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So, I’m good until April 13th as the library I work for will remain on Administrative leave until this date—this is the latest update on our work schedule. I realize this puts me and my fellow workmates in a good place, for now. But, the discussion as to a possible start date to return to work is troubling at best. It’s all a social matter of time and life.

There is a plotting graph of projected deaths from the corona-virus based on return to work dates that is revealing and horrifying.* (take some time to look this graph over and fool with the sliding projector button in it…this reveals a bunch of info as we wait to return to work and the projected death rate..)

Looking at the death rate possibility (and this is only the best that can be done with a projection) if our society generally goes back to work around Easter we will likely have 115 million deaths by Oct. in America…. BUT, if the owners and our leaders kept things closed for 80 more days from now, the curve would about flatten to a death rate seen with normal cold/virus activity thru Oct, 2020….

It seems a simple choice but somehow it isn’t.  Social distancing may take too darn much time?!?!?!

William M. Tweed - Wikipedia

Those who want to open up again soon say it must be done to save our economy….These people say soldiers have given their lives for battle and this is like a battle to them. Construction workers have died for over two hundred years building America. So many have sacrificed limb or life to make America what She is now. They say it’s time for all of us to go back to work and for some workers to die doing so.

Royalty-Free Grave Digging Stock Images, Photos & Vectors ...

Those who would like to live take issue with the thought of so many dying for our economy within this calendar year. Another interesting side was this: how would 115 million deaths by Oct. in America affect our economy? Can we lose up to 115 million by Oct. without suffering some economic upheaval?

Then there’s the sap-suckers who exclaim, “But I love Grandpa!” And other’s yell back, “But we all need the money!”

Then again,  there’s this little guy in the back of the room wearing a business hat mentioning that if 115 million older folks died that would be a boost to our health care system and Social Security layout; it’d be like sweeping out the gutters after fall so things could start flowing smoothly again.  But who made anything work smoothly in the first place?

Housework Cartoons and Comics - funny pictures from CartoonStock

Hmmmm, I hate thinking I’m cluttering up the gutters.

I mean, I’ve spent my life working for a country I was taught to love thinking this country loved me back. Really, Kennedy getting shot in four places by one bullet was a bit of a shocker, but this let-em-die deal has this seventy year-old who has Asthma (note: 25 million Americans do) thinking this is personal. It’s one thing to know,’ Hey, they shot the President,’ but a whole other thing when its, ‘they don’t give a rats ass about me!’

The Renaissance Comic Strips | The Comic Strips

So yeah, this last thought can get deep, like why did I go to school? Why obey driving laws? Why not shop lift whenever possible if I can get away with it? Why not cheat on my taxes?, Ah hell, just don’t pay them and keep moving. The more you think, the more Antarctica sounds like a lovely place to live.

yes you can even sunbathe in winter :) | Meanwhile in canada ...

Middle-aged couple man and woman sunbathing in a winter resort

But then again, to be fair, honest, it is noteworthy that more than one person who thought the Coronavirus a hoax has died from it soon after the virus was first spread in America. Some people think God has a sense of humor—I don’t know, but I do believe a life has a way of balancing itself out.

The rich want the workers back as soon as possible at all costs and are willing to risk throwing the lives of so many to a bad fate. Me?  I’m hoping a reasonable leader will shed some light on the meaning of Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness…

Life Path Cartoons and Comics - funny pictures from CartoonStock

I think the unions should get a very loud voice when it comes to the start back date for workers in this country. Yep, Unions might save the day, again, here in America. So, as you get those socialistic checks that congress will send in the mail to save your ass, remember how Unions helped save the workers here soooo many times as well throughout our history.  Science, unions and social programs we have here in America make us great…not greed, not hats, not wrong headed politicians or stupid ideas.

Be smart; stay home if you can…it would be for the good of us all; it might be a sacrifice like those fighting soldiers in WW II gave. People are right, fighting this virus is like a war, but the virus is not all that this war is about. It’s about the workers lives and our right to live them.

I think Joe Biden may have said it best this week: trump should stop talking and do some listening to the scientists who know better. There is little doubt, this return to work date debate is a social matter of time and life verses profit!

Franque23 check out this moving graph below…it’s just amazing.


It will be ten years back this summer to be precise…( Please enjoy the linked video with music below)

This is a Franquemont-Morgan reunion our families have held it seems forever. Basically, you need to understand the Franquemont’s are true royalty in our hearts and minds and the Morgan black spot side of our genes are the worst kind of horns-wagglin’ pirates. I tried that year to do a story hour to appease the pirates,  as shown through out this clip below, but none of that worked as attested by one of ours being snatched and tied to a chair for like days–you’ll see that too.

