Summer Night

In the cool of a summer night

Sleep finally comes
Oblivion for a few short hours
Too soon the the mind wakes; struggles with life.

Prose wishes to break free
Sentences struggle for completeness.

References and words float on the air
Mind’s eye holds a crystal
Considering its complexity
Its simplicity
Its perfection

Turn the thought over
Consider infinity
Consider eternity
Consider mystery
To hold the world in your hand
and …

The scene that follows won’t come –
Struggling for completeness
Struggling for meaning
Struggling for profoundness
Struggling for the heights

The cooling air flows and cools the soul
The mind rests
Yet it struggles with the thought –
The image that wishes to be found

Gaze at the crystal again
See into infinity
See into the power and wisdom

On the wind the voice is heard
but in the mind a glass wall prevents hearing
Mumbled words, a phase starts

“Gaze into the crystal and see … “

Frustration as the words will not flow.

Completeness fades
The cool air brings relief
The river lulls the mind to sleep.

Sweet rest
Thoughts start and fade to sleep
Sleep comes to revive the weary soul

Sleep gently lays to rest
Sleep lets the thought lay incomplete
Sleep nurtures the imagination

Play the scene again
and again
and again

Gaze into the crystal and what do you see?

Oblivion
Infinity of light
Restful dark
Silence
Sleep

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Tap

Hot.

Too hot.

Energy sapping hot.

I have great thoughts but they can’t get past the headache.
A cool drink helps, but not for long. 
The fan blows warm air around my head. 
Thoughts do not cool.

Tap.

A diamond cutter studies the raw crystal.
Marks a line.

A tap cleaves it in two. 
An irrevocable step. 
Choose wrong and the value is lost. 
Irretrievable.
No do over.

Fear.

Fear stays the hammer blow. 
Reach for the jeweler’s loupe to study the problem afresh.

Time passes. 
Dust settles.  T
he stone remains uncut, it’s value unrealized. 
It’s beauty hidden by indecision.

The tap. 
Steel edge driven by a sharp tap with a hammer. 
Only one chance. 
Only one choice. 
Choose right and the beauty gleams. 
Choose wrong and your heart breaks.

Or don’t choose and let hope stay on a shelf. 
Don’t choose and let the beauty remain hidden. 
Don’t choose and let life pass you by.

Hot.  Heat blinding the mind.

In the shop a picture sits covered in dust. 
Just four cuts left. 
Which four to make?

In the past a choice was made. 
Was it the right path? 
Did I tap along the right line? 
Is that demon banished?

On the horizon ships approach. 
More choice. 
Which leads to fulfillment? 
Which leads to beauty. 
What line do I draw?

Will there be more ships? 
More lines to draw?

Heat.

The ripples rise on a distant highway obscuring the vision. 
The distant mountains shimmer as my strength fails.

Come, cooling river. 
Ocean breezes flow. 
Darkness fall, and sleep restore my weary soul.

Tomorrow and tomorrow come.

Give my soul the strength to,

Tap

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Writing Process

I’ve been paying a lot of attention lately to my writing process.  I was thinking that I could improve my writing by carefully looking at myself, my writing style, my thought process – all that stuff that goes into writing these posts.  I’ve made three important discoveries:

  1. I often write about having nothing to write about.
  2. I spend several hours during the week thinking about what I am going to write about.
  3. I rarely write about what I’ve researched and thought about.

This week is a weird week to be writing.  Normally on a Sunday afternoon, the house is quiet, I’ve got a cup of tea and plenty of time to hammer something together that looks like a blog post.

This week, almost none of that is true.  We have family staying, so the place is anything but quiet, my tea came and went an hour ago and I’m feeling a bit of pressure to finish this post and get back to the family.  I did think of just posting pictures and taking a vacation week from the blog, but decided that I must balance my family with desire to write each week, so I am pressing bravely on.

Earlier in the week I was reading the book on intertextuality and just started a new chapter – interesting stuff about signifiers and the signified and about the difference between a text and a work. I thought about it; have done some extra research on the concepts; and have something in my mind that I think you’d be interested in (discovery number 2).  So under discovery number three, I won’t be writing about it.

Since the real point of thinking about my writing style was to find something that I can improve on, I won’t be writing about not having anything to write about – even though I could write about that for a very long time.

On my way back to write, I announced I was off to write and foolishly said, “I have no idea what to write about and am taking requests.”  I got two good ideas, “House guests” and “something controversial – how about that NSA leaker.”

