and has always reminded me of the touristy alleys in the "Rosa" district of Tijuana.
It seems to exist only for the tourists! But even for those who live in L.A., a visit now and then is fun! Most of the stuff in the shops is leather goods made in Mexico, with lots of colorful serapes, blankets, and trinkets that get the kids all excited.
Our first stop had to take care of the growls and give us a blood sugar bounce before attacking the shopping stalls. So we stood in line at Juanita's taco shop and waited for a table. When one opened up, Nancy made a beeline for it, but was cut off at the aisle by an older lady who had just arrived. Nancy had a word, and she stepped aside! When it comes to Mexican food, get out of Nancy's way!! We all ordered combination plates, which were delivered within about 5 minutos.
Nancy says the tacos and taquitos on Alvera Street are the best because they crisp them up a bit in hot lard! They were crispy, and I'm sure they were lardy too! It seemed like it only took about 5 minutes for us all to down the tacos and beans, and the small bit of salad which made up the "combo"!! Just what they like at restaurant with only 5-6 tables, fast turnover!!
As we walked down to the end of the street after our quick but tasty lunch, we passed Nancy's favorite taquito stand. She had been telling me about the taquitos there all week, so as we walked by, I suggested that she should order a small plate there or she would regret it! So she and Bert each had a chaser of taquitos swimming in green chile sauce. Kris and I just stood by while they overate!
Now to shopping!!
Kris bought a nice bag to carry her books and "stuff", and Bert bought a small leather coin purse. Nancy saw some things she liked, but knew she didn't really need, so passed on them.
While all this shopping was going on, I spent time just sitting in the sun watching all the people saunter by. I am always amazed at all the different shapes, sizes and colors that people come in!
Sitting on a bench on Alvera street on a Saturday is like going to a free form play, with the street as a stage, and an international cast that ever changes.
I sat on a ledge next to a shop which sold mostly tourist trinkets. There was a big basket of wooden articulated snakes right next to me, painted only as they would be in Mexico! One five year old boy came up to me and asked how much they were. I told him I would sell him one for a quarter!! His dad was right behind him, and of course, he knew I was not the one his son should be talking with, and grabbed him by the hand to remove him from the temptation provided by the snake! We shared a smile! I do think he would have bought one for a quarter, though. I thought that was about what they were worth!
Older people shuffled by, some looked very frail, and I thought that they must be on a tour bus from somewhere out of town, and just had to see as much as they could in the time they had left on this earth. I wondered if they had bought a colorful shirt that said Los Angelos on it, or a big straw sombrero with Mexico stitched on the brim as reminders of the fun they had on their visit.
To the kiddie set running between the small shops on the street, it must have looked and felt like a carnival filled with colorful prizes for knocking down a bottle with a ball, or popping a balloon with a dart. There were no games to play, but the prizes were all there to be purchased!
And at the end of the street near the plaza there was a "fake" donkey on which to sit to have your picture taken with a sombrero jauntily flopped on top of your head!
Roaming the restaurants on the street were two small mariachi groups who sang outside the patios and then passed the hat. They looked experienced but not prosperous! On a good day they must have made a few hundred dollars to share. They got a small contribution from me!
As we escaped from the shops and entered the plaza area, there was a girl in a clown costume selling balloons just across from the fake donkey, and an amplified trio of musicians was about to start a small concert and were setting up their equipment and microphones. It was almost 2 pm but looked to be alot of action ahead for the rest of the afternoon and evening at Old Los Angeles on Alvera Street.
A large banner which hung on the old hotel showed a fully bearded Pio Pico dressed in a wainscoat and fancy tie. He had welcomed us when we came in, and now he bade us adios as we walked back to the car to head for our next adventure at Exposition Park.
After picking them up at their apartment in Hawthorne, our first stop of the day was to be lunch and shopping at Alvera street in the Spanish/Mexican historical center of L.A.. It had been 18 years since we had lived in the L.A. area, and while we remembered all the great places around town, we always didn't remember the most direct route to where they were, so when we got off the Harbor freeway downtown, we were almost amazed to find that we had picked the right exit, and were just a block or so from the central plaza in the historical district. We found parking near the plaza just across the street from the old Pio Pico hotel, which was now used as a historical society museum, and headed for Bert's favorite taco stand on Alvera Street.
It is one of those places which hasn't changed much in the last 30 years. Bert and Nancy's parents always took them there on outings when they were kids. It was almost like going on a trip to Mexico. Although the "street" is only about a half block long, it is packed with colorful shops and restaurants and has always reminded me of the touristy alleys in the "Rosa" district of Tijuana.
It seems to exist only for the tourists! But even for those who live in L.A., a visit now and then is fun! Most of the stuff in the shops is leather goods made in Mexico, with lots of colorful serapes, blankets, and trinkets that get the kids all excited.
Our first stop had to take care of the growls and give us a blood sugar bounce before attacking the shopping stalls. So we stood in line at Juanita's taco shop and waited for a table. When one opened up, Nancy made a beeline for it, but was cut off at the aisle by an older lady who had just arrived. Nancy had a word, and she stepped aside! When it comes to Mexican food, get out of Nancy's way!! We all ordered combination plates, which were delivered within about 5 minutos.
Nancy says the tacos and taquitos on Alvera Street are the best because they crisp them up a bit in hot lard! They were crispy, and I'm sure they were lardy too! It seemed like it only took about 5 minutes for us all to down the tacos and beans, and the small bit of salad which made up the "combo"!! Just what they like at restaurant with only 5-6 tables, fast turnover!!
