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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.

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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.


Okay, it’s true. I basically bother to wake up so I can take a nap later.

Pandemic administrative leave or not hasn’t changed any of that. In fact, I seem more tired than usual as I slept my ass off for 10 and 1/2 hours for three days in a row this week. Mind you, I still took my 4ish nap each day. It’s time to catch up on, oh, 55 years of working.

I’ve remembered lying on my bed at Gettysburg College during soft afternoons. Bill Beers, my roommate, and I loved to play Gordon Lightfoot and let him sing about nature and love. Those college days were filled with imagination, study, rest and fun and I was just the guy to do it! It never felt like work. Softly She Comes, by Lightfoot, was a great college guy’s fantasy, but this one was my favorite…..https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NWqK4ecpsn0…

 

(do yourself a favor and listen)

When I played on stage in NYC, I usually started my sets with, In the Early Morning Rain, Lightfoot style. Of course, I didn’t leave out, Don’t Bogart that Joint or One two three What are we Fighting For? And others like .Why Can’t We Live as Three? or Down by the River….but Lightfoot’s romantic take on his music gave rest to a turbulent time back in the 1970’s and I liked that. I didn’t know then I’d move to Gainesville, Florida.

Oh the things we didn’t know, right?

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Here, I met, Linda. She was a gal who had lived with Gordon Lightfoot in Canada for about two years, I believe, before she left him over his drinking and came to Gainesivlle. It blew my mind to meet her and hear about an idol of mine first hand.

I rocked it in H.S.

 

I have always loved the romantic side of life.

Okay, it’s not bad now. Our family is great and we’ve 8 soon to be 9 grandchildren! Here’s the newest edition….(click on this and the next two pics for larger view)

I work in the children’s department as a Library Specialist—how bad could that be?

And here at home this week due to Corona-virus, I’ve cleaned the pool and pool filter outside while standing in a snow-like fall of oak pollen and leaves everyday. It’s amazing, but here in Florida, this is our Fall season for real. But why does every possible oak flower shell from miles around land in our pool ? Someone should study this! Why me; how could this be happening. It’s like a vortex of leaf gathering exists in our backyard pool. There should be a song about this tragedy. ‘Leaf Leaves pool my Love.’ Sorta like, You Are the Wind Beneath my Wings….feeling song—

Meanwhile, as I’m trying to nap, 38 or so Gold Finch insist on eating at the nine hanging baskets of thistle I put out for them because I am a masochist. Doctor, I don’t use the term lightly.

Consider, these finch, who don’t know me from Adam, may eat up to 100 dollars of thistle as they flutter their time away here before leaving in about four weeks hence! And, guess what?  Whenever someone drives bye, or we open the door for Shadow to chase squirrels away, it scares the poop out of these birds as they fly away. Where does that poop go? Well not to Washing to D.C. I’m here to tell ya. No, it pretty much goes on my parked car—like every day.

It’s pretty evident the Gold Finch have me under some sort of mind control. I feed them; they poop on my car. And, then I do it again! See? I have no life but to smile and exclaim, “I love the Gold Finch…” Of course, I’ve tried moving where I park, but they love my car. It’s like poop is their calling card or appreciation for the filled feeders. Could this be a song? ‘Come on, Poop more on my Car’, a tune sorta like, Baby You can Ride my Car…..

So, spring is moving on. It’s true, the pool is a cesspool of leaves and pollen and the Gold Finch fleece my wallet because my car is a toilet… but about these allergies. Did I mention I haven’t gone outside without a mask on in like two weeks!?!?! Spring’s a wonderful time, if only I could breathe. And what about those lines the mask straps make on my face? These are much worse than those lines above my ears my glasses leave or maybe I’ve just gotten used to those blueish stained lines that run above my ears.  Anyway, no, mask lines are completely freaky; indents that scar each cheek with martian type facial lines. How cool is that? The song would be, ‘See These Lines on My Face Never Seem to Go Away.’ Somehow , this could work as, Yesterday, with a few words added here and there.

Anyway, it’s time to clean the pool since my wife finished doing that over an hour ago. I think I can find my car, not sure. And, I better check my bird food/pooping supply.

In the end though, I think the energy of life is about Pussy Willows, Cattails, Soft winds and Roses…Lightfoot was right …

We’re all under stress; try to take it easy. Wait, that’s a great song…

 

Don Felder visited his parents in Gainesville, Florida the Christmas Desperado came out. We lived next door.

