Fallen Friends

Their arrival was expected but the actual day was as always a surprise.

One spring day the trees were bare, and then seemingly out of nowhere they were covered in leaves. First there was a sprinkling of small buds than the branches were covered to the point that the leaves appeared to be suspended in mid-air.

Through out the spring and summer we came to know them as friends and companions. On warms days their shade kept our houses cool and the air fresh. Their rustling at night provided soothing natural music lulling us to sleep.

When summer storms brought wind and rain our friends provided a natural umbrella where we could sit through the storm watching the rain dance and listening hopefully for the distant sound of thunder precursor to the excitement of lightening igniting the cloud filled sky.

Soon signs appear in the trees that summer is waning and autumn will soon bring crispness to the air. Thoughts of apple pies and jack-o-lanterns occupy our minds as Halloween and Thanksgiving are just around the corner.

Fall colors begin to dominate the skyline. Bright reds and oranges with touches of yellow have changed the palette of the leaves. Before long leaves begin to drift gently to the ground and bare branches reach once again for the sky.

Thank you my fallen friends for the peace and warmth you brought us through out the seasons of your short life. Thank you for the joy of spring, the shade of summer and the piles of leaves each fall that are just perfect for jumping in rather one is eight or eighty.

Halloween Treats

I love autumn. Here in Southern California it signals the beginning of the Santa Ana’s a warm sometimes dangerous wind that blows across the desert and down through the canyons. I love the smell of the air, I love the crisp cool nights and most especially I love the changing leaves as cycle through their green, red and orange color scheme.

As a kid, like most of us, here in the states especially I loved Halloween. Letting your childish imagination run wild one night out of the year. Picking a costume that either reflected what was popular or how creative you could be.

That is one area in which I feel sorry for the kids of today. It seems that costume manufacturers have sucked most of the creativity out of the holiday. Where in my youth the streets would be filled with a dazzling array of homemade costumes, today it seems that nine out of ten kids arrive wearing a pre-manufactured character of the moment. Never knowing the joy and excitement one can feel when their own costume idea comes to life before their eyes as they prepare for weeks in anticipation of the big day.

Back in the day the treats were also a lot more plentiful. Before candy makers discovered the profitability in making bite size bars houses used to hand out full sized Milky Way’s and Hershey Chocolate Bars. It was a chocolate lovers paradise. Now days most kids come home with a bag of candy bits or pieces of gum nothing like the treasure troves I remember.

Best of all was being able to walk the streets for hours combing the neighborhoods far and wide searching for that special Halloween treat. If we were lucky there would be a warm Santa Ana wind blowing, maybe a few clouds in the sky and a beautiful full moon lighting the pathways we followed on our big adventure.

Being Catholic there was the added benefit of November 1st being a school holiday. Though All Saints Day is a holy day of obligation to us kids it meant an hour of church and a whole day free to dive into our Halloween Treats.

Social Anxiety

I have been battling Panic Disorder, complicated by Social Anxiety for five years now. I was not born with either of these personality roadblocks. Where they come from has yet to be determined.

Social Anxiety annexed space in my brain sometime after I completed high school. When exactly I am not sure. In high school I would not have been confused with a social butterfly or the life of the party by any means. However, I did participate in extracurricular activities that required somewhat of an outgoing personality and at least a small amount of social skills.

I belonged to the drama club; at my high school they were called the Thespians. I had roles in several plays including “The Male Animal” and “The Princess and the Pea”. I even directed a small play, which was a senior requirement.

During high school and for a short time after I worked as a busboy at a local restaurant, which of course required a great deal of interaction with the public and was not a position for wallflowers.

At twenty I left the restaurant to work for a major bank. By my twenty-first birthday I was the supervisor of a small staff. This was a position, which required a great deal of communication skills, especially when ninety percent of the other managers felt that I was to wet behind the ears to be a supervisor.

Sometime after my twenty-fifth birthday I lost my confidence. Maybe at birth I was only provided with a limited supply and I burned through it to quickly. Of course at the time I did not realize that I was developing Social Anxiety, for that matter I would not have even know there was such a disorder.

I found myself avoiding returning phone calls to both coworkers and customers. When I would reach for the phone I would find that my stomach was in knots and I was worried about saying something stupid while conversing with them.

