You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘Grandchildren’ tag.


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.

 

 

 


(Click the pic for a larger view)

Imagine, you were born and once lived happily in a Levittown community on Long Island.

Your home town of Roslyn Heights was a Levitt built community….this pic is of a Levittown that was built further away from NYC out on the Island than your home, but it was the same type of community.

You didn’t mind the winters and made piles (ahahah) of dough out of shoveling snow as a kid.

This was my life as I grew up.  Here is a picture of South Park, Roslyn Heights and the house I lived in. Back in the 1950’s we got Nor’easters (snow storms) that blanketed the homes and streets and, thank God, stopped school!

But during college, maybe before, something snapped inside of me and I wanted wide open spaces….I wanted the wild, the untamed, the jungle or was it the wild west? Okay, I really wanted to see, Where the Boys Are*, in Fort Lauderdale and be one of those guys the gals were after. That worked out well and Florida became just that sort of jungle I was after.

I had no idea how Florida, land of melting sun, would attach itself to my soul but it did.

Now, I’ve lived here since ,errr,,, 1972ish?

I’ve had a wonderful time in the surf—I love to surf waves.

This is me catching a good ride.

My wife and I had a rabbit who lived out back in Micanopy in his cage. One morning we awoke to look out and find a bob cat on top of his cage…..that started me thinking….(Don’t go out at night to pee…..)

Apparently, I’m not the only one to have found nature at my door step here in Northern Florida

Heck, I knew I loved this place of wonder, a place of untamed nature.

But I never lost my eye for the power of that nature as well… We landed on the moon, but maybe we don’t control gators?

It’s okay to count on fences to a certain degree…

So there’s a beauty and danger to Florida none of us Floridians should forget.

How about a night dip in the pool?

And then, only twice, I saw in person and close up by mistake, a Great Horned Owl…They can fly up to 40 MPH and have been known to pick up and kill 60 pound pets!! Our dog, I suspect, was attacked twice by one in our fenced in backyard—where he never goes at night anymore.

 

This is a shot tripped by a night camera….

I was running in the woods about thirty years ago when I saw a beast of a bird…it seemed to stand more than three feet tall and when he took off his wing span was about five feet! Just wow. I once saw another Great Horned Owl as I drove down Rochelle Road outside of Micanopy. The bird took off before I reached him and traveled over the road for about one tenth of a mile right before our car. That bird’s wing span seemed to almost reach from side to side of a double lane road–no joke. It was as if we were seeing a dinosaur.

I’ve fished the swamps for over ten years in my younger (err risky?) days….and there’s a beauty to a swamp—not a McDonald’s or Starbucks to be seen.

But always, there are gators. How many gators?

( Those eyes all belong to gators.)

This is the Alachua Sink in Alachua County, Florida. It’s about  one mile from our home. And this shot, by John Moran got him nation wide PR. His photos have appeared in National Geographic, Life, Time, Smithsonian, the New York Times Magazine and on the cover of the National Audubon Society Field Guide to Florida. Dale and I were lucky enough to canoe down the Suwanee River with John, a time I’ll never forget for many reasons but one of them was having a wart hog pushing against my head from the other side of our tent as I slept at night as he rooted for food.

So, I’ve rooted here in Florida. I love the ocean, always have. And, I love to grow food as my father from Iowa taught me to do. Of course, we have a garden as any Floridian with the space should.

At six months , Shadow, didn’t know he wasn’t me, or human, exactly, and he helped me weed…I miss that help now.

You might be able to see, but at one year old, Shadow figured he should eat green beans right off the plant as we did as we picked them! He stopped eating green beans at about age two.

Once, I was drying herbs out in the front yard in foil sheets when a cop came by, stopped, and walked my way with a grin and his hand on his gun…I smiled and said hello… He looked down at my tins of herbs and said, “What do you have here?”.. “I’m drying herbs!” He wasn’t convinced so I walked him over to the garden and showed him the plants….”Well, I thought I had you busted for pot!”

I can’t blame him….but I didn’t add that I might have learned the entire process by growing and drying pot in my twenties:-)

So, we grow pineapples, too….

Mounds of oranges and grapefruit, too.

It’s all good. This city slicker found a home in the Northern Florida woodland, and I love it.

Heck, the tomatoes came in like a champ this year; Dale canned many.

