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I don’t know what’s with me when it comes to photographs of  people and places from times gone by. I’m certainly fascinated by the viewing. Maybe, these pictures put a softer edge on my seventy-year-old mirrored image? That reflection is a far cry from my thirty- year-old look I remember being so well!

Or, it could be that having a Grandma whose first cousin was, Edward Curtis, put a special interest in my heart.  He was famous photographer of history. He took it upon himself to capture by lens the last images of many Native American tribes before their way of life was forever changed by the hordes of white settlers moving west.  Early prints of his work, some hand signed, hung about our home as I grew up. I’d stare into the faces of those Native Americans and speak to their eyes in private. Did they answer? I think so.

I hope you enjoy looking this over as I have; the images are from all around the world and many from 1880 or so.

June is the month for fun! Schools out! Though, lets hope not forever:-)

Cheers, Franque23 (disregard the ads run by CNN after this link–they just can’t be dumped…..from the link.)

https://www.cnn.com/style/article/louvre-album-of-the-world/index.html

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A day like any other.

Anyone might agree, it’s a dull day. The rain came early and it seems to have no intention of leaving. Hedging all bets, the weather men say there’s a good 100% Chance of rain…not sure, but does this mean it may not rain at all? Nah, they got it right today. Rain drips from every flower petal, the deck railings and the roofs tops. You gotta know the earth is loving the drenching. And I’m not sure why birds would enter the bird bath in the rain but they do, maybe some sort of double your pleasure.

Have you ever noticed how we all love to see light? Holiday lights come to mind, and the lights of a huge city as seen from a distance remain fascinating to behold.

Dale and me are caught in a glass reflection as we look over the lights of Nagasaki.(Thanks to our daughter’s sharp eye.)

There are so many moments when the vision of light moves us—  disco lights, fired up logs on a dark night…

We keep the fireplace going most nights up at the lake.

There are fireflies to chase and flashlights to make faces over. Have you ever watched the snow as it drifts through a street light’s glow? There is the first morning’s light…

And the silent last glimpse of the sun as it goes down.

We gathered to say goodbye to David Morgan in passing as the sun slipped down.

Our lives are about light.

The rain means we won’t see the sky here as we seek it, so full of light, but only as it is—a mass of low hung grey to darker clouds, twisted as multicolored taffy that appears as fluff balls that float above. Yes, when we seek the sky we seek the light.

Lake Bonaparte East Shore cloud says hello.

Lake Bonaparte dazzles sunlight in so many ways.

We want to see that burning globe above us turning on the earth’s light switch so shadows abound as birds sing and butterflies flutter in the wind.

Always, it’s the light; the light in the sky, or as it reflects on the sea foam or clouds above.

Thing is, today, this wet, drizzly moment, brings other thoughts to mind. Who doesn’t sleep in better on a rainy morning not meant for having to go to work?  And, maybe, a rainy day is good for offering a glimpse of a new prospective, a new way to count those clock hours often so busily rushed by task and obligation during a day like any other.

An early morning mist hugged Lake Bonaparte as the morning sun touched several tree tops.

I’m thinking about the sky; the one we long to see and the one we often don’t.

The beautiful daylight with it’s streaking wisps of clouds, meandering white billowed clouds or crisp clear blue without a cloud in sight hides so much in plain view. It’s odd to think, but the daytime that lights our way is also a veil. That sparkling luster above reflects our hopes when we look to it but that light is the bottom of the truth above. The truth lies in the stars above our daylight sky, in the darker canopy that lingers beyond what our eyes can ever see.

Looking up to Lake Bonaparte’s night sky.

This is Mud Lake, Bonaparte. And, it’s time to hurry home.

The universe’s light is shielded from our view by the daylight. Those bazillion stars shine overhead whether it be day or night but that vision is often swept past our sleeping heads as we dream of better days. We nestle to sleep beneath the ever present reality of our place in the universe, beneath the map stars create that speaks to our existence.

Both taken from Bull Rush bay, Lake Bonaparte. Credit I believe goes to, Ross Franquemont, our retired U-2 pilot in our family. Check out another of his….from the U-2.