As always, it all happens at Lake Bonaparte, and this 2010 reunion gathered 58 of the good Franquemonts and the bad whatevers who think they are pirates.  Oddly, no one drinks at these reunions that I’ve noticed. Really!* You’ll see us innocently roping off of Round Island—a feat no longer possible with the development there—only to be chased down by the cops who escorted us across the lake for the want of one life jacket cause 17 wasn’t enough. You’ll see some brave the rapids in the Eastern Adirondacks… fires at night and some very bad singing! It’s all here! The hummingbird steals the show highlighted by the children who know we’re nuts.

Sunsets, swimming and the massively Franquemont Franquemonts win, win, winning!

On a special note, the two groups like the yin-yang have formed as one under the name: MorgaMONTS.  IN all, 2010 reunion was a calm year: very few got thrown in the lake that much each day, I don’t remember a single short sheet bed set but the beer theft was rampant. I still have warrants issued on this… It’s important to note that almost every single adult I took out fishing that year caught a large bass or northern worth mention..this could mean on an every four year bumper fishing cycle that 2020 may be tough fishing. We’ll find out this year at our 2020 reunion!

To be sure, the Lake was wet, the night fires hot** and the stars above brilliant—like my Franquemont story hour:-) The lake is so much fun; family reunions like ours happen around the shore each summer. 

Imagine…

enjoy the show…..https://www.facebook.com/lachlan.franquemont/videos/t.1384221843/425061848537/?type=2&video_source=user_video_tab

Franque23

 

  • Water, that is.
  • ** I honestly believe no one fell in a fire this reunion…
  • What a year this was!!!
  • Last year was an off year, no reunion…Shadow and I chilled out with my wife Dale and Grandchildren
  • Older times lead to new and none will be forgotten

  • taken at the Muse lodge.
  • from our dock

The reason why was never said around my house because the reason was the why and the why was the reason. Yes, if a person says, the reason why, they might as well say, ‘the why why’ or, ‘the reason reason’ Just pick one word or the other and go with it…..

Mom was a fourth grade teacher who spoke Portuguese around our house sometimes and often with her siblings—she and her siblings were born and raised in Recife’, Brazil. Thing is, my mom was a stickler for grammar while my dyslexic self in forth grade dreamed of never having to read again! This is why I majored in English, by far my worst subject, in college: Mom loved the spoken word and fascinated my childhood with “the reason why” lectures.

OOkaay, then, this post has little to do with the reason why except there are good reasons Pelosi tore up trump’s State of the Union speech. It wasn’t shocking that trump spoke in misleading truths or with lies during his State of the Union (in his mind) speech; heck, trump has lied continuously to the American people since before his election! No, it was the fact no one could call trump out during his speech of lies that led to the shredding of the speech paper. It’s true, some have suggested that action was a waste of other wise good sheets of toilet paper, (really?Kinda rough, right?) but I think the moment just got too bizarre for even the mild mannered Pelsoi to tolerate.

So much about trump is hard to tolerate.  I know his best points, his lying, cheating (Gosh even at his golf scores!), stealing—taking credit for things he never did—woman mongering, hateful speech can be easily overlooked by the dead, but his agenda so hell bent to destroy our environment, middle class, minorities of all kinds, any sort of decorum while sitting as President, his total dysfunction when it comes to managing American International affairs and pure lack of elementary knowledge of history, speech and geography pushes any size envelope when it comes to having tolerance for this individual. And we should not.

Hitler’s party started before he was once jailed in 1924 because he was a radical and considered dangerous to society…..He took complete control in 1933 and it took the world to defeat him in 1945…so , in all, Hitler began and lasted almost 21 years…..so, yes, this outlandish party of trump surge to power without regard for human life or for the good of America may take as long to purge from our lives as it did for the world to get rid of Hitler. However, the memory of trump and what he and his followers have done may never end.

About the only difference between Hitler’s time and now is that no one can say, ever, that they didn’t know what trump had done, was doing or plans to do. We have 24/7 instant access to news that floods our lives with awareness. Everyone knows DeVos is selling kids after they’ve been separated from families at the boarder through adoption agencies she is connected to. Everyone knows the Russians have bailed trump out of bankruptcy in the past and the Saudis have twice…so the Saudi’s get to kill a journalist. We even all know how many times trump lies per week,,, even per day. Most understand 19 women who clam trump assaulted them aren’t lying… and we have the tape everyone heard with trump saying how he grabs pussy and tried to fuc* a married woman for fun.

