The Adventure of Books

As a young boy he spent many hours in his Grandmothers Attic. Since he always stayed during the summer breaks from school, and the house was in the heart of Florida, the attic was always hot. It wasn’t a punishment. It was an adventure.

The house set back on a large lot that sat on a corner. The downstairs rooms were filled with furniture from a time when things were abundant with decorative flourishes. There were tables with fancy carved legs that ended with clawed feet. The claws wrapped around small wheels that were shaped like balls. The main focus of the room was a brilliantly embroidered, floral print couch with three humps on the back. To the boy, it looked like a deformed camel that wandered out of a garden. The cushions were stiff, but he was never allowed to sit on it. He wasn’t allowed to sit on most of the fancy chairs in the living room. That was her room and was used for entertaining her friends.

His room was the attic. 

The attic was long and narrow with a steeply pitched ceiling that rose from low walls. At one end was a tall, narrow window that looked out over the front lawn. That window was always blocked by the items stacked in front of it: his Grandmothers art supplies; easels, boxes of oil paints, framed canvases both blank and painted with scenes of Florida. There were also several old, well worn, musty suitcases sitting in the pile. Other boxes, equally old, and well worn, filled any empty spaces.

At the other end of the attic, steep stairs headed down to the fancy rooms. At the top of the stairs was another tall, narrow window. This over looked a metal roof. The roof ended with a view that was blocked by trees, large palmetto bushes, and one massive Elephant ear plant. Sometimes he would open this window and sit, half inside, half outside, and watch the squirrels and birds.

There was another window in the middle of the room but it had been fitted with a massive exhaust fan. The fan filled the window with a three foot wide blade that turned slowly by a rubber fan belt that always wobbled when it was on. The fan was usually on, drawing in the stale air from the ground floor and blowing out into the Florida heat. Sometimes, at night, he would reverse the fan so it drew in the fresh, night air.

Between the two windows lived random chairs, book cases, and a single bed. There was nothing fancy in the attic. The book cases were filled with old books. Stacks of National Geographic magazines were scattered about the room. The yellow covers, bright against the rest of the room, beckoned to learn of adventures buried within their pages. He spent many an hour visiting the far flung places they described.

It was one book in particularly that really caught his imagination. The cover was a nondescript medium gray, and felt like a course fabric. There were no words on the slightly frayed cover, only two small, stylized birds on the lower right corner. The were embossed in gold. The book was twice as wide as it was high. It took both hands to hold it open.

The inside of the book was equally deficient of words. Black and white photos spanned both pages. Brief, tiny type at the bottom of the page had a description of the scenes shown. The photos showed amazing landscapes that could never be found in the flat lands of Florida: Ragged mountain peaks, snowy rolling valleys, craggy bays filled with boats and quaint villages. At the time, it was a world he could not have imagined.

He would curl up with this book, take his toy cars and pretend he was driving though the fantastic scenes in the book. He would drive through quaint villages, stop at a rushing mountain stream for a picnic, climb the steep mountains until he stood in the clouds, hike across the alpine meadows, and explore every nook and cranny of the craggy bays. Every photo held a multitude of adventures.

This book still lives with me. While I haven’t thought of it in many years, for some reason, the GBE topic of "What book that you've read was life changing?" made me think of this book and all the memories it evoked. I don’t know that it was a “life changing” book, but I’m pretty sure this is where my wanderlust was born.

It was published in 1949. The title is “Der Ligger Et Land-Norway from Above”. According to google it translates as “There lies a country”

I’m sure it was something my Grandmother picked up in her many travels.

Have any books affected your life?

What is the music backdrop of your life?

 The music backdrop of my life is like a warm, enveloping blanket of eargasmic pleasure. It wraps around me, comforts me, soothes my soul, lifts my mood, reminds me of memories long past, makes me tap my feet, and is a constant friendly companion.

I play music in my shop when I work. I play music when I am at my computer. I play music when I read and even a lot times while I sleep. It’s playing right now. For some reason, I no longer listen to music when I drive. I used to blast it every time I went somewhere.

