I’d split from work ready to let loose and let my freak flag fly! I’d a foxy old lady hanging at home; it was gonna be a gas(we’re pretty old…). I was sure she’d give me some skin. Can you dig it? Far out.

I’m not sure many of you know the phrase: “A spankin’ good time!” Yep, we used to say it and mean it in a fun way. So much has changed now-a-days, but this here tickle monster rumbles on!

I got home late last night after work to find my five grandsons sleeping over. You know what this meant! It was,’spanking time,’ for everyone! The mad scramble to escape ensued. I’m usually a tickle monster like my dad had been as I grew up, but, no, tonight these good kids needed the spankin’ of their lives to control the silence!!!

“Ah-run for your lives!” I heard their attack call loud and clear.

I saw their strategy immediately. They decided to form one huge pile of boys whereby only one would be left on top to get a pop on the butt! Even Shadow realized he’d better get in that pile, pronto!

It was an out of control battle, perfect for bedtime calm down moments—the kind my wife loves me to start. She doesn’t have to tell me this, I just know by using my secret, ‘Manly,’ instincts. Once she has read to the boys, snuggled them down to soft thoughts and music, it’s time for me to start an all-out rumble!!! Butt why does she always yell, “I’m calling a lawyer! I’m calling a lawyer!!”, at times like this?  Ha! That’s a funny thing to say, don’t you think? I never understand how this fits in to a rumble but as I always say, “To Each their own.”

Anyway…

I roared, I blew air out of my nostrils-that was horrible to do during pollen season-I approached with hands clapping with delight!

“But honey,” my wife explained,” They’ve been good all night!”

“Ha, ahaha, ah,,,,” Said the mean ol’ man, me, “All the more reason for the spankin!” (This is the best way to teach logic 101. I bet they do well in the subject).

More wiggling and screaming went on…butt not a one would get away from the tickle monster now gone raving, spankin’ mad!

At last, it ended as I knew it would from the ,’Daddy’s home,’ get-go. Arron, the youngest, known as the, ‘Padded one,’ was to be sacrificed. Bottom’s up!

Of course, this could only mean one thing of many. The fun-time rumble was over and now it was time to brush our teeth and begin the get-under-the-blanket wiggles, to begin the, no, don’t go into the kitchen, no, get off the floor, no, we aren’t watching t.v., no, we can’t go out, hope, this is not a time to draw!, we’re done eating—we’re completely done with food of any kind!  Yep, a new phase was upon us, the who’s sleeping where, in what room, on the floor or bed and with which brother or two ordeal of an hour longer had begun!

Then something happened…Me, as the last man standing as my wife snuggled on the couch, the house got spooky quiet. The quiet aliens had landed, slithered in the house and stolen all sound. The silence was loud, or maybe my ears were still ringing, yes, that was it. But none of that explained the aliens. I thought of waking my wife to consult about the quiet but I preferred to live.

The night had ended…sob.

Somehow, with the help of beer(s), I forgot about the aliens and went to sleep.

The next morning I awoke to two-year old, Aaron, standing in my doorway. “Goo morrring,” he beamed a smile.

The breakfast was basically the sound of morning children-birds who’d become a herd of munching faces. A pound of bacon, a dozen eggs and quart of home squeezed OJ consumed and heck, look!, we had room in our frig!?!?!

Then, the children went home; the sky cleared. I looked to my faithful buddy, Shadow, as he rested by the window, peacefully collecting himself after being roughed up the previous day  by the Bell gang of five. I looked at him lovingly; he looked at me.

I held up my arms and proclaimed it: ” It’s time for…..a doggie spanking!!!!”

“Wait! Did you say, “Doggie spanking?”

Cheers….nothin’ like having a, ‘spankin’ good time!’Please send any complaints about spanking to Santa Claus—but don’t mention my name.  I’m still waiting on the Lamborghini. Thanks.

Franque23

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Sometimes, we might hear an idea and it just feels right.  We might go to a place, see a work of art, listen to music or experience a thought and our gut cries out for joy.  We’ve all had these moments and they always feel good; refreshing.

(This was done by my Niece, Megan Carlock. I used this as the background to the cover of my first book on kindle, Avatar Magic. Why? It feels right.)

Thing is, it’s not every day that we have these types of experiences; we don’t feel good every day, but could we?