We all know trump is a low life who mocks even the disabled.

No, trump may be like Hitler when compared in history, but the people who follow trump won’t be compared to those who may not have known about the concentration camps Hitler ran… We all know what trump has done, is doing and plans to do; you know.

Let’s face it: trump not only rapes girl’s underage, those who have testified to this with a witness, but he also rapes America. He rapes our heritage, our standing in the world, our beacon of hope for freedom, our national parks, our indigenous peoples, America’s financial security, America’s national security and all the GOP party members who just voted to look the other way when it comes to his crimes against our Constitution.

There is no way a sitting President is allowed to pressure a foreign government to slander his political opponent.  Trump did this; we all know it.

Thing is, one month after Kavanaugh was rammed thru into the Supreme Court the GOP lost 33 seats and the majority in the House of Representatives. The reason why, whoops, sorry mom, is we all knew that was a bull shit call by the GOP….This pass given to trump on his crimes are the same, and the GOP won’t get away with it in 2020…not if people choose to look not the other way but at what is truly happening. Not if people hate Hitler’s history on this planet. It’s time for America to remember history and to stop it from repeating…

Vote the GOP out in 2020; crush trump at the polls.

America is good; trump isn’t. The reason we must do this is the why.

franque23

 


(Click the pic for a larger view)

My Mom and Dad visited Lake Bonaparte often before and after I was born. Luckily, they got to spend about 30 summers at the lake after their employment days. Talk about memories!?!? I wonder which ones mom recalled most of all during her last summer on Bonaparte?

You know they had fun! (With our next door neighbors, the Sherman’s.)

My Dad trained for WW II at Fort drum and rested many days long after sitting across the lake from that training Camp’s location. He loved to see the planes fly over.

This is an old map of Bonaparte…(our camp built in 1970 isn’t listed.)

There are so many beautiful days at Bonaparte.

(Picture taken from our overlook of Porter’s Bay)

And cool summer nights to enjoy with family and friends.

(In the Muse Lodge porch camp)

Or stay warm by a fire…

We love our fireplace—overhead fans above the flames circulate the warm air.

Lake Bonaparte has a knack for getting cold. The one span of three days I visited during mid January the night temperatures hit 40 below twice and then warmed up to 30 below.

Even while casting images in a glass window while overlooking Nagasaki, Japan, the memory of  daytime snows falling on our daughter in Natural Bridge, New York, stayed with me.

And speaking of fires by the lake on those skinny dippin’ nights—what was I thinking!?!?! I’ve looked at this ol’ timey picture by Priests for years and years,

AND, mom snagged this Northern right in our bay! Like how many teeth of a good reason is this not to skinny dip?

Forgive me  if you know, but I feel we all should know Cody got bit on the leg in front of the Sherman Boat house in Porter’s bay (broad daylight) by a bass so large he had to go to the hospital! Just maybe, it was this fish I caught about 15 years later?

Fishin’ at the lake. Love it!

Perhaps many don’t know my brother Buz, (Ed Franquemont) helped build the first house on Round Island? He owned Bare Bones, a building outfit.

Here’s the team that built that house….!

My brother, Ed. (This shot taken elsewhere)

However, this shot below is on location on Birch Island where my ex-brother-in-law, Paul Doherty, lived with Meta for 30 plus years. My niece’s husband, Craig Carlock, was in charge of nibbling down trees to clear for pathways on that Island long ago and everyone should know. We still call him ‘Beaver Man,’ though he also does the best drankin’ loon call you’ve ever heard.

This is Craig watching our dog, Shadow, clear 22 feet off our dock going for a ball….and we’ve built that dock again since.

Have you noticed, lake people wave back?

It’s all too much fun! There’s always some to do or think thing about…

Beware of Pirates…..at the lake! Them Morgan clan folk.

I’m thinkin’ even our dog Shadow is looking for fish!

Impossible not to love.

While at the Lake, my sister, Sharon Franquemot, with a book published in nine languages, You Already Know What To Do, remains humble with me about our family’s  Kingly Heritage.

(really….our ancestor’s home is below. Karl Eugen ruled as Duke over most of Germany and Southern France in 1750)

So, the thing about visiting this one of five castles Karl Eugen had… sure it’s large but,….it was hard to find the bathroom.

(Karl Eugen’s largest home in Ludwigsburg, Germany)*

Anyway, I take my love for Lake Bonaparte back home to where I work in Florida and share it on bulletins boards at the Headquarter’s branch of the Alachua County Library district….