Franque23.. It’s all a circle game….

 


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

 


How much does an elephant never forget?

There’s so much we don’t know. And so much to know about the things we do. Life seems an endless theater of possibility. And with every turn we take, or inquisitive glance we make, more paths become visible, more doors of opportunity swing wide.

Elephants are always said to be, ‘In the room,’ but even when over-looked as temporarily invisible, elephants are always in our world.  And there’s so much the world’s largest land animals have to show us if we might notice. For one, their babies can weigh up to 260 pounds! How’s that for a healthy birth weight!

This one is keeping a snoot above….

Perhaps, a more notable case in point on elephants evolves from a single news story of a man once known as the, elephant whisper.

Lawrence Anthony befriended a herd of elephant in Thula Thula, a wildlife preserve in South Africa, a herd known at the time to be a rogue, wild, unpredictable lot of elephants, the kind many who lived near them hoped would be culled from existence.

Of course, there’s an amazing story to tell about the relationship between Lawrence and this herd of elephants. Unfortunately, this unfathomable happenstance between the elephants and Lawrence extends well beyond their interaction in life, and perhaps it was his death that concretely defined their relationship and can teach us so much.

To step back in time….

Maybe before this baby was born….or these two..

.

(There’s nothin’ like tangling with siblings.)

To begin, Lawrence met this rag-tag romping herd of elephants with the patience of, well, an elephant. His cool head and calming demeanor eventual won over the misfit tribe of elephants and soon the man and group  became fast friends.*( Please enjoy this video) The years passed with this herd of elephants visiting Lawrence at his dwelling from time to time, not every day, not every month, sometimes not even every year, but often enough to keep the lines of communication well established—no one needed introductions. New elephant babies were a joy to see and long-nose trumpets blared the herd’s joy to share when the occasion arose.

Many elephants live approximately 60 to 70 years so maybe their internal clock beats much as our own. For whatever reason, this story came to pass…

Lawrence Anthony died March 2, 2012, in Johannesburg of a heart attack at age 61 after lecturing and touring the world over on behalf of elephants.** He hadn’t seen his herd of big footed, up to 13,000 pound, long nosed friends in about a year and half when he died. However,  two days after Lawrence’s death, as pictured below, a herd of 31 elephants came marching up to Lawrence’s home to mourn their loss. They had traveled up to 12 hours to make the trip. You might want to read the above sentence again.

This is really a picture of 31 elephants arriving two days after Lawrence Anthony’s death. They had walked for 12 hours.

They never forgot.

Elephants know the beginnings have endings. But how or why do they seem to know so much? This link gets into the brain of elephants and more—***

Is it necessary to point out elephants don’t use phones, faxes, twitter, e-mail, no, not even snail—mail! The elephants just knew, they just knew when Lawrence had died and did so while being a great distance apart from the man!?!? You see? The elephants not only knew their friend had died and ALSO came to show their respects, but they indeed showed us all there is a web between Life Mankind seems most often not to see, or realize, or should we say respect? The elephants felt that web of connection, the fiber of our lives among all living things and proved they were in touch on a grand scheme, on a plain that exists as one that remains hidden from most of us due to, I think, distractions that fill our lives on a daily basis.

Zen will offer that we be here now—like this elephant seems to be.

It’s important for us to focus. Maybe how we meet Life determines how it sits within us, or, on us?

Thing is, maybe Life is much more than now, but forever, for everything all at once, for all that goes beyond our current understanding though it remains the true elephant in our world. I suspect this understanding between all of Life goes on between Man, Animal, Plant and Mineral. When we realize this connection, will we will find new pathways to peace?

Sometimes, it does take a big person, a huge personality or strong person to lead the way. If only we could let the world’s largest land animal show the way so that we might stand in their shadow and follow.

Young or old, does the elephant somehow know more than you and I? Does the elephant know what Mankind seems to forget?

Franque23 loves life.

*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Yap6r7pSGU

**http://delightmakers.com/news/wild-elephants-gather-inexplicably-mourn-death-of-elephant-whisperer/

***”However, their (BRAINS) are arranged differently. Human pyramidal neurons tend to have a large number of shorter branches, whereas the elephant has a smaller number of much longer branches. Whereas primate pyramidal neurons seem to be designed for sampling very precise input, the dendritic configuration in elephants suggests that their dendrites sample a very broad array of input from multiple sources.