Usually an outspoken participant at staff meetings I found myself searching for the cat who had stolen my tongue. I no longer spoke up and was petrified that someone would ask me a question.

Socially I began to find it difficult to ask someone out on a date. Even when I had a steady girlfriend my concern over her reaction to dating choice would cause me to freeze up and stutter the first thought that came to mind.

I even got to the point where if a fast food restaurant was empty of customers that I would linger in the parking lot until someone else entered than I would follow them in so as not to be the only one in the shop.

I was pathetic.

Now in my forties and having learned a great deal about Social Anxiety I can see so much clearer how obvious my actions would have been to someone who was in the know. I was and am still to a degree a classic case. If not for my psychologist I would still be looking at the world from behind a wall of silence. I still am a Social Anxiety sufferer but I am learning to not allow my fears to become a ball and chain around my ankle.

Mom Date

All of the tests are in; according to the results my mother’s cancer remains in the bone and nowhere else. Genetically speaking the doctors were not able to determine with 100% certainty that it is estrogen based, as was her breast cancer, but the oncologist felt the odds were good enough that he is treating her as if it was.

She is receiving Zometa on a monthly basis. After the first month it appears that the Zometa is working. All of her counts were lower than they were in the previous month before treatment began. She is still in a lot of pain but that is one of the side effects of the treatment. Psychologically her mood has improved greatly as she sees hope for the future.

Thanks again to everyone who has been keeping her in their thoughts and/or prayers it is much appreciated.

Artist Envy

As a closeted writer I have tried through out the years to paint vivid, colorful pictures with my words. Sometimes I succeed and sometimes I fail miserably. Such is the path of the creative process.

If I were unable to write I would love to have the talent to paint or draw my ideas on a canvas. To be able to mix the paints, blend the charcoal or sketch with a pencil would be a dream come true.

There is only one thing holding me back: talent or the lack there of. In my minds eye I can see a tree, bare branches reaching for a dark sky filled with clouds threatening to at any moment drench the dry, dusty earth. The last leaves of fall scattered upon the ground. Maybe one or two leaves clinging stubbornly to a branch as the wind scatters their brethren before the coming storm.

Sure I can see all of that perfectly but I am unable to translate that picture to paper without the use of words. Any attempt to create on canvas what I see in my mind ends in unmitigated disasters. Lopsided trees with limp branches flat, without dimension cling to a canvas waiting for a spark of life that I am unable to bring to the page.

Hell, I cannot even draw a straight line with a ruler and a pencil; somehow the line ends up crooked no matter what I do. Five year olds picking up a paint brush for the first time can conceptualize what they see on paper in a believable manner while any attempt I make resembles the artwork of a drunk coming off of a month long binge.

Maybe one day I will discover some small talent using paints, chalk or charcoal. Until that day a pencil will continue to be a substitute for a brush and words will continue to be the color with which I paint.

Colors of the Season

Red and gold leaves
have infiltrated
the branches
on the tree
outside
of my bedroom window.
I watch each morning
and yet again
before my head
hits my pillow
each night.
How do they
do that?
This changing colors
without witnesses.
Where do
the autumn colors
come from?
One day the leaves
on my tree
are a thousand
shades of green,
the next
not a shade
to be found.
Where does
the green go?
South
for the winter,
or does it hibernate
in the knothole
halfway up
the backside
of my tree
waiting patiently
for the arrival
of spring.
Just once
I would like
to witness
red and gold
as they move in
and change the season
right before
my unsuspecting eyes.

No Weather Here

Being a weatherman or woman in Southern California has to be one of the most embarrassing positions in the weather community. Los Angeles may have movie studios, beaches, the Hollywood Bowl and countless other attractions. The job of weatherperson in the LA market must come with quite a few perks. Though no amount of extras can eliminate the pure shame one would feel sitting around the bar with fellow meteorologists at the national convention listening to the adventures of ones colleagues and dreading the arrival of your turn to share.

How could any self-respecting weatherperson from Los Angeles hope to follow any of the following weather moments?

Florida weatherperson: during Hurricane Ivan I found myself broadcasting from the center of town. During my voiceover I explained that cleanup had barely begun from the last hurricane when we were about to be hit by another one. The roads were empty and all of the storefronts were boarded up in anticipation of 20 inches of rain and winds exceeding 100 miles per hour. As the fury of the storm increased my cameraman and I both tied ourselves to trees in order to keep bringing up to date information to the station and anyone who might still be able to receive our broadcast. We fought the storm for what seemed like hours until the eye of the storm passed overhead and our producer finally ordered us to get the hell out of Dodge.

