Paddy's Wanderings

Stone Statues

Is it the Moon? Or a Martian landscape? Maybe, it is a five year old on a beach stacking stones, making a bit of sand art. It is all in how you look at it.

Imagination is the key.

Children have a wonderful imagination. I think we all know that. They use imagination to fill in their world, to help to understand it. The techno-kid is filled with stories and explanations for everything from how bees make honey to, well to why there is a stone statue on a beach. At one time, this was a temple that Inyanna Jones explored looking for treasure.

The old saw a picture is worth a thousand words seems to be true. But if you are kid, and you really stretch the imagination, then it is worth a thousand stories. It is amazing how easy and free a mind can be when that mind is fresh to the world.

Here there be magic.

When I am in the midst of the January Blues, I can sit down, look at pictures like this one. I can talk with the t-k and have him tell me a story. I can smell the lake breeze, feel the sun on the sand, and for a moment, be free and see the world for the first time.

Remember..

 

Then & Now ~ LotR

That is the cover from my first copy of Lord of the Rings, bought at the bookstore in the mall, way back in 7th grade, a.k.a. 1978. Crazy as it seems, I still have that dog eared copy. Even crazier, I say the first copy because I have two other paperback versions and a swanky leather bound hardcover of all three books in one.

I also saw all three movies in the theater and have the swanky extended version book case DVD's. I guess that qualifies as a fan. I have miniatures, action figures, all kinds of stuff from the Hobbit as well as all the other writings. I have passed on that fascination to the older boys and now it is the techno-kid's turn.

The other day I was wanting to watch the second part of Return of the King because, well, I love the scene where the Riders of Rohan charge down on to the Fields of Pellinor. Awesome scene right there with an awesome performance from the actors. Go Eowyn! Well I was watching and the t-k wandered into the bedroom and stayed and watched it with me.

Now, he has seen parts of the trilogy before, but he never really seemed to get into it, until that day. So we started the series from the begining and, over the weekend, watched it all. He even made me watch the end, you know, the part where all lovers of Hobbits get all teary eyed. Yeah well, he turns to me and with big crocodile tears says, 'Dad, that is so sad Frodo has to leave.'

Not to miss an opportunity to discuss the literary merits of one of my favorite stories, I asked him if he knew why Frodo was leaving. He says 'Well, Frodo had the ring and it was bad and it still hurts him, so if he goes with the Elves, he will get better. He can't stay with his friends, but thats ok, they are safe now.'

The t-k is six years old and of course, has not read the books, but he gets it. I can not wait until he is older and reads the books, and he can read the scouring of the Shire. Then he will really get it. He'll probably start spitting fire, especially when the beloved Party Tree gets chopped down. I admit, I look forward to that day because we then can discuss it all in detail.

But, he gets the gist of it already, and that is truly amazing. It is a powerful story, and the movies, albeit not perfect, do a good job of telling the story. I have read a bit of the Fellowship of the Ring to him, but I think he is much like me, impatient when someone reads to them. Soon though, very soon he will be able to tackle ye olde tome on his own. The Red Book! There and Back Again!

I can hardly wait. I remember the older bros enjoying the story a great deal, both in book and movie form. To say I am excited about the upcoming Hobbit movie is an understatement. We shall all enjoy the continuing stories of the beloved Hobbits and the good guys and bad guys of fair Middle Earth. As a wee lad I was enthralled, still am as an adult. The beauty of it all is, the kiddos are just as enamored as I am.

That, is cool.

Happy Hobbit Trails

 

 

 

Radio Waves

Imagine 1958, new set of wheels with a state of the art radio, cruising the strip. Brand new music from Elvis, Ricky Nelson, and the hot song from that summer, Purple People Eater.  Sure looks strange to me, especially that one horn.

Flash forward to the Fashioned Challenged Seventies and I am just a wee lad, riding in the back of a 1968 Pontiac. What did we listen to? You got it, AM Radio. I grew up on a steady diet of 70's AM Radio, and I am thankful I did. Some of the best music from that decade I first heard in a car. From short trips across town to long Sheeple Vacation Road Trips. If I played it right, I could convince my parents to play something other than country music, for a little while.

You gotta have Rock N' Roll.

Tuneage on the go. I still listened to AM Radio, but mostly just for baseball games. I moved on to FM and the hot 100. I was a teenager, what can I say. And, all of thirty years ago, is when I started listening to a local 'Oldies' station. It was hip man, all the cool cats tuned in to get a blast from the past, listen to the classics man. The squares were doing the hustle, you wanted to get a groove on, you caught this station.

