Looking Good

If good looks are so important,
Why do beautiful people
Get divorced?

Aged People

I took my camera to the mall the other day to find a new subject. I saw this gentleman just outside sitting on a bench smoking a cigarette. He appeared to be well into his seventies and was wearing slippers. I seem to see alot of elderly wearing slippers in public. Perhaps it's their standard footwear around the house and it takes too much effort to change into street shoes.

I'm kind of intrigued by older folks when I see them. I wonder about their histories. Where were they born. What kind of family life did they have. Were there siblings and what gender. How many loves and were they ever broken hearted. Would their lives make interesting biographies. I didn't want to bother this fellow with all my questions. He seemed deep in thought.

There have been some intersting experiences in my life I could write about. There's been lots of emotion. Perhaps when I'm in my seventies and truly aged I'll write about it.

Pigs

I like pigs.

Dogs look up to us.

Cats look down on us.

Pigs treat us as equals.

Winston Churchill

Sometimes Life

Susan and I were house parents for a time and looked after a group of young women who were hormonally pregnant, had OCD, PTSD and all the other personality traits associated with dysfunctional families. It was hard, very hard at times. The work was rewarding though, when we saw girls get their lives together and return to school or obtain work. The stress however, needed relieving and I would often get away. The photo shows a scene taken then, along the river in Portland's Waterfront Park, a calming place I would frequent. Another winter shot, it probably reflects the feelings and frame of mind I was in.

On Living

I would rather live my life as if there is a God

and die to find out there isn't,

than live my life as if there isn't

and die to find out there is.

Albert Camus

.

Jane Sophia

My five year old grand daughter was over for a visit and asked if she could play with my iPod. She found an old Stetson Fedora in our play clothes, punched the top to make it round, and nestled into an over-stuffed chair. I caught her in deep concentration.

Heart's Desires

Once you get what you want,

You won't want it.

Salvador Dali

Accordions

A drawing by Gary Larson comes to mind when I think of accordions. In the upper half of his single panel, there are people entering heaven and each is given a harp. The lower half has people going into hell. They all recieve, you guessed it, an accordion.

I'm not sure what antagonism Mr. Larson had against them, but I don't think accordions fit in with Lucifer. Millions of banjos, all simultaneously strummed, blaring out "Oh Suzanna" seems more fitting. Bagpipes! Now there's an instrument that could get you all fired up.

Accordions were supposedly invented in 1822 by Christian Fredrich Ludwig Buschmann in Berlin. If I had a name like that, I definitely would feel motivated to invent something. They were originally used for folk music but have found their place in classical, popular and even heavy metal.

I have to say that accordions are not high on my list of listened to instruments. I think Lawrence Welk tainted my tastes. I do however like a simple tune squeezed out with a clear melody line and not too much chording. "La Vie En Rose" played like that would stir my French passion. Susan and I were in Reims a few years ago, wandering down a street blocked off to keep cars out and tourists in. The fellow I've drawn was playing as we went by him. We didn't stop to listen. I'd like to go back now and hear him. Accordions are kind of on my mind.

Unquiet Mind

.I have been a painter's pallet,
Full of laughter
And of song and love.
Within my soul wildflowers grew
Like multicolored quilts.
I have been every hue.

All of this is now forgotten.
Evidence of it will not be found.
The greys of sunless skies for weeks
Have filled my thoughts.
I float in endless misty seas.
I long for some sensation,
Some desire, to drop
A bit of light upon my being.

Yet, my mind I know
Will have its spectrum,
And fill again with joy and life.
For time shall be my saviour.

It must.

based on AN UNQUIET MIND

by Kay Redfield Jamison PhD

Life Changes

It was 1969 and the winter of my discontent. The girl I wrote of in Legs had dumped me a month or so earlier and I was completely broken-hearted and depressed. On this particular day I was wandering around Portland State University with my camera taking photos of whatever caught my eye. I saw the fountain pouring its life out on the pavement and took the shot. I was making no artistic statement when I captured the image. However, thinking back on it now, it looks much like how I felt. Life was mighty grey and all joy had drained out of me. Perhaps my subconscience was really trying to say something.

I met my tootsie the next year in a drawing class. When she walked into the room, something within me knew we'd connect. We did, after I finally had the courage to ask her for a date. We've been together ever since. She is a quiet and soft spoken gal with great, deep wells of mercy and compassion for the poor and orphan. An excellent mom, she stayed home in lieu of a career and poured her life into our children. She gave them love, nurturing and security. She's my wife, lover and mistress and has stayed by my side even with all my faults and is definitely my best friend.

Susan is an artist and is always looking for subjects to paint. For some reason, why, I don't know, she's always liked the fountain picture. A few years ago she did a water color of it and it hangs in our living room. The contrast is striking. Considering my gloomy mood when I took the photo and what she has brought into my life, Susan has very much colored my world.