Those who meditate often express a profound sense of peace when they do. But through many years now, only once did I ever meditate and feel a rod of energy sink from my stomach through my sitting butt while also stretching thru my head up beyond the sun and stars until my mind remained suspended in speeding air full of white clouds. It was  miraculous! Seven hours slipped by as though it were a minute. The last I remembered before awakening was the sun had warmed my face, the hard ground I sat upon softened, the wind blew and the waves were lapping the shore before me. I’d done it!

I stood up after that moment of seven hours keenly aware that I’d just experienced the most amazing moment of my life. So, did I go on to meditate daily, or most often? Of course not!  No. Not at all!

I went on to play music surrounded by clouds of pot smoke, to eat gobs of ice cream, cakes, candies, to slurp down drinks, step in dog poop, to laugh my ass off regularly with friends, to sit in ant piles, to become a man, have jobs, raise a family and be a dad, to hit my fingers with hammers, and, more importantly, seldom , if ever, did I mention my, ‘meditation moment.’ It’s interesting what can get left behind during the consumption of half gallons of ice cream and a busy life of waiting in lines, seeing doctors and having traffic accidents.

.

So what?  Sure, I need new flip-flops, but what does any of this mean now? It’s all about grounding, a sphere of thought perhaps old- hat to many but new to me. See, in 1960 sneaker manufacturers started using synthetic rubber souls in a major way* and people were no longer,’grounded,’ to the earth as they walked as zombies through life. Maybe if I hadn’t read Wilhelm Reich’s** theory of, Orgone, in my mid-twenties I’d not be so keen on this theory of grounding now-I don’t know. Thing is, it’s a fact that Wilhelm Reich studies of the life force fields that surround our bodies and travel throughout our atmosphere and the entire universe were Earth shaking rattling! His ideas were so novel when compared to our basic understandings of life that the results of his work and his findings were sealed for 100 years! Let’s face it, the man was so threatening, especially his ability to make it rain which annoyed more than few neighbors, that he was jailed.

Then again, there’s this: so many say they don’t sleep well, or don’t  eat well, or have no energy during the day, or just can’t seem to focus, to thrive, to survive our environment’s one zillion pollutants or put up with so many different kinds of joint pains or people like me that it just might be there is one or a few underlining causes for all of our chronic conditions. Curious.

Could  what we wear on our feet or the asphalt we often walk on keep our bodies from experiencing the recharging effect the universes’ flowing electricity could give us on a daily basis? Are we short circuited from the recharging, magnetic flow of the earth’s electricity simply by what we wear on our feet? There are reports from studies that show merely walking barefoot for as little as one half an hour per day might alleviate many chronic symptoms so many people live through today.  Like that special place, special tune, the face you love, this idea feels right, and a bit like coming home after a long day at the office.

I used to run barefoot through the clover in the grass as a child.  Looking back, that all seemed to be about bee stings. Maybe, though, that was about one of the best things? My mom would ask as she dressed the sting, “Why do you run barefoot through the grass?”

All I could say is, “It feels right.”

Children say the darnedest( or darndest) things, but what do they know?

Here’s a link to an article about being grounded, the studies, and hypothesis.

*https://www.collective-evolution.com/2017/08/24/studies-show-what-happens-to-the-human-body-when-we-walk-barefoot-on-earth/

Cheers

Franque23

** Read about Wilhelm Reich,,,https://www.famousphilosophers.org/wilhelm-reich/

bye for now. ( View from our lake house in the Adirondacks.)

 


“Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t.” (Hamlet Act 2, scene 2, 193–206.)

 

The years have passed but reality still begs the question in my head: who was Eleanor?

The year was  about 1977 and the  Waldo Farmer’s and Flea market was operational. I recall a bigger horse standing at its entrance than the one they use now, pictured here.

But, the ads, “Look for the Big Horse,” were already running on T.V.

It was the start of a profitable 14 year-long  leather crafting career, a path filled with lean times that would eventually get lucrative. At the time, I crammed all I could into back packs and used my thumb to hitch the 13 miles from Gainesville to Waldo to rent five dollar per day tables to display my wares.

It’s true, I went for the money but in the process I learned the lingo needed to attract customers. I was from up North so I entered the realm of southern dialect from another world’s banter: slow worked better than NYC Jewish Deli ordering speed; a friendly greeting was mandatory; conversations about the weather were important. Selling leather as real leather fell flat compared to saying, “It’s Pure leather.” Items could not be broken but were ,’Subject to wear.’ Nothing lasted forever, but they could last for a ,”Good while.” These terms people believed.

