RSS Feed

A Happy Thanksgiving

hippie thanksgivingWell here it is again for the 71st time. The kids who can make it will be coming down with their wives, a couple from town who my wife likes are also coming, and the only neighbors we have may stop in later for a drink. All in all it will be fairly quiet and traditional. I know my pit bull will hate it because she will have to be caged all day and I, being the loner, will endure and enjoy this holiday all at the same time.

Fact is, though I am trying, things are not the same for me as they used to be back in the day when we were tip toeing through the tulips and dreaming about making the world a better place. Back when the music never stopped, till the day it died . . . Bye, bye, Miss American Pie . . .

This morning I got to thinking about Thanksgiving and the best one I ever experienced, when it was and who I was with . . . that sort of thing. Following is the true story of the best Thanksgiving I ever had.

It was about 1969. I was living in a walk up crash pad in Portland, Oregon, just one more run away hippie looking for a spark of reality, and thinking I could find it by denouncing all that my parents generation stood for. I had just left the military and a short, but bad marriage and was hiding out from all responsibilities to that way of life, and kidding myself as to the fact that I could actually do it.

It was Thanksgiving morning, and in my mind, I didn’t have anything to be thankful about. I was alone and depressed. As I walked through the old neighborhood I was more alone still, as the usual hustle was not there . . . even the drug dealers seemed to have taken the day off. I was walking, but going nowhere. . . . just walking.

There was a music store a few blocks down Burnside and I was heading in that direction, probably to stare into the window at the old Martin I would have given my last dollar for, had I actually had one. As I walked along the empty street a Volkswagen van passed me by. It was full of freaks just like me. (in those days being a freak was cool) They pulled up in front of the music store and the guy behind the wheel, who must have been the owner, went in and came right back out. He jumped in the van, turned around and came back in my direction.

A girl on the passenger side rolled down her window, smiled and asked, “Hey man where you going?”


“Wanna come to a party?”

“Sure” I said perking up a bit.

The van pulled over, the door opened, “Hop in!” she said. I hopped in and away we went. Everybody in the full van was in a very upbeat mood.

“We’re having a far out dinner party for a bunch of people and you’re invited!” she said as she turned in her seat and faced me. How lovely she was, and how excited she seemed to be.

“Wow man, yeah man, that would be so cool.” I answered. . . The day that began as a huge bummer suddenly became a life giving adventure because that little lady thought it would be cool to pick me up and take me to her party.

A couple minutes later we pulled up to one of the old Victorian homes that dotted the SW Portland neighborhoods at the time and parked. The van unloaded. We all walked up the concrete steps and entered the magical atmosphere of a house turned hippie haven.

There were couches, stuffed chairs, funky second hand furnishings, door beads, and brightly dressed people everywhere. Music played. People, laid back and relaxed, laughed effortlessly. ‘no canned laughter here’ What a lovely place to be. There were no introductions, no embarrassing ‘trying to say the right things,’ I merely walked into the large living room, found an empty place to sit, and sat down. The guy who was already sitting there said to me, “ Hey brother, how you doing?”

“Great man, just great.”

Using half sentences, chopped up wording and a lingo from Mars, off we went on a discussion encompassing so many variables that I can’t describe . . . ‘the kind of stuff people say when they are flaunting the norm and trying to be real I suppose.’

Anyways, we were talking away when a girl entered the living room from another room and began to comb her long, blond hair by pulling it over her head and across her face. As I glanced up at her, all I could see was one very pretty blue eye staring back at me.

She was about 20 I suppose, but nobody cared much about age in those days. All I know is I was instantly attracted to this lovely blue eye that was wrapped in long blond hair, that must have just arrived because the entire package was still wrapped in a salvation army fur coat that reached almost to the floor. Blue eye took off the coat, dropped it on the couch, sat beside me and finished combing her hair. We talked. We laughed. We smoked a joint together. We shared our intimate details . . . all before dinner.

The girls soon called from the dining room and we all ‘about 25 I suppose’ went in and sat down to a huge rigged up concoction of tables and benches all loaded with food interspersed by bottles of wine. Nobody prayed or did any of the traditional stuff. We just dug in and enjoyed. ‘The trick word here is enjoyed.’ This meal would probably be the greatest feast many of us would ever remember having. After the feast was over and we were all stuffed and laying around like wolves who had just devoured a moose, the joints passed around one more time and many of us just passed out.

The blond ended up alongside me on a couch. We kissed and snuggled and fell asleep in each others arms. I don’t remember how or when I got back to my pad, but I do remember the blue eyed blond and the two month or so love fest we had following. But like all things in those days, it was fast, furious, and burned out just as fast when she went to Hawaii and disappeared from my life forever. She was my angel and I loved her dearly and I will never forget whats-her-name.