As we walked down to the end of the street after our quick but tasty lunch, we passed Nancy's favorite taquito stand. She had been telling me about the taquitos there all week, so as we walked by, I suggested that she should order a small plate there or she would regret it! So she and Bert each had a chaser of taquitos swimming in green chile sauce. Kris and I just stood by while they overate!
Now to shopping!!
Kris bought a nice bag to carry her books and "stuff", and Bert bought a small leather coin purse. Nancy saw some things she liked, but knew she didn't really need, so passed on them.
While all this shopping was going on, I spent time just sitting in the sun watching all the people saunter by. I am always amazed at all the different shapes, sizes and colors that people come in!
Sitting on a bench on Alvera street on a Saturday is like going to a free form play, with the street as a stage, and an international cast that ever changes.
I sat on a ledge next to a shop which sold mostly tourist trinkets. There was a big basket of wooden articulated snakes right next to me, painted only as they would be in Mexico! One five year old boy came up to me and asked how much they were. I told him I would sell him one for a quarter!! His dad was right behind him, and of course, he knew I was not the one his son should be talking with, and grabbed him by the hand to remove him from the temptation provided by the snake! We shared a smile! I do think he would have bought one for a quarter, though. I thought that was about what they were worth!
Older people shuffled by, some looked very frail, and I thought that they must be on a tour bus from somewhere out of town, and just had to see as much as they could in the time they had left on this earth. I wondered if they had bought a colorful shirt that said Los Angelos on it, or a big straw sombrero with Mexico stitched on the brim as reminders of the fun they had on their visit.
To the kiddie set running between the small shops on the street, it must have looked and felt like a carnival filled with colorful prizes for knocking down a bottle with a ball, or popping a balloon with a dart. There were no games to play, but the prizes were all there to be purchased!
And at the end of the street near the plaza there was a "fake" donkey on which to sit to have your picture taken with a sombrero jauntily flopped on top of your head!
Roaming the restaurants on the street were two small mariachi groups who sang outside the patios and then passed the hat. They looked experienced but not prosperous! On a good day they must have made a few hundred dollars to share. They got a small contribution from me!
As we escaped from the shops and entered the plaza area, there was a girl in a clown costume selling balloons just across from the fake donkey, and an amplified trio of musicians was about to start a small concert and were setting up their equipment and microphones. It was almost 2 pm but looked to be alot of action ahead for the rest of the afternoon and evening at Old Los Angeles on Alvera Street.
A large banner which hung on the old hotel showed a fully bearded Pio Pico dressed in a wainscoat and fancy tie. He had welcomed us when we came in, and now he bade us adios as we walked back to the car to head for our next adventure at Exposition Park.
Haiku--#s 1,2,&3
Bicycle magazine has a haiku contest going on for the next couple of months. First prize is a choice of bicycles up to $4999 in their March issue. Wow! what a great way to get started with the Zen of Ku! There is no limit on the number of Kus which can be entered by any individual. So I have entered a couple:
Bike Haiku #1:
Bicycle spokes
taut sinews spin
black spandex
Bike Haiku # 2:
Puffs of breath
leggings warming
frosty morns
And Haiku for lovers #1:
Love croaks aloud
spring ripples widen
lilies in bloom
Bike Haiku #1:
Bicycle spokes
taut sinews spin
black spandex
Bike Haiku # 2:
Puffs of breath
leggings warming
frosty morns
And Haiku for lovers #1:
Love croaks aloud
spring ripples widen
lilies in bloom
Friday, February 25, 2005
02/25/05--Friday's 5 minute poem--Weeklies
weeklies
friday p.m.,
a time to reflect,
on five days past,
and what to expect,
with tommorows.
goals marked done,
or rolled over in pain,
in a box next week,
to attempt once again,
or face sorrows.
friday p.m.,
a time to reflect,
on five days past,
and what to expect,
with tommorows.
goals marked done,
or rolled over in pain,
in a box next week,
to attempt once again,
or face sorrows.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Friday's 5 minute poem-2/18/04
rainy rays
the sun is gone,
grey clouds scud by,
all moisture laden,
a restless sky!
a dull bleak friday,
does not bode well,
that a 3 day weekend,
will turn out swell!
the sun is gone,
grey clouds scud by,
all moisture laden,
a restless sky!
a dull bleak friday,
does not bode well,
that a 3 day weekend,
will turn out swell!
Friday, February 18, 2005
The Greatest Generation, passing--a poem.
Those of us born in the 1940's and 50's have parents who were part of the "Greatest Generation". They were born in the 1920's or early 30's, were raised during the great depression, and in their late teens and early 20's left farms and family homes to fight a great war in foreign lands from Burma to Africa to Europe. It was the last real World War.
The greatest generation is dying off. Every war baby and post war boomer baby is losing their parental tie to an era unique in its violence and insanity, and to the generation who recovered from the insanity in the world and continued to develop and keep the ideals on which America was founded.
My father was a teenager of 19 when he left his family's farm and entered the army, ultimately ending up in Europe with the 7th Armored division as it pushed across France into Germany. He was a G.I. like many, on the front lines, wounded twice, decorated, and returned home a changed man, so my mother said. I never heard him talk of any of his War experiences. It was not something that many of his generation would share with anyone who had not been there. He died at 68, rather young I think! He would have been 82 last month.