So we hurry in the daylight and sleep at night. Oddly, it’s the night time stars that show a greater light. If we could just wake up each day and take a moment to understand how small and yet interrelated our place is in the universe. There’s the thought that people should take time to envision what they hope for the day before it kicks off in order to have some sense of control over their day’s purpose. Perhaps, if each of us were to think of ourselves as no better than the ants that march by but also no less than the stars over head we’d come to an understanding that might yeild a peace to our lives and the world. I’m not sure.

I’m not sure why we love to see the light that shields the panoramic spectacle of our universe from our eyes. What if we saw both during every waking hour?

From Bull Rush bay, Bonaparte sundown.

So, as the rain falls and thunder rumbles, I’ve dreamed of the starlight, of cooler nights warmed by the light of a campfire. I’ve thought about us, and how we all wish life was better but none of us seem to see a way to make it happen. There’s so much to see each day. Maybe, if there was less to see. Maybe, if we at least saw the stars every night things might get straight. Call me a dreamer, but I’ll wish upon a star any time—they’re always there.

It’s just a day like any other? I don’t think so, not ever.

Franque23

 


It started about five months ago when the decision was made to re-do our puppet show production of Rumpelstiltskin. It had been about six years since we last performed this adaptation I was happy to write, direct and play a part in. This time frame means the audience has turned over and a new set of children are mostly not using walking feet in our department.  It’s all good!

After organizing the scripts, some remaining props and some pieces of the set, it was time to begin planning the bulletin board that would advertise the puppet show. Building this bulletin board had a time frame that slipped in between two twenty foot long displays I was to do for our story hour room and the puppet show itself that will take place two weeks from now. In all, the displays and show will cap-off 5 months of planning on my part. The board is up tonight but for a front runner frame at its base so tomorrow starts the work on the puppet set and props.

Flat out, I love design work, crafts, art, writing, directing and playing puppet show parts and working puppets. So, I’ve been busy, yes, but it has also been rewarding to this date.

Here’s the bulletin board…what fun….In all this board took about 14 hours of work.

Maybe a better view of my mascot, the squirrel….

I have a work order in for a bigger idea on this board but don’t know if it will get done. I wanted a slow turning motor attached to back of spinning wheel so it might rotate around about once per minute…..we’ll see.  I’ll have to deconstruct some of the board if I get the motor… but it’s all fun…rumpling paper and supplies together is a big part of the effort and enjoyment.

In case you missed last week’s glob, here’s a shot of one twenty foot board finished last week.

I hope you days are full of happy times, fun times and full of meaningful events.

cheers!

If only I had his spinning wheel!

Franque23

 


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You know I’m loving life in Florida. This fall, winter and spring have reverted to mostly weather patterns we used to always have in the past years. This has brought about a few oddities to the growing  garden.

This shot is about two weeks old, the lettuce and green beans are done, this accounts for the large places of only mulch.

Here you can clearly see a collard greens and several kale plants. Thing is, these have been growing since last August and have yielded since Oct, 1st! The relatively mild winter allowed them to keep on trucking leafy veggies to our kitchen through the winter and spring. We had, collards, lettuce, kale, too much eggplants(they too have been growing since last year) herbs-thyme,rosemary, sage(huge plant) basil,dill- green beans, yellow squash, zucchini,, potatoes, yellow peppers, green peppers, cherry and full size tomatoes. For the tomatoes only, I do use a green light organic spray to discourage the stink bug stings…

The pineapples have a hard time taking any weather below 40 degrees,,, but with occasional coverings, they made it thru  the winter months and I’ve four coming on strong with fruit. The other 26 pineapples all look great and several others will bear this summer as well.

This gardenia and plumbago make a good side-by-side match for our house front. The gardenia is about seven feet tall and around ten feet wide. More than 300 blooms hang this year, and all about within two weeks of one another. We cut many for house use…fun stuff.

On the other side of the walk from the gardenia is our bird bath. I like this shot, full of shrimp plant blooms, four o’clocks and an odd bloom like an iris….thing is, the bird bath reflects the light coming through the Old Man’s Beard tree that stands high above….

Out back in the pineapple garden stands a potted indigenous rose.

The pool walking steps divides the rose from our Mexican tulip hedge.

I’m busy at work putting up two, twenty foot long displays about medieval days and Summer Reading at our Library. We all had fun in our department selecting pieces to color or design as we liked… Then, I set the Background up and placed the pieces…The boarder isn’t done at the time of this shot, and the other board not up yet… both are finished now….