New England weatherperson: during one 24 hour period last winter a blizzard dumped over 30 inches of snow on and around the community where my station is located. My cameraperson and I were providing live shots from various locations around the town. In between live broadcasts we helped the highway patrol and other agencies dig people and their cars out of snow banks and mud holes. At one point the station reported that while they could hear my voice over the picture we were providing was basically all white due to the fury of the storm.

Oklahoma weatherperson: in tornado alley we had six devastating tornados within a weeks time. My cameraperson and I found ourselves chasing twisters all over the southern half of the state. At one point we were tailing a tornado when without warning it reversed direction and began chasing us. We fled for our lives and soon found ourselves huddled under an overpass with several carloads of people as the tornado passed overhead. Carrying with it a tractor and two cars that had been abandoned by their owners.

Los Angeles weatherperson: if any moisture falls from the sky anywhere in Southern California my producer sends me out in a yellow slicker and I have to remind everyone that we are under storm watch 200-. Last week for instance we had three inches of rain over a forty-eight hour period and my voice over was required to express concern that another even bigger storm was heading our way before the clean up from the last storm had begun. All the while I am standing their looking like a big yellow doofus with no real weather to report.

The only consolation has to be that by the time the laugher dies down everyone else feels so sorry for you that you do not have to buy another drink the rest of the night.

Grazing the Aisles

When did grocery stores become eat as you shop restaurants?

At first I thought it was a generational trait that it was young people who for some reason did not know any better. However, I have begun to notice that this disorder affects people of all ages, races and economic status.

I am sure that anyone who might read this rant has noticed the same thing. Shoppers who despite their outward appearance obviously suffering from malnutrition because they are unable to shop without opening various packages so they can snack while the prowl the aisles of the local grocery store.

Experts have been telling us for years that shopping on an empty stomach was a bad idea. Their theory being that you will make more impulse buys rather than purchasing what is on you list. Obviously the experts missed the boat. Shopping on an empty stomach leads not only to impulse buying but an epidemic of impulse eating and drinking.

As of late shopping at my neighborhood chain market has bordered on the repulsive. Walking the aisles in search of the items on my list I have more than once found myself face to face with a mouthful of Cheetos or Fritos or Doritos. Not only that but when the premature eater ingests all of these salty products they find themselves dying of thirst and they are overcome by an uncontrollable impulse to open their Pepsi or Coke product and take a big swig, followed by a belch of inhuman proportions.

I could almost understand this behavior if the person grazing the aisles was a child who was obviously hungry, homeless or helpless. Lately though the herds grazing the aisles have been made up of people that I see everyday in the neighborhood. (No close friends though, that would be rather awkward.) Nevertheless these are people who are not lacking nourishment in any sense of the word. They are healthy well fed individuals who have by their own volition decided that it is now socially acceptable to digest the food before you buy it.

The people I feel sorry for are the checkers. They have to scan these half eaten products, covered with grease or saliva and keep their opinion on this behavior to themselves. The stores must expect their employees to turn a blind eye to these actions because I have yet to see a manager or an employee ask someone to refrain from digesting products that have not been purchased.

What happened to the days when shoppers were horrified if a child sampled a grape, a nut or a candy from the bulk candy bin?

Second Chances

I have always heard that when fate closes a door one would be better served to look for an open window rather than bemoan the circumstances of ones life. Personally I have always felt looking for the open window came across as rather trite until my mother’s recent diagnosis.

Twenty-one years ago I was fortunate enough to be one half of a couple that gave birth to a wonderful son. However, the joy of parenthood was not strong enough to sustain the fading embers of an early marriage. When my son was barely a year and a half his mother and I divorced.

Having come from a broken home myself I had grown up with the intention of not repeating the mistakes of my father. Divorce was the first mile that I walked in my father’s shoes. Divorce though is fairly common and I did not beat myself up much over the outcome of my marriage. My vow as it were was directed at being a better father to my son than my father was to me.