Recently someone I work with told me through tears that her father had just died at 85 years of age. She wondered if I could write something for her for the memorial service. Thinking of my father, I told her that he had led a full life to reach 85. I asked her to take a few minutes and write something about him that best described him as her father. What did he do in life and what were her best memories of him?
She gave me her thoughts, and as I read them, she described an experience similar to my father's and, for that matter, all father's who were part of that generation who fought in WWII.
Her father had flown with the Flying Tigers in Burma and China. He made it through the war, came home, got a job, married, and had 5 children who he loaded in the car and took to the beach in Florida on vacation every year. To keep them occupied in the car, he substituted funny lyrics to popular songs and gave each of the 5 children their own verse to sing as they traveled the road south to Florida.
His life's story could be written with a blank for the name that could be filled in with the name of the father of many children born of that great generation. As I wrote a poem in his memory, tears came to my eyes. It was also a poem to the memory of my father who died 14 years ago.
To the memory of a father in the
"Greatest Generation"
Our Hero!
A life lived,
An epitome,
Of the "greatest generation".
When a youth,
Under fire,
Flew tigers, to save the world.
An experience,
Never shared,
With those who were not there.
A hero,
Among many,
Returned home to forget sadness.
To move on to tomorrow.
Elation!
Optimism!
Hard Work!
Goodness!
Love!
Faith!
Family!
Our Hero!
A life lived,
For others,
His family and friends.
So much to give,
Whose gifts,
Were never exchanged.
His universe,
A bright star,
with five twinkles from his eye.
Who grew,
To be stars,
In their own right.
To shine bright in his heaven!
Our hero!
Has gone on to tomorrow!
Mark Worden
February 17, 2005
The greatest generation is dying off. Every war baby and post war boomer baby is losing their parental tie to an era unique in its violence and insanity, and to the generation who recovered from the insanity in the world and continued to develop and keep the ideals on which America was founded.
My father was a teenager of 19 when he left his family's farm and entered the army, ultimately ending up in Europe with the 7th Armored division as it pushed across France into Germany. He was a G.I. like many, on the front lines, wounded twice, decorated, and returned home a changed man, so my mother said. I never heard him talk of any of his War experiences. It was not something that many of his generation would share with anyone who had not been there. He died at 68, rather young I think! He would have been 82 last month.
Recently someone I work with told me through tears that her father had just died at 85 years of age. She wondered if I could write something for her for the memorial service. Thinking of my father, I told her that he had led a full life to reach 85. I asked her to take a few minutes and write something about him that best described him as her father. What did he do in life and what were her best memories of him?
She gave me her thoughts, and as I read them, she described an experience similar to my father's and, for that matter, all father's who were part of that generation who fought in WWII.
Her father had flown with the Flying Tigers in Burma and China. He made it through the war, came home, got a job, married, and had 5 children who he loaded in the car and took to the beach in Florida on vacation every year. To keep them occupied in the car, he substituted funny lyrics to popular songs and gave each of the 5 children their own verse to sing as they traveled the road south to Florida.
His life's story could be written with a blank for the name that could be filled in with the name of the father of many children born of that great generation. As I wrote a poem in his memory, tears came to my eyes. It was also a poem to the memory of my father who died 14 years ago.
To the memory of a father in the
"Greatest Generation"
Our Hero!
A life lived,
An epitome,
Of the "greatest generation".
When a youth,
Under fire,
Flew tigers, to save the world.
An experience,
Never shared,
With those who were not there.
A hero,
Among many,
Returned home to forget sadness.
To move on to tomorrow.
Elation!
Optimism!
Hard Work!
Goodness!
Love!
Faith!
Family!
Our Hero!
A life lived,
For others,
His family and friends.
So much to give,
Whose gifts,
Were never exchanged.
His universe,
A bright star,
with five twinkles from his eye.
Who grew,
To be stars,
In their own right.
To shine bright in his heaven!
Our hero!
Has gone on to tomorrow!
Mark Worden
February 17, 2005
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Rain!
The most notable happening so far this year has been rain! Our historical average annual rainfall in the San Diego area has been just over 9 inches annually. We have a semi desert climate, thus the 3 million people around here depend on a series of reservoirs storing water from the Colorado River and from the California aqueduct, as well as some run off from our local mountain ranges.
The last 5 years have been drought years throughout much of California and the West, with rainfall in San Diego averaging around 4 inches each of those years. People worry about water! We have watched the water level in the the local storage "lakes" drop very low to less than half of their capacity. Lake Hodges, a few miles to the east of Encinitas in Escondido, and which depends on local runoff, had dwindled to about 20% of its normal surface area. What once was a great recreational and fishing lake had become inaccessable to boats. The launch ramp was hundreds of yards from the waters edge. A forest of trees had grown up within the normal lake bed over the last 5-6 years. There had been talk of allocating a few hundred thousand dollars to a project to remove those trees, because there is a project planned to connect the lake to the network that supplies other reservoirs to insure that lake levels could be maintained in the future.
Then in January and February the rains came. Some of the storms came from the north and were cold and stormy. Some came from the South and were warm and steady. In the last couple of months over 20 inches has come down, and there is more on the way this weekend. It is likely that we may get three times our average annual 9 inches of rain this year. (And 6 times last year!)