Here’s the full view…

So yes, my wife and I are loving the greens, the tomatoes, the birds, flowers and wild doggie, Shadow,  who follows us everywhere!

I hope your seasons have been excellent this past year! And, get ready—we’re gonna melt down here this summer. This week we have 99 at least for 5 days in a row during late May.. Wow.

Of course, this plant gets to have the last word: peace.

Cheers

Franque23


( Click the pics for larger view)

I hate to think about those gone, but love to do it just the same.

The old pictures come out and there they are, mother’s eyes shining above knowing smiles and all so comforting over a distance too great to fathom. The memories of people flood a mind and it’s easy to wish they might come back as the ocean tide so we could talk with them again, if just for a minute—some would say, if just for a second.

Thanks Mom, for holding me on my first day home. You did a great job.

It doesn’t feel exactly right to have Mom gone, not living here anymore, not anywhere to be found, and not like that missing shoe worn so well, but like an eternity of holding, helping, a loving so unique that she had no business to leave. Where’s that lap, that knee, the one who tied my shoes while assuring me I was doing fine. The smell of hot apple pies, cakes, and always the lemon cookies and the music that filled our household I’d mistakenly imagined was found in any home, where did it all go? How could so much have vanished as I grew?

Sometimes, I think I fished Lake Bonaparte to see the joy in my Mother’s eyes over the catch. It’s hard to give enough back to a mom for all she has done.

The day I cried over a sink, sobbing without defense and Mom pat my back, “She broke your heart…” It was good to know Mom understood. In an instant, I was not alone, but on a journey with my closest companion, the one who first helped me see, to first understand and think that another day would be so much better. The heart is such an easy target, but mom’s know how to repair them; always.  Mom’s own the master’s touch. Mom’s bring forth and retain the spiritual essence of their children. A good mom paints by word and deed a portrait of Life their child is able to enter and understand.

Mom’s are the garden of life.

There are very few things in life a person can gain that can’t be taken away. Educational degrees are one of them. Jobs, lovers, spouses, homes, money, social standing, friends, ideas, opinions, looks and health, all of these can be taken in an instant. Mom’s words, her leadership, her advice and love never leave a child no matter if they were good or bad; right or wrong. No, everything about a mom stays inside each of us who have experienced theirs.

We were so happy to give Mom a Granddaughter.

Mom’s own a lock box in the heart; the child has the only key to it. So, Motherhood is the hardest and most meaningful of all jobs and the most enduring. There is no end to a mother’s love. Death can not claim to own that love. Maybe, this is why pictures of moms means so much to us.

You’d seen and done so much before I was ever born, Mom. Now, I wish I’d asked one million questions, no, more.

An old, worn out picture of mother catches it all in a single view. She has passed, but there she is in the picture to see in full view.

The experience of seeing mom again in pictures is just like her love, that endless gift of the heart from mother to each of us never lets go. The picture you can see, the love you feel forever.

Have you ever touched a picture to see if you could feel mom touching you back? I have.

Happy Mother’s day

Franque23

 


Image result for picture of reports talking to empty podium

One of the first things you learn in library service is to ask good questions—this can save so much time when it comes to helping patrons. So, in the spirit of helping America, here’s 30 questions I wish someone would ask before the press core is drummed out of the White House.

Trump golfs so much, why is he fat?

If Trump has nothing to hide, why does he hide everything?

Why does Trump lie so much?

Will Trump be arrested before or after he is out of Office?

Why didn’t Trump want to have fun at making money rather than losing it?

Why has Trump gone bankrupt so many times?

What is Trump’s waist size?

Did Trump get a STD from sleeping with a porn star without using a rubber?

Has Trump stopped grabbing women by the pussy?

Why Is Trump in love with Putin?

Is Trump really bisexual?

Why did Trump tell his first medical physician what to write in his health exam medical report?

Why is Trump a bad speller?

Is Trump stupid like people say?

What were Trump’s real grades in college and why does he keep them secret?

Why has Trump and his businesses been sued over 3500 times?

Did Trump really kiss a man?

Is it true that Trump was caught in a bathroom stall with another man?