There was another advantage to speaking slowly and taking my time when selling leather goods. I actually got to meet my customers and know their stories. This is how I got to know Eleanor…

Eleanor and her husband seemed to be from old money, English I gathered, and so proper. Age was the only thing that would’ve ever gotten the best of her. She often stopped by my table and bought hair barrettes. She’d talk about any improvements she noticed in my tooling,  better prices, or variety. It felt that they both liked to see a young man in his early twenties trying to make a go of it. I always believed they bought things to help me out. That was good, but there was another part to this seller/buyers deal that took place.

Inevitably, as I bantered with Eleanor she’d ramble a bit longer than her husband had patience for . He’d thump his cane, “Now, Eleanor, that’s enough now.”  Eleanor would clutch her purse, “Why, I’m just making conversation on this lovely day. ” Thump, thump, thump went her husband’s the cane. ” Come on, Eleanor, your wasting this man’s time and mine!” This difference of opinion would lead to quicker paced phrasing not so much of the agreeable sort until they both offered that being married too long was, well too long. Finally the pleasantly warring couple would move on having helped me out once more.

But there was another day, another conversation, one you need to read about.

Eleanor and her husband came strolling up to my booth on a weekend day like every other. Her husband had this annoying habit of whistling poorly as Eleanor picked up a few items to buy from my table. It was a surprise when Eleanor paid me and then pulled out an item I’d never seen…”Do you know what this is.” Eleanor asked with a gleam in her eye. “Eleanor, where did you get that?” Her husband seemed to laugh, but through the side of his mouth, as though this was not a laugh at all. Thump! went his cane. “Oh dear, you know I have these items.” Then Eleanor turned to me,” Well, do you know what this is?”

I took the item in hand. It was a clasp of sorts that opened and closed on either end all joined by an elaborate beaded straight 4 inch long center piece. The entire piece was no wider than five inches and it was heavily laden with small Amethyst looking stones throughout. “Well, it’s too heavy , too large to be a barrette?” I marveled at an object I couldn’t identify.

“Eleanor, leave this man alone. Now take that back and let’s go. I told you not to do this sort of thing.” The husband motioned to me that Eleanor was losing it—I figured their daily squabble was not far off.

“Eleanor smiled as she took back the object. “Well, one day this is something you will need. And,” Eleanor paused, “I think it’s the right color, too.”

“That’s it!” Stomped her husband. ” Go, Eleanor, go!” The husband push guided Eleanor away but then he turned and came back to me. “She just a bit nuts; pay no attention to her.” I watched him leave and take with him this memory forever, or so I thought.

Thing is, twenty-five years later, in 2000,  my wife and I bought house in Gainesville that featured fine Levonor blinds to cover the two front living room windows. They worked great until about 2008 when the apparatus seemed to break down. Soon, we just left them open and my wife added beautiful drapes we might close at night or open by day. Things went along fine until about 2012 when I noticed how much I disliked the two drapes remaining spread apart at the top when I tried to close them at night.

IMG_20190206_241524122 (1)

 

Bingo.  I looked at the color scheme of the drapes and remembered: “This is something you’ll need…and I think it’s the right color, too.” Eleanor’s words hit me like a cold arctic blast blowing on a hot summer day.

“There’s no way….” I stared in disbelief stunned by a memory that now stared me in the face. The butterfly clip Eleanor had showed me was for the purpose of holding the two tops of split curtains together when you spread them apart in the day.

Thing is, it’s been six years since that day. I’ve waited to tell this story, one I’ve thought often to not tell because it is too wild, not reasonable, undocumented, and also I’d waited so long tell it. Why? Well for 25 years the remembrance of the conversation meant nothing, it remained like an unmatched soggy sock in my head mixed in with so many other memories of selling over the years. Then, the match to the experience appeared before me in these curtains. It brought the conversation to my head as though a pin had pierced my brain.

“Something you will need one day…” Eleanor was certain.

“I told you not to do this sort of thing.” Eleanor’s husband.

“I think it’s the right color, too.” Eleanor had been right.

“Don’t pay attention to Eleanor; she’s a bit nuts.” Really?

I watched Eleanor and her husband walk away that day but now I wonder—did they? What is time, and how can someone see the future if it doesn’t already exist? There are thousand, maybe more, recorded situations where people have known the future, but how?

As to Eleanor? Perhaps, she was a bit nuts, I don’t know. But Shakespeare wrote it right: “Madness, but there is a method in’t”

Eleanor knew, but how? Who was she?

Franque23

Tell me, how did so many people know before hand not to board the Titanic? (look that up). What is time…?