With a few exceptions, I love most types of music. There are a few genres that I don’t particularly like (Rap-they seem so pissed off! Speed metal-Ow my ears! and old Country/Bluegrass-a few of these twangy hits and I feel like drinking beers and kicking ass) Even in these categories I still manage to find some great songs.

I have several old blogs about music. I have a new blog started about how I started listening to music. I have over 37,000 music files (161 Gigabites) on my computer and over 400 LPs, CD’s and even quite a few 45’s. We won’t mention the 8 tracks collecting dust in a drawer somewhere.

So many great songs! So many hours of listening pleasure. There is no way I could pick a favorite. I tried once, quite a few years ago. I came up with over 100 favorite songs and 600 runner-ups. Since then I have added hundreds more.

Music is not a backdrop in my life. It is at the forefront and is a major part of life. I can’t imagine how drab life would be with out it.

But there are certain songs that have always been in tune with my life. Like me, they have been around for quite a bit.

Burning Bridges-Mike Crew Congregation

I was an Air Force brat and moved around quite a bit in my formative years. I once went to five schools in two years, and lived in eight different places during that time. In most cases I didn’t have much time to make really good friends, so it got easier to close the door on those friendships when we moved away. I think it also helped me resist the “peer crowd” mentality because I was always just on the fringe of several cliques.

I like the powerful feeling of this song-like you can just plow right on through anything.

“All the burning bridges that have fallen after me
All the lonely feelings and the burning memories
Everyone I left behind each time I closed the door
Burning bridges lost forevermore”

 Kodachrome-Paul Simon

I was a mediocre student in High school. I thought a lot of the stuff we were learning was useless information. Later in life I realized I was mostly correct. I also became very interested in photography. This song became a favorite and has remained there for years. My favorite lines:

 “If you took all the girls I knew when I was single

brought them all together for one night

I know they would never match my sweet little imagination”

Everything looks worse in black and white”

Like a Rock-Bob Segar

Every lyric in this song reminds me of my youth; It was a time when I felt indestructible and all my dreams where still untested. A time when my life was just starting to take off and anything and everything was a possible reality. If you don’t know this song, follow the link. You can thank me later.

 Stay Awhile-The Bells

This song was pretty racy way back in 1972. We considered it “our song” and played it at our wedding. I’m sure the church going crowd blushed way back then. Still married after 50 some years, so I guess I meant it.

“She brushes the curls from my eyes
She drops her robe on the floor
And she reaches for the light on the bureau

 And the darkness is her pillow once more
How she makes me quiver
How she makes me smile
With all this love I have to give her

I guess I'm gonna stay with her awhile”

Cat's in the Cradle-Harry Chapin

Cat’s in the Cradle sums up my relationship with my father. We never had any animosity between us, we just never seemed to be in the same place at the same time.

I can also relate to Halfway to Heaven-Harry Chapin

“Now I have been a straight man and I've played it by the rules
I been a good man, a good husband, a good old fashioned fool.
I have a fine wife and two children just like everybody's got
But after fifteen years of marriage the fires don't burn too hot.

Ahh someone played a trick on me.
They set me up so perfectly
They Gave me their morality
And then changed the rules they set for me.
Someone must be laughing now,
Though it don't seem funny somehow,
How the world's accepting now
What they once would not allow
Back in my younger days.
The world has changed in so many ways.

My mother once said to me so many years ago now
Don't you touch those bad girls, so I never had girls
Until I had my Mary when we married.
My Mary then had my two sons
My life as a lover was already done
It was over before it had really begun.

Ahh someone played a trick on me.
They sent this little girl to me,
She is my new secretary
And she's something to see.
yeah She's a nice girl, but it's a young world
And she lives her life so free, and she sure gets through to me

She brings her pad into my office, she wears a sweater and a skirt
And somewhere deep inside of me something starts to hurt.
She's wearing nothing underneath, and I can see what's there to see
She smiles and says, "You wanted me?" I'd have to agree.

You know how much I want her,
And I know that I could have her.
I know I could, I know she would
Make love to me, so wonderfully.
God damn, I'm one crazy mixed up mixture of a man.

In my head all my life I've been a sinner,
And in my bed with just my wife I'm still a beginner,
But tomorrow night I'm taking that little girl out to dinner!