Why did Trump make-up fake news?

Why did Trump call radio shows and pretend to be someone else?

Why doesn’t Trump believe in God?

Why does Trump live in fear?

Why does Trump hire so many foreigners?

Why is Trump so over weight?

Trump gives athletes fast food hamburgers; is this what he likes to suck down his pie hole?

Why does Trump cry so often?

How much money has Trump stolen from his 2016 campaign funds?

Why was Trump afraid to fight in our military?

Does anyone know why Trump hasn’t been arrested?

Why hasn’t Trump been arrested?

 

Just asking to help clear the air…

Franque23

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

why is a cheap SOB to sport athletes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Image result for Marvel images

The reason few people talk about this movie’s end is no one knows what the hell happened! That’s about it for my spoiler alert but for anything that could’ve happened did, and still might. Christians consider Death the ultimate beginning while Hinduism, Jainism, Buddhism, and Sikhism (and other religions)think we come back around over and over again. If you ask me, this movie was produced by all of these religions during an all night drankin’ party. Whatever, I recommend the party and the viewing. But what’s this all about a “weird loop”?

The Weird Loop.

Okay, the Weird Loop as promised, but first about, Stan Lee. To me, there are few people in the history of Mankind who have touched as many lives as this comic book creator, writer, editor and publisher. Along with the help of two associates, Stan Lee gave the world superheroes—Spiderman, X-men, Iron Man, Thor, the Hulk, the Fantastic four, Black Panther, Daredevil, Doctor Strange, Scarlet Witch and lovable the Ant-man. There are a few generations of kids who have grown up believing they might be as great as these superheroes in their own way! Really, only the entire network of Disney can rival the success and influence of Stan Lee when it comes to his impact upon our children and, I think, society. These superhero’s have woven our dreams, our hopes and aspirations.

It’s also important to note with regard to my interest, I spent the past 13 years distributing the comics throughout our Library district on a monthly basis, as well as shelving and maintaining this collection at the branch where I work. So call me dialed up when it comes to Marvel superheroes.

Image result for Marvel images

Image result for Marvel images

Well, almost randomly, by luck, my wife and I planned to go see the new Avenger movie this afternoon along with my wife’s half-brother, Jim, and his wife, Cindy.  By the end of this movie, I’d guess most viewers were left with a euphoric smile on their face and a body that felt like a truck had run it over. I was no different as we waited for Jim to pull his car up to the curb to save us a dash through the rain.  We shared idle chat while waiting.

“I  met and knew, Stan Lee.” I heard the words but thought it must have been a thunder-clap. Did Cindy, a person I’ve known for over thirty years, just casually mention she knew Stan Lee?

“Wait! What? (Kapow!) You’ve met Stan Lee?” This was rattlin’ my Skrull!  Holy Kree! I’m the one who’s met by chance or otherwise a plethora of famous people, not Cindy!* “What the hell?” My open mouth caught rain drops.

“Yes. I was in college in the 70’s at New Port, California and took class from, Professor Townsend, author of, Boundaries.” Quiet Cindy continued. “They threw a dress-up, surprise party for Professor Townsend for his birthday. Jim and I dressed up as(something like Romeo and Juliette—mind you, my mind was blown) and in walks Stan Lee!”

Oh how I wished I’d asked what Stan Lee had dressed up as…can you imagine?!?!?

“So wait, the real Stan Lee was in the room, at the party and stuff?”

Cindy casually went on not realizing I’d melted into the side-walk of alternative reality. “He stayed all night, laughing, sharing jokes and other stuff…”( “Other stuff,’ is code for whatnot’s at parties in the 70’S.)

Okay, ‘I’m standing next to someone who has spent time with one of the most influential people on earth and I never knew it until now?’ Cindy kept talking about the party but I was wondering how I might rub my shoulder into hers! When would Uatu arrive and cease my endless watch for reality? I was in hyperspace warp yelling, “You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry!”

I pretty much blabbed gibberish(my readers are nodding, Yes!)the rest of the drive home. I thought about jumping on the car hood and yelling, “Why did I not know this, Cindy!!!” Zap! Blam! Would I ever piece together what was left of my former self?

Nope.

