Archives
THE WORLD & ME: Once in a while, I feel in need of a political diatribe. First thing up in the morning, I prod my ancient limbs into movement, check with my brain to ensure I’m body, mind, and world-aware, and make my way to heat the milk for coffee, drink a pill down, and settle on the couch with my device—the whole world to be surveyed from the palm of my… Read More
‘Biting off more than we can chew’ surely must be among the most common of life’s conundrums. And it is absolutely one of the things I do best. Too many goals and projects to accomplish before ability kills possibility. I’m sitting here surrounded by my books and papers, everything I need for the second post of Decades to emerge. So why this feeling of existential weariness instead of that of the eager… Read More
“All voting is a sort of gaming, like checkers or backgammon, with a slight moral tinge to it, a playing with right and wrong.”– Henry David Thoreau In the last post I gushed about An Unfinished Love Story and felt quite enthusiastic about the continued sharing of my political-origins story. Upon a few days’ reflection, while my admiration for Goodwin’s book has not lessened—I realize my enthusiasm for the words (“Ask not….”)… Read More
My friend Bob and I were going to be at the Other Bob’s concert last night. Damn virus. Since we’re all playing ‘Shelter From the Storm’ these days as a wishful-thinking exercise…here it is. Shelter From the Storm ‘Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood When blackness was a virtue the road was full of mud I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form Come in, she… Read More
MACROSTIE ART CENTER, GRAND RAPIDS MN BOB DYLAN HOUSE AND SCHOOL, HIBBING MN (where he grew up…although he almost never admits it) If you’re travelin’ in the north country fair Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline Remember me to one who lives there She once was a true love of mine GREYHOUND BUS MUSEUM, HIBBING MN Let us be lovers, we’ll marry our fortunes together I’ve got… Read More
APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers. (T.S. Eliot/The Waste Land) Before leaving, with some measure of relief, my birth month in this watershed year (the month and year I got old…) of 2019, I must speak to Eliot’s April meditations—which… Read More
8/29/Wednesday morning. On the road (sea actually) again. I set the alarm for 5am so I would have more than enough time to putter, shower, last bit of packing (hard work with all of those #$@%^&*#$ souvenirs to squash/push/crush down. I was tired…stayed up a little late watching “Retribution” on Netflix. Then some more chapters of the Dylan bio—with which I’m quite bored, almost two-thirds of the way through the book and… Read More
You already know what I did on my vacation, i.e. taking Ghost out for a 4000 mile trial run, refreshing my Minnesota DNA, bingeing on leaf photos…. What I’ve done since—well that is complicated. The holiday ended Saturday, September 16th. The Vietnam War took over Sunday, the 17th. The impact on me, a non-participant who lost neither family nor friends in the war, has nevertheless been powerful. In the days since Déjà… Read More