There's no tick tock on your electric clock
But still your life runs down.”

How does music affect your life?

Written for the GBE #17.

Dear God; Interview question

 

Dear God,

Thank you for this opportunity to interview you. I realize it is not something you normally do.

I’m sure you have millions of prayers to answer, people to smite, and miracles to wrought, so I’ll be brief.

I used to wonder why you let mean, crotchety, old people live for so long, and yet, you thought my cousin Vicki should die at age 10. She was such a sweet kid. It took me a long time to come to grips with that one, let me tell you.

I finally decided that life was a test for us. You keep giving those mean, old bastards lots of chances, thinking they might change their ways. The ones you are sure will never falter, regardless of what kind of shit life throws at them, you figure you can shorten the test cycle.

Oh, sorry about the language. That whole Vicki thing still irks me sometimes. I have to hand it to you though, you did gave her back to me as my guardian angel. Without her, I might not have made it through my teenage years. So, thanks for that.

My question to you is this;

Of all the religions in the world today, which one would you prefer us to worship?

I’m no theologian, but most of them seem fairly similar. Well, except for that cow worshiping thing. I never really got that one. I suppose if I was in some arid region, I would be praying for something to drink too.

I also wonder about all the wars that get started in the name of religion. Isn’t that “Thou shall not kill” thing good enough for all religions? Seems like a pretty good idea to me.

I’m sorry. Was that two questions?

Like I said, I know you’re busy. If you want to think about it for awhile, that will be fine. You can just leave a comment here on my blog. Whenever. But preferably sometime before you decide to shorten my test cycle.

Oh, when you answer, maybe a little miracle to let me know it is you. There are a lot of people down here that think they are God and I certainly don’t want to hear their opinion.

Thanks in advance.

Superstitous minds

 Ring! Ring! Ring!

“Hello?”

“Hey Bubba, it’s Ralph.”

“Hey Ralph. What’s up?”

“Hey, I was just getting ready to head out to run some errands and was wondering if you might wanna join me for breakfast?”

“I was planning on staying in today.”

“Come on old man, I bet you haven’t been out all week.”

“Two weeks. But today is a good day to stay home.”

“Why?”

“It’s Friday the 13.”

“Oh, get over that silly superstition. Meet me for breakfast, I’ll buy.”

Bubba mulled over the dangers of Friday the 13^th compared to a free breakfast. Staying home almost won.

“Gimma about half an hour?”

“Okay. Meet me at Cindy’s Corner cafe?”

“Sounds good. See ya there.”

They settled their rather large frames on the spinning stools at the counter of Cindy’s Corner Cafe.

Bubba’s big belly, hanging out like he swallowed a beach ball, brushed against the edge of the counter.

“When did these seats get so close?” Bubba asked.

“When do you get fat?” joked Ralph.

“When I got married. Getting married makes you fat.”

“Being lazy makes you fat. Getting married makes it easier.”

Jenny the waitress stepped in front of the two men. She pulled a pencil from the mass of tied up hair piled above her head and a pad from her slightly soiled apron. “What’ll it be, boys?”

“Eggs and bacon and coffee for me.” said Ralph.

Bubba looked up and said “Same for me, but add an order of biscuits and gravy. With extra gravy.”

Ralph glanced over at Bubba, smiled and said “And you wonder why the seats are getting closer.”

Their order placed, they sat and chatted for a bit.

When the food arrived, Bubba reached for the ketchup, knocking over the salt in the process. He quickly grabbed a pinch of the salt and tossed it over his left shoulder.

“Hey watch it!” exclaimed Ralph.

“Sorry, just warding off any bad luck.”

“You almost got it in my eye. That would have been bad luck for me.”

“Better you than me.”

Bubba managed to get a good grip on the ketchup bottle and smothered his eggs with it.

“That looks disgusting. Looks like someone murdered an egg your plate.” observed Ralph.

“Well, I happen to like it.” Bubba stirred the eggs and ketchup into a further mess before starting to shovel it into his mouth.

During bites and sips of coffee, Ralph said “See? Friday the 13^th isn’t so bad.”

Bubba rapped twice on the table “Knock on wood and good luck willing”

”That’s Formica” muttered Ralph

“There’s wood underneath.”