At that time(remember this) they played 50's and 60's and I could dig it. This is long before we started putting a lower case i in front of everything, long before the net, you know, stone age days. Those tunes were hard to come by unless you caught a garage sale where some oldie who had lived past the hipster stage was selling old 45's. The magic of radio though.. yeah, it was all there, Elvis, Ricky, and even a Purple People Eater.

It sucks, but you grow up. I dont listen to the radio much anymore. That is a shame really. Just on ocassion, in the Jeeple, do I tune in the radio. I have a CD player, I can play whatever. I have a lot of those oldies on CD, so I can catch it then. I do not listen to that oldies station much anymore, but I did yesterday.

Caught some cool tunes by Seeger, Bowie, early 80's stuff. And.. that right there, my friends, is the problem. That station is STILL an oldies station. The oldies are the Hot 100 from the Fashioned Challenged Seventies and the Hazy Eighties. Yep, you gotta it, they bill themselves as playing all oldies, all the time.

Except.. the oldies are from my teeny bopper years.. Shazam! In the blink of an eye I have become that past their prime old hipster cat selling ancient cassette tapes at a yard sale. If that fifteen year old could see me now.. he would laugh, snap his fingers and say too bad old dude. Maybe you should listen to the 'current' Hot 100.

But I can't.. I just can't get into it. For kicks, I just looked at the Top 40.. I know a couple artists and recognize one song. Sad really.. truly sad. I think I understand how my grandparents felt when all their favorite radio shows, The Lone Ranger for example, got replaced with that loud, teenage rock and roll stuff. Funny how that works.

So I will keep trying. I will still catch a Hot 100 radio station, hoping something catches my ear. After all, you can't listen to only the oldies, not if you want to be a real cool hipster cat, and not some kinda square.

Happy Musical Wanderings

 

So Long Odd Year

The road through time.

Time is something that can be shaped and has variable speeds. Case in point, I had planned to finish this on the first but was sidetracked. That is a continuing story in itself. But I had a good excuse, I was watching Lord of the Rings with the techno-kid yeterday. So here it is, last year.

January was a whirlwind with the new job and very little posting. Actually there was very little posting last year in general. Working fifty plus hours and trying to juggle all the new stuff was a challenge, right at the begining of the new year.

Febuary and March was more of the same. Long hours away from the page was the continuing theme. Still looking for that kidney shaped table. We are still looking for a house for that matter, but our decorating aspirations are still early sixties.. weird, I know.

April had more exerpts from the blasted novel posted and a fun post about Easter Egg Hunting. I also started a Then & Now category. Kinda comparing me, from forty years ago, to the tecno-kid. Kinda illustrating the changes. I did more of that in May, the post about the changes to TV being the post with the most hits this past year, a post about Rabbit Ears.

The summer brought about the container garden and canning! It also gave us a chance to head north to The Farm.  So much to come, so much to write about that I will continue to fill the screen with stories and pics. I also did my favorite post of the year about building Sand Castles.

We did a lot of weekend Sheeple Trips. We went to the Fort at Mackinac, Mackinac Island, Mill Creek and of course Friday Night in Traverse City. Mix in trips to the Farm and it was a good time to be travelling. Been too long since we were able to go for a weekend and explore, I am pleased we were able to do so and look forward to this summer's adventures!

Cool new thing for the year, and there were many, was taking Better 1/2 to see the Tigers at Comerica(Tiger Stadium, it will always be Tiger Stadium). We had so much fun, and are planning to take the techno-kid this summer. It was my first game in the 'new' stadium, alas it has been that long, but we can make up for that now.

I finally wore out and ended up on the couch for two weeks with pneumonia. Recovered now, more or less, but that was a bad stretch. Had a good Christmas and New Year and looking forward to this year. More wandering, more writing, and more just doing, living. This is good.

Even numbered years are years of change and I am looking that right in the eye, lets do it. I am ready, do time warp, definitely wander.

Happy Wanderings!

 

Of Cats & Christmas Trees

Once again, there lays our Beloved Bully Bear, fallen from his carefully selected perch, the victim of the climbing hijinks of the baby black cat. It is of course, a Christmas tradition. Tree goes up, cat goes up tree, down comes Bully Bear.

This year we got the tree up a couple of weeks before the big day. Down it went before it was even fully decorated. A careening cat, diving into the tree at Mach 2, will surely bring down the most stalwart of trees. We have a nice artificial tree, sturdy, and for the most part, cat proof. This year.. not so much.