Taken together, these morphological characteristics suggest that neurons in the elephant cortex may synthesize a wider variety of input than the cortical neurons in other mammals.

http://theconversation.com/what-elephants-unique-brain-structures-suggest-about-their-mental-abilities-100421

“In terms of cognition, my colleagues and I believe that the integrative cortical circuitry in the elephant supports the idea that they are essentially contemplative animals. Primate brains, by comparison, seem specialized for rapid decision-making and quick reactions to environmental stimuli.

Indeed, even the brains of individuals within a given species are unique. However, the special morphology of elephant cortical neurons reminds us that there is certainly more than one way to wire an intelligent brain. Lawerence Anthony is an author of three books about elephants, a person who traveled during his life around the globe speaking about elephants to anyone who wanted to listen. If not a ‘whisperer’ to elephants, he was a true friend to the species in both word and deed……There are two elephant herds at Thula Thula. According to his son Dylan, both arrived at the Anthony family compound shortly after Anthony’s death.

“They had not visited the house for a year and a half and it must have taken them about 12 hours to make the journey,” Dylan is quoted in various local news accounts. “The first herd arrived on Sunday and the second herd, a day later. They all hung around for about two days before making their way back into the bush.”

 

 


(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

 

 

 


 

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….

 

 

 

 


There’s nothing like a quick four or five day get-a-way to lighten up  a month of working, right? It’s by luck we have a home in Barefoot Bay,  one of Florida’s largest manufactured home communities.  Sure, Barefoot has a golf course (I don’t play). a shopping center, library, food shops of all sorts, several pool areas and mini-lakes scattered about as well as it’s own super long pier that juts out into the Indian River—that’s all fine and good. But the thing to me about Barefoot Bay is the private Atlantic beach-side property the community owns, and what a treasure it is.

(You can see the Barefoot Bay community has no direct bridge to its beach front that is located just north of Sebastian Inlet. This is the only picture in this post that enlarges with a click.)

The property is located just north of Archie Carr’s National Wildlife Refuge* and for years it’s been as pristine and isolated as any beach-side could get in Florida. Only recently have adjacent and surrounding properties gone up for sale, and some houses are already in place. Of course, I hate this, but who can stop development? Thankfully, nothing can take away my memory of watching whales swim by this beach as well!

There’s no need for Valet parking when we go…

(Psst: this shot was taken at 4 PM on a Sunday afternoon!?!?!)

This isolated stretch of heavenly beach is also my dog’s favorite running zone!

Shadow’s ready to run and the beach is waiting as the waves roll in.

We have all we need to make this work!

“Come on!” Shadow waits patiently with his shadow.

“Get the ball; it’s time to run!”

I watch him scurry down the final leg of the boardwalk and onto the sand. I heave the ball with a ‘chuck-it’ as far as I can throw it.

Shadow runs himself ragged after tennis balls. It’s an amazing time and we still have the beach to ourselves as far as the eye can see! Seriously! On a ‘crowded’ day I see four or five fishermen and maybe four walkers. Can you imagine? These beach trips make me feel as though I’ve gone to the moon and back, only there’s an ocean here in all of its surf-side glory.

The waves pound as birds call above sea-foam that pops in the wind.

Finally, Shadow is played out for now. He goes to the boardwalk when he’s had enough and we scoot on up to wash off before enjoying a restful twenty-five minute ride home.

I always take one last look before we leave.

Bye for now.

Oh wait! There’s one more curious thing about this parking lot of no valets. I came to this beach for twenty years and until the parking lot was ‘improved'( widened and sea grapes taken out) I never noticed that underneath a vast array of vines was an old hotel or home of sorts.

That’s it—just ahead over there. Nothing but vines, right? Perhaps, if you look hard you’ll see this one hundred foot long structure of broken down doors and windows underneath the vines!

I wonder about this history? Who lived here? What was it like back then? Someone had a keen eye for solitude and staked a claim here.

(You can see some of the red roof line on the center-left.)

For now, the land has won back the space and for all the empty spaces still filled with vines, living plants and critters I wish it could stay this way.

Going to the ocean always remains dream-like for me. I know it’s real and part of me, but I can’t touch it when it’s gone from sight, when I’m away. Me and my Shadow just have to await another day to live the dream again.

