The Funnies

I'm a fan of the comics. Most of my life I've called it the philosophy page. As I've thought about the funnies for the past few days I've come to the realization that this little blog is a somewhat like the comics. A slight twist on the mundane parts of life that thrust themselves on us without any planning.
Today for instance in 'Non-Sequiter' there was this short dialogue between Danae and her horse. The horse is the one with some sense -- the pun shouldn't be lost there. It provided some thought about how dumb we can sometimes be with our beliefs, ingrained habits, and idiosyncrasies.
Ahhh. To have that much wisdom... That's what makes it the philosophy page.

Facades

This past weekend I was watching "60 Minutes" and two stories struck me through the mirror in my rabbit hole. They seemingly had no connection but when looking at them in the morror they were about the same thing.
It seems that during the past decade people -- (really foreign governments who aren't our friends) have been hacking into our country's computers. This isn't your computer and mine it's the ones at the NSA and the DOD. They've not only broken in but lurked there for days scooping up secrets about our national defense and weapons systems. What did we hear from the past adminsitration in the White House -- "We're keeping you safe... There are no threats... etc. etc."
Then tennis great Andre Aggasi was interviewed by Katie couric and told the tale in his recently released book of a decade of drug use and hating tennis all the while smiling and being the proud champion on center court.
Facades? Or are they just plain lies? Isn't that what a facade is? A lie for all...
How many times and in what circumstances do we all put on this cloak of it's all right or I think you're a nice person? Our facade are meant to do the same thing. I think it's called deception.
Is it possible to be kind to others and not have a facade? Let's see? There was this guy once. Name was Jesus.

I Forgot

Yesterday I was reading the comics. Dagwood brought me up short. (I know... It's called 'Blondie' but I've always called it 'Dagwood') Dagwood descends the stairs at night -- He thinks I wonder what's on TV this time of night. In front of the idiot box he thinks (You know Dagwood!) A sandwich would be really good about now. In the last panel Blondie come down the stairs, views him in the recliner, sandwich in hand and says, "Did you find out what was making that noise?"
Yep! Dagwood forgot why he came down the stairs in the middle of the night. Ever done that? Forgot what you were doing... I have more times than I can count. Here's the rub... did I really forget, or did my subconscious take over because I really wanted to watch TV in the middle of the night, or perhaps it was because I really wanted that sandwich?
Hmmm... Curious mind, forgetting like that.

Little Kids

                                                                                     October 26, 2009
                                                 
Last Tuesday in a writing critique group I belong to, one of the members, Angel, brought a poem. When she read the poem a second time I saw myself at age five in these lines…

“your adult body shelters that little boy
who whines and screams and stamps his feet…
these children lurk inside us
i’ve heard them squabbling –did too! did not!—”

After class I asked her if I could borrow an idea from it for this blog. She acquiesced. Thanks Angel! I’d been thinking, as I often do, about the all the stuff on the other side of the looking glass.

How pleasant life with each other would be if the kind and gentle nature of our child side would show itself… At least more often. I see it quite regularly in my great granddaughter… Is that Nirvana? Heaven is like the trusting goodness of little children (when left to their better natures…)? Hmmm…

For more stuff I’ve written, take a look at: http://www.bobwhite4stories.com .
Until next time, that’s it from The Storyman ….

October 18, 2009
When Weird Stuff Happens
We’re close enough to Halloween so I thought I’d delve into the stuff I can’t explain… Like Alice found surprises because there was more going on than she was aware of, there is more than what it appears going on in life. And I’m not talking about ghosts or goblins although I do firmly believe in the supernatural.
The other day I was reading this piece about how you can read a story for the tenth or eighty-third time and all of a sudden you see something there you’ve never read before. It’s new, different, and catches you off guard. Happened to me the other day when I was reading something I had written. It grabbed me. Did I really write that? How does that stuff happen?
I think I’ll have to crawl further down the hole and see if I can find an albino bunny to explain things... on second thought perhaps that will just create more confusion… I’ll never know until I try.
You can find more weird stuff on my web page http://www.bobwhite4stories.com .
Until next time, that’s it from The Storyman ….

Dying for a Swim

October 14, 2009
Dying for a Swim
The other afternoon I was trying to enjoy a quiet lunch on the patio with my wife, Loa. Meanwhile some flies, I suppose exercised over the changing weather that would spell their doom with the coming cold, and the chance for a penultimate meal, had descended on us. It wasn’t quite like the Egyptian plague recorded in Exodus but they descended in larger numbers than usual.
One fly in particular kept buzzing Loa and threatening to land, dirty feet first, on her asparagus and cheddar quiche. After much waving him away he settled on the lip of her class of Chardonnay.
Then he took a dive. Ahhh… There’s nothing quite like taking a swim… in vino. He paddled about, doing the breast stroke. I can only imagine what he thought. (Do flys think? My fantasy demands they do.)
His sad end came when we refused to rescue him. Are there some perverse lessons here? Hmmm. It did prompt another look in Alice’s mirror

