May 31, 2001
"Among The Big Rocks"
Happily among the big rocks at Boyce Thompson Southwestern arboretum is how I spent my original date Memorial day. There weren't many people there. I only saw one young woman pushing a baby stroller. So Laura, Danice
(a friend we've met through the 'Everquest' world, who is visiting us this week) and I had the run of the place. Except for the lizards. Lizards crossed our path frequently. It's the HEAT that scared the humans away. Except for us. We don't 'know' any better. And Danice, not used to desert climes, did get a little red faced. But the exercise was good.
Laura was afraid that heart pain would make the high trail too difficult, and hoped to prove to herself she could still do it. We all were encouraged that she managed it quite well, with the use of her walking sticks. We'll be going on more walks, so that she will be further strengthened. Too much sedentary game playing is not good for her.
The walk completely beneficial, my picture taking results were, however, uneven. There was only one out of the batch that I like:
THIS wasn't one of them. Actually, these red and yellow blooms came from our visit back in March.
|
But they're pretty, and that's reason enough to include them. I did grab a shot of an heart-shaped cactus, however, that I've been meaning to get for some time:
It, of course, has gone into my Wierd Cactus gallery.
This evening, we will watch Rocky Horror Picture Show. Danice has not yet seen this weirdly wonderful show and I never tire of seeing it. Tim Curry, and the rest of the performers, are just so delightfully outrageous.
That will be a good finish to a happy day.
June 4, 2001
"Understanding Spanglish"
Spanish is a very different language than English. For one thing, this language puts the adverbs AFTER the noun, "boat red" for instance. Okay, several languages do that. For another thing, in English we stress the consonants heavily. However, in Spanish, stress is given only to the vowels. When a native-born Spaniard ( or Mexican) speaks English, they often continue this vowel stressing. ''mAHlbOHs''. one might say, and I think I'm growing deaf. I ask them to repeat it, ''mAHlbOHs'', and I strain to make some sense of it. Oh, ''MARLboro's,'', and I hold up a pack, to see if he nods. This usually works.
It didn't work one night a middle-aged man came in. ''What would you like?'' ''cOhdOhnes'' ''What did you say?'' ''''cOhdOhnes'' ''I don't speak Spanish. I can't understand you.''
He grew frustrated, certain I should be able to understand him. So he said even louder:
''cOHdOHnes''
Finally, in frustration, I gave him a paper and pencil. ''Draw a picture'', I begged.
My eyes bugged in horror as he drew what very distinctly was a 'cock and balls'. I thought ''Oh, no, now he's insulting me because I don't understand . . .'' when next he drew a sleeve on the long apparatus. Suddenly, the light dawned in the dark recesses of my poor befuddled mind, ''Oh, CONdoms!''
I quickly got a package from the display behind me. The poor man made for the door rather quickly. He probably didn't find it as amusing as I did. Yet I did find it amusing, and I smiled often the rest of the night, whenever thinking about it.
June 8, 2001 - A
"On A Mountain"
I found the following at a favorite rest stop along the web way, and it just entranced me. It makes me want to follow Han-shan, and sit with him.
I climb the road
to Cold Mountain,
the road to Cold Mountain
that never ends.
The valleys are long
and strewn with stones;
the streams broad
and banked with thick grass.
Moss is slippery,
though no rain has fallen;
pines sigh,
but it isn’t the wind.
Who can break from
the snares of the world
and sit with me among the white clouds?
- Han-shan
|
In the mountains, where it is cool, that would be nice. It isn't going to be cool today. One hundred and ten is what we're scheduled to get, and at 9:50am, the mercury is rising fast to meet that destination.
Oh heat! We have it here, in abundance. But I wish not to complain of the heat. I'd rather dream of 'Cold Mountain', and the pine trees.
There is, not just for the lack of trees, a sparseness to this earth. it is a sparseness to which I've grown accustomed.
A tiny flower bursts through . . .
. . . and I am all of a delight.
Tiny joys, that must be what we have. Or, else, there be none . . .
All for now, I must go to bed to sleep for my night shift. But the room, darkened and cooled, will be pleasant. I'll just pretend I'm on a mountain.
June 8, 2001 - B
"HOT!"
HOT!
As of 3:45pm:
115 F. on our porch thermometer!
Or if you speak centigrade,
46 C. on our porch thermometer!
!!!!!!HOT!!!!!!
That 'mountain' I'm on isn't so cool as I'd wish. But I shall return to bed, and as the sun retreats from her rule, coolness WILL settle in my darkened quarters.
Perhaps we need to turn the cooler on a little earlier in the morning. Every summer, we must relearn the strategies that work.
June 10, 2001
"Fade Away"
I'm not the only one to wonder about death. Poets before me have pondered this very thing. Keats, for instance:
|
When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
John Keats (1795-1821)
|
So I shouldn't have to apologize for the following poem. However it's probably the most morbid thing I've ever written. I'm a bit more graphic than Keats. But, as I've so often done, I apologize and then go 'do it anyway', so the apology is just a formality, perhaps.
Still, formalities are nice.
|
Fade Away
And when I die,
will it be like floating,
or will it be cold?
How will I know?
Will there be a me to know,
or will I just gradually
fade away?
I don't want to fade away,
all the colors to pale.
Keep the colors bright when I'm gone.
I don't want to fade away,
each cell shrinking away.
Keep the colors bright when I'm gone.