From Levittown to the wilds of Northern Florida, I’m good. I don’t miss the hustle up north, the quicker pace of life or the traffic. No, I’m good with the gators, bob cat, owls and other critters. The sky here is open to see, and the ocean wind still washes the peninsula by four or five each afternoon. Gainesville is just 60 milers north of the Sub Tropical line. We live in a jungle of 24/7 year round growing just about. The birds love it, and so do I.

Cheers– thanks for visiting.

Hope to hear from you soon!

Franque23

*https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0054469/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


(Click the pic for larger view)

Have you ever noticed the Jimmy Durante* size nose on the front of your dog’s snout?

That dog nose has it all over your nose; a dog can smell perfume from two miles away!

But what has this to do with Lake Bonaparte dog days? Well, it’s true I’ve bragged plenty about the time three years ago when my dog, Shadow, leaped 28 feet off our dock for a ball!

This is the moment; a twenty-eight foot leap that we measured.

But I think this year Shadow took being a dog at the lake to a whole new level. Actually, it’s scary. I mean he turned my four grandsons into dogs with a simple flick of his tail.

I’ve got them just where I want them….Shadow.

The next thing I knew, the boys were crawling around inside and out as if they were dogs! They were rolling around on the lawn, on all fours, barking and pointing like a bird dog…(Shadow, as a  Catahoula Leopard dog, is 1/4 blue tick hound).

I’ll teach them my pointing tail trick...What happened to their tails, anyway?

I’m hoping they omitted the butt sniffing thingy dogs do—not sure, I mean these are boys!

Shadow is about 100% of the time guarding us, or is he keeping us in place?

Does Shadow imagine he’s going to church?!?!

Who’s the real captain of this boat?

I’ve got them reading…..

Okay, timeout for a hug…..

Wait, Isaiah’s got it! Time to hug AND read!!! Shadow, the Great.

It can be tiring training four boys to be dogs.

 

Okay, this is my, ‘They are really screwed up,’ tail…..Shadow.

There’s this magic allure that emanates from dogs even when they’re drooling for your hot dog. Shadow is our dog, but sometimes I really have to wonder. Heck, he’s got me scratching his belly night and day and holding doors open for him whenever he wants. I panic if his water bowl gets low and I’ve about sold my soul for all natural dog treats and food.

You are now under my power…like forever, dude. Shadow

I only carry your socks in my mouth because you think it’s cute.

Guess how many times I’ve absolutely decided that this time, THIS TIME, I was going to drive away on an errand without him and then changed my mind?

Nope, your guess was waaay off…Start thinking about the figures in America’s National debt and you’re getting close.

Orange you gonna take me? Dude, I’m going with you, now get the keys…

Sure, I sleep in some days…when Shadow lets me. Who can sleep with a cold nose on your cheek? Unfortunately, I thought it was funny the first time I didn’t budge from bed once awake and Shadow hiked up on the bed to trample my face. Now, I’ve got two choices in the morning—either I lie comatose in bed without opening an eye, keeping my breathing pattern sleep-like while daring not wiggling a toe the slightest bit OR I get face-dog-paw trampled until I get up.

I’m not gonna admit to being in the rain while walking Shadow or waiting for him to come back home. I know that person looked a lot like me, your honor, but it’s a case of mistaken dog food, no, I mean identity.(Am I low on dog food?)

I do think dogs love to stick their heads out a moving car window for the rush or air, but they also are taking in an entire universe of smells as we speed along.  The book, Nubs,** is one of many amazing true stories about dogs who traveled unreal distances to reunite with their loved people—dogs have a uncanny sense about direction and life in general.

Of course, there’s more…..

“Interactions between people and dogs can be beneficial for both species. Increases in β-endorphin (beta-endorphin), oxytocin and dopamine—neurochemicals associated with positive feelings and bonding—have been observed in both dogs and people after enjoyable interactions like petting,”https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/is-the-gaze-from-those-big-puppy-eyes-the-look-of-your-doggie-s-love/

Maybe one more doggie fact for those lake lovers who follow their dogs around…

“Accordingly, behavioral studies of dog cognition have revealed similarities of dog behavioral traits to humans. Dogs have been found to engage in gaze following similarly to human babies , exhibit selective imitation  similarly to human infants, (Dogs)….observe photos of faces roughly similarly to human adults and to link photos of objects to objects themselves .

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3641087/

This last finding in bold is why we have Shadow’s picture on a magnet on the refrigerator at his eye level…I thought this picture made him happy when I first put it up and now I know it does.