IMG_20190206_105023160

“Just keep the drapes open during the day and we’re good!” (Shadow…)


“We have to use time wisely.” I heard that.

 

(About 1973: Santa Fe Spring Art Show.)

The pillow’s story started for me with a 14 year-long leather crafting career. But it was not so for the pillow. No, the pillow had another story, one that found its way into my heart and mind to never forget. How could I ever forget?

 

I traveled to art shows in the southeast for the Southeastern Hand Crafter’s Association for about 6 years, between 1978 and 1984ish…Thing is, I was scratching to make a living back then—every dollar was counted and hard-fought to earn.  It was back then a plumber we would use at home for the next forty years told me, “I’ll charge you the lowest rate: you children are barefoot.”

 

That plumber was right.

 

Simply put, I was determined to make it and no amount of cramped fingers or sore arms could stand in my way of earning a buck. Unlike most exhibitors, I kept busy actually doing my leather work during show hours, making a racket hammering out belts while selling them to those who stopped by.  The noise from me tooling leather belts peeved some exhibitors—I don’t blame them. Perhaps, this is why an exhibitor, an elderly women, who sat stitching pillows as I walked through the exhibits caught my eye!

 

It was in the Bradenton Mall, Florida…

 

She sat behind her table piled high of hand-made pillows just stitching away.  Her head covered in grey hair mostly turned down to watch her stitch as she spoke; her fingers never stopped nimbly pushing her threading needle in and out of fabric she held tightly in hand. I felt an instant kinship with this fellow worker and struck up a conversation.

 

“How did you learn to make such beautiful pillows?”

 

There was a twinkle in her eye but also a soft , maybe sad smile of remembrance as she laid her work down in her lap and looked to my face.

 

“You’re the one tooling leather, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes. I can’t see wasting all my time just selling.”

 

She laughed, sighed and moved her head left and right. “Of course, we don’t have time to waste; we have to use our time wisely.”

 

The woman proceeded to tell a sad tale I hadn’t expected. She said she and her family had been rounded up by the Nazi’s and put into a concentration camp—Auschwitz—I recall her naming the place. It is perhaps the only name I would’ve recognized of all the concentration camps. She quickly added that her entire family, sisters and parent had died in the camp—she alone, a young teenager, had been strong and able to survive the torture of the camp. Her younger sisters and older parents were either too young or too old to make it through.

 

It seemed were it not for this woman’s stitched pillows she might be alone. Silence fell between us, then she spoke again.

 

“I was freed and located in a home of sorts but there was rent to pay and I had little money and no jobs were to be found.”

 

I flashed on a town filled with rubble and debris just after the war had ended. I’d seen pictures of so many European towns left in ruins in my dad’s set of World war ll encyclopedias.

 

“The only thing I had was the memory of mom teaching me how to sew by hand with needle and thread.”  Her words flowed easily and set me adrift as though on a stream. She picked up her material again and started to stitch. “I had nothing but that memory, then. I searched through discarded materials throughout town and collected pieces of fabric and anything to use as stuffing.  My first pillow sold on the street for an amount equal to one week’s rent.”

 

“That must have been tough.”

 

“Well,” the woman smiled my way once more, “I heard my mother teaching me how to stitch as I worked, so pillows gave me comfort.”

 

“I’m sorry you had this happen to you and your family.” I thought my life had been difficult up to that moment-Ha! What a laugh !

 

“It’s not your fault.” the women sighed briefly. “I never stopped collecting thrown out fabric to use until I’d gained enough to buy new or used materials to fashion more pillows.  There was a furniture factory nearby; thrown out stuffing was to be had.”

 

At the time, I pictured her as a child of twelve when she was in the Nazi Camp. I tried to imagine what that must have been like…

 

Pillows in her finished pile varied in theme but ones with birds drew my attention.  My dad had a particular love for birds and knew their names and songs. The pillows were not cheap. I traded two 12 dollar hand-made leather belts for two matching bird pillows.

 

I never saw the woman again, but gave the pillows to my mom and dad who placed them on their living room couch for 25 years. Finally, one of the two became very worn and was thrown out.

 

My mom died in 2011 and one of the few things I kept from her home was this pillow. I stashed it in my bedroom closet where I saw it for six years every time I opened the closet door . Time to time I would pick up the pillow and hold it. I’d think about the woman who had made this pillow, about her life, her struggle, her beautiful art work and her success.

 

Then, I’d hear the pillow come to life. “I was a young girl; my family all died.” Silence. “The one thing I had was my mom teaching me how to sew.” I’d hold the pillow close. “There was a furniture factory nearby; thrown out stuffing was to be had.”