What a place to know, right? Lake Bonaparte:

Random shot of another bulletin board and one of Dan Franquemont…at the lake. (Muse Lodge)

So much—

Bye for now.

Franque23 loves Lake Bonaparte—The place and people we never forget.

*https://www.google.com/search?q=ludwigsburg+germany&oq=Ludwigsburg+germany&aqs=chrome.0.0l8.5814j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8

 

 

 


I’m trying to earn my keep here at work! I’ve repeated this board four times over the past 20 years or so. Originally, the scene was of a moose looking up at a winter’s moon with its tracks in the snow–that was at Millhopper Branch Library in the late 90’s. Sue Patterson worked there at the time and she helped me design the moose which is a difficult animal to get right when drawing—about that large nose of a head…Ha!

This is the 2013 version…

I carried the moose theme to the down town Headquarter’s Branch Library in the early 2000’s and ‘re-built’ much of the background set of trees. This board offers an elaborate background scene that’s time consuming to create so I saved all that work when the board came down a second time. To make this board cost efficient to tax payers, I’ve reused the background pieces of this board two more times, though the moose gave way to a deer and the largest tree has changed as well.

I’m thinking this may be the 2016 version….

You can see this years version in two pictures below or in the time lapse linked here. Stop the time lapse when you want to get a better look and feel for how the layering works in this design. This is a time lapse of my Holiday Board… stop it any time to see the progression…  Ho HO HO…..https://www.facebook.com/alachualibrary/videos/2470169859892438/?t=

 

   

So far, our media department (thank you Chris) has videoed a time lapse presentation of two boards I put up this year: a Halloween board and now this holiday board.

I like this board; it’s a peaceful image that sets a good tone for our work space in Youth Services. I hope this board fills your thoughts and the minds of our little and big patrons with wonder while enhancing enjoyment of our public libraries! Visit your public library—they are ours to enjoy!

Have a safe, wonderful Holiday!

Franque23

2013

The moose was really fun to draw and I’m not certain which version of this bulletin board I like more: the Deer with a larger tree and different signage, or the moose in a smaller setting. The background color changes from silver to gold and there is a moon in some and not others….which do you like better? I have to tell you what I so like about this board. The frozen lake presented by the silver paper is actually vertical on the wall but it appears horizontal to add depth to the scene… I love it.


 

Peace….IMG_20190626_203722699_BURST001

My daughter is involved with a world-wide communication between groups who intend to better the world in varying ways.* It’s sorta like an umbrella for every organization that ever had a good thought for mankind. Within this group, there is this link with the very short film found below.  It’s amazing to see and listen to.

It’s a sort message; one of peace, enlightenment and hope for all Mankind. What could be better than this? It’s a great time for all of us to step back and give thanks…and thank you for reading my glob and for being you! Cheers.

The full credits are included within the film…Oh, I so hope you watch this, investigated the other link below and share with friends. Peace is ours to create.

Enjoy

Franque23

 

*https://www.jet.org.za/resources/jala-peo-newsletter-term-4-2019.pdf/view?fbclid=IwAR0SbowquGLHcMCo1YI5oh0sVY0UOr3b0FNnL1-clXekLvRYwc97KbIXcKQ


(A Morgan-Franquemont reunion about 1951) Click the pic for a larger view.

Maybe I thought my sister might drop me—why else would I be crying?—pretty sure that’s my best diaper.

Remember being young for just a minute. There’s no hassle waiting to destroy the next minute, no bus, train, plane to catch or deadline to meet. No, you’re just young. Your skin is soft without a blemish and your hair shines like  grass after a brief rain.  You’ve learned to comb your hair but your not exactly sure why you do it. There’s no need to worry and everything feels right once your parents are home; the fire place sets itself and your dog is always fed. T.V. goes on past bedtime but you’ve seen everything you wanted to see and the day has come and gone like any other. Dreams come and go like the wind without cause or problem or forecast direction.

Everything just is. Do you remember now? Shoes or belts seemed useless unless you were playing dress-up.

(Our Son-in-Law running after his son.)

The world is an empty beach to run with dad close behind.

The sky is endless and full of mysterious clouds to watch as they drift by.

(My cousin’s son, Ross Franquemont, takes a selfie as he flies by the Northern lights in his U-2 plane.)

Remember the first time you stared at the clear night sky and realized there were more and more stars to see up above as your eyes adjusted to the blackness. Remember the morning dew on your bare feet. This is about the time you discovered ,’brain-freeze.’

