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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


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/

 


It’s spring. I haven’t seen as nice a one in Gainesville for three years. It’s cool and has been since March first. Here we are, hitting the last week in April and low clouds keep the sun off as flowers reach for the sky. Birds take baths for fun as bees hum like a humming bird’s wings.

Lately, for years, it’s been way too hot in April to call it spring. The blazing temperatures have started early and blasted through the land until October. But this isn’t the norm, not if you consider the past forty years. This year has felt right. The winter hit hard for ten days or so and now March and April have refused to spring forth too quickly.

Have you ever noticed how some people come into your life like season’s change your window view? Some personalities bluster their way into your life as a March 1st wind but then drift off, they move, change or seem so different from what you thought. Soon, they are quietly gone, never to be seen again, as if they were a lamb you never knew but watched trot over a hillside you won’t traverse. Other’s secretly appear without notice, but bloom in months or years right under your nose into your everyday experience and you can’t remember when they weren’t there.

Of course, there are those who insist on being every season of person—you call it a stormy relationship, one you can’t contain but wish to keep. They give both smiles and trimming to your everyday self.  You know, the self you think of being the same as when you were half as old. Some seasons of life pass so unnoticed, don’t they? The old whisper to the young, “Take your time and appreciate what you have.” Thing is, when you’re a young burning pit of passion and energy, it’s hard to find a moment to sit back and take a picture of your life. And, it’s even harder to picture life being any different. 

A dog’s love can be like this. It’s learn this, fetch that, let’s go or sit and then in a few short 12 years or so they are gone.* 

(Don’t miss the link below if you love dogs….)

The season’s passing give us our best sense of time. Sundials came to Babylon about 6 thousand years ago and then the ,”Midday,” concept was made popular by the early Egyptians. Pluto invented the first water based alarm clock, but I’ve no idea what this means. Okay, I’ll take a guess. A sand hour-glass balanced a pot of water above your sleeping head until the sand ran out and the pot dumped a pile of cold water on your face?

I’ve always hated alarm clocks.

It’s during these early months of spring and fall when Florida truly becomes a peninsula weather wise. The air inversions over the ocean sends a smooth wind across the sands, the thick jungles and built-up cities of Florida. It’s a bit like Hawaii in Florida during the two seasons—those living in Hawaii are so lucky, right? But, maybe, every place can be magical.

It’s hard for me to imagine a more peaceful place than a late afternoon up at Lake Bonaparte.

Florida Palms made me laugh when I first hit town some 48 years ago. You don’t find these up North. Tall, skinny, they don’t provide much shade but once you hear the wind blow through their rustling fronds you understand.

There’s a life to this part of Northern Florida, where there are still many more trees than people, and maybe many more lakes, streams and brooks than roads. Here, the bear, coyote, brown, red and grey fox trot. Deer move by mostly at night, even the wild boar plunder the brush—the panther lives. Like us, those animals and the eagles, hawks, birds of every kind, all living things are all touched by the seasons.

We live in an ocean of time.**

Thing is, it’s possible now that all the animals and even the earth are touched more by us than by the seasons. It’s odd to think that the entirety of life is counting on us. They’re counting on mankind making sense like the seasons have for millenniums, that we will come and pass to leave the future open.

Let’s leave it open…

( Thanks to Bonaparte’s web site for picture.)

A seasoned person is one well schooled by life.  We have great thinkers, great leaders, inventors of all kinds, but are we seasoned? Have we been?

I hope the sand in our hour-glass doesn’t run out too late to wake us up.

Franque23

We have to dream big.

*https://franque23.wordpress.com/2014/04/20/toby-toes-youre-a-good-dog/

** My wife of 38 years, though I’ve known her for 45, but who’s counting;-) Bye.


My wife and I visited Japan two times while our oldest daughter lived and worked in the country for five years. We went up, down, around and across the country, in and out of big cities, small cities, to islands, to tourist places, local bars, Mount Fuji and more. We struggled to learn how to use the toilets once we found them, how to catch the wrong and right trains and how to bow the correct amount for almost every occasion. It’s a wonder I didn’t see more signs for chiropractic help but, then again, how would I read them? Anyway, if you’re looking to experience a spaced out feeling while traveling but can’t afford a ticket on the ship to the moon, Japan might be your best option.

Liking sushi and/or soup (Miso, or the egg laden, Udon) is a plus when tramping Japan, but there’s so much more on the plate there. Of course, I can’t tell you what half of it was or is, but if you have a daughter like mine you might find yourself enjoying Saki while ordering a second helping what seemed a delicious casserole only to later find out it was composed of fried cow guts. Bon appetit, and enjoy the stronger Shochu if you like Saki…it will help you forget.