 

One day while holding the pillow it came. There was a flash, and I knew that I had to give this pillow to a lifetime friend, Marc, who’d spent much of his adult life working in Jewish affairs in the NYC area. He was the one this pillow had to find now.

 

 
“We have to use our time wisely.”

 

I got the pillow to, Marc, as soon as I could. And it’s good. I believe it’s now in a holocaust collection, safe, still well made, still there, speaking for its maker, a survivor.

 

None of us should ever forget.

 

Franque23

Democrats have held the white house 25 years over the past 50 plus years; Republican 28.  During those years Republicans have far more arrests and convictions among White House Republican staff and party members than do Democrats. But how many more?

25 to 1…..

That’s the ratio of those within Republican White House Administration who have been convicted of crimes when compared to the number of Democrat staff members arrested during  Democrat White House Administrations….just wow!

It’s just a ghastly fact; a lump sum correct figure that bears witness to the fact Republican administrations are far more corrupt than Democratic ones.

This gives pause to wonder why this astonishing ratio, the vast difference between criminals in these two party’s, is true? Maybe, since the figure spans 50 years or more, the reasons don’t matter while the numbers do. Fact: the Republican party tends to be a corrupt party.

But don’t take my word for it: here’s a quick quote and then link so you can read it and believe it for yourself..

“So, let’s see where that leaves us. In the last 53 years, Democrats
have been in the Oval Office for 25 of those years, while Republicans
held it for 28. In their 25 yrs in office Democrats had a total of
three executive branch officials indicted with one conviction and one
prison sentence. That’s one whole executive branch official convicted
of a crime in two and a half decades of Democrat leadership.

In the 28 yrs that Republicans have held office over the last 53 yrs
they have had a total of (a drum roll would be more than appropriate),
120 criminal indictments of executive branch officials. 89 criminal
convictions and 34 prison sentences handed down. That’s more prison
sentences than years in office since 1968 for Republicans. If you want
to count articles of impeachment as indictments (they aren’t really
but we can count them as an action), both sides get one more. However,
Clinton wasn’t found guilty while Nixon resigned and was pardoned by
Ford (and a pardon carries with it a legal admission of guilt on the
part of the pardoned). So those only serve to make Republicans look
even worse.”

https://www.sheilakennedy.net/2017/07/corruption-by-the-numbers/

Vote the Republican cheaters out in 2020. Trump can dance and sing his praises all he likes, but in 2020 we need to put his lying butt out on the street, if not sooner.

Facts show the Democrats rarely break laws while in power. The Republicans lie, cheat, steal, commit felonies and cast a ,’Damn the Constitution,’ glare over our country when they are in power.

This is why I don’t vote Republican: they work for the upper class only, and cheat their asses off as they do it.

Cheers. (Please share…)

Franque23


This is all a sham. Special counsel Robert Mueller is out to get him — as is the entire FBI. Trump claims they’ve got nothing from Mueller’s investigation. Ha! (The 192 criminal counts, 36 people and entities charged, seven people who have pleaded guilty, the four people sentenced to prison and the one person convicted at trial as a result of the Mueller probe make clear, of course, that Trump is wrong.)

Americans,
and especially our military,
every person who lives in America, we need to call off Trump’s hostage situation.

Trump is endangering us all, but don’t take my word for it…listen to this short clip if you doubt me- https://www.facebook.com/NowThisPolitics/videos/1031709520353754/UzpfSTExMDA5NDExNjY6MTAyMTcyNDE0MjcxMjMzMjc/

Please share this link for the good of America… thanks.

America needs to stop Trump in his tracks; he’s gone too far. His ego is nothing compared to the need for the safety of our country and fellow workers, to ensure the safety of our lives….This Trump guy should be held without bond under military arrest until we find out what he is all about, why he attacks American interests at home and abroad. I smell a rat… a big, over weight, yellow-haired coward of a rat.—Trump. His method is no less than extortion in its worst form. Trump is holding our country hostage by shutting down the government until we give him what he wants, a wall the best experts say won’t help that much at all?!?!?

Extortion is a crime no matter who does it.

Trump’s offer to open OUR government only if he gets money for his wall is pure extortion—there’s no mystery about this. This is what extortion is. He should be held behind bars for this act alone if not for others many suspect he is guilty of arranging or plotting.

Ask yourself: why did Trump order the only person who transcribed the minutes of his meeting with Putin to tear up the minutes they took? Why?