There was so much to take in and share with your cousins and friends.

A la speed-o suit; that’s me.(Morgan dock at Lake Bonaparte-about 1956) ( AND… the person who edits this glob weekly* asked a good question: why am I the only one wearing a bathing suit? The dock is clearly wet?!?! Hmmmm)

Days come as easily as picking up a pencil. The scribbling on the paper wears a smile and it seems your masterpiece is, in fact, a heroic depiction of something meaningful to older folks—it’s some miraculous sketch of objects you’ve yet to see or a panorama of places everyone hopes to go. It’s good to be loved. Daylight loves you; nighttime is a blanket. The rain sounds loud upon the window pane and snow dances in street lights with winds that come from the moon you can’t see.  The pets always sleep on your bed.

Everyday is safe. Every night is cozy. You get along with other  kids, even with those who seem so different!

Being young harbors within it a certain kind of peaceful hope.

(View of Lake Bonaparte from our ‘half-way’ dock.)

Without notice, you assume the older folks will always be here.

Life seems a garden of acceptance.

You can wear any hat you want when you’re young!

(And on Youth Services hat day because we could.)

Routines begin to form. If it rains, you stay inside. If it is sunny you go out. Parents rush off in the morning and come back later after your nap but you’re never really alone, not that you’ve noticed or ever thought about. Tooth brushing is a daily important thing, not the best, but you watch as globs of toothpaste slide out of your mouth onto your cheeks around your out-stretched smile in the mirror and it tastes sweet. Tooth paste types change from being white, then striped, sometimes dotted or with a hidden line of stuff surrounded by white. You just do it.

You think broccoli may kill you but not if you eat just a bit. Vegetables are stupid but they’re the gateway to dessert.

I once thought food first filled my feet, legs, then my middle section, then my arms and finally my head: that’s when I was full. I made sure to save room in my head for dessert.  People talked over dinner but mostly we all came to eat. Someone would say something funny and we’d laugh but always, without fail, my dog’s head was near my lap, soft, warm, nudging my legs occasionally for that bit of something I didn’t care to eat or wanted to slip him anyway.

I hadn’t a care when I was young. Music filled the air and dancing had no steps, just movement.

Of course, I learned later in life that my life was not a universal experience. No, while I was in college there were children in Vietnam who awoke in the night to run out of their homes in fear Napalm bombs would hit their homes and burn them alive as it had some of their friends the night before. And other children weren’t lucky enough to live at all but died without ever knowing what a refrigerator was. Somehow, learning the truthful horror about some life on earth during my twenties put much of my childhood experience in a time-capsule that I cemented in a corner stone of myself.  My memories were too good sometimes to be shown in the face of another’s reality.

I’d been given so much and never knew. I’d been raised in the midst of modest but successful homes full of choices, flavors, designs, music,  friends and surrounded by mowed yards and shoveled driveways all owned by smiling people.

If you’re life was like mine, it’s okay. It’s okay that we may have been born some of the luckiest people on earth. Thing is, now it’s our time to give thanks. Now, if we haven’t already, it’s time for us to payback life anyway we can.  We have to fight for what we believe is best for this earth and give thanks to those who died for our right to do so. If we have something to teach, we have to do it. I think Thanksgiving has never seen a generation who has more to be thankful for than mine. Now, more than ever before, it’s time for my generation to stand up and speak about what we feel is right.

My generation owes the World a difference.

We can do this. It’s time to be young again, strong, wide-eyed, questioning and full of spirit. Spirits don’t age like our bodies, not really. Look in that mirror as you did as a child and see your face, see your smile and remember who you really are. You’re one who can make a difference.

We all can get along; we have to get along and help each other prosper—this is our task and purpose.

Franque23—Happy Thanksgiving.

*Barbara Mullenix gets all the credit for anything spelled correctly in these globs and none of the blame for all the rest….

 

 

 

 


Man has always made weaving’s. Why? We are part of one.

It was just a small spool of thread lying upon the bed in the morning. Two inches of the thread lay extended beyond the spool as if it were searching for a binding that needed stitching. The colored thread was red but not as deep as fire, but rather subdued in a way that mellowed my attention to its purpose.

It all got me thinking about that Abercrombie and Fitch woman, Jamie, I’d met up at Lake Bonaparte who worked in the upper spheres of their purchasing department. She stood tall, but not too much so, and held a strong image of elegance. We bantered and shared the this and that of our lives.

“You must have fun picking out patterns and materials; it feels real artsy.” A few seconds of images passed in mind. “I like patterns; love material. I do leather craft.”