But then I remembered: “Just because someone stumbles and loses their path, doesn’t mean they can’t be saved.” I had to re-group and note,, ‘you can find friends in super unexpected places.’ Cindy’s experience and interest in Marvel characters had come from ,’left field.’ Her story had only proved, ‘The door is more open than it appears…we can walk through it, and sometimes run.’***

Have a super flight through Life….

Franque23

*Here’s the deal on some of my history.  Seeing the Avenger’s: End Game with someone who knew Stan Lee without me knowing it is much like the rest of my life. For one example, walking randomly down East Hampton’s Beach with a  new gal friend and having Paul McCartney drive a dune buggy up with his wife and say hello. Of course , it turned out my new gal-friend was seeing Simon….so much more of this in my life, but that’s for another glob.

** https://www.amazon.com/Boundaries-Henry-Cloud/dp/0310241804

*** These are just Seeing the Avenger’sof good quotes in Marvel Comics…

The movie version…

Image result for Marvel images

 

 

 

 


Tom Morgan  is family to me.  Tom hosts the longest running radio talk show in America, and it’s all about money.  As well, Tom writes a weekly post about his views on American Politics or life in general.  It gives me no greater pleasure than to post writings from my family, or to talk about their achievements and share all that here on this glob.  It doesn’t matter so much to me if I agree with the premise of the writing; both, no, all sides need to be heard. Thing is, this post of his is just the type of column that could burn any ass in hell in today’s times, though it speaks truth so often in so many ways… When does it stop? When will organizations that kept step with the times in the past, and rightly so as this was their job to do—right or wrong by today’s standards—stop getting hanged for doing so?  Today, the big boys escape real damage while the less footed get snagged and torn apart…

Monuments that have stood for almost 200 years might better be considered history rather than an ongoing sentiment. Still, and the problem, many see those statues and want to support those old, cast off beliefs…

(Members of a racial justice organization prepare to hang a banner, reading “Louisville, Take It Down” on a monument to Confederate soldier John B. Castleman in Louisville, Ky., August 19, 2017. REUTERS/Bryan Woolston)

A few statues on Georgia’s  Stone Mountain stand as a testament to those times GONE by.  Will history will be lost because people failed to move on?

Levittown, Long Island, was thousands of home-built to meet the needs of WWII vets coming home for the war.. One rule= Whites only.

Levittown, NY. back in the day—

Those homes still stand. What do we do? Burn them down?  Although I understand the sensibilities of race relations, I am annoyed by the hit or miss aspect of how history is being converted to meet today’s standards.

Maybe, this is good? I just don’t know.

… here’s Tom Morgan’s thoughts on this subject…

 

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Join me in a grand political correctness crusade! Together we can punish the present for the past. This crusade has already racked up several victories. Many more lie ahead.

Our most recent victory: We beheaded Kate Smith. The New York Yankees and Philadelphia Flyers destroyed her recordings of “God Bless America” they used to play. The Flyers hauled her statue from its stadium. They did this after the crusade unearthed two of her recordings . From 80 years ago. They had racist lyrics.

By today’s standards they did. Those are the only ones that count. Today’s standards.

Onward!  Let us demand the NY Yankees close down. Kate used to sing racist lyrics. The Yanks practiced racism. Big time. They downright banned African-Americans from their entire organization. This, for many years after the Dodgers hired Jackie Robinson. The Yanks might as well have painted a sign on their stadium: BLACKS NEED NOT APPLY.

Onward!  Let us demand that all of Major League Baseball go out of business. Yes! We pulled down statues of generals who fought for the Confederacy. We chiseled names from buildings. We re-named parks and schools. Those that honored guys who owned slaves.

Well, for fifty years baseball would not let a black man don a major league uniform. Banned them. For the color of their skin. Down with baseball! Destroy the Hall of Fame with its tributes to all those racists of old.

Down with the bigoted racist U.S. Senate. It was certainly that for a few hundred years.

The Senate honored Sen. Robert Byrd for 51 years. Mourned him as a hero of that esteemed body. Well, for many years Byrd was a Grand Cyclops of the KKK. While a senator. He fought bitterly against civil rights for black Americans.

As did Sen. J. William Fulbright. Yes, these mentors to Bill and Hillary were downright racists. Active racists. Let us take down their portraits and statues.