Lake Hodges is full again and is almost overflowing the dam. There are tree tops sticking out of the lake over a wide area. That might be good for the bass, but makes for a messy lake, and for a poor source of drinking water.
With many areas of high density population, when Southern California gets lot of rain strange things happen. Roads become slick due to a buildup of oil residue on the pavement. The incidents of fender benders goes way up. That is hard to understand if you are from a place where it rains and snows often, and a driver has to face weather conditions on a regular basis. One might think that Southern California drivers are wusses when it comes to driving in weather. Maybe so, but give them credit for facing bumper to bumper traffic on 10 lanes of freeway going and coming to wherever on a daily basis. Rain on the freeway is not a common condition, and there are millions of cars in close proximity to each other with brakes that don't grip as usual. Rain is good for body shops!
With the type of porous soil which exits in some locales, alot of rain can satuate it and cause it to liquify. In January in Orange Country, just south of L.A., a new $2.5 million home which had just been built on the edge of a hill started to slide endangering other homes near it. It was condemned and it took only a few hours for a piece of heavy machinery to knock it down and load the debris in a truck. So much for someone's dream home. One hopes the contractor has insurance.
In a small town on the coast just north of L.A., part of a hillside collapsed and buried a number of houses and killed 10 people.
Even in Oceanside, just north of Encinitas, there was a hill that started to slide and endanger homes that had been there for 30 years.
Rivers in Southern California are very strange. The Los Angeles River is a very long river that runs through the heart of most of the city from the San Gabriel Mountains to the Ocean. It is a large ditch completely surfaced with cement. In some places it is 100 yds or more wide. For most of the year, the ditch is empty. Maybe there is a trickle of water easily stepped over. The cement channel has been used for car chases in alot of movies and TV shows. When it rains a bunch in the area, all the runoff from the mountains and from much of the storm sewer system in the city makes the river a huge raging torrent, dangerous to all who venture near it. It is the ultimate flash flood. People drown in the desert! Weird!!
All the debris that people throw into or that washes into the storm drains in all the populated areas on the coast flows down the rivers and into the ocean. Beach areas turn brown with the color of the silt and sand and the pollution that flows along with it.
The San Louis Rey river in North San Diego County runs through the golf course where I am a member. It drains through the valley east of Oceanside and its mouth opens to the ocean in Camp Pendleton. Most of the year it is a gentle creek. After the last rain storm it flooded three or four of the holes. We are playing two of them as par threes instead of fours, and have sandbagged the green on the other. Bummer! It probably will be 2-3 months before the fairways on those holes dry out.
On the other hand, having adequate rain in southern California is a relief! It is wonderful to see lakes filled to their capacity! It's good for fishing and boating. The mountain forests become healthier and less prone to disease and fire. Wildlife flourishes! There is green as a primary landscape color rather than brown. Golf courses get lush. People seem less tense.
I just checked the web site for Anzo Borrego State Park(anzoborrego.statepark.org), which is the largest desert park in California, and the wildflower bloom is early this year because of all the rain. Even some of it splashes over the Laguna Mountains to the east of us into the desert to change the landscape on the desert valley floor into a kalidescope of color that is a view worth the two hour drive!
Rain brings life!
It is Thursday and the forecast is for more rain starting tomorrow. It is sprinkling outside!
Traffic is slowing.
The last 5 years have been drought years throughout much of California and the West, with rainfall in San Diego averaging around 4 inches each of those years. People worry about water! We have watched the water level in the the local storage "lakes" drop very low to less than half of their capacity. Lake Hodges, a few miles to the east of Encinitas in Escondido, and which depends on local runoff, had dwindled to about 20% of its normal surface area. What once was a great recreational and fishing lake had become inaccessable to boats. The launch ramp was hundreds of yards from the waters edge. A forest of trees had grown up within the normal lake bed over the last 5-6 years. There had been talk of allocating a few hundred thousand dollars to a project to remove those trees, because there is a project planned to connect the lake to the network that supplies other reservoirs to insure that lake levels could be maintained in the future.
Then in January and February the rains came. Some of the storms came from the north and were cold and stormy. Some came from the South and were warm and steady. In the last couple of months over 20 inches has come down, and there is more on the way this weekend. It is likely that we may get three times our average annual 9 inches of rain this year. (And 6 times last year!)
Lake Hodges is full again and is almost overflowing the dam. There are tree tops sticking out of the lake over a wide area. That might be good for the bass, but makes for a messy lake, and for a poor source of drinking water.
With many areas of high density population, when Southern California gets lot of rain strange things happen. Roads become slick due to a buildup of oil residue on the pavement. The incidents of fender benders goes way up. That is hard to understand if you are from a place where it rains and snows often, and a driver has to face weather conditions on a regular basis. One might think that Southern California drivers are wusses when it comes to driving in weather. Maybe so, but give them credit for facing bumper to bumper traffic on 10 lanes of freeway going and coming to wherever on a daily basis. Rain on the freeway is not a common condition, and there are millions of cars in close proximity to each other with brakes that don't grip as usual. Rain is good for body shops!
With the type of porous soil which exits in some locales, alot of rain can satuate it and cause it to liquify. In January in Orange Country, just south of L.A., a new $2.5 million home which had just been built on the edge of a hill started to slide endangering other homes near it. It was condemned and it took only a few hours for a piece of heavy machinery to knock it down and load the debris in a truck. So much for someone's dream home. One hopes the contractor has insurance.