“You work in leather craft?” I watched Jamie’s eyes shift left to view a memory she might have stored about the media.

“Yes. It’s been over ten years now. My wife and I have made about everything you can imagine to do with leather craft.” I was proud of our three shops and success. “I love material; you’re lucky to be working with the designs, material purchases and decisions for such a large outfit.”

Her nod gave way to question.”So, what do you think is the most important part of what I buy for Abercrombie and Fitch?”

The query was unexpected. “Maybe the thread is the most important.” It was an off-hand answer, the first that came to mind when thinking about a blouse, or jeans, or about anything that had sewed pieces.

Her eyes glowed as a full moon in the deep night, “Yes! That’s it completely! Without the best thread, the finest material is lost, so easily torn and soon cast aside. The bindings are what matters.”

Bindings are what matters….

It’s thirty or more years since I heard the words but they somehow still hover near.

The deepest blue waters of Lake Bonaparte glistened around our conversation that day. I can still see the sparkling sunlight dance off the water and spring around the dock as though magic was in the air. Even back then, Lake Bonaparte had become more than a lake to me. The lake was a thread in my life, something that held me together before that day, then, and would well into the future.

My thoughts drifted off that morning just as those past days up at Lake Bonaparte have fled from view. I stared back at the spool of thread on the bed and wondered where it might belong, where it might go should I pick it up.

In truth, that red spool of thread had reached out to me. It had magically asked for me to realize how the threads of my life came together to make me whole, to bring me peace.  But, I have to tell you, that peace hasn’t come easily as a soft wind in the most subtle morning light, not like the evening stars up at the Lake.

My life has never been a smorgasbord of hurrahs, no not that. The red thread had stretched out to me and asked what passed through me, what tied me together. That answer ran a thin line through my eyes to my heart, wrapped around my brain and tightened into a knot.

I was born lucky, white, in America, with a loving dad and mom and all the Christmas tree trimmings any kid could ask for. Still, while others skated free in my childhood I seemed sidelined with some things I can’t even write about now, not yet. Of course, life is a mix for all of us, full of ups and downs we have to turn around and make straight.  We’ve all had our hearts torn out by first loves that were never meant to last but to teach. We’ve all had friends who turned out to be enemies; victories that ended in the loss column. But having a sixth grade friend at a scout meeting ask me for help in a way I could not understand and then hang himself in his parents basement that same night hasn’t been perfect—and so much worse for him. It’s as if the memory of his smile funnels me down along side his pain, one I can’t imagine. Later, not much, my best friend drown before me within hearing distance but beyond site in a lake at Marlborough Vermont. I’ve written about this event before, and there are too many premonitions that led up to this happenstance to recall here now, but I’m not sure I’ve ever left those three days of waiting that it took to find Bobby’s body. Let’s face it: part of me is still in that water and I know it.* Is it a stretch to think we all have pain in life?

We all have to move on; we all have to stitch our lives together the best we can.

So, without a mirror but a cast aside spool of thread I came that morning to reckon what pieces me together, what keeps me balanced, on my feet, smiling, working in the garden and saying hello to those I never think of as strangers. I’ve dug down, tore it all up and realized why I say hello to plants, birds, the sun and the rain. I’m happy; basically, I’m happy.

But, why am I happy?

Though my wife and I have had a small amount of success in our lives, I’m certain no amount of wealth or holdings brings happiness.  A simple, pure joy is a different animal than a bank account. Life is the thread we cling to as we live and in those moments lies the bind of happiness. My wife will tell you there are plenty of mornings, afternoons or evenings I’m doing the happy dance. Sure, I may be blocking my wife’s TV view or arousing our dog, Shadow, to uncontrollable fits of barking but you know what: I’m still happy. I’m happy to see the morning, the rain, the fog, the cold, the lonely stars at night, the snake that slithers away as I call it, the post man who waves back and my work mates who nod as they go by.  I’m happy to hear the wind as it vibrates my ear drums and becomes an inseparable part of me.

I understand the immense hardships humanity has suffered through in the past and is currently having to endure. None of that is good, and, like you, I wish it could end. Still, I cling to the notion that if we are here for a purpose in life it’s to blossom as we can through it. The smallest seed can sprout thought the most solid rock; this is what we must do.

It all comes down to the threads of our lives and how we spool them together to carry with us. If you hurt, unwind that thread and re-spool. Bind yourself to a joy you have known no matter how small and plant that to grow inside you.

Many ask how they might be happy?