Let us extinguish the Fulbright Scholar Program. Let us remove Byrd’s name from the countless buildings and parks and highways in West Virginia. Leave it only on the sewage plants named after him.

Kate Smith only sang a few racist songs. These guys labored to deny rights to millions of Americans. They kept segregation and racism alive.

Let us close down the Congress that tolerated these racists. That lauded and honored them. Let us start anew. The whole structure was racist from its founding.

Onward! To more practical goals. Destroy the New Yorker Magazine. For decades it ran disgusting cartoons.  Disgusting by today’s standards.

They lampooned women with big chests, blacks, Jewish merchants, fat women, flat-chested women, stupid blondes. They portrayed women as idiots. For their driving, their shopping, their looks, their looseness after a few drinks. One of their top cartoonists was obsessed with women’s breasts. His characters leered down blouses. They cheered when discovering breasts floated in the bath.

The New Yorker cartoons targeted Indians, Native Americans, gypsies, Italians, Arabs, Mexicans, Chinese, black cotton-pickers. They portrayed blacks with huge white lips. They featured Africans as ignorant savages with spears and grass skirts.  One cartoon featured a gentlemen’s outfitter store that displayed a range of KKK robes in its windows.

Down with the New Yorker, I say. It was a racist, sexist rag for fifty years. It deserves more punishment than Kate Smith. She sang. The New Yorker humiliated millions and openly encouraged racial and ethnic prejudice.

Close down NBC and other networks. They kept blacks off the air for decades. They made millions on the Amos n’ Andy show.

That program invited millions to laugh at the laziness and ignorance of blacks. It mocked blacks’ dreams of improving their lot. One critic called it a mean-spirited exploitation of racial stereotypes. Its characters mangled the language. What was most humiliating to blacks was that the characters on radio were whites, impersonating blacks. They wore blackface for publicity shots.

Join the crusade. Along with today’s rap groups.  Yes.

I asked a few rap groups for support for this crusade. I cannot print their responses because they were filled with profanity. Lots of variations of the N word and “ho’s” and “white MFers”. From the translation it looks to me as if they are really opposed to racist stuff, man.

One thing I know for sure. All this virtue-posturing is pretty ridiculous, isn’t it?

From Tom…as in Morgan.

Find Tom on Facebook. You can write to Tom at tomasinmorgan@yahoo.com.

 

So that’s it. I’d love to hear from family and friends and others on this subject. It’s dicey…. and I know you have an opinion on this , one way or the other…. write-up!… I’m all about reading your ideas.

Cheers,  Franque23


And so many ways to say it.

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(*The three pictures that look alike in this post were taken in Japan and include my daughter who lives there.)

Thing is, we have millions of quotes from history that hit their intended mark.  Shakespeare’s works contain a lifetime of reading filled with spot on observations when it comes to Man’s nature. All of that is good; our history of triumphs filled with magnificent people like those buried at Notre Dame creates a wonderful spring-board for us to better understand the present. Still, I’d like to go back, just a bit, though it might land in a time when many of you weren’t yet born…

(About 1963…)

I started singing on stage during school productions when I was about 12, if that’s about sixth grade. My first big ,’hit,’ was the singing of, Sixteen Tons…and what do you get,….How hot those stage lights were.

Before I knew it, I was wearing turtle necks and black felt boots thinking I’d become Beatle-like. My friend, Pete Einhorn, and I sang in to microphones at home made of pull down TV room ceiling lamps. Later on, we’d stand in fields of flowers, sit on railroad tracks and perform in friend’s up stair bedrooms.

guitar players of the corn

We made tracks to Goshen, NY.

We wrote plenty of songs to sing, but none of them made it big.

No, maybe our biggest moments came when performing for producers in New York city’s 666 building or out on Long island in producer’s homes. They about all said the same thing after listening to our music… “You (me) can really sing, kid! And you (Pete) can really play well.” Unfortunately, I think that also meant that I couldn’t play well and Pete couldn’t sing much”-not back then. Ha! Once, a gal picked Pete and me up at a park as we sat around stone out of our gourds and singing our hearts out.  She took us to her home and had us play there…. in walks her dad, Perry Como, who said about the same words to us as had most producers, then he walked out.

Me, around 1970… still rockin’ and singing.