There’s no place like the lake for Bonaparte dogs, so I guess ‘us people’ followed?

Cheers

Franque23

*Jimmy Durante

*

How do you like me, now?

Bonus picture of us building the dock about 10 years ago…Sherman cool dock in background

**https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6557929-nubs


(As always, click the pic for a larger view…)

If it weren’t for the traffic on Rt 3 the place would be paradise—it got so bad this year I think I saw several cars pass by on a single ten mile drive to town! And, I guess I should mention the loon racket at night, especially between 10ish and midnight; will they ever shut up! Then there’s the morning crows and chickadees, the afternoon blue jays, red wing black birds, those dang soaring eagles, cooing cranes, whistling hawks and late afternoon quackin’ ducks to spoil any days nap. When will a guy ever get some sleep!

Even the view can keep a guy up!

There’s a weird speed to time at the lake no one has yet to understand. It’s like a horror show. You’d call time fast to pass at the lake but, then again, it never lets go. Nope, the memories, smiles, talks and moments fly by like the wind but sit like a immovable block in your soul as well. You can think what you like, but I’m saying there’s no surgery that can take this massive thing out once it has seeped inside you. There’s a devious kinda magic to those waters and reflective sky at Bonaparte that mirrors deep by day and night in the Mind’s eye—it’s sorta like a strangle hold on your senses you can’t sue and win.

Lake friends last forever as well. Who has time for that?

The whole experience is torturous.

You catch a good fish a few years back and spend the next 7 trying to do it again….oh brother, what a bother…

It’s been a while for me, being so busy with raising a family for oh so long, since I’ve had real time to make new friends or see old ones while up at the lake. This year was different. I got to know Kim and Steve and their ten inch high killer dog, Lola. I’ve never been afraid of dogs, but now that’s over. I’ve struggled with our fireplace pull rods for over twenty years which is why having some strange guy named, Bill-the-Beatrus I think, fix the rods with a minutes’ thought and about ten minutes time is problematic. My sense of self worth is gone forever, it’s over, doctor, and those psychiatric bills won’t be cheap.

Time spent with Toni, the two Michelle’s, Forbes, Randy, Laura, Vicki and the Sherman’s is always fun, but who let them out of the loony bin? To boot, now there’s no cop on the lake. And now, with our Grandson making friends with our neighbors son pretty much any sense of normalcy that never existed here is entirely gone. Why keep dreaming about it?

It’s also possible to take really bad shots up at the lake..(does anyone have a flashlight)

Hear’s one of my thumb I took this year at the lake….perfect shot!

It’s great to see Bill again; meeting anyone my ancient age or older has a special zing to it. There’s like this on-going contest between the lake petrified folks to see who falls in the lake first and doesn’t get out. I can tell Bill is watching me closely as I age and our fifty-foot bluff gets closer to the house. Some may not know it, but Grady-of -the-lake(now deceased) had nine lives and he spent one of them running towards this very same bluff. There was no blue moon the night before or heralding of angels in the morning of the afternoon when Grady, Dave Morgan and I sat on our porch before this steep drop off. All of a sudden, Grady gets up and starts running full speed toward the bluff as though he might do a high dive into the lake! Only a lunging hand to his ankles stopped his forward movement and saved a grave digger the effort. Mind you, this run of Grady’s had nothing to do with beer(s), but rather the magical pull of our evil lake was at fault.

I’m telling ya, there’s more than the best pure air up at Bonaparte—it’s full of friendship forged through good time and bad. There’s nothing like building a dock, camp or boat house and have the ice take it out the next winter; there’s nothing like the bond of spending money like a drankin’ sailor on lake side repairs. There’s a saying; only buy a boat if you can afford to buy ten—maybe the Bonaparte camps are the same way.

But who cares when you’re young, free and without a care like about none of us.

Still, those losses and efforts all make for great stories shared between a laughing, here’s-to-the-lake crowd. (Beers help, too)The night sky is more than pay back for any expense. But, daytime swimming, soaking in the sun—did I fall asleep that long?—fishin’, kayaking, bird watching, boating, tubin’ ( I did see a skier), and even some sail boating also take the day to flight. The air is incredibly invigorating at the lake. Breathing there is sorta like breathing in an oxygen tent where ever you go. So, the loony’s on the loose, the evil lake stare, the crazy birds, the alluring sunsets, the mesmerizing night stars and stormy five-foot high waves that tear docks and boats apart are all worth it. Why do I think this? Well, I’m nuts like the rest of you.