“It’s probably particle board underneath.”

“There’s still wood in it, ain’t there? Close enough.”

They ate their food and in between bites, sips, and swallows, they discussed this and that and nothing in particular. As promised, Ralph bought Bubba's breakfast.

Walking out of Cindy’s Corner Cafe Ralph noticed Bubba avoiding cracks in the sidewalk. “Really?” he asked, then gave a couple of playful jumps on one of the cracks.

“Step on a crack break your mothers back.” said Bubba.

“Well, I jumped on a crack and it didn’t break my mothers back.” countered Ralph.

“Your mamma is dead.” Bubba reminded him.

“Yeah, but it wasn't from a broken back.”

They stepped around the corner to see a work truck with a ladder hanging over the sidewalk. A worker in a bucket at the top end was working on a power line.

Instead of walking the few feet under the ladder Bubba walked all the way around the truck.

Ralph walked the few feet under the truck’s ladder. “See! Still alive!” he mocked.

Out of their sight the worker dropped a tool and it hit the power line. A small lightning bolt shot out and barely missed Bubba’s left ear before making a crack in the sidewalk.

“I think I’ll go home now.” he said.

“Might be for the best.” said Ralph.

 

 Looking at this chart, I have to wonder about the 5% that don't know. They don't know if they are superstitious, or don't know what it means? 

Are you superstitious?

Did you, like me, have Elvis Presley's "Suspicious Minds" playing in your head while you were thinking about his weeks topic?

My Power Animal

 When I read this weeks GBE prompt of “Power Animal” I had never heard the term. I know, I know, I must lead a very sheltered life.

I had heard the term “Spirit Animal”. I was a bit confused to what the differences were. After a few google searches for “Power Animal” I learned that I was not the only one to be confused.

I would click on a link for “Power Animal” only to find an article for “Spirit Animal”.

I even found a site with a survey to help you find your “Power Animal”. After spending quite a bit of time answering quite a few questions, I got to the part to learn what my Power Animal was, only to find the heading “Your spirit animal is Turtle”.

First of all, what happened to Power Animal?

Second...Turtle? I was hoping for something a little more exciting, or at least a little bit intimidating like Bear, or Wolf. Even snake would be better than turtle.

When I google searched “Spirit animal turtle” I got this:

“The turtle totem wisdom teaches us about walking our path in peace and sticking to it with determination and serenity. Slow moving on earth, yet also incredibly fast and agile in water, those who have the turtle as totem or spirit animal may be encouraged to take a break in their busy lives and look around or within themselves for more grounded, long-lasting solutions.” 

 

While I am constantly amazed that we have the knowledge of the world in our computers, sometimes there is to much info. Now we add “totem” to “Power” and “Spirit” animals. Sheesh, I didn’t know this was going to turn in to a research paper.

While the description of a “spirit animal turtle” does sound a bit like me, I was still curious to find my power animal. Further research found these distinctions:

Spirit Animals are often perceived as guardians and guides that accompany individuals throughout their life journey, providing protection and wisdom.

Totem Animals, on the other hand, serve as emblematic symbols that are linked with a community or tribe, reflecting shared values and beliefs.

Power Animals act as spiritual mentors, endowing individuals with their innate strength and sagacity, and aiding in personal growth and empowerment.

Ummm. Okay. How do you find your power animal? Oh, look! Google has an answer:

Ways to Connect with Power Animals:

        Meditation: Through meditation, individuals can set the intention to connect                 with their power animal and seek guidance or healing.

Shamanic Journeying: This is a traditional method where individuals enter a trance state through drumming or other techniques to journey into the spiritual realms and communicate with their power animal.

Observation and Reflection: Paying attention to animals that one feels drawn to or frequently encounters can be a sign of a connection with a power animal.

Dream Work: Sometimes power animals communicate through dreams. Keeping a dream journal and reflecting on animal symbols can be insightful.

Rituals and Offerings: Creating rituals or making offerings that honor the power animal can strengthen the connection.

Art and Creative Expression: Drawing, painting, or creatively expressing the power animal can be a form of connection and honor.