As my son grew we spent every other weekend together. We took trips to Disneyland and the movie theater walks through the park and wrestling in the front yard. My son was growing into a person and my lover for him knew no bounds. However, my relationship with his mother had gone from frosty to full scale blizzard. When we spoke on the phone her sarcasm dripped heavily and my patience wore thin. All the stress began to take a toll on my relationship with my son.

A trap loomed before me and I walked into it without blinking an eye. My frustration level became so great that my phone calls to his house grew further and further apart. My visits became less frequent and my actions began to resemble those of my father on every level. By the time he was eleven we had no relationship at all and my transformation was complete. I had become everything I vowed I was not except unlike my father I could not blame my fall on alcoholism I was a poor excuse for a father.

Years passed and the bridges of opportunity slowly disappeared. I had neither the strength nor the courage to rebuild that which I had destroyed. In the intervening years I only saw my son once, at the funeral of his great-grandmother. We spoke but for a moment and than he was gone.

A few years ago one of my cousins saw him working at Disneyland’s California Adventure. Since that day I had visited the park several times and I always kept my eyes open hoping that fate would allow me to “accidentally” come across him. I never saw him though, and the staff could not give out any personal information so another door that was slightly ajar was closed.

Not to long before my mom was diagnosed I came across an old friend who was now working for Disney. They were able to confirm that he was still employed there but nothing else. Asking my friend to violate and rules of employment was not proper no matter how badly I wanted to see my son.

Fast forward to my mother’s diagnosis. I was worried that my son would not have the opportunity to spend some time with her before things got bad. Even if he wanted nothing to do with me I wanted to at least give him a choice when it came to seeing his grandmother. I asked my friend at Disney whether it would be possible for them to pass a message along to him without breaking any company policies.

I waited on pins and needles for a reply. Finally I received word that he was interested in contacting me but had no contact information. I forwarded my information to him through my friend and a few days later he wrote to me.

He was interested in not only seeing his grandmother but exploring the possibility of rebuilding some sort of relationship between us. Over the next week or so we exchanged daily emails. He had quite a few painful questions for me about what happened. Has difficult as it was I did not sugar coat my actions and I apologized for what a lousy dad I had turned out to be.

We arranged to meet for lunch and ended up spending seven hours catching up. While I still found it hard to believe he was willing to give me a second chance. I am not sure what I have done to deserve a son with such a forgiving heart but he is trying to forgive me and I am trying to earn his trust.

It is at this point that my path has diverted from that of my fathers. I recently turned forty-five which was my fathers age when he passed away. Unlike my father I was given a second chance, a second chance that I plan to make the most of.

Rain

Raindrops fell beyond my window, whispering words from a time beyond yesterday.

"How did you come to know the history of our world," I asked?

From the beginning water has been the one constant on your planet. Water traveled across the universe on buried in asteroids, planetoids, meteorites and comets. As the galactic rocks broke up in the atmosphere the H20 fell to the surface and collected in gullies and ravines, canyons and impact craters.

Millenniums passed, lakes were formed, and rivers were created feeding oceans teaming with new life. Each drop that fell from the sky eventually evaporated, forming clouds which in turn filled with raindrops and snowflakes which eventually fell to the earth once again, reincarnation in its purist form.

Raindrops were witnesses to the first life forms crawling, from the primordial sea to begin life upon the land. Life that across time became dinosaurs, fearsome creatures who lived and died by one commandment: survival of the fittest.

When the asteroid impacted: billions of life forms, from viruses to dinosaurs became extinct. Water vapor formed vicious storms that scoured the planet from pole to pole.

Early man looked upon rain with superstition and fear. Creating legends and gods to explain the simplicity of the life cycle of water. Life depended on water for sustenance rain created life drought brought death. Rain meant the gods were pleased drought meant the gods had been offended. Soon sacrifices were made to please the gods. First crops, than animals if rain failed to follow eventually humans were sacrificed anything to please the gods.

Cities soon formed and man learned to collect rain in cisterns and holding tanks. Droughts were still feared but more manageable.

Enlightenment spread slowly across your world. Rain rinsed the weariness of the road from the one you call Buddha. He more than others of his times understood the cycles of life. How each and every action affected the other life forms sharing the planet with humanity.