In a small town on the coast just north of L.A., part of a hillside collapsed and buried a number of houses and killed 10 people.
Even in Oceanside, just north of Encinitas, there was a hill that started to slide and endanger homes that had been there for 30 years.
Rivers in Southern California are very strange. The Los Angeles River is a very long river that runs through the heart of most of the city from the San Gabriel Mountains to the Ocean. It is a large ditch completely surfaced with cement. In some places it is 100 yds or more wide. For most of the year, the ditch is empty. Maybe there is a trickle of water easily stepped over. The cement channel has been used for car chases in alot of movies and TV shows. When it rains a bunch in the area, all the runoff from the mountains and from much of the storm sewer system in the city makes the river a huge raging torrent, dangerous to all who venture near it. It is the ultimate flash flood. People drown in the desert! Weird!!
All the debris that people throw into or that washes into the storm drains in all the populated areas on the coast flows down the rivers and into the ocean. Beach areas turn brown with the color of the silt and sand and the pollution that flows along with it.
The San Louis Rey river in North San Diego County runs through the golf course where I am a member. It drains through the valley east of Oceanside and its mouth opens to the ocean in Camp Pendleton. Most of the year it is a gentle creek. After the last rain storm it flooded three or four of the holes. We are playing two of them as par threes instead of fours, and have sandbagged the green on the other. Bummer! It probably will be 2-3 months before the fairways on those holes dry out.
On the other hand, having adequate rain in southern California is a relief! It is wonderful to see lakes filled to their capacity! It's good for fishing and boating. The mountain forests become healthier and less prone to disease and fire. Wildlife flourishes! There is green as a primary landscape color rather than brown. Golf courses get lush. People seem less tense.
I just checked the web site for Anzo Borrego State Park(anzoborrego.statepark.org), which is the largest desert park in California, and the wildflower bloom is early this year because of all the rain. Even some of it splashes over the Laguna Mountains to the east of us into the desert to change the landscape on the desert valley floor into a kalidescope of color that is a view worth the two hour drive!
Rain brings life!
It is Thursday and the forecast is for more rain starting tomorrow. It is sprinkling outside!
Traffic is slowing.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Thoughts on Religiosity--Part 2
Most great religions developed during the time when science considered the Earth the center of the universe.
Religious doctrine still depends on the importance of our small bit of space and our human existance as the center and the primary depository of attention from God the Creator. To the true believers, expousing any thought against this doctrine was and still is considered to be blasphemy!
Balsphemy has obviously changed over the years. One might have been burned at the stake a few centuries ago for claiming that the Earth revolved around the Sun. The mainstream Christian religions moved past that position for the most part! But Creationism vs. Evolution is still in dispute with some who take the Bible literally. There were no apes in the Garden of Eden. Science vs. religious doctrine is still in play!
The more we find out about the universe, the more it appears that our little world is nothing but a speck of dust in the vastness of it. If there is a divine being who created it all, is there an answer to this question: Why should this speck of dust called Earth be so special that this Divinity would watch over us and provide for an afterlife for our continued existance in some form?
If we all sat back and suspended our beliefs for a time, would we be humbled by our position in the scope of the universe, and would we think that we vastly overestimate our importance in the scheme of it all?
Religion always has sought to explain the unexplainable in order to provide a safe haven for us to escape to when stressed. It has been there to provide some certainty where there was none. "Why?" can always be answered, even when there is no apparent answer. "It is God's will!" "It is the will of Allah!" "The gods are angry!" We can take action with prayer and sacrifice to make us feel "better". Those of us brought up in religion still look to God in time of peril. the "indoctrination" always remains somewhere in our psyche.
Religion is a two edged sword. The Golden Rule, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you", in some way is an ethical guide in most great religions. But it is often overshadowed by what might be termed "The Onward Christian Soldier" side of the blade. That side appeals to those who feel chosen by their God over all others, and feel it is their responsibility to save all who do not believe. Unbelievers are doomed to be damned to some form of punishment in the afterlife! Isn't it interesting that the Christians, Jews, Mormons, and Muslims, all who think of themselves as the only chosen ones, have the same lineage from the God of Abraham.
Bottom line, it all seems to be a continuation of the tribal warfare which has been part of human existance since the beginning of life on our little speck of dust. Different tribes fighting over ideas, land and wealth, perceived superiorities, and sex and females.
There are always going to be gaps in human knowledge that cause humans to seek spiritual answers where no others exist. The last human alive will still not know all the answers to all the questions.
Today, the human race seems to be still mired in the muck of egotistic selfishness, no better that our early ancesters who lived in caves. We just have more advanced weapons, and more complicated reasons to go nah-nah, nah, nah-nah as we stick a finger in the air, or drop bombs on each other.
We do things to each other which seem to put us and our planet on a road to self destruction.
I have this notion that the demise of the Earth will result from a collision with a giant asteroid or comet hurtling through space. Just like the dinasaurs, we will all be gone, and perhaps the next denisons of our small rock will be giant insects with small brains, who will battle each other just like we do. It probably won't happen soon in relation to our lifetimes, but I think that considering the scope of the known universe, it seems to be a certainty.
Here's a "Twilight Zone" thought! Perhaps the Universe is just a video game being played by a "teen age something" in a place beyond our comprehension. We will end when the game ends. Is that as good an explanation of our existance as any?