Okay, discount some of the eye-ball foods or still alive squid. Concentrate, instead, on the millions of types of shoes the Japanese wear or the clothes that range from traditional Kimonos, New York City tight, expensive high style to the ‘metal’ look. Notice the street signs….

They mean no peeing or pooping on the street….just a head’s up/

And enjoy the absence of fearing you’ll be mugged (Ain’t gonna happen in Japan…) There’s a beauty in the country that is mirrored in the people’s hearts. It’s a kind, obedient society that honors others as they honor themselves and their heritage.

Our daughter lived in Kitsuki, Japan, where she taught English to middle schoolers who were strictly forbidden to chew gum in school, that a ‘high crime.’ Imagine this: if a teacher is ever caught driving after drinking the entire staff and children of the school are punished! See? It’s all for one and one for all or things get stinky real fast. Japan rows together.

My daughter left her purse on a train station bench and those attendants got her purse back to her days later though she lived in another city. Of course, her items had not been touched.

Kelly lived in a bay comprised of three cities: Kitsuki; Beppu and Oita.

Our daughter lived in Kitsuki which is located approximately where the number '10' is on this map...

Our daughter lived in Kitsuki, Japan,  which is located approximately where the number ’10’ is on this map…Swinging south by train leads to Beppu and then to Oita.

The ‘hot’ fun really begins in Beppu.. The place is smokin’-literally. The city sits on top of 3000 hot, volcanic vents (Bring marshmallows)city

beppu-original-36849

We bundled in robes and laid down in hot, black beach sand and listened to the ocean lap the shore twenty feet away as the warming effect soothed our souls. The rest of the day’s 90 degree heat felt cool.

I think it was here in, Beppu,  that I had a massage that featured a gal who actually hopped on my back and walked a few miles. Warning: don’t do this more than a few times per day-that could get like, really addictive.

On to Oita. (say it fast three times to sound like a tweety bird.)

That's Monkey Mountain behind us

That’s Monkey Mountain behind us-Our daughter’s adopted, ‘Grand Parents” in Japan put us up in this swank ocean side hotel and taught us how to take Onsens (Japanese baths) and how to eat some of the food.

Monkey Mountain is a famous place near, Oita, Japan. It’s teaming with wild monkeys, but a visit to Monkey Mountain doesn’t start that way. No, it starts at the base of the 2000 foot high mountain where a quaint train station painted in bright primary colors nestles among a dense jungle greenery-not a monkey to be seen, only a few signs and attendants that understand English who direct people to the train. Of course, this is a jungle train, something you might expect in a Disney safari ride- open air, no glass windows, small cabs that slowly rattle along a twisting, mountain climbing train track.

We finally stopped at the ruins of an ancient temple that looked out over the vast ocean. Again, the ‘monkey mountain’ thing seemed hardly unique with nary one in sight but for a few, small, cute monkeys. I had to wonder why the signs said, “Do not look monkeys in the eye?”

Jus’ a few cute ones….

“What monkeys?” I had to ask. Then someone hit a huge gong.

The entire landscape that I’d mistaken for jungle turned out to be made of monkeys!!!!

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A few thousand monkeys…

Me as a monkey!

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“I’m not looking; I’m not looking; I’m not looking….” Not a time to play, Peek-a-boo.

All of this was hysterical-like my wife. Still, we survived but as much as I enjoyed this my wife says, ‘Never again,’ and she hardly appreciated the monkey beaded small change purse I’d secretly bought her while there-go figure!

Japan is a beautiful country for Americans to visit. Their society has  so much to teach us. For one: respect, respect for the land, ourselves and others. I grimace to realize how much we as American’s have missed as I count the cigarette butts in the beach sands of Florida. The world isn’t really our ash tray. But I digress…

Somehow, in the vast scheme of things Japan has realized as a country that they were as responsible for Hiroshima as the United States was, that World War is a ‘no one is innocent’ thing. “All are punished.”* The people here hold life dearly, and respect every step they take.

The beauty of Japan is truly unbelievable.

cheers

Franque23

*Shakespeare

 

 

 


Kudos to reader Ginny for sending me this dynamite video. I missed the saddle shoes, however.

http://safeshare.tv/w/FEDEwZHZXu

cheers ,,,and I hope you enjoyed this glimpse back into the fifties…

franque23

*I’ve two books out on Kindle. Please spread the word and share the links!

links for both books in the Avatar Magic Series:
Book one, Avatar Magic and book two, The Code of Avatar Magic are both on kindle now.