There'll be no gray for me that day,
no red, no yellow,
no light, no more,
just absence.
I don't want to be absent.
What does it feel like,
when the blood stills?
Will I feel a mighty chill
when all goes still?
Oh, how I hope to keep wondering
for a long, long time.
JAL, 6 - 9 -01
|
June 15, 2001
"Major News"
Now to gather what's been lost, or forgotten, simply set aside for another day. Today is the day.
Perservation of cherished tid-bits is the thing here. Such a lot of little tidbits. But they add up. Oh, they add up. As I've been fixing links in old entries, beginning back in October of 1996, I realize anew that's a lot of tid bits. As as I add yet another to the pile, I rejoice in the height of the pile.
Today has been historic in the Lansberry household. Julia, who joined our family in 1994, has now officially became a Lansberry. She's undergone a lot of name changes in her life. There was (1) her name at birth, entirely unsuitable, then
(2) a name change that came with a marriage, long since failed, then (3) another name change, still not quite right, then (4) the first name change she actually liked, Julia Cybele Cachia, since it reflected her true gender, and (5) now, AT LAST, she is JULIA CYBELE LANSBERRY! The TRIAD are now all 'Lansberrys'.
That news rather major, the following news is also, though in a differing way. This morning, Laura announced with a smile that the scale read ten pounds lighter. She's gotten the bikes fixed up and is persuing bicycling as a means of exercise. Each morning, she goes out at first light while it's still cool, and is careful not to push too hard, and although it's only been a week, she's getting stronger and can go longer than she did at first. I went with her this morning, about a four mile ride. Oh yes, the knees complained mightily at some of the 'hilly' areas, only a slight upgrade, you understand. But the gear was set too difficult, and the seat too low, as I later discovered. However, I wasn't about to wimp out because of some pain. I'd done that five years ago, with the onset of arthritis. I gave up and quit biking. Laura, after losing me as a biking partner, grew discouraged herself, and no longer rode much.
Years ago, in Tucson, Laura used to ride the bike many miles each day. Her heroic efforts strengthened her heart, and I regret that she gave it up shortly after we moved to Casa Grande.
So we are both 'keeping on', and who knows, but maybe I will become stronger as well.
Julia, too tired after working all day, isn't so much for exercising, but enjoys the occasional weekend walk in a cool indoor mall.
'Arizona Mills' mall attracts quite a few walkers
The mall has things to see and entertain while walking. The mall owners encourage it, for not only does it give them a friendly reputation, they know it will increase sales as well. For every walker who only purchases a tall cup of cold tea and a cookie, there will be one who decides they can't continue to pass by that lovely floral blouse in the window one more time without going in and buying it, for instance.
Thus, the major news here, both will have all sorts of significance in the future, which is looking brighter and brighter.
June 18, 2001
"Question And Answer"
|
Question And Answer
And if I say 'no' or 'yes'
a thousand times,
what will that do?
Still, I try to keep to the path.
Inner listening
is just as important
as outer listening.
Yes, one must have ears for all of it,
and I do,
I try.
Yet that soft, but deep,
inner voice,
this is the one that guides.
Say 'yes' or 'no' to all
those who question me,
that I do.
But the inner voice,
if I hear it not,
then whatever you say,
with whatever authority you muster,
I cannot hear it.
I am withdrawn to nothingness.
I become nothing,
and from nothing, comes only nothing.
So, to hear the still, small,
that is the first calling.
And then maybe better I
can answer you.
JAL, 6 - 18 - 01
|
June 22, 2001
"A Day In Tucson"
view from a Tucson window
Fullness of stomach soothes as I lay in reverie, remembering. Remembering a lovely day in Tucson. I always feel 'at home' in Tucson. It is not just the beautiful mountains, it is the 'vibration' of the place.
Sitting in the comfy chair at Bookman's listening booth, sampling CDs, I enjoy watching the people around me. An older white haired man with an English accent is standing as he addresses two older ladies, both seated in padded highbacked chairs.
He is very animated. I wonder if he is a professor at the University. His red and white floral Hawaiian shirt and white knee length shorts give him a relaxed and casual look. I wonder what he is talking about with such enthusiasm.
A young boy about ten sits to the left of me, listening to music. His mother is not far away. How I love observing everything! I'm as happy as a clam in its half open shell, observing. Who knows whether CLAMS have any depth of emotion, but anyway . . .
What is it about this town? It positively hums with excitement. Is it the 'group mind' of all those who have gathered here which makes it so entrancing? I don't know. I feel something.
Laura's Mother sits in a high backed chair, not too far away. I later discover she's reading an autobiography of Dolly Parton, the country singer/songwriter. She is enjoying Dolly's childhood antics.
Laura's sitting in another of those chairs, examining a huge stack of audio books. She likes to listen to them while she rides her bike.
And I have three disks in front of me. One, of the Los Angeles Guitar Quartet is rather good, but I must be picky. I like the ones I already have of this group better. Another is of a singer whose voice I positively don't like. She's well acclaimed, but the brassy, hard tones turn me off. I do not spend much time with that disc.
The final is a reggae compilation. Each track entices me with its robustness. By the time Laura ambles over, her pile selected and in a carrying basket, I've already decided this is the one.
As we had trade credit, our bounty only cost fourteen dollars.
And then it was off to La Parilla Suiza, where the salsa, chips, chilequiles and grilled pork awaited me.
I am still so pleasantly full.