Religious doctrine still depends on the importance of our small bit of space and our human existance as the center and the primary depository of attention from God the Creator. To the true believers, expousing any thought against this doctrine was and still is considered to be blasphemy!
Balsphemy has obviously changed over the years. One might have been burned at the stake a few centuries ago for claiming that the Earth revolved around the Sun. The mainstream Christian religions moved past that position for the most part! But Creationism vs. Evolution is still in dispute with some who take the Bible literally. There were no apes in the Garden of Eden. Science vs. religious doctrine is still in play!
The more we find out about the universe, the more it appears that our little world is nothing but a speck of dust in the vastness of it. If there is a divine being who created it all, is there an answer to this question: Why should this speck of dust called Earth be so special that this Divinity would watch over us and provide for an afterlife for our continued existance in some form?
If we all sat back and suspended our beliefs for a time, would we be humbled by our position in the scope of the universe, and would we think that we vastly overestimate our importance in the scheme of it all?
Religion always has sought to explain the unexplainable in order to provide a safe haven for us to escape to when stressed. It has been there to provide some certainty where there was none. "Why?" can always be answered, even when there is no apparent answer. "It is God's will!" "It is the will of Allah!" "The gods are angry!" We can take action with prayer and sacrifice to make us feel "better". Those of us brought up in religion still look to God in time of peril. the "indoctrination" always remains somewhere in our psyche.
Religion is a two edged sword. The Golden Rule, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you", in some way is an ethical guide in most great religions. But it is often overshadowed by what might be termed "The Onward Christian Soldier" side of the blade. That side appeals to those who feel chosen by their God over all others, and feel it is their responsibility to save all who do not believe. Unbelievers are doomed to be damned to some form of punishment in the afterlife! Isn't it interesting that the Christians, Jews, Mormons, and Muslims, all who think of themselves as the only chosen ones, have the same lineage from the God of Abraham.
Bottom line, it all seems to be a continuation of the tribal warfare which has been part of human existance since the beginning of life on our little speck of dust. Different tribes fighting over ideas, land and wealth, perceived superiorities, and sex and females.
There are always going to be gaps in human knowledge that cause humans to seek spiritual answers where no others exist. The last human alive will still not know all the answers to all the questions.
Today, the human race seems to be still mired in the muck of egotistic selfishness, no better that our early ancesters who lived in caves. We just have more advanced weapons, and more complicated reasons to go nah-nah, nah, nah-nah as we stick a finger in the air, or drop bombs on each other.
We do things to each other which seem to put us and our planet on a road to self destruction.
I have this notion that the demise of the Earth will result from a collision with a giant asteroid or comet hurtling through space. Just like the dinasaurs, we will all be gone, and perhaps the next denisons of our small rock will be giant insects with small brains, who will battle each other just like we do. It probably won't happen soon in relation to our lifetimes, but I think that considering the scope of the known universe, it seems to be a certainty.
Here's a "Twilight Zone" thought! Perhaps the Universe is just a video game being played by a "teen age something" in a place beyond our comprehension. We will end when the game ends. Is that as good an explanation of our existance as any?
Thoughts on Religiosity--Part I
Through the ages religion has always been a force for both good and evil in the world. The truly religious are loud! They make demands that others who do not believe as they do conform or face persecution in some way. Often the persecution is violent and deadly.
Religion to the truly religious is black and white. There is good and there is evil. There is heaven and there is hell. The more religious one is, the more there is a certainty of black or white. There is not much logical about religion. If you believe, it is reality. If you don't, it is myth.
An atheist does not believe in a God. An agnostic says prove God exists and I will believe. If you could prove it to an atheist, he would also believe. If you could prove it, everyone would believe!
Is it a fair statement to say that no one is born believing in a God? Being born into a Hindu family usually means living life as a Hindu. Be born into a Muslim family and you become a Muslim. Convert a Muslim to a Christian who marries a Christian, and their children grow up Christian. Convert a Christian to a Jew who marries a Christian, and they must decide whether to raise their children in the Jewish or Christian faith. If born an atheist, and so on. With the child as an open slate, how can one know which religion is the right one to pick? If none or the wrong one is picked, will damnation be the end result? All of them think they are right!
In a conflict everyone thinks they are right! The winner declares himself to be in the right and declares the loser to be wrong! (But the loser, if alive, still thinks he is right!) Is it survival of the fittest! Very Darwinian!
Most in this world do not want to see grey. Grey is confusing! It puts one at risk, requiring thought and consideration of options. Most would rather have a default to the certainty of black or white. Most everyone likes to be lead by leaders who show certainty in their rightness. Nuance is not comfortable. A sense of certainty removes the uncomfortable feeling of risk.
If the great majority of humankind saw shades of grey in their views of the world, would they follow the golden rule. And if so, would it be a world of caring, compromise, and no violence against each other. Is that a fantasy impossible to accomplish?
Religion to the truly religious is black and white. There is good and there is evil. There is heaven and there is hell. The more religious one is, the more there is a certainty of black or white. There is not much logical about religion. If you believe, it is reality. If you don't, it is myth.
An atheist does not believe in a God. An agnostic says prove God exists and I will believe. If you could prove it to an atheist, he would also believe. If you could prove it, everyone would believe!