In a world of advice, I say know your world.

Know the people, places, animals, land and thoughts in your life as much as possible. Don’t walk though your time as though surrounded by unnamed mysteries: learn the name of the trees, plants, your neighbors, tools, clouds, birds and sights that fill your ears, eyes, mind and heart. Learn the way of everything you can. We are all surround by thousands of threads of life that want to bind with us. Make it happen. Then, the fabric of you will never be alone, and you will bind with the life around you, forever.

Franque23 loves you.

 

*https://franque23.wordpress.com/2010/01/25/the-dream-i-lived/

 


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It’s that time of year again and I’ve decided the scariest costume I can wear is myself. Hey, it’s a free costume so what’s not to like? Yep, I’m gonna go out there as a bald headed, near-sighted, long eared seventy year old specimen featuring wolf-man like nose hair—that should do it! One look at me and my fellow younger trick-or-treaters will know all of life is a mistake; it’s a one way road to ruin loaded down with wobbling turkey neck, mouth drool and very thick glasses.

I’m gonna answer my door this Halloween and place handbills into trick-or treat bags: “Look at me! This is what life gets ya!”

People like to set weird lighting effects around their doorstep for eerie effects for this special night. Me? I’m using bright lights with a beam on my face at the door. Then again, maybe I should lay outside on the lawn like a snoring dead-man—this could save on printing costs for the handbills and candy alike!

Me on the lawn-

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It’s an odd day when the truth is the scariest thing of all!

BTW, my grandchildren drink blood..

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(Okay, it’s dragon fruit.)

I know, I know, people with facial wrinkles like to say, “I’ve earned every one of them!” Thing is, if we’ve already paid the price for those wrinkles, why do we have to wear them for the rest of our life?  Okay, maybe facial wrinkles would be fun to see in the mirror for like a day or a week, but forever?!?!?

Of course, many facial lines are,”laugh wrinkles,” as they say. “Cheer up!” they say! Okay, I’m asking: what was so funny back then to be worth this now? And, I wonder, if I keep laughing will my face eventually fall off. Anything is possible at this point.

Mom used to say I’d go blind if I kept that up but back in the day I guess arms fell off first! This is why so many statues from antiquity have no arms.

Image result for greek statue whose head or arms have fallen off

No one told this guy, and then it was too late.

What is it about wrinkles anyway? I’ve never seen a bird, rabbit, cat or dog have wrinkles!

So, why do people wrinkle? Is it a warning to others that a rotting corpse is still walking?  “Look out! This mistake still has feet!”

Nope, dogs don’t wrinkle; even mice don’t wrinkle! You’d think Mankind might have figured old age out better than a mouse by this  point in time!

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Sometimes, I sit in my chair watching birds and wonder what the hell happened?!?!?

But, do I really regret being seventy? No—as long as I can have 50 years back I’m good. “Okay the joke is over; now lets get back to being 20!” I don’t recall making a deal about this aging thing: I want a lawyer. And, please, not  trump’s, ‘I only hire the best people,’ Giuliani. I’ll be selling wrinkles forever if this is the case.

I need to sail free of age like Caspar the ghost—I need to earn wrinkles that fly away: it’s Halloween after all.

Special!! Here’s a 20 second video of me putting up a Halloween Bulletin Board at work.

To be honest, things are looking up for me and my buddies; I think the tide is turning! But, it won’t be high tide, right?

Just hanging with my gang.

Do I regret being older than dirt? Of course not! I hate it!!!  Oh, I know,  I wouldn’t be who I am today if not for all my years of life! And, you might miss me if you stumble upon a random rock, fall into a pile of dog shit and think…”Oh yes, there was that guy who wrote a glob about this!* Whatever happened to him?” (So, you see, I could matter in certain situations, maybe.)

I finally realized this guy is wondering where his clothes are!

If clothes can be wrinkle free, why not people? Scientists need to be working on making people come through this drying out life process wrinkle free…

Fortunately, we never lose our energy.

Happy Halloweenie me. I’m looking perfect for the part.

In the meantime….maybe ramble thru the last ten years of globs I’ve written… some of them are spookier than me.

Franque23

  • I never did.
  •  Barbara sent me this today…..

    Non Sequitur 10/31/2019

 

 


Greta Thunberg sails to America. She breezes into town with a boiling luster of avid belief full of conviction. There are those who mock this sixteen-year old who dares to stand and speak her mind, strongly, frankly, without regard for the pitfalls honesty can sometimes bring when speaking to those thought to be superior. They’re not.