Sounds like a lot of work. Since I didn’t start writing this until late Sunday night and it is due on Monday (Hey! Just like my research papers in high school!) I think I’ll just pick an animal that I think fits my disposition and stature. My power (totem, spirit) animal is;

                                                        Teddy Bear

 

Favorite Bookish Endeavors

 This weeks GBE prompt is: What is/are your favorite book(s) and why?

Hmmm.

My favorite book...Thinking...thinking…

This is like choosing your favorite song, movie, or grand child.

It’s also completely subjective. My favorite song, movie or book could be your most hated thing. But don’t think for a minute that is going to stop me from blogging about it.

The truth is, I didn’t used to be much of a reader. My early forays into fine literature started with the grade school bookmobile and paperback editions of the “Peanuts” comic, and the “Ripley’s Believe it or not” series.

My early teenage years were spent reading things like superman comics, mad magazine and graduating to such literary giants such as the Creepy and Eerie comics. Those led to the titillating art work and stories in the Vampirella magazines. My Mom hated those! Every time she found one, she would throw it away. If you are not familiar with these fine magazines, this is what the cover art looked like:

 

 

You can see why a teenage boy would find them interesting, and why my Mom hated them.

Later in life that dramatic styled art work led to painting this motorcycle helmet:

But we are not talking about art work and I’m not sure those magazines qualify as a real “book”.

I remember reading “Shane” in a seventh grade English class, mostly because the teacher made me read it out loud. I don’t know if she liked my voice, or just the fact that I could read pretty fast without stumbling over the words. The other students would read, but they usually only read a few pages at a time. I think I read about one fourth of that book out loud to the class. It was a western and all I really remember about it was; if you’re sitting in saloon, sit where you can watch the doors. It was a gunslinger thing.

The next book I remember was a collection of Edgar Allen Poe stories. Even though the wording was a bit old fashioned, I found I liked the Macabre. This may be where my interest in all things Halloween started.

I don’t remember much about them now, but I used to enjoy reading the humorous stories of James Thurber. The fact that he illustrated them with cartoons only made them more interesting to me as I once harbored dreams of being a cartoonist.

In high school we had to read “The Illustrated Man” by Ray Bradbury. The book was about a tattooed man and each tattoo had it’s own story. It was basically an anthology of science fiction stories. Now THAT I can get into. My roving mind can handle short stories!

My favorite book(s) lately has been a series hosted and judged by well know science fiction writers. It is called “Writers of the Future”. It is a contest for unpublished writers. I think they are up to Volume 39. I have most of them. Each story is by a different author and the themes and writing style vary greatly.

 

 

I find this much more appealing than a book length novel that could take me weeks to get through. If you get started on a long book and then find you don’t like the style, subject, or tone of the writing, you’re kinda stuck. You gotta struggle through it, or toss it and feel like your reading effort was a failed endeavor.

Even some Anthologies that are curated by one editor can have a certain “feel” or even subject matter. And if you don’t like one of those aspects, well, you’ve wasted your time and money. Fortunately, I buy all of my books at the used book store. If they have a section for science fiction anthologies, that’s where I will be...or over in the travel section.

That being said, there was one book that I started, and literally could not put it down. I started on Friday afternoon and read it all the way through in one sitting. That book was Jurassic Park. And yes, as good as the movie was, the book was better.

Oh wait, there was another book that I really enjoyed: “The life and times of the Thunderbolt Kid” by Bill Bryson. It was a humorous look at a time that matched when I was growing up, so I could relate to a lot of the stories. I ran out and bought a few more of his books after that, but this was my favorite.

Dang it. If I sit here long enough I will think of others. This blog could wind up being as long as “War and Peace”...which I have never read. I doubt anybody wants to read that much of my opinion. Actually, I'm surprised you made it this far! Congratulations!

Best day of my life

 The best day of my life was actually two days spent naked and involved in strenuous sexual activity. This being a public forum, I can’t tell you about that. I can tell you that I’m old enough that particular best day will never happen again.

That being said, I would like to say the next best days where when my kids, or grand kids were born. The truth is they were so long ago, or such a blur, that those days fade in my aged mind.