Is it a fair statement to say that no one is born believing in a God? Being born into a Hindu family usually means living life as a Hindu. Be born into a Muslim family and you become a Muslim. Convert a Muslim to a Christian who marries a Christian, and their children grow up Christian. Convert a Christian to a Jew who marries a Christian, and they must decide whether to raise their children in the Jewish or Christian faith. If born an atheist, and so on. With the child as an open slate, how can one know which religion is the right one to pick? If none or the wrong one is picked, will damnation be the end result? All of them think they are right!
In a conflict everyone thinks they are right! The winner declares himself to be in the right and declares the loser to be wrong! (But the loser, if alive, still thinks he is right!) Is it survival of the fittest! Very Darwinian!
Most in this world do not want to see grey. Grey is confusing! It puts one at risk, requiring thought and consideration of options. Most would rather have a default to the certainty of black or white. Most everyone likes to be lead by leaders who show certainty in their rightness. Nuance is not comfortable. A sense of certainty removes the uncomfortable feeling of risk.
If the great majority of humankind saw shades of grey in their views of the world, would they follow the golden rule. And if so, would it be a world of caring, compromise, and no violence against each other. Is that a fantasy impossible to accomplish?
Friday, January 28, 2005
Po-li-ti-cos---a poem
Po-li-ti-cos
All of them are patriots,
at least that's what they say.
They primp and they pontificate,
and try to get their way!
They call each other nasty names,
derogatory labels.
And all of them have secret friends,
who give cash under tables!
They spin and weave their web of words,
and none of them are clear.
To any one who cries "deceit!",
they brand him with a smear!
Who are these patriots, self proclaimed,
demanding such attention?
Our favorite own po-li-ti-cos,
just seeking re-election!
Mark Worden
1/28/05
All of them are patriots,
at least that's what they say.
They primp and they pontificate,
and try to get their way!
They call each other nasty names,
derogatory labels.
And all of them have secret friends,
who give cash under tables!
They spin and weave their web of words,
and none of them are clear.
To any one who cries "deceit!",
they brand him with a smear!
Who are these patriots, self proclaimed,
demanding such attention?
Our favorite own po-li-ti-cos,
just seeking re-election!
Mark Worden
1/28/05
Friday, January 14, 2005
In The Main....a poem of deceit
In The Main....
There was no WMD,
That anyone could see,
Across the desert wide,
No place that it could hide!
Were told we had to go,
Before Saddam could blow,
Us all away with a big BOOM,
and send us broken, to our tomb!
Now after thousands died,
We find that someone lied,
No WMD, the cause of pain,
Was lack of wisdom, in the main!
There was no WMD,
That anyone could see,
Across the desert wide,
No place that it could hide!
Were told we had to go,
Before Saddam could blow,
Us all away with a big BOOM,
and send us broken, to our tomb!
Now after thousands died,
We find that someone lied,
No WMD, the cause of pain,
Was lack of wisdom, in the main!
Friday, January 07, 2005
Golf Balls--A Poem
Golf Balls
Dimpled,
Shiny white,
In a box
Like eggs!
A dozen,
In a bag,
With clubs
To tee them off!
Struck violently,
Compressed
To fly
Great Distances!
A hole,
So small,
And marked
With a flag,
The target,
And final
Destination
For them all!
Mark Worden
January 7, 2005
Dimpled,
Shiny white,
In a box
Like eggs!
A dozen,
In a bag,
With clubs
To tee them off!
Struck violently,
Compressed
To fly
Great Distances!
A hole,
So small,
And marked
With a flag,
The target,
And final
Destination
For them all!
Mark Worden
January 7, 2005
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Resolutions--An Essay
I used to make resolutions at the start of every new year. I always felt that I was someone who could acheive a great deal more, if only the effort would just be made. So I did what was expected each year and resolutions to improve were made. Then I spent the next few months rationalizing why I either was making no effort at all in actively pursuing any given one of them, or beating my head against a wall in frustration with the effort to accomplish something that was probably beyond my capability, physically and/or mentally.
Every year there was a goal to quit smoking, improve my diet and lose weight, stay with an exercise program, work harder and make more money, make more effort to be more outgoing and remember names of all the people I met, spend more time with my family, take the family on a nice vacation, and learn Spanish, among other things. Every year these were all great goals, and every year started with the thought that if these goals were all acheived, I would be a much better person living a much improved life. Not only that, but my acheivements would lead to more happiness for me, my familiy, and have a positive influence on my relationships with friends, co-workers, and others I contact. And each year I could build on my accomplishments from the year before. I not only would be wealthy, but a great all around guy, much in demand!
I always made a resolution to read at least two books a year on some subject of self improvement and to pick a few recommended actions from each to "implement" to improve my "style" or "relationships". I usually did the reading, and made a very excellent plan of action which was looked at alot for awhile, but not really acted upon, and thus faded away!
So I always felt guilty! Every year was filled with disappointment! Goals clearly were not accomplished! There was failure! And no satisfaction! I was not happy! It was not fun! I was not wealthy! I was not a great all around guy much in demand!
It required a new approach! I thought, "Perhaps I have become an old dog, and you know what they say about teaching an old dog new tricks!" More rationalization? Not good! Even old dogs can improve.
So, rather than buying into the "old dog" rationalization and discarding the whole idea, I decided that it was good to make resolutions!
But I thought, "What about assessing what is good, instead of just what is not so good? After all, I have spent 62 years getting to today, and it seems to me that today is pretty OK! Isn't pretty OK a good place to be? Why do I always have to put myself in a position of guilt regarding failure to effectively act on resolutions?"