Why did I sing, play and write songs? Really not so much for any money, but for an inner sense that I wanted to help people with the ideas our music expressed. Make it,’ Big?’ No, but we were lucky to be a part of a huge movement soon to come.

This was the start of a movement in time much bigger than any success Pete or I hoped to have. People started flashing the Peace sign where ever they went, like they still do in Japan when pictures are being taken.

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Reefer and acid started flowing around like wind-blown thistles.  There was talk of ending not just the Nam War but all war. Free love was, and any bad outcome from that could be solved with a doctor visit. No worries…we just kept on,’Trucking’

It can sometimes take years to understand the value of any Generation. Has enough time past to allow for a fair assessment of the Baby Boomers? Free Love? Equal Rights? The End of War? Freedom to be yourself and look how you like? A pot—head in every home? Legalized Pot? Throw the bras out? Grow your hair long? Impeach Nixon?  Food for Peace? These were some of the slogans carried by many of the Baby Boomers. So, how have we done as a generation that called for so much societal change?

Some things may never change or haven’t.

You have to admit, after 50 years the Pot laws are starting to turn around! Nixon is long gone while wars go on and on.  The Food for Peace program, an idea that seemed a no Brianer, actually bankrupt farmers in South America and turned them to growing pot for money which subsequently lead to their fields and lives being sprayed with Paraquat. Bra’s now-a-days come off and go on as styles change. Unfortunately, many of us who once marched for Peace and sang at Woodstock have become representatives and leaders , CEO’s and whatnot who are much like the same old sexist, short-sighted individuals we have had in the past doing those same jobs.

But, there IS one thing my generation gave to the next and hopefully to all that follow: the right to look like you want to look. After being spit upon by laughing adults back in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s for my long hair, it gives me great joy to see the various ways people choose to look, and without scorn from most of our society. This is the one thing our generation accomplished for certain. Go ahead, dye your hair five different colors; tattoo your body from head to toe; dig those body piercings; flashy clothes, large or small glasses; ties or not; shorts, skirts, pants—just do it. No worries.

Peace on how you look. And, whether we achieved it or not,  much of our Generation’s message was filled with the notion of Peace.

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From our Generation to yours, you’re welcome. I’m hoping following Generations can get that notion of World- Peace we longed for down pat.

“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.” Shakespeare.

So hit the stage and sing it out and look the part! Good luck.

Fanque23; still truckin’ after all these years.

A family line-up last year:

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Image result for notre dameThis is one of the saddest days. Notre Dame is a symbol of so much, and the keeper of so much of Western Civilization’s history by way of those buried there. One can’t slight the architecture embodied in this structure as well; the magnificent flying buttresses come to mind—and inside the stained glass, the ceilings, the gold inlays and marble flooring, the kind of work that will never be replaced fills my head. In all, Notre Dame, in all of its glory, has meant so much to so many over the past 800 years.

Image result for picture inside notre dame

Image result for images inside notre Dame

The burning of Notre Dame is a loss but I suspect, also, it may be a bad beginning of what’s to come.

Questions about the cause of this fire will arise soon enough. It appears as though there were workers around the top of the building as made evident by the presence of large scaffolding around the structure’s roof.  Could one of them unintentionally started the fire? Could this fire have been set intentionally?  Already these questions have risen from the ash and in the minds of so many!

It’s no secret Paris has been the location of several terrorist attacks. Was the burning down of Notre Dame one of them?  It may not matter whether or not the Notre Dame fire was set on purpose—the heated social climate made of clashing cultures in Paris may not wait for facts before it rears its ugly head, before violence against groups of people take place. This blaze may be only the beginning of more clashes between faiths and ideologies with in the city. And, fires spread.

Some see the immigration problems many countries face as an attack upon Western Society. They don’t focus on the suffering people coming to their country face at home and during their travel, but rather see an influx of strangers they have not asked to meet. The destruction of Notre Dame will not help alleviate those feelings of dislike or discomfort for those who arrive. This blaze of Notre Dame may finally be put out, but I doubt it will be pushed aside by much but for retribution, more hate, and more suffering. Time will tell.

For now, so much has been lost. It’s a sad day, one that will burn in the memory of many and, I think, forever in Time.

Franque23

Image result for picture inside notre dame

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