I have had a lot of really good days in my life. When you don’t have a lot of really bad days in a life, it’s sometimes easy to blow through really good ones without giving them much thought.

Sometimes the world around you becomes a part of you, and you a part of it. On really rare occasions you are aware of that perfect moment as it happens.

The first time I ever had enough time to travel out west, was well after I was 40 years old. From my house it is about a three day drive to get to the interesting spots and I never had enough vacation time to make that trip worthwhile. Utah was one of those spots. I wanted to experience it fairly raw. 

My wife prefers accommodations such as the Hyatt Regency and refuses to stay in anything less. When I suggest we boondock (camp in remote areas with no facilities) she was sure I had lost my mind. She said have fun, I’ll fly out in a few weeks and we can do it right.

So I threw a mattress and a cooler in the back of my pickup truck and headed out for the wild country of Utah. With thoughts of scorpions, poisonous snakes and/or spiders crawling into the back of if my sleeping area, I eventually found a spot on a high bluff overlooking a desert view. As night fell, I folded down the tailgate and watched a glorious sunrise with nobody else around for miles.

Any thoughts of poisonous critters or even wild animals seemed to flee my mind. I had never felt so at peace, or so comfortable being alone. It was like I was meant to be there, or like coming home. I fell asleep watching as an amazing array of stars filled the night sky. I never bothered to close up the back of the truck bed and awoke to an amazing sunrise. A best day for sure.

There were other best days, but this is long enough for now. 

 

 

Textures of life

 

There are textures of life that surround us, pressing many patterns against our mind, body and soul:

A loving touch, a soft caress, like satin against our skin, is cool and comforting.

The warmth of sunshine, like being wrapped in a soft, fuzzy blanket, calming our mind and soul.

A gentle breeze, it’s gossamer bush against our face, similar to the breath of life.

The sound and feel of rain, a vibrant, all encompassing texture that can wash away sorrows, or allow you to wallow in them.

The feel of grass on bare feet, a prickly carpet that tickles childish memories.

Laughter is the soul saving net that catches us from falling into the abyss of insanity.

An interesting conversation, a many patterned fabric requiring the mind to follow, digest, and seep into our psyche.

Music wraps around us, an all encompassing cloak that can affect every aspect of our disposition.

We wear the textured fabrics of life like comfortable clothes. Without thought, we allow them to surround us, alter our minds, touch our senses, and calm our souls.

 

 

This was written for the GBE-Reincarnated week #8 prompt of TEXTURE.  When I first saw the prompt my mind went blank and remained there for most of the week. Sometimes, you just have to sit down and start writing to get the mind to perform.

Let me introduce ME!

 

GBE-R.7 Introduce yourself

 

Wow! What genius mind thought up this great topic? Oh yeah. ME!

In real life, I don’t usually talk about myself. I’m normally very quiet. I can add to a conversation, but I’m not a conversation maker.

When writing a blog? I can pontificate for immensely indeterminate amounts of time. And this blog is going to be all about ME Me me! I don’t know where I will go with this, but I am sure it is going to be long. You may want to make arrangements for your next couple of meals to be brought to you.

As of this writing, I am a 69 year old AWM (Average White Male). I can tell you that 69 was much more exciting when I was 25.

This is me last November hanging out with Billie Eilish at the Wax museum in Gatlingburg, Tennessee.

 

 I got married within six months of graduating High School. That was 1971. For some reason, she still puts up with me. We have two adult sons, who gave us three grandsons. They are 7, 3 and almost two. The oldest one can go to a playground, and within five minutes, he’ll have a new friend. The three year old knows all the Star War movie characters, knows the names of dinosaurs I never heard of and says things like “There ‘ya go.” and recently “What the hell?” No idea where he got that. No. It wasn’t me. The youngest one giggles and barfs. A lot. Usually on me.

On the rare occasions when I hear someone describe me, they always say “He’s so…nice”. Yes. It’s a curse. They never say “He’s sexy, handsome and smart”. My older brother got those traits. I got curiosity. It has led me to having quite a few talents and skills. More on those in a moment.