Ask yourself: why is Trump not putting the sanctions against Russia as voted for by our congress into place?*

This man Trump is the crook we all hoped he would not turn out to be. I once wrote a blog/glob shortly after Trump’s election stating that he still had the opportunity to do great things, that the time for change was here in America with great leadership, things like high-speed rails, solar power and a need for new infrastructure were placed in his lap by timing. But, it turns out, the man is nothing but a con-man, one who uses extortion as if that’s politics, as if that’s how a President leads.

I’ll admit it; I’m proud to own it, Trump. I consider you an idiot. Your supporters? There are no words for anyone who’d back this lying, snake oil selling extortionist.

Here’s to 2020 that can’t come soon enough. Here’s to a Blue tidal wave in that election that sweeps Trump and his miserable GOP backing representatives right out of office. Here’s to American Democracy. Don’t just shake your head; drum up support against this crew of pure evil doers. NO joke, Trump’s attack on our environment, our society, American values and Reason is pure evil.

Trump has gone way beyond politics. Our military should do their duty and arrest this man before he brings our country to its knees. Our military should protect us from Trump.

franque23

*https://www.newsweek.com/trump-required-russia-sanctions-no-deadline-1304549?fbclid=IwAR1TL0HYKBbgZvdvW6xhsXHl-GZeoA0O7CN1uUu8ezUQnGFvJuHPqcIsybM


This post is back from 2013.  Readership has gone up to 65 countries now, and more than twice as many people read the glob than did six years ago. I saw someone read this post today, I re-read it and decided to re-post for fun…Plus, I still have these questions?!?!?

(Avatar Magic, by Gerald Franquemont, is out on Kindle and it can be downloaded onto most readers.) *Now, a completed trilogy.

Why do swim suits most often look like fishing lures?

Why are garden hoses so often made to look like snakes?

If men never hear what women are saying why do women keep talking?

If money is the root of all evil why does everyone work for it?

Cain Killed Abel, but most people fear snakes more than politicians.

Here’s some food for thought–if you can afford it. $1 of 1960 dollars would be worth: $7.87 in 2013. $1 of 2013 dollars would be worth $0.13 in 1960.  Shouldn’t the dollar shrink in size in accordance with its real buying power? Think of the money we’d save when buying wallets or printing money!

This well-known saying is part of a phrase often attributed to Benjamin Disraeli and popularized in the U.S. by Mark Twain: “There are three kinds of falsehoods: lies, damned lies, and statistics.”  The odds are even that this is true.

Why are size ten shoes in Japan equal to size six shoes in America? Why can’t one country or the other be happy to be either a ten or six and call it good.

In fact, the sound of one hand clapping can be heard. Try the Clam clap.

Recently, I thought I might have had a tick on my back but I’d fallen asleep and then gone to work the next day forgetting to check on it.  I worried all day about that tick! Turned out when I checked in the mirror that night that I had a nose strip suck to my back.  What a relief, sort of.

You can’t go that extra mile. You either do it or you don’t. Show me an extra mile and I’ll show you an extra dollar.

NO one who was scheduled to retire at 65 for most of their life but then had their retirement age moved to sixty-six should think of retiring at age 65 as an “early” retirement. Dude! Do you want more S.S. money or what you thought you’d get most of your life at age 65?

Statistics boggle the mind while History teaches.

Gary Friend and Sue Patterson know lots of stuff.

Why does the same girl who looks good in a bikini on the beach cause car accidents by wearing shorts while walking on a sidewalk in town?

The following numbers seem right after looking over a number of recent polls: 1/3 of our population, 34%, believe in Ghosts and UFOS; 74% believe in the Devil and 92% believe in God. Have you ever wished upon a star?

Consider: for every shark-related human death, we kill 10 million of them.*

*http://www.discovery.ca/article.aspx?aid=18384

Cheers!

Franque23


I’d found this note in a most unusual place.

Dusty and draped by a cobweb or two, the note obviously hadn’t been read in some time. How long would that be? We’d moved into our house over eighteen years ago and others had enjoyed the house before us-how could it have been in place for so long without being noticed? I think it all a miracle!

It wasn’t even a full piece of paper but just a part of a larger whole. Folded, yellowed and without line, it seemed marked, creased on its outside, by someones’ firm handwriting.

There was no reason to not unfold the paper and read the note; curiosity would clutter my head until I did-I knew. Scanning the words gave me pause.