Jesus survived forty days and nights wandering the desert sharing water with the wild creatures of the sand. He taught peace but was tortured and killed in the most violent of ways.
The messages that these enlightened souls brought to your world have for the most part fallen upon deaf ears. So many of the innocents have been killed in disputes over gods and religions.
From inquisitions to crusades, from martyrs to cults tears have fallen like rain in protest over what has been done in the name of Jehovah.

Today the pollutants thrown into the air by your factories and automobiles have affected the water cycle; the waste dumped into your oceans has become part of the evaporation process. Rain is but a part of the natural cycles that maintain your planet. Rain now has become a problem for you and other life forms. The plant and animal life you consume have been corrupted by lead and acid rain slowly poisoning life, as you know it.

Evaporation in ages past brought about a cleansing of mother nature’s life forms, now mother nature has because of humanity become a spreader of disease and death. Yes rain is beautiful but it should also remind you of what needs to be done to restore your planet before it is to late.

I awoke to the sound of birds frolicking in the puddles left behind by the evening’s shower. The open window brought the cool breeze of a fall morning into my bedroom. The freshness of the air could not completely replace the feeling of loss left behind by my conversations with the rain.

Heaven

I found this essay while going through some old papers. I do not know who the author is. The message though is one I thought that others might enjoy.

A man and his dog were walking along a road.

The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead. He remembered dying, and that the dog had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother of pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold.

He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side. When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, where are we?"

"This is heaven, sir," the man answered.

"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.

"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll some ice water brought right up." The man gestured, and the gate began to open.

"Cam my friend," gesturing toward his dog,"come in, to?" the traveler asked.

"I am sorry, sir but we do not accept pets."

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going.

After another long walk, and at the top of another hill, he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

"Excuse me!" he called to the reader. "Do you have any water?"

"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there." The man pointed to a place that could not be seen from outside the gate. "Come on in."

"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog.

"There should be a bowl by the pump."

They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside. The traveler filled the bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to his dog.

When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree waiting for them.

"What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.

"This is heaven," was the answer.

"Well that is confusing," the traveler said. "The man down the road said that was heaven to."

"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That is hell."

"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?"

"No. I can see how you might think so, but we are just happy that they screen out the folks who will leave their best friends behind."

Lungs in Crisis VII

With my mother’s recent diagnosis the chronicle of my ongoing search for a clear diagnosis of my lung disorder has fallen by the wayside. Rather than ramble on over several more updates that bring my illness to the present day I figured I would provide a brief synopsis instead.

As of next week I will have been off of work for a year and a half. I have visited doctors of various specialties in search for a long-term prognosis.

In February a bronchoscope was performed with pictures and including a biopsy. The good news was that no cysts, tumors or malignancies were found. A small infection was located and antibiotics were provided but no improvement was noted.

In June and July I underwent the various tests to determine if I had any allergic reactions to various environmental pollutants. While it was determined that I had a variety of mild allergies none were serious enough to warrant treatment. Nor were any of my reactions serious enough for my lung disorder to be related to any allergies.

More recently I visited a gastrointestinal specialist to determine if acid reflux or any other digestive issues were irritating my lungs. At least the doctor had a sense of humor concerning the whole thing. His first reaction was that the next time he had a difficult case involving the digestive system he was going to send them to a pulmonologist just in case. Once he got down to business he had me under go an upper gi to see what was happening, as it turned out not much of anything. No polyps. No cysts. No ulcers. No acid reflux. Basically my digestive tract was in pristine condition and was in no contributing to my lung disorder.

Which brings us to the present day. One and one half years later and we are no closer to diagnosing the problem. I have a chronic cough and reduced lung capacity with no cure on the horizon.

The good news is that I am fortunate enough not to have any form cancer or emphysema. Overall I am in good health. I just cannot breathe as well as I used to.

Mom Date III

Mom had her bone biopsy last Wednesday. The biopsy was the final test before her oncologist could develop her initial treatment plans.

On Tuesday this week she had her follow up visit with the oncologist.

According to the provided reports the following is what he concluded. The cancer as it stands now is restricted to her skeletal system including the bone marrow. While the cancer type remains elusive. Despite the size of the sample taken there, was not a large enough cancer based cellular group that would allow the lab to determine the form of cancer.