What a day! What a run it was!

Cheers

Franque23

*https://www.fws.gov/refuge/Archie_Carr/


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/

 


While listening to fellow workers in  our department talk about their therapists I started to wonder: should I go see a therapist to find out why I don’t have one? Odd. Maybe, there is something wrong with me after all! (Fight the urge to answer.)

Image result for picture of trump as a pumpkin

I have several inspiring posts lined up for the up-coming Holiday season, but with all that’s happening in Washington now I thought what the heck—it’s almost Halloween…

BTW, if Trump didn’t lie he’d be a mute—that guy is enough to make every therapist in the world a billionaire.

Okay, this past week seems to have been a meltdown week for Trump and the GOP. That party needs a very long couch and therapy session.

The U.S. actually just had a number of GOP representatives break the rule of order in Congress by barging into classified hearings on the Hill because, ‘The democrats are breaking the rule of order while taking testimony?’ The rule of order GOP members referenced in this just-so-wrong mob mentality 1) doesn’t exist and 2) investigations like this always begin by taking testimony from people that other potential witnesses won’t hear. This process ensures no so-called witness will know what the other said when giving their testimony. This fact-finding method is very simple and very correct. And, 3) the process the democrats are using was drawn up and created by the GP when they hoped to impeach Obama!!!! Factcheck=100% true on this.

What’s not correct? How about the U.S. sending tanks and soldiers to protect oil fields in Northern Syria (where the Kurds lived until this week) while Kurd’s run for their lives past our forces?* Most of the the Kurds have absolutely no place to go?  Off hand, I’d suggest the oil fields as a safe place for the Kurds to go but would our troops hand the Kurds over to Turkish forces and still ‘man’ the oil fields?

Image result for pictures of us tanks going to protect syrian oil fields

One other question: how is it fifty nuclear war heads we had stored in Turkey are said to be still under our control? Is the world now a safer place?

I have to admit—I’ve a few more questions.

Why should we all feel like puking?

Imagine, take a moment, in the place where you live, maybe have always lived and fought to stay living, you and everyone else are told to leave in five days…Some of you have little if any savings, some live off the land…now all of you have no land… you must leave in five days.. imagine, if you will, the entire place, town or city you live in, leaving in five days or the people who can’t or haven’t will be shot dead… now.. how is that for you? America didn’t make an agreement with Turkey, it signed a death warrant for thousands of Kurd’s who trump claims need to be,’ cleaned out.’…….the real number of Kurd’s Trump has tossed aside is two million–all women, children and men. Most will will die in this ethnic cleansing initiated by Trump.

Does Trump’s tendency to equate large groups of people to scum, rat invested thieves, to something less than human mean he is much like Hitler? People ask. Well, Trump did refer to the Kurd region of Northern Syria as something that should be cleaned out. How grotesque. Thing is, I know Hitler liked dogs—and I think he liked music—so Trump isn’t exactly like Hitler. I remember that Hitler had a girl friend and I’ve never read he was accused by 19 women of sexual abuse. I admit, there are differences between these two genocidal maniacs.

We have things to be thankful for. At least Mexico might pay for the wall in Colorado.**

Image result for funny picture of man with therapist

And Trump’s second budget proposal, like his first, cuts Social Security and Medicare which he promised to save and not cut. See? Trump is consistent: if he’s talking, he’s lying.

There is one last bit of consistency from Trump I am thankful for: whatever he accuses someone else of doing he has already done or is about to do. This way, we always know what a low life, con man, double dealing, back stabbing man Trump is. We can take comfort in knowing who Trump is since he tells us everyday in every way. All we have to do is listen and the lowest of the lowlife Trump comes babbling out of his mouth.

GOP members continue to go pee on themselves by supporting their lunatic in the White house.

Hmmm… that reminds me: wasn’t there something about a pee-tape?

GOPee republicans! Why wait for a break during Trump’s next self-promoting advertising so-called rally. Just do it Republicans, but why are you standing down wind? Trump supporters—go ask your therapist about that.

Franque23

 

*https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/national-security/trumps-focus-on-protecting-oil-in-syria-highlights-an-evolving-us-mission/2019/10/24/fbb91f3e-f68d-11e9-829d-87b12c2f85dd_story.html

**https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/video/2019/oct/24/donald-trump-falsely-claims-hes-building-a-wall-in-colorado-video

 

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