I fell in love with you at first sight. I knew it then. Nothing was going to keep me from being at your door until you opened it so I might stand by your side. Our faces remained lip-locked for most of that first year, and when we laughed we could feel each others warm breath.

We had no guarantees but for us. Still, that was enough. 

We began our journey into space without boundaries and time no clock could keep. We held hands in super markets-remember? We both loved the beach, the waves, sky and wind in our hair. We ran for miles together almost daily without fail; so much young energy poured from our souls, tingled our fingers and itched our legs that we just had to move. And, all the while, a love for you grew inside me that could never be moved.

You became my home.

Nothing much mattered when it came to things, whether we rented or eventually bought a house remained trappings to the core of us that I held on to so tightly. That soft, core place of love within me burned a fire that warmed each day and night. I worked with you in mind and slept easy with you by my side. 

Years, so many, have passed, and though we’ll eventually leave here and find a new place I wanted to take this moment to thank you for being you. I want to thank you for those smiles you flash, that small laugh you often sport, for that all-seeing way you guide us to better places, and for your touch that means so much. And, I should mention the chocolate-chip cookies. 

I’m so glad I wrote you this note; now, if I can just keep track of it until I give it to you!

There was no signature…

I marveled at the words in this note. Who knows how many years it took this person to finally write them down? Had the other person ever read them? It’s amazing how something this large in meaning might rest for so long inside a person. So much can be buried beneath a life-time of obligation, jobs, bills, some call it progress, beneath all those words that must be said on a daily basis. It seemed I understood it all; life has a way of moving people around their true meaning, the things that really drive them on.

I turned to bring this found treasure to share with my wife but realized that, of course, she was in Japan-a zillion miles away helping and visiting family. I had just me, my dog, and this note.  I began to fold the note for safe keeping to share later but the note had vanished! I looked everywhere! It hadn’t fallen to the floor, slid under the kitchen table or scooted under a nearby tattered chair. No, the note had disappeared.

That’s when I found the note in a most unusual place: the one place I hadn’t thought to look.

Of course, the note was back deep inside of me.

Dale, I’ve loved you for forty-five years.

Happy New Year to all of you. Maybe, write a note this New Year’s Day, and never put it away.

Peace and Love

Franque23

 

 

 

 


Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays…this is my seasonal bulletin board and seasonal card to you!

I remember too well the moment I entered my parents Christmas party to sing, Jingle Balls, Jingle balls, to a fit of laughing cocktail holding adults. This was to be my big debut (but why is this spelled like what it was for me?) Anyway, I was too young to take anything to heart, and I left knowing I sang the heck out of that song.

There were so many warm Christmas mornings at the Franquemont household on Long Island. I never lacked for anything; my eyes only looked out with hope, curiosity and with acceptance that I was given by my parents and siblings.  It was an easy breezy life as I ran down the stairs first in line ahead of my brother and sister to race to a present laden Christmas tree. Blocks, coloring books and rocket launchers were the stuff of Christmas. The stockings were stuffed with candy but for that one stupid apple Mom always put in the bottom. Then, I never understood that Mom had been raised on her father’s mission in Recife, Brazil,  and an apple was a treasure to hoard for her. Of course, I’d give anything to find an apple put there by Mom in my stocking now, but she is seven years gone. She’s a smile in the clouds, the rolling waves at any beach, the diamond stars up north at Lake Bonaparte on a clear, crisp night and the warmth of the beach sand that conforms to my body as seagulls call from above. She is so much of every Christmas.

I remember Dad torturing me by making my ten-year old hands shovel three feet deep to start a new garden. It seemed so wrong to be digging around Christmas, but now I’ve had gardens here in Florida for the past 40 years. And when I dig dad’s eyes are looking through mine and his voice rings my ears with, “That a boy.” I hear the eagle call from high above and I know he is there gliding, swooping, free.

Part of getting older is hording a ton of memories. Thoughts of years gone by and the people who stayed with them and left as well are a treasure chest buried deep within, one locked for safety by the heart. I’ve still journeys ahead, and so many behind. I’d like to think that I’ve grown wiser with the passing years–certainly I know Jingle Bells now. But, for whatever reason this Christmas day, I found myself walking through our garden and thinking about all the division the world over is experiencing today.

It may surprise you to know that I am several things beyond a library worker, a neighbor, a father, grandfather,gardener, writer of this glob and books on Kindle,a fisherman, builder, but also a minister who was lucky enough to perform the marriage of my niece.  I have a favorite passage in the Bible I try to follow,

Proverbs 3:6 Living Bible (TLB)

In everything you do, put God first, and he will direct you and crown your efforts with success.