At the present time the oncologist is going to continue to treat her cancer as if it was estrogen related considering her previous bouts with breast cancer. Her treatment will consist of two parts hormonal and monthly injections of Zometa. According to the literature Zometa is one of the latest greatest drugs used in the treatment of bone based cancers. While it Zometa will not provide a cure, what it does due is arrest the growth and development of the cancer cells. This aides in keeping the cancer localized to the bone and in the best case scenario protecting the vital organs from the cancer cells.

If all goes according to the oncologist’s best case scenario he believes that she will be with us for at least five years. Considering the mood and expectations when we first heard the news five years sounds like a gift from heaven.

Thanks to all my Internet friends and neighbors who prayed in their own way to their own gods’ offering concern and good thoughts which I have no doubt have helped my mother both spiritually, psychologically and physically.

Safe Surfing

Dateline Puddingstone Lake, California. Today it was reported that an unprovoked and vicious attack was launched against a computer belonging to Darrell “Mad Murmurer” Brueckner.

The attack took place sometime between October 5th and October 8th. While Mr. Brueckner claims to have a great deal of Internet experience it appears that other family members who, according to Mr. Brueckner: “could not find their backsides with two hands and a photograph to identify it”; have been practicing unsafe surfing without his knowledge.

The problem began to manifest itself when Mr. Brueckner, author of Murmurs From the Porcelain Throne one of many personal blogs inhabiting the Internet, sat down one evening last week to create and entry for his web page. To his dismay he found that the keys on his keyboard were no longer placing the corresponding letter in his document. In fact nothing at all happened when he attempted to type his latest entry.

Following the usual process of elimination Mr. Brueckner uninstalled and than reinstalled his keyboard to noticeable effect. He booted in safe mode and his keyboard still failed to respond. He booted using the last known accurate boot file and the keyboard was remained unresponsive. He installed another keyboard with no better luck. No matter what configuration he tried his keyboard failed to respond.

After two frustrating days of keyboard failure Mr. Brueckner through caution to the wind and resigned himself to reinstalling Windows 2000, his hope was that with a new install the problem would resolve itself.

For one brief shining moment he felt that he had finally resolved the problem. With the reinstallation of Windows complete the keyboard worked perfectly: for a brief moment all was right with the world. Than all hell broke loose. Windows began to reboot itself, not once but over and over again. When Windows stabilized long enough for Mr. Brueckner to log onto the net the speed of his DSL modem was the equivalent of a 28K dial up modem. At the same time the light on the modem was blinking furiously as if it were downloading thousands of pages but nothing was happening.

Mr. Brueckner was able at one point to stabilize his system long enough to allow him to run his virus program. The results to say the least shocked him. After ten years of safe surfing, having never had a system failure due to poor Internet judgment his newest computer was infected.

To Mr. Brueckner’s horror his computer had contracted eight known viruses and one Trojan horse that was intent on spreading its deadly infection across the web. Using all of the anti-virus tools in his arsenal Mr. Brueckner was able to eradicate the invaders from his hard drive.

However, knowing how insidious these little bugs can be he chose to remove his hard drive from the mainstream, replacing it with a new infection free model.
Asked if he had any advice for anyone who might read this article Mr. Brueckner responded with a warning that we might all do well to heed. “When it comes protection our personal computers we must assume that everyone is suspect. If you are not sure if a family member or roommate understands the risks involved in unsafe surfing it is your responsibility to educate them or face the same consequences that befell me.”

Love Interrupted

She sits in the dark
Watching him sleep
Trying so hard
Not to weep
She prays for a moment
Another chance
One more song
Another dance

She closes her eyes
She slips away
To a happier time
A long lost yesterday
They were so young
And so in love
Lost in each other
And the stars above
Thanking the fates
For this second chance
Two time losers
In the game of romance
Who found safe haven
In each others arms
Solace, Peace
Comfort and warmth

He was older
Much more secure
She was younger
A touch immature
Though all that mattered
Was their newfound love
Losing themselves
In the stars above

They grew together
Their new love proved strong
Not always perfect
But never, ever wrong
The seasons passed
Their comfort grew
Dreams of the future
A love forever new
Growing old
In each others arms
Growing old
Safe and warm

She sits in the dark
Watching him sleep
Trying so hard
Not to weep
Hiding the pain
Deep in her eyes
As she watches
He slowly dies

Yellow

Yellow is a color that is rarely mentioned as a favorite in most peoples top ten list. When asked colors that are blue, red or green based make the cut but yellow is often left out in the cold.