The base gave up the ghost, cracked almost beyond the wonders of super glue. It held, barely. Still, the tree spent two weeks on the floor, in various heaps. Nothing we tried dampened the persistance of that darn cat.

Canned air got her to hide under the couch until we let our guard down, then up the tree she went. Shoes and assorted projectiles did nothing. The momma cat hissing at her and batting the kitten ears barely registered. Even the dreadful moniker of Mundane Noodle, screamed at her as only a six year old can muster, did not deter her in the least.

I admit, I gave up.

Then on Christmas eve, we righted the tree in one last attempt to weather the kitten storm. Mom went to work. Me, middle son, and the t-k went over to my Dad's house. We arrived back home to find the tree, with momma cat sleeping on the skirting, still standing. As people owned by cats, we were cautiously optimistic and headed to bed.

Christmas morning and the tree still stood, presents flowing from underneath. Two cats perched on the outer edge, doing the catnap. All was good. The tree made it through the night and into the day.

Now, as I sit here, the little tree that could, is still standing. For the past five days, the wee kitten has ignored the tree. It is a cat thing. I am tempted to leave it right there until next year. Two can play that game. I am, after all, the top of the food chain! I am the master of my domain. My brain is as big as that cat and I can reason, use tools. I have opposable thumbs...

But it does occur to me, she is the cat.

And I, well I am.. the mouse.

 

 

 

At the Creek

This is Quinn Creek in early Autumn, before the change of color. There was a lot of rain at that time and the creek had swollen. This is the small section of creek running through the swamp end of The Farm. This picture is taken by my Dad from the gravel road as he stood on the old bridge.

I have tried, over the many years, to capture the essence of the creek. It is a small part of The Farm, just cuts across the corner of the swamp and there may be 250 yards of it actually on the property. It does not seem like much, but it is.

Simply put, the creek is time. It ebbs and flows, rises and falls, constantly changing, and yet, a constant. A touchstone, a marker from childhood, a sign post of the present, a guiding arrow to the future. The creek reflects images, in the still water of mid summer, to the gurgling flow of autumn, the bubbling rush of spring, the icy crystal of winter frost.

I do not own the creek. I borrow it, for a short time. It is there, and it is with me, always.

 

Surfing Quirky Sci-Fi

I have been hunting for a tv set just like that one. It is from 1950 and looks all kinds of sci-fi-ish and although in black & white, would be cool to watch. I think. It is my retro-ness peeking out again. What can I say, I like old things. Put the kidney table in front and a tall glass of something and I would be good to go.

For the past two weeks, I have been sick, super sick. My Doc assures me it is not Capt Tripps(my Doc has a good sense of humor, that is why I go back to him). I only say this in contet because really, you get enough health updates via other social media and the last thing you want to read about is that on a blog.

Being *cough* sick has led me to one of my favorite locations in the castle, in front of ye olde TV and plenty of stuff to watch. So I did, a lot. It was groovy and now that I am better, I can go back to work and have my fave shows back up again.

I know you want to know what I was watching, you are curious. Ok maybe not, but here goes anyways!

Lost:

No silly, not Lost in Space, but Lost, as in that show that was on and everyone hated the ending? Yeah that show. I caught a few stray episodes and was intrigued when it was airing, but somehow... always felt 'lost' in the story. Enter streaming video and voila! we watched the entire series over three weeks. Good thing too. If I had to wait until next week for the next epsiode or over the summer? I would have been really irritated. As it was, we got to watch begining to end and I loved it. Yes, I liked the ending, it made sense to me. Go ahead, yell at me, but it was good tv.

Eureka:

I never get to catch this series as much as I want, enter streaming vid. Picked up some lost episodes and love the show even more now. And.. still irked this is to be the final season starting in Jan. Major ticked off.  Oh Sci-Fi aka SyFy, you know we have a love/hate relationship and you fuel that fire. Either way, how can you not love a quirky show about screwed up uber-geeks in a town where anything can happen and often does? Kudos also to having Max Headroom as your dog catcher.

Warehouse 13:

Who does not want to be a secret agent/archaeologist/paranormal investigator? And... get to play with cool gizmos while tracking bad guys across the globe and recovering mysterious objects? Plus its quirky and funny, enough action to keep it going plus its a mystery! Bonus time.. it looks like its going to be on for awhile too.. crosses appendages.

And that was the two weeks of couch sitting. Lots of TV and lots of meds and it was groovy. Well, not the sick part, that part sucked dinosaur eggs. At least I wasn't bored out of my mind. Even if I was hacking so bad I had to pause playback and got nothing accomplished other than playing zombie on the couch. It was ok.