Cheers from the archives of franque23 Lake Bonaparte insanity logs.

Franque23

 


(clicking pics gives larger view)

The day had no way of knowing, it started off so differently. I still sat at the breakfast table when our four grandchildren, without any prompting, opted to chill and read in the morning light.

.

After working in a library for the past twenty five years-just wow.

But I had a plan.

There’s nothing like a fishin’ trip to spark up day! We’d gathered with high spirits along with some pensive moments: what would happen; how would do; would we come home fishermen or boaters?

We headed down the steps on our way to the boat. (How about those fingers!)

We set course for  Mud Lake with broad smiling faces, multiple rods, bunches of hooks, buckets of smelly worms on board and soda’s in hand. Plus, we had Shadow who knows at five that boat rides rock up and down and all around.

We had attitude, baby.

Guard Shadow had our side covered…

What would happen? Would we have any luck? And, would Shadow dive in after the loons, ducks, beavers and or fish? No one knew?

Bingo!!! Fish up!Actually, more than 60 fish up. My right arm hurt at night from de-worming, and de-fish hooking for those a bit off on that. Hats keep most hooks out of heads, but fingers are hook magnets.

Okay, I’m not sure, but I think this is a ritual we will keep up after any successful fishing thingy.

Time to leave Mud Lake meant our sounder took position to safely lead our way.

We headed home a happy lot. We’d have fish for lunch and a bunch more books were waiting to be read. And, there was also yoga time.

But maybe showing off our catch to our new neighbor friends was the best of it all!

Then again, we’re all neighbors at the Lake! Thanks for enjoying  a dream come true: fishin’ time with the kids and doggie…Ya gotta love it!

Cheers from the lake with more to come!

Franque23

 


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

 

 

 

 


Here’s an interesting, reflective post by a family member. I love her use of observation and reasoning to reach her conclusion. All of us need to reflect and observe more: how were things and how are they now.  Why have things changed for the worse and how can we make things better?  Well founded conclusions need to be followed up with effective action. America, we can do this. I think a posting by the famous actress, Jennifer Lawrence,*(linked here and below https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pr5BPRYp8Mw) offers a glimpse into a successful process to bring about change.

Meanwhile, a family member, Cassie Anderson, wrote:

“I remember very clearly when I first noticed this. I was a home health nurse, in a patient’s house and they were watching the news. I hadn’t had cable tv for 14 years and back then the news consisted of the local Portland news stations. I remember my jaw dropping in disbelief as I heard FOX news in the background as I was doing wound care. I couldn’t believe the utter disrespect and tactless comments the people were saying about the president, (at that time, Obama). They were accusing him of being a Muslim (like it was a bad thing) and talking about his birth certificate, it was crazy to me! This patient was so engulfed in this channel that he had it on almost 24 hours a day. To him, this was normal and to me it was surreal. I thought news reporters reported unbiased facts and it was then I realized that this was clearly not the case. I continued to observe this pattern as I worked as an impatient nurse at the hospital. People would turn on their tv, directly to these “news” stations. They were used to this background noise of people arguing and debating fact less theories or the most recent gossip. Now it appears as though people are normalized to the blatant disrespect in the media and they don’t demand facts or evidence, false statements are forgotten and forgiven as soon as they are said. it’s still crazy to me. Now we have a President, The Leader of the United States, that is a walking example of this blatant lack of respect & dignity. Sadly, this is ok to many because they call it courage. To me, courage is the ability to filter yourself. Courage is the ability to do the research before you blabber. Courage is looking at all sides of a situation and seeking guidance from your cabinet and using your resources to seek truth and facts (not firing everyone around you that opposes you). Courage is taking that pause to do what’s ethically right and I think we have the media to blame for this shift on respect. Turn off your TV people! Save money and stop paying those ridiculous cable bills. It’s all propaganda and a form of brainwashing. Teach your kids respect, be kind to strangers and those that are less fortunate. Be thankful for what you have and actually try to improve the world around you. Go to Church or find some form of spiritual healing. It will change your perspective, for the better. This is what we need to focus on and stop buying into the crap on tv!”

Thanks again , Cassie, for posting.

Cheers

Franque23

 


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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The night had ended…sob.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Franque23

 

 

 

 


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

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

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

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

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

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

Proverbs 3:6 Living Bible (TLB)

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

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

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

Here it is:

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

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

Cheers… hugs, and Merry Christmas!