If all of humanity were to take this message to heart the world would change. I’m certain it is in every  kind religious teachings; if only we could listen. I try to never forget these words as I thank God for every little thing I take time to notice as I go about my day.* Of course, I’ve fallen as short of this instruction as any could many times, but I try.

So this Christmas, the fertile garden, Mom’s gentle smile and Father’s certain voice led me to consider what my personal message might be this Christmas.

Here it is:

Being whatever gender or preference you are is a part of the natural passage of humans throughout our existence. We need to stop this fight of exclusion. This is Christmas, and it’s a great time for everyone to come to this realization. The stars remind us that the light is within us-if we’d only let it shine. Acceptance feels good; expressing hate or rejection is bad for the soul. We need to let people be.

Sometimes I think the worst word in our language is, ‘No.’ Using no is quick and sometimes needed, but often it is used when taking the time to teach proactively why whatever is being asked or done is not a good idea would otherwise move the mind forward. The best word in our language is, ‘Yes.’ I’m going to try to use it more in 2019. I hope you join me. Cast aside hate. Raise hope and acceptance.

Cheers… hugs, and Merry Christmas!

Franque23

  • I most concur with the, ‘God however known,’ concept.

If you still support Trump I ask you: can all the people listed below be wrong?!?!?

Trump’s references read like a SNL skit:

McMaster: called him a dope.

Mattis: called him a 5th grader.

Mnuchin: called him an idiot.

Priebus: called him an idiot.

John Kelly: called him a fucking idiot.

Tillerson: called him a fucking moron.

Cohn: called him dumb as shit.

McGahn: called him a fucking idiot.

Mueller: called him individual 1.

McRaven: called him the biggest threat to our democracy.

Bannon: called him a fucking moron.

John Dowd: called him a fucking liar.

Rupert Murdoch: called him a fucking idiot.

William T. Kelley: (Professor at Penn) called him the dumbest goddamn student he ever had.

Tony Schwartz: (the ghostwriter of “The Art of the Deal,”) called him a man with a stunning level of superficial knowledge and plain ignorance.

Me? I’d have to say this means Trump really is a, ‘No brainer!’

So, I’m just asking, would you hire a man with these references? Of course not, and America can’t afford to,’hire,’ him again by-election in 2020.

Trump has so many shady spots during his current administration it’s amazing he’s still visible.

Trump just placed the man who ran a plea deal for Epstein ( Epstein  was running an underage sex ring) to be head of America’s Women(girls) illegal trafficking bureau?

So far, there are three things that are constant with Trump: he lies; he blurs the line when it comes to the emoluments clause, also called the foreign emoluments clause. This clause is a provision of the U.S. Constitution (Article I, Section 9, Paragraph 8) that generally prohibits federal officeholders from receiving any gift, payment, or other thing of value from a foreign state or its rulers, officers, or representatives; and he has cheated on all three of his wives.

Model claims she saw Trump cheat on pregnant Marla Maples 

May 7, 2018 – A German model claims to have been in the same room with Donald Trump during an alleged romp he had with Playboy Playmate Barbara Moore. She spoke to the Daily Mail about the tryst, which supposedly went down while Trump’s second wife and then-fiancee Marla Maples was pregnant 
2.
We all know trump cheated on Melania just after she gave birth to his child.
3.

​Don’t feel sorry for Trump; he’s a dog of a man.

I do feel a bit off for the Americans who voted for this man.  No one deserves a President like Trump—not even those who voted for him.

There are too many reasons to sort out why some people still support Trump. Why support a man who has not turned our economy around, who has not drained but polluted Washington and who has unleashed the banks so another crash like 2008 is possible? Clearly, Trump is raping America’s National Parks in exchange for big Oil Payola. And about that wall of a wet-dream Trump had and claimed Mexico would pay for? It’s a stupid, useless wall, and now Trump is wanting to spend 5 billion of our tax dollars to build it!

Listen up America: no one is invading our country but for Trump’s current administration. It’s becoming clearer everyday that the Russians helped elect Trump. Why would that be?

In the end, there’s this: most certainly Mueller has a sealed indictment on Trump that will prohibit the statute of limitations to run out on those charges. These charges can be filed on Trump once he is removed from office no matter how loooong that takes. Nobody knows if those charges will stick but here’s the beauty—we all will find out one day.

Franque23

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

February 2019
M T W T F S S
« Jan    
 123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728  

Categories

Advertisements