Tune in next time for...

 

 

Snow Maple Morning

Sunrise after the first snow storm of the season. Looks really cold, but it was not bad. I always like the look of frozen snow on evergreen trees, reminds me of many days spent in the swamp at the Farm. Of course, this pic is 2 1/2 hours south of the Farm, about three dozen years from boyhood. In other words, a long way from memory.

The storm was a Michigan nor'easter as you can tell by the snow and ice on ye olde maple. When the wind blows down from Ontario across Lake Huron right across the bay, it funnels into our valley and up the river. Makes for nice pics, plays havoc on the roads.

As a kid it means building snowmen and snow forts, ice skating on any frozen surface you can find and just having fun. As an adult, at least for this one, it seems to be just another obstacle in the mad rush of days. I have the sneaking suspicion I will become a snow bird, enjoy the first snow fall then make a bee line down the Great Road to the Land of Oranges, Gulf Courses, and beaches.

I did take a moment to enjoy that morning, there might be hope for me yet. Ask me in the depths of winter and you'll hear another story. Today, today I will enjoy the snow from behind the glass.

 

Concrete Cowboys

Last time we were in Mackinac, it was a Saturday night and a bit chilly in the straits. As it happens, it was the big night when scores of trucks, all their lights a blazin', cross the Bridge in a big old convoy. It is an annual thing, and alas, I have never timed it right until this past September. Actually, it was dumb luck, but that happens when you wander.

Taking pictures from a cheap phone, in the windy evening, did not bode well for many of the pics turning out well. Some are kinda creepy actually with all the blurred lights. It was cool though, from where we stood, right at the corner of the main drag near the ferry docks, we could see and hear everything. I say hear because we could hear the horns from the bridge and see the lights, then when the convoy circled around we could see em coming up the street near the shore. Great place to stand and watch.

Aint she a beautiful sight? The t-k loved it, we all did. Two hundred plus trucks, lighted up, air horns hootin, crossing the Mighty Mac and cruising down town Mackinac City for no other reason than to do it. People line up, travel vast distances to participate and to watch. You are asking your self why?

For us, it is in the blood. I worked in a truck dealership, did not drive for a living, but my father and grand father did. I grew up around trucks. As much as I have tried to stay away, it seems that love of trucks is buried pretty deep.

My grandfather's first job was driving a truck for the circus, a truck that had no doors, used kerosene lamps as headlights, and was almost as much wood as steel. It was driven by a chain(no drive shaft) and had two levers to shift gears, which basically was two forward and a reverse.My father's first truck had no passenger seat and the floor got really hot over the course of the day. Not much between your feet and the transmission. How things have changed.

The t-k has a love of all things truck. Typical little boy, but then again, it is more than that too. I think its part nurture, part nature. He has grown up with it but not as much as I did. I think its in his genes too.

I would say it is a part of our culture, as much a part as the intrepid colonists of three hundred years ago. Forged by the long drive west of the 19th century and tempered in the plains, the cowboy is not gone. That free willed spirit is still there, and we recognize it and glorify it.

Before you laugh, before you say I am being overly dramatic by romanticizing a simple thing as trucks, think about it. Think long and hard. It is in there, you just have to get past the office, past the unending days in front of a machine.

There is freedom in the soul of the people who cleared the land, the people who went west and rode the plains. Today it is not gone, there are remnants. One such place is behind the wheel, driving across the land. The magic is still there.

I see it, the t-k knows it, and if you let go, you can touch it too. That is why thousands of people travelled to a bridge to watch a bunch of trucks convoy across at night. The horns signaled look here, the lights showed the way. For a moment, everyone could see that long road and feel free.

This is who we are, this is why I wander.

 

 

Surfing A Distortion Wave

a small beat from Luna Pier

I've been residing in Feedback City, diving off Luna Pier and swimming out to surf the distortion waves. I do this when I am bored which, as of late, seems every night. There is nothing new under the moons. Or maybe, I just can't see the wave for the muddy bottom. Either way, I spend the cold night floating, watching stars and tracking moon light.

The truth of the matter is, the Verite has been booking nothing but canary pitching scat. I hang in the corner, stroking the caster and wait, wait for the cat with juice. Nothing shows and most nights, by the rising tide, its time to head out and clear the air. A couple shooters of hand me down mix, a couple plays of 'phane, and I gotta surf. At the bottom of the sine, it passes the daylight.