Because I’ve worked in library services for almost twenty-five years now, this fired-up youth, Greta, conjures up memories of one of the bazillion books I’ve read—or at least in part scanned—over the years.

This book:

This book is a Juvenile Bio of a young man who really lived, Alexander Selkirk, though his true name was Alexander Selcraig. He was a Scott and it’s thought the name deviance as recorded was perhaps due to poor spelling or a rocking boat during the time of transcript.  His relative is alive today and reports that his research suggests, “Selkirk (as a young lad) was a bit of a bastard, more respected in his absence than in his presence.”*

My take is that Selcraig was a bit wild as a child, always in trouble, gifted in math and stubborn as the morning when it came to rising up to defend his right of opinion. Selcraig’s troubled youth may be what led him to become a sailor—it was a means to get away from his past. For whatever the reason, this youth so filled with fury was the real Robinson Crusoe; he lived marooned on an island for four and one-half years, and mostly by his own doing. He chose his path fueled by his own determination, you can call it a hot headed mindset if you like, and thereby set his story forever in history.

This brief description of Selcraig, or Selkirk, the one whose life is now known as Robinson Crusoe, brings to mind Greta Thunberg. Think about it. Though Greta apparently didn’t go around beating up people with sticks as Selcriag may have, she is, by her own admission, somewhat estranged from people by the very nature of her Asperger’s condition.

When Greta headed out with this sign, she was alone with only the company of her determination.  Greta knows she is right when it comes to the issues surrounding climate change and she’s willing to leave whatever she left behind to sail half way across the world to prove her point. Of course, Alexander Selkirk may have left his home to get away from his past while Greta has left home to make her future but, in the very least, the two seem to exhibit the same type of bold, unflinching spirit.

You see, Selkirk, in the year of 1704 approached his captain, Captian Stradling, while they moored by an uninhabited island and insisted the ship wasn’t worthy to sail. He demanded that the crew go ashore and make needed repairs before setting sail. (It’s reported that Selkirk was 28** and a worthy sailor and first mate of the vessel.)  Captain Stadling refused and the young lad, Selkirk, elected to remain behind on the desolate island rather than risk death at sea. It is recorded that, “Selkirk was put ashore with his bedding, a musket, pistol, gunpowder, hatchet, knife, his navigation tools, a pot for boiling food, two pounds of tobacco, some cheese and jam, a flask of rum and his Bible. He had made the biggest decision of his life. No longer just a complainer, he had taken action.” No doubt our Robinson Crusoe to be thought another ship would sail by his island soon enough—that took four and one-half years to happen!

Greta has set herself out upon an island of belief surrounded by a sea of media attention, slashing rhetoric and attacking foes who fiercely disagree with her opinions. She made her decision. and watched the easier life she might otherwise have had set sail. Her standing ground is conviction—but is she right?

It should be noted that Selkirk was. “Dampier(the captian who saved Selkirk) told Selkirk the bittersweet news that he had been all too right about the decrepit Cinque Ports. Soon after abandoning the Scotsman in 1704 the ship sank off the coast of Peru, killing all but Stradling (The Captian who would not heed Selkirk’s advice) and a dozen or so men, who wound up in Spanish prisons.” In fact, that ship sank in a matter of two days after leaving Selkirk on the abandoned island.

It’s also a sad truth that Selkirk became somewhat of a notoriety in England once his story became known, and he had more than enough money, but his life never lived up to the joy he found in solitude.  This is why Selkirk returned to the sea at age 44 to sail once again. However, fever soon took hold of much of the crew who died and they were thrown over board. It was recorded, “On December 13, 1721,………..North to northwest. Small Breeze and fair,” it read. “Took 3 Englishmen out of a Dutch ship and at 8 pm. Alexander Selkirk . . . died.”

Will Greta also find herself living a world she’d rather not see as time goes by? Will Greta Thunberg’s greatest moment be that she set her sights on what is right, but only to see that her message is left behind?  These are turbulent times and it seems those more powerful than her may strand her intentions in a tide of lawyers, business and money. I hope not. I hope Greta Thunberg finds a sea of people ready to right her sail and lift her message as an ocean of truth.

I’m willing to row her boat. You?

The earth is our ‘ship of state.’

Franque23

*For a more complete story

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/the-real-robinson-crusoe-74877644/

** Some facts differ from the book listed and the postings in the link. For one, Selkirk is said to be a young lad of 18 to 21  in the book when he was left on the island, not 28 as listed in the linked article. Here, I’ve deferred to the article linked.

 

 

 

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