The other thing people usually say is “He’s BIG!” My name almost always comes up after the phrase “We have some heavy objects to move”. I’m 6’-2” tall and have weighed over 300 pounds. I currently weigh about 260. I weighed 220 in high school. People say I “carry my weight well”. Since I am about twice the size of a normal person, I’m pretty sure this is a safe and polite way of saying “Hey, fat boy.” Being this big is probably one of the reason I can afford to be so nice. Not too many people want to piss off a 300 pound gorilla.

Most of my life I worked in the field of making custom trade show exhibits. When I stumbled into this job, I had never heard of a trade show exhibit. If you don’t know what it is, google it. There are lots of images on the subject. It was a fast paced line of work that satisfied my curiosity and my need to create.

I became a carpenter, painter, electrician and plumber. I would also build the crates to ship them in, and then help load them on a truck. Quite often, I would drive the truck, unload it, then set the exhibits up. When the show was over, I would tear them down and bring them back. I visited a lot of convention cities: New York, Dallas, Chicago, Orlando, Seattle, Las Vegas, and Anaheim to name a few.

For a while, I would even build scale models of the exhibits as a sales tool.

I saw most jobs as a challenge to my capabilities. I would take on just about any task just to see if I could do it. I wasn’t as fast or as good as some of the other workers, but I was one of the few that could do it all. No brag. Just facts. (Guns of Will Sonnett TV show reference. Yes. It’s an ancient reference. I’m old! When I was younger, I had Stegosauruses for friends. They’re all dead now)

Later in life, I would do something my younger self would never thought possible; I started my own business building similar type constructions, usually custom commercial cabinetry and vending machine surrounds. (You may want to google that one too. It’s a fairly niche market. Or check out L Brooks Enterprises on Facebook) I did this for almost 30 years. I was an army of one. On more than one install, I would have people ask “Where is the rest of the crew?” They were usually surprised to find out I was the whole team.

My curiosities led me to other hobbies: Drawing, Oil and Acrylic painting, scale model railroading, which led to photography. I am an avid Halloween nut. I have built an operational Guillotine, an electric chair, and a haunted house false front which is used as the entry way into a haunted maze at some fairly serious Halloween parties. Somewhere in my garage is an eight foot wide spider.

I am currently in the process of renovating a house we have been renting for the last 10 years. I am constantly amazed at how renters can trash a house.

The renovation is keeping me from my other love: Traveling. My little RV is waiting for me to fire it up and take off. Soon little RV. Soon.

Well, that’s actually the short version of getting to know me. When I first started blogging on Myspace there was a section called “About me” where you were supposed to write a short blurb telling a little about yourself. That turned into about 80 pages. A lot of it wound up as separate blogs.

So now I am looking forward to learning more about my fellow GBE writers.

If you made it this far, leave a comment. If I can figure out how, I will probably subscribe to your blog, or add you as a Facebook friend.

I’m nice like that.

The scent of smells

 

GBE-R.6  Scent.

What scent/scents trigger a memory, a feeling? Does it make you long for times past, or give you a sense of contentment/unease?

This is my two cents on our sense of scents:

Sometimes a certain scent, like some songs, can take you from the right here, to the right then.

The smell of coco tanning butter or chlorine take me back to the days I used to spend at the local pool. Surrounded by half naked females and laughing kids, feeling the cool water caress my skin after being baked by a hot sun, it was like John Denver singing about West Virginia; those days at the pool were, to me, “Almost Heaven”. Even now, at an age where nobody wants to see me in a bathing suit, either of those scents still makes me smile and yearn for summer days.

Before we moved to the house I now reside in, a neighbor had a lilac bush. It always smelled so pretty when it bloomed. That scent seemed to have a calming effect one me. I learned to love the scent of lilac, so I thought it would be a good idea to plant a lilac bush close to the house. I can now say this should be landscaping mistake number one.

I planted it right by the window where my bed is. The window that is right by my head when I sleep. The window that is usually open whenever the temperature is above forty degrees. The window that gets closed when the dang thing blooms. If I don’t close it, my bedroom smells like a whorehouse, or a perfume factory where a fifty five gallon drum of lilac scent #12 spilled. It’s so strong my eyes water and my nose twitches. Eventually the scent will permeate the whole house and any fabric in close proximity. It may even be a bit strong at the neighbors house. I now know when those light purple flowers start to bloom, it’s time to shut the windows and turn on the air conditioning.