Here, now, it is easy to see how beautiful the World could be if we could only connect as the People we are. If only we could just leave the politics of War behind us and embrace all the meaningful connections that have recently become available to us as a Mankind via the internet. If we could just give up every cause except for the cause of Peace perhaps we could then progress as the united People we truly are. If only we as a People could pass through the ‘door’  life opens  without seemingly closing it on our own fingers!
 
My friend could be one of these children pictured.

My friend could be one of the children in this  picture.

I was certain I had the drop on reality back in the days of the Vietnam demonstrations.  What could America be thinking? How could a country as great as ours be crawling through hand dug sniper and supply tunnels in the hopes of killing a thousand more soldiers who were mostly under the age of 14?History had proven fighting in this area was a losing cause and History’s pages were once again being numbered by the American body bags and coffins now arriving daily here at ‘Home’.

The mirror told me my long hair, various beard styles and heart felt yearnings made me somehow someone who now was  in the know. Plus, it was as much fun to flip the Peace sign to those of us who agreed with it  as it was to flip the Peace sign to people you knew it would piss off. Hey, come on, I was twenty and there were a lot of people over 30 who  Rubin said I shouldn’t trust.

The more I flipped people off the more I knew our soldiers had to come home and come home now. “Hell no, we won’t go”! It’s “one, two, three what are we fighting for?”-that was the question and I knew I had the answer: we were fighting for money, natural resources and for the geographical advantage this land might give us when fighting ,yet again, the next war. It was very simple, straight and clear-unlike how my head often was back then.

Sometimes God, the Great Spirit, seems to have a very special sense of humor right? I recall the time, after having been raised as a Southern Baptist, I spent nights praying a righteous man would come into one of my daughter’s life. And he did. Oddly though, he was and is of the Mormon Faith-you see I’d been brought up in church to think this one Faith was full of  followers who were surely going to Hell. Perfect!

It was,  however, years after my marching, peace flipping, sign carrying, know it all days,  when I got a glimpse into how God not only has a sense of humor, but also a special talent for teaching .

Now, I’m remembering my days as an Oaks Mall Store Manager-Cutlery World, soon to be owned by Hoffritz, needed a manager. I found a landing there for five years as just that. College students filled the part time positions and when I took over the shop a young lad name Viet Do had already been working there for 2 years. He knew the ropes; me, basically, I knew nothing. Kindly he showed me, now his boss, how to run the 23 mode register, do inventory, stocking, displaying and central ordering. Near the end of his time there I simply asked him of his childhood.

This is what Viet-Do he told me…

‘I grew up in Vietnam during the war. My family supported the U.S. I lost cousins in the fighting. The fighting filled my childhood life-my fears, dreams, daylight hours, my future plans and all my friends’ lives as well. We all knew people close to us who had died or who had someone near to them die in the fighting.

The war was now said to be lost, to be ending. My family had several years ago come to live in Saigon. My last day there I lived in the middle of a high rise apartment building- the U.S. had landed helicopters on the roof  to rescue those they could. At the same time, the Vietcong were quickly entering the bottom of the apartment building  pulling the occupants out on to the streets below. Some of these people had children who were my friends. The people, some my friends, were being executed down on the streets as I watched from my apartment window.

My family did not know who would get to our door first, the Vietcong or the U.S. soldiers. The answer to this question would mean the difference between life and death for me, my sisters and for my whole family-we could only wait. The answer came. U.S. soldiers grabbed my sister, me and my parents. We hurried above to begin our new lives, to experience freedom’…

I’ve never forgotten Viet Do-I’ve never forgotten his story. Viet-Do would most likely have never gotten out of that apartment in Saigon alive  had the troops listened to my marching feet and Peace flipping hands of so long ago. He wouldn’t have been here when I and my family needed him to help us. Had I gotten my way back then, I may have not made my way now.

I was grateful our troops had stayed for at least  that last day-the day they saved Viet-Do’s life.

Why is it so difficult for us to have and hold Peace as a People? Here, now, it’s easy to dream, easy to find Peace and Hope for the Future.  And sometimes it’s easy to see God’s sense of humor in things but,  most often, as History shows, it’s much more difficult for us to see the teachings.  I still think the lessen is  Peace.

Franque

Avatar Magic, by Gerald Franquemont, is on Kindle and it can be downloaded onto most readers.

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