What The Cancer Industry Does Not Want You To Know About Chemotherapy and Radiation | Earth. We are one.

What The Cancer Industry Does Not Want You To Know About Chemotherapy and Radiation | Earth. We are one..

Bruce Springsteen’s antiwar songs at Concert for Valor didn’t go over too well – The Washington Post

I thought it was interesting that the valor day conservatives would find Bruce singing “fortunate son” to be offensive. How big IS that bubble you guys live in? Here’s the one he should have sung . . .

The Brother In The Wheel Chair

Place is really large, I thought
Making my way across the sprawling, hospital campus.
Building B….Building B. Where the hell is it?

Nicely manicured lot.
Short walk to a bank of doors facing the street.
Passing buses parked along the curb.

Men parked on benches along the sidewalk.
“Hey man, got a smoke?”
“No sorry, don’t smoke.”
Shoulders shrug.

Inside, the foyer is small and full of men.
Old and broke looking like the buildings interior
Bull shitters

Lots of ball caps on old men’s heads
Black hat, yellow lettering
Korean vet…..Vietnam vet……Ship numbers……Semper Fi
Look for my old unit on someone’s head. Saw none. Never do.

I saw the brother in a wheel chair sitting in the corner of the room.
Missed him on first glance.
Don’t know how I could have.
His eyes, locked in fight or flight, filled the room with their emptiness. (Does he ever blink?)

A sensitive soul perhaps
Unable to make the midnight blast from family farm to killing field
Had not the bravado to shake hands with the dead
Nor shake the smell of napalm from his nose

Taught the fight was among men
Hand to hand on the field of battle
Glory…..Honor and heroism.

No one mentioned the sight of children dying
And old women crying
And old men frying.

The brother in a wheel chair
Had a tale to tell
But it seemed that few could listen
As the truth is hard to hear
No need
His eyes, they told it for him.

As I passed him in the lobby
And he sat there all alone
It took me less than a minute to think this thought
The brother in a wheelchair appeared to have been
Locked in the same thought for the last forty years.

Veterans Day

To the kids in the Herd
Who spoke not a word
Bout being a fing hero
But they were
Rest assured . . . they were.

Howard Zinn

DSCF0021If I had to follow a man it would be a guy with the philosophy of Howard. His attitude, intellect are supurb IMO

Trickle Down To Disaster

When the king becomes so distant from his subjects that he forgets to feed their children,

The subjects will take notice.

When the king serves only his self interests and forgets his subjects interests,

The subjects will take notice.

When the king begins to sacrifice his subjects in order to save himself,

The subjects will take notice.

The subjects, when they’ve had enough, will rise up in rebellion,

The subjects will overthrow the king and kill him.

Lao Tsu


Eco-Suicide Watch

I started this blog in order to have a positive charged waste of time. I had planned on displaying some of my poetry, writings, etc, but as I look back I feel it has gotten way too serious with environmental issues, etc. so . . . I moved to and am in the process of creating a pared down site that will be more compatible to pads and phones as well as computers.

This site will contain most of the environmental issues I am concerned with (as that is all I am interested in these days) I will be moving a lot of stuff from my other sites over there, but still keeping this open to focus on it’s original intent. . . join me there for the serious stuff if you care too . . .

They found her!

But they can’t find that big modern jet liner that vanished in thin air as the whole world watched?


You said that I betrayed you
I can’t tell you what that did.
Once again I’d been defeated
By my impulsive id.

So I languish here within my soul
I ache in grievous pain.
While I watch that scene before me play
Again – and again – - and again.

What could I do to break the curse
What could I do to change
That sorrow filled face
Held together by grace
What could I do? . . . please what could I do?

I have mood swings every day
That have nothing to do with you.
I say and do things
I wish I’d never do.
Cruel things
Mean things
Cloaked in colored garb.
A joke
A curse
A barb.

I have mood swings every day
What more can I say?

And the devil played a lively tune
And the wise man danced along
And the tune was sharp and sweet and funny
And it’s rhythm very strong.

But the devils tunes
They are not free
And the time will come to pay.
And unless the wise man wise’s up
it’s not so far away.

Bolivia Gives Legal Rights To The Earth | Earth. We are one.

This is just a start folks . . . I hope!

Bolivia Gives Legal Rights To The Earth | Earth. We are one..

Edgar Cayce

Carolina Chocolate Drops

Posted on

Introducing . . . the happy . . . lively . . . downbeat beautifully neat! . . . Carolina Chocolate Drops!! . . . . .


Posted on

I want to write a love poem . . . sweet and easy.
I want to find a way to say the golden things
The things with wings.
I want to mimic Gibran . . . and Rumi too
I want to write a love poem . . . I do I really do.