Why is that?

Yellow is a cheerful color it should be an attention getter. However, studies show that tempers are lost more in room where yellow is the dominant color and babies tend to cry more. Web sites with a lot of yellow in their design are hard on the eyes and can increase the amount of eyestrain one feels while surfing the net.

Maybe it is because of the negative connotation that has become associated with yellow over the years. How many times have we heard or said that someone was yellow because of his or her actions or their failure to act. Somehow yellow has become associated with cowardice.

On the opposite side of the spectrum yellow has been shown to enhance concentration and to increase the speed of ones metabolism. So at the very least it should be the favorite color of students and dieters around the world.

Musical Moments

Like most of my peer group I attended quite a few concerts in my youth. I saw everyone from the Beach Boys (5 times), the Eagles (5 times) to Poison, Elton John and AC/DC. Each concert was worthwhile in its own way and fortunately for me I never left a performance unsatisfied.

Best Overall Performer: Elton John without a doubt has by far the best stage presence of anyone I have seen. I was lucky enough to see him in 1979 while he was still at or near his peak as a performer. Each song was sung from the heart with passion and soul. The song that stood out was "Candle in the Wind" which over the years has become probably the most requested song in his catalogue. The only negative memory I have of his concert is the location of my seats. I went to a broker and paid extra for floor seats, which turned out to be a big mistake. It seems that everyone who purchased a floor seat bought them with the intention of standing on the seat for a better view of the stage. Even if one followed the leader and stood on their seat one was not able to see the stage because of all the heads in front of them.

Loudest Concert Performance: I would have to say it was a three-way tie between the Ramones, AC/DC and Metallica. For the record I was never a metal head or a punk rocker but my best friend was a combination of both. He would buy tickets to every show in town if for some reason he found himself without a date he would give me a call and I would go along on his dime so he would not have to go alone. Groups like Metallica and the Ramones played at smaller enclosed clubs, which tended to trap the sound inside your head until your brain was vibrating. AC/DC I saw outdoor so they were not quite as loud but they came close.

Favorite Concert: Would have to be a tie between the Eagles and Don Henley. Not hard for me to choose since the Eagles are my favorite group and Don Henley after the Eagles broke up is my favorite solo artist. Every one of their songs speaks to me on some level. As an aspiring writer their lyrics especially speak to my soul. My best memory of one of their concerts was actually a solo Henley concert where he rearranged Hotel California with Spanish guitars and flamenco dancers.

Most Enjoyable Concert Overall: When I was eighteen my best friend was fifteen and she was in love with the Bee Gees especially Barry Gibb. When they toured in 1978 her and her friends were dying to go but none of them had received their driver's license. They offered to buy my ticket if I would drive them to the show. Now I am not old enough to experience Beatlemania but the decibel level could not have been much louder. The audience was about seventy percent female and boy could they scream. Each movement, each lyric, each guitar lick elicited a scream from the crowd. Than just when I thought it could get no louder Andy Gibb joined his brothers on stage and I though for sure Dodger stadium was going to fall under the waves of sound that engulfed it. When a crowd responds to a band in such a way it motivates a performer to crank up their performance to levels unknown. Which is what happened that night.

Cambria

My favorite weekend escape is located on the central coast of California. Cambria is a small town anchored on a long narrow stretch of coastline, where the pine trees, rocks and cliffs battle for dominance across the horizon.

The architectural style of the motel, where I stay, would be at home anywhere on the highways and byways of America. What makes this motor lodge so special is the spectacular view of the ocean, which is located just a few hundred yards from the room. No matter where they may roam during the day the guests of the motel can be found walking the cliffs at twilight. Ears attuned to the sound of the many rocks being sculpted by the powerful force of the high tide.

Lovers stop and catch their breath captured by the brilliant display of colors created by the sun as it sinks into the sea. The evening sky begins to fill with more stars than even Hollywood could imagine. The rising moon finds families and couples returning to their rooms accompanied by the mournful cry of a foghorn calling out to the passing ships.

I have spent countless memorable weekends in Cambria. It is the one place I love to go when the pressures in Southern California become too intense. In my lifetime visiting this coastal town is the closest I have come to finding heaven on earth.