Franque23

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

*

A very blue wave.

A couple of thoughts to light up the season.

  1. It’s no secret Republicans took a whippin’ in the 2018 mid-terms. The House of Representatives flipped blue by a large margin and likewise Republicans lost State representatives seats across the country. This was much more than a ,’standard,’ mid-term correction vote. This vote was a cry heard loud and clear by both party’s. Republicans were able to hold Texas, slip by Florida and out-right cheat to win Georgia, but over all, the party took a slogging at the polls.

What appeals to me most is this blue wave came about via standard rich donors as well as grass root donations. The tide is more than turning blue, the presence of foreign donations via secret PACS may be washing away, and gerrymandering will be re-whittled in many states. I’d say new people running for office—so many women—(Right? :-))along with Pelosi’s help kept most races on point: on healthcare concerns, medicare and social security.  But there’s still a lot of fog surrounding these issues and how best to drive them home in 2020.

2) The charge for climate change is well meaning but poorly framed for those hoping to gain a political leg up in 2020. It’s a discussion that can’t be won by scientifically based facts or mouth foaming, delusional thinking. Nope, the world has spun too many times for any of us to prove warming trends that spell disaster are part of natural course within the World’s environmental history or not.

Nope, arguing over climate change is exactly what Trump wants his opponents to do.

If you like Trump, argue climate change.

If you hope Trump falls into an oil slick laden with Red Tide, argue pollution.

In fact, if you want to win in 2020 steer clear of climate change. Instead, ask voters to raise their hands if they want toxic drinking water? Do they want to swim in oil slick oceans? Let’s count the hands. Do people want to bathe in fracking industrial waste or not? Let’s hear ye! These are issues Trump’s policies fail to address, worse, they add to the pollution of our living environment.  The beauty of focusing on pollution instead of harping about climate change is that IF we  get control over pollution we will actually be doing all Mankind can do to stem climate change. No, controlling pollution may not solve climate change, but attacking and ending pollution is the best we can do about it. Point: sidestep climate change in 2020.( Put a small boat in your backyard instead.)

Now, a prayer. I pray for wisdom we haven’t seen when dealing with the marching South Americans. Some politicians are starting to ask why we are sending soldiers when we could have been sending help? Yes, the policies of Trump on this issue are plain wrong. If you see a problem coming there may be another way to solve it other than fighting it.

We need more Zen in our leadership.

America, BTW, is huge and loaded with tons of money and power.  America can and should have mobilized a huge peace force sort of coalition to march on down to our boarder via govt. funded fare to build housing for these people who flee for their lives and march to the U.S. If you’re getting checks from the U.S. for not working, I say you’re on the planes. We’re going to use as many U.S. products as possible to build communities where these people can stay until entirely vetted, politically and health wise.  Bingo American industries of every sort—you just struck it rich by a huge government demand for every commodity you produce! They need food? Bingo, mid-west farmers! Your load of customers just arrived and our tax dollars will buy your food and ship it to where it’s needed.

But where will the money come from to support a Hoover Dam type project to turn an unused place into a living space? It’s called tax dollars—you know the ones our government wastes every day in about every way.

Idea! We could start finding the money needed to house these immigrants by dropping 50% less bombs around the world every day.  If we did stop our morbid need to bomb the world, our government coffers would be raining money instead of death and destruction.

Think about it: imagine. The U.S. actually accepts a large immigrant population wisely, securely, without shooting or jailing a single kid! America shows what must be done to support and help our migrating populations the world over!!! How neat it would be for America to become world leaders, the ones who saved the world once again!

There it is: thoughts and prayers done right, without guns but with brain power, might, will, huge amounts of money and a willing workforce. There it is: a booming economy led by successful life giving policy. There would be wrinkles to iron out, but this should have been our focus, not walls, closed boarders and an army.

The up and coming new lot of Democratic politicians understand that thinking straight is easy to do. Here’s five examples of women who schooled together, stuck together and all won seats in Colorado  state Legislature in 2018.  This article is quite a read; a map to political success and strength.

https://people.com/politics/five-female-friends-state-senate-colorado-won/

Cheers

Franque23….Om

  • Please note…this ocean shot is from that ,’sh*t hole,’ country, Mexico.

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

November 2019
M T W T F S S
« Oct    
 123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
252627282930  

Categories