I needed to redefine how I thought about resolutions. Striving for some "ideal" state of existance did not seem to be realistic or mentally healthy!
I decided that resolutions should be personal, i. e., they should not relate to work/business or exist just because of a benefit to anyone else. For motivation, there had to be a meaningful and necessary benefit to me! (But it is OK if there are benefits for others as well as a result.)
I thought that stopping doing something could be a resolution, even if it is easy!
And also that continuing to do something that is good is an accomplishment and could be "continued" as a resolution for the next year.
I determined that it is OK to have long term resolutions that are somewhat vague and flexible but have no specific time element! (I'll do it when the time is right or when I get around to it!)
I thought that resolutions should be held to a minimum number, perhaps no more than 6-7, and that they can be changed during the year if it were the sensible thing to do!
And I thought that it would be OK not to have any resolutions at all. (A big relief!)
My 2005 resolutions(a work in process):
1. I will continue to not smoke or chew any tobacco product.
2. I will continue my unbroken lifetime record of saying no to any illegal drug.
3. I will continue to take my medicine and have regular medical checkups twice a year.
4. I will walk rather than riding a cart when I play golf, with few exceptions.
5. I will not gain any weight during the next year. It would be nice, but not necessary, to loose 10 lbs.
6. I will strive to keep a positive attitude each day. Worry causes inflamation, mentally and physically. A sunny disposition is healthy for one's heart, both physical and spiritual, and should be nurtured each day.
These resolutions may not reach very far into the realm of great new acheivements. But many are important maintenance resolutions. And, there is a certain satisfaction that resolutions have been made. (Remember, that it is OK not to make them).
I also now have to think some more about these goals and perhaps add to them as the months go by. It feels good to have some latitude. It feels good to know that accomplishing these resolutions is a positive, and something to feel good about. I think I will treat myself to something good (and probably fattening) to eat today in celebration!!
Every year there was a goal to quit smoking, improve my diet and lose weight, stay with an exercise program, work harder and make more money, make more effort to be more outgoing and remember names of all the people I met, spend more time with my family, take the family on a nice vacation, and learn Spanish, among other things. Every year these were all great goals, and every year started with the thought that if these goals were all acheived, I would be a much better person living a much improved life. Not only that, but my acheivements would lead to more happiness for me, my familiy, and have a positive influence on my relationships with friends, co-workers, and others I contact. And each year I could build on my accomplishments from the year before. I not only would be wealthy, but a great all around guy, much in demand!
I always made a resolution to read at least two books a year on some subject of self improvement and to pick a few recommended actions from each to "implement" to improve my "style" or "relationships". I usually did the reading, and made a very excellent plan of action which was looked at alot for awhile, but not really acted upon, and thus faded away!
So I always felt guilty! Every year was filled with disappointment! Goals clearly were not accomplished! There was failure! And no satisfaction! I was not happy! It was not fun! I was not wealthy! I was not a great all around guy much in demand!
It required a new approach! I thought, "Perhaps I have become an old dog, and you know what they say about teaching an old dog new tricks!" More rationalization? Not good! Even old dogs can improve.
So, rather than buying into the "old dog" rationalization and discarding the whole idea, I decided that it was good to make resolutions!
But I thought, "What about assessing what is good, instead of just what is not so good? After all, I have spent 62 years getting to today, and it seems to me that today is pretty OK! Isn't pretty OK a good place to be? Why do I always have to put myself in a position of guilt regarding failure to effectively act on resolutions?"
I needed to redefine how I thought about resolutions. Striving for some "ideal" state of existance did not seem to be realistic or mentally healthy!
I decided that resolutions should be personal, i. e., they should not relate to work/business or exist just because of a benefit to anyone else. For motivation, there had to be a meaningful and necessary benefit to me! (But it is OK if there are benefits for others as well as a result.)
I thought that stopping doing something could be a resolution, even if it is easy!
And also that continuing to do something that is good is an accomplishment and could be "continued" as a resolution for the next year.
I determined that it is OK to have long term resolutions that are somewhat vague and flexible but have no specific time element! (I'll do it when the time is right or when I get around to it!)
I thought that resolutions should be held to a minimum number, perhaps no more than 6-7, and that they can be changed during the year if it were the sensible thing to do!
And I thought that it would be OK not to have any resolutions at all. (A big relief!)
My 2005 resolutions(a work in process):
1. I will continue to not smoke or chew any tobacco product.
2. I will continue my unbroken lifetime record of saying no to any illegal drug.
3. I will continue to take my medicine and have regular medical checkups twice a year.
4. I will walk rather than riding a cart when I play golf, with few exceptions.
5. I will not gain any weight during the next year. It would be nice, but not necessary, to loose 10 lbs.
6. I will strive to keep a positive attitude each day. Worry causes inflamation, mentally and physically. A sunny disposition is healthy for one's heart, both physical and spiritual, and should be nurtured each day.
These resolutions may not reach very far into the realm of great new acheivements. But many are important maintenance resolutions. And, there is a certain satisfaction that resolutions have been made. (Remember, that it is OK not to make them).
I also now have to think some more about these goals and perhaps add to them as the months go by. It feels good to have some latitude. It feels good to know that accomplishing these resolutions is a positive, and something to feel good about. I think I will treat myself to something good (and probably fattening) to eat today in celebration!!
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