October 5, 2009
You’re Beautiful

Lionel watched her enter the room. He appraised her as the familiar feelings welled inside. He rose and took her hand. “You know, you’re beautiful.”
Jean made a face and pulled away. “I don’t think so. Maybe thirty or forty years ago when I had a better figure and gravity hadn’t done it’s work.”
“No,” he said. “There’s no doubt. You are beautiful.”
“To you.”
“You miss my point,” he said.
Hands on her hips she walked into his space. “And that is?”
“Thirty or forty years ago you were pretty. You had a model’s figure and a model’s face. Now, I’ve grown to know what you really are. That ‘s why I said you’re beautiful. Pretty is on the outside. Beauty comes from down deep in the soul.”
“Oh, Lionel,” she said. “I think I’m going to cry.”
“Hush now, my love.” Lionel drew her to him and kissed her.
Here’s the link to my web page: http://www.bobwhite4stories.com .
Until next time, that’s it from the Storyman ….

September 28, 2009

An Epiphany
I don’t know how many times I’ve heard a recording of John Denver singing Rocky Mountain High without thinking about the first words of the melody. Last week they struck me. Having lived in Colorado during the time John sang his most popular tunes I found myself captivated, like he was, by the majesty of the snow capped Rockies.
The song begins: “… born in the summer of his 27th year, coming home to a place he’d never been before.” Henry John Deutschendorf, Jr had what miight be called an Epiphany when he arrived in Colorado at age twenty seven. It changed his life. It changed his song writing. He says a lot in those two terse pharases.
Those experiences are like lighthouses in the fog shrouded day after day of routine living. They lift us above the drab and give guidance to life.
I know my epiphanies. When I fell in love, when my children were born and when I realized I’d became a spinner of stories. Now, I’m waiting for the next blazing moment to intersect my life. I’m sure there’ll be one. Maybe it’ll be a story line that won’t quit, or an e-mail from my agent. For the some of my writing that’s ordinary fare check out my web site at: http://www.bobwhite4stories.com .
Until next time, that’s it from the Storyman

September 21, 2009

Chasing Peacocks

The other evening while watching the idiot box I was entranced by this ad for some joint medication – no not that kind of joint – medication for arthritic knees. A fictional couple had cast aside the corporate life to buy and operate a Bed and Breakfast. They said they wanted to exchange the rat race for the peacock race. One clip showed them running up the stairs for the umptillionth time that day to chase a peacock from one of the guest rooms. I never did see them succeed.
It took me three times to successfully shuck the corporate life. I now find myself with the time to chase peacocks. I have more time for my writing. (Check out my web-site at:http://www.bobwhite4stories.com/) There is now time to travel and indulge the parts of life that provide pleasure and satisfaction without straining to make some employer or client satisfied. I’ve discovered I can indulge myself with great gobs of time; taking two hours to do what I used to cram into thirty minutes. This might be a little of what heaven is like. Time to chase a peacock.
Then an odd thought struck me… isn’t this what the generation of the 60’s and 70’s tried to do. Ahhh…. Three days of nirvana and bedlam at Woodstock. Yeah, there was sex and drugs with the rock and roll, but there was also freedom. Freedom to chase peacocks.
Until next time, that’s it from the

Storyman….

What is it about a cat?

This summer instead of taking a trip to Europe we added to our family with a feline adoption. It has been about a year since we had to take our beloved twenty-two pound black cat to the vet and have him put to sleep. Over the course of more than fifteen years he wedged his way into our hearts. He had always been fiercely independent and the direct opposite of a 'lap cat', but loyal without question. Our grieving over his loss took some time, but Loa and I looked at each other one day and knew it was time. We'd never be able to replace him but we needed another pet. So... we took a test on the Internet to see what kind of a dog would fit with our personalities. The answer was to get a cat. So the hunt began.
We scoured the ads in the paper, looked for kittens in front of the supermarket, visited animal shelters and the pet stores. Somehow we always returned from our search empty handed and with a growing hole in our hearts. One day Loa found an ad in the local advertising paper that clutters our mailbox on a weekly basis. A nearby family had five kittens. The mother cat was only a year old and it seemed the eight-week-old kittens where sucking the life from her. She needed a rest. Then we had to choose. Impossible. We brought two home. It took a couple of weeks until we found names that stuck. Tigger (thanks A. A. Milne) and Hal (short for Halloween).
Animals are so wonderful in their interaction with human beings. They give unquestioned affection and ask little in return. Well, Hal is pretty demanding about getting lots of affection. In a short time we've become more attached than I though possible. They have such different personalities, just like children in the same family. Tigger is already much larger, but at the vet we found Hal weighed one more ounce. Hal is also the aggressor with it comes to the kind of play that all kittens have with each other.
I realize this month's blog is not into much about our nature as human beings, but this experience has taught me again how wonderful God's creatures are and that even the smallest can create within us the powerful emotions of love and afection.