I sit at the break of day
When the hush of morn surrounds.
I think of all those loving things
where peace and love abounds.
A thought so strong it births a tear
Takes me back to a better year . . .


Across the hilltops flying high
Are cries from earth
And water
And sky.

ENOUGH! ENOUGH! . . . we say
IF you wish to live another day!

My Old Friend

Posted on

How long old friend shall I be with you?
It’s been a fast and merry ride.
At times a bit too exciting
When we’ve had no place to hide.

While others, we’ve languished along the way
All peaceful and serene.
And oh the mountains we’ve climbed upon
And the valleys deep we’ve seen.

But now that the time is drawing nigh
When it’s ruled we must depart.
Now I wonder how it would have been
Had we had a different start.

But then what more than what we’ve had
What more could we have done?
To bring us yet more closer still
To make us more as one.

As I gaze upon your aged face
A face I hold so dear
I give you one last parting glance
And slowly shuffle from the mirror.

Chasing Rabbits

Posted on

“Bang, bang, you’re dead!” Tommy yells from the thick woods bordering our back yard. “Bang, bang, you’re dead! Ha! I got you right between the eyes! You’re dead!”

Tommy’s laughter recedes.

“Bravo One, Bravo One, this is Delta, Over . . . Bravo One, this is Delta, over.” Again and again the same agitated voice. “Bravo one. Can you read me? Over.”

My pounding heartbeat all but silences the incessant static of the radio . . . I’m trying to find the handset lying somewhere to my side, trying to answer.

My ears are ringing. My eyes struggle to focus . . . roll over. Crawl away. Move!’

Nothing works.

Blurred, ghost-like images move swiftly past . . . I struggle against the panic seeking to engulf me, close my eyes and attempt to merge with the mud I am lying in.

“Help me,” a voice moans to my left. I hear cursing to my front. The low cough of an AK shatters the stillness. Pleading screams followed by more shots, curses . . . more shots.

The shooting ends as quickly as it had started. A hushed silence falls over the scene as ghosts melt into the thick underbrush.

I try to roll over . . . to escape into the jungle before they return . . . but my legs have detached themselves from my brain and are doing a strange mud dance of their own.

I think of my dad, years ago, laughing as Buster the old coonhound runs in his sleep by the fireplace, “He’s chasing rabbits,” dad says to me. I watch old Buster run . . . and slowly fade away.

Tommy laughs at me lying beneath the oak tree playing dead and pokes me with the butt of his BB gun. “Gotcha, Jimmy. Ha! You’re dead.”


Quantum Mechanics

(Parts of this writing taken from an essay by Arjun Walia on the site Collective Evolution)

What we perceive as our physical material world, is really not physical or material at all, in fact, it is far from it. This has been proven time and time again by multiple Nobel Peace Prize physicists across the world.

“If quantum mechanics hasn’t profoundly shocked you, you haven’t understood it yet. Everything we call real is made of things that cannot be regarded as real.” – Niels Bohr

It’s quite the conundrum, isn’t it? Our experience tells us that our reality is made up of physical material things, and that our world is an independently existing objective one. The revelation that the universe is not an assembly of physical parts, suggested by Newtonian physics, and instead comes from a holistic entanglement of immaterial energy waves stems from the work of Albert Einstein, Max Planck and Werner Heisenberg, among others. Read the rest of this entry

Hey Boehner . . . It’s a no brainer!

Congress Moran’s News Commentary: Dangerous to Avoid Environmental Issues
By James Moran

Last week, House Republicans scheduled the final votes before Election Day and then sent everyone home. Sadly, under their leadership, Congress never considered badly needed legislation at any point this session that would extend long term unemployment benefits, simplify the tax code, reform our immigration system, or raise the minimum wage and help struggling families.

Instead, last week, under Speaker Boehner’s leadership, we voted for the 218th time this session to weaken existing laws that protect our health and the environment. This is pointless and counterproductive. Read the rest of this entry

What’s Your Sign?

The other day my daughter was telling me about a yoga friend of hers who is a professional astrologer, teacher and writer. I asked her to get me a reading while he was in town and (of course), she forgot and I didn’t get my reading.

Anyway, who among us that lived during the hippie days didn’t know their sign? . . . or that usually when meeting a chick the first question you asked was, “what’s your sign?” Read the rest of this entry

Il bel far niente

In Italy they have a saying, “Il bel far niente,” it means “The beauty of doing nothing.”

What a lovely country that must be. I can quite easily see myself fitting into a society that sees beauty in doing nothing, as that has always been my goal . . . to get to the point where I can sit on my butt doing nothing more than just thinking and enjoying myself. Read the rest of this entry


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 277 other followers