 

I never understood using some scents for shampoo. I do not want my hair to smell like flowers, fruit, or herbs. I would be afraid a swarm of bees might mistake me for something to pollinate, or flies would attack my noggin thinking they had found an over ripe Kumquat. I don’t want the herbal smell of my hair to cause any animals to mistake me for something to take a bite out of. I prefer more natural scents, like “Summer rain”, “Ocean breeze” or “Mountain air”.

I also like the manly scent of Irish Spring soap. The original scent. Not one of the half dozen other “new” Irish Spring scents that I keep buying by mistake because the packaging looks the same. I don’t think I have bit of Irish ancestry in me, but because of the Irish Spring soap scent, I think I would enjoy spring there.

There are other scents that cause other reactions. When I was a young whippersnapper, I was visiting my Grandmothers house when one of my aunts permed her hair. The caustic chemical smell drove me out of the house. My brain felt like it was trying to expand past my skull. My eyes watered. My nostrils burned. My stomach suddenly felt sick. I don’t know what they were using back then, but it smelled like it would remove your hair, and quite possibly melt your head.

The hot acrid smell of roof tar or new blacktop also offend my olfactory senses.

I’m sure there are other smells, good and bad, that affect me, but those are the ones that come to mind first.

Don’t be a stinker. Leave a comment!

Beauty

When I hear the term “beauty” my mind instantly goes to women. I don’t think I have ever met a woman I didn’t like. They always have some feature that I find attractive, and it’s an easy thing to find several. Physically it could be her eyes, lips, hair, and yes, boobs or legs. Sometimes physical beauty doesn’t extend beyond the exterior. Other times a woman’s inner beauty is her best feature and can be the most endearing. But today, my mind goes in other directions.

I slowly become aware that I am waking up to another day. When I manage to pry my eyes open from A) a deep sleep, or B) a restless night, I can see sky above my head. Instead of a headboard, I have a window by my head. Unless it is very hot, very cold, or raining hard, it is usually open. The cool night air seems to help me sleep, especially when I am buried under the weight of a warm blanket.

I normally awake to the singing songs of twittering birds. I don’t know why they think they have to start at 5 AM, but like when my alarm clock used to go off, I can almost always go back to sleep. But even at 5 AM, there is a certain beauty to their music.

Eventually, a cool scent of dewy grass drifts into my brain as the sun begins to creep in through my window and into my eyes. The bright rays of light bring with them a comforting warmth. Without getting out of bed, I know that sunshine will be hitting the dew on the grass and glistening like icicles in winter. An early morning breeze usually starts green leaves fluttering in the trees. Their quiet rush of sound will be a song of its own that always seems to be telling me some secret of life that I will never be able to clearly understand. Maybe it is trying to inform me that beauty is all around. I just have to take time to see it.

Most of my life I was busy working, or just trying to get through life. I can’t say that I have had a difficult life, but it was tedious in that I rarely had time to just enjoy all the beauty around me. I always seemed to be starting the next project, immediately after finishing the last.

While I have always enjoyed the beauty of women, music, and art (in that order) the natural wonders just seemed to be there as background noise or something to see at some point at an undetermined future time.

As I get older, and slower, the world seems to spin faster and envelope me more, quietly suggesting that I stop and pay attention to the wonders around me. I have become more aware of simple beauty like blue sky, sunshine, and pleasant breezes.

I always thought that when I retired, I would get a small motor home and my curious mind would head out to see all the wonders this Nation has to offer. I’m pretty sure I have reached that point where my bucket list has grown longer than my time to achieve it, and my lust for adventure is now far greater than my body can endure.

I still get out into the beauty, but I’m sure I can mark hiking across the Grand Canyon of my list of things that I think I will actually do. When I do get out, I usually try to capture the beauty with photography. This photo is from a recent trip to Upper Michigan. 

 

My appreciation of beauty seems to be getting stronger as I get older. Maybe I just have more time to notice it. When I do, it brings a certain peace to my mind and soul.

What kind of beauty can affect your disposition?