Hmm,  should have kept my mouth shut.  I could do a very long funny post on house guests, but to write one while the guests are still in the house seems a bit – well rude and I think at least one of my guests reads this blog. Talk about awkward.

If I wrote an entire blog post about how I like having house guests, that they are polite, considerate and a joy to have – well naturally you’d all believe that.  Yup, that would be believable.

I could tell you about the problems we’re having with the toilets – something about how one of our two is broken and we have guests.  There isn’t a great story here other than we noticed a problem a few weeks ago, called our plumber, he replaced the toilet and went on a two-week vacation so naturally it broke again two days after he left and the first guest arrived a week later.

Now some of you are thinking, “Andrew, you’ve got a shop full of tools and build all kinds of stuff (that irrigation system was impressive), surely you can fix that.”  I hate to admit this in public but in general I am a menace to indoor plumbing. Normally my attempts to fix plumbing are followed by a call to my plumber who no doubt sees $$$$ when I call.

Once I nearly set the house on fire while trying to fix a plumbing problem, but I’d rather not talk about that (but on the positive side, I did put the fire out before Heather noticed and she agreed to not call the fire department if I promised to stop fixing the pipes).  Oh, anyone know if you can just throw an empty fire extinguisher in the trash or do I have to take it to the hazardous materials place?

Now on to the controversial.  This is difficult for me because I am not really a controversial kind of guy.  The most controversial thing I’ve ever done was to wear white socks with dark suite, or the time I had red wine with fish.

But I’ll try – one controversial thought from me:  Anyone who thinks that the NSA hasn’t been listening to your phone calls or monitoring your email, Facebook posts, tweets and instagrams, has been asleep for the last 15 years.

Sure, this case brings to light yet again the fact that the NSA, FBI, DEA, ATF, and your local PD all regularly and sometimes with little, or no proper court order listen, to phone calls and read emails, tweets, facebook posts and regularly download the pictures you post on instagram.  From time to time this activity finds real criminals and takes terrorists off the street before they do evil terrorist things. From time to time this information is used for less than pure motives to entrap the innocent and deprive them of their freedom.

Most of the time, all this vast information noise is just sent to a giant data warehouse where it collects digital dust because the aforementioned agencies have had yet another budget cut and the people assigned to look at the data are on furlough or trying to apply for early retirement.

While it is bad that government misuses this data, I am more concerned about our corporate masters getting this information and using it to extract the remaining dollars from my wallet.

I’d like to write more on this topic but this black Cadillac just pulled up and there is a guy in a black suit knocking at the front door.  Maybe it’s the plumber.

Till next week,
Andrew

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Father’s Day Post

I am proud to say that my Father served overseas in the US Army in World War II.  My father would dismiss any sense of pride in what he did.  It is just what young American men did in the 40’s – fought a war to end Imperial Japan’s hold on the Pacific and crush Hitler’s Nazi war machine.  What’s the big deal?  That was his attitude.

Father died in 2001 at the VA hospital in Menlo Park after a string of strokes and related health problems.  He wasn’t an old soldier, but rather an old civilian who had served his country.  He didn’t leave behind many objects – physical possessions or war memorabilia. His entire collection of things from his service included:

His dog tags
Alaska Department patch (polar bear with star)
Rank patch – technician 5th grade
Campaign medal for Asia Pacific
Two garrison caps
His discharge paper

The only other thing I have from his military service is his flag.  When a veteran dies, the VA gives a US flag to the family.  I remember the day father died, the doctor called me early in the morning with the bad news and later in the day someone from the VA mortuary called to ask where to send the body and the flag.

We displayed it at father’s memorial service (father was cremated so there was no casket) and afterwards my brother and I folded it.  My wife bought me a display case for it and now the flag sits atop my memorabilia cabinet next to my desk.  As I write this, his flag and memory sits over my right shoulder.

Perhaps that is as it should be.  There is rarely a day that goes by that I don’t remember one of his jokes, or one of his stories, or bits of wisdom.
I could go on for days listing all the things I remember.  Here are a few of his often spoken quotes:

When told, “Good to see you.” He’d always reply, “It’s good to be seen.”
“I didn’t quite smoking, I became a non-smoker.”
“You are who you say you are.  Be careful what you call yourself.”
“Can we say that in a positive way?”
“There’s the right way, the wrong way and the Army way.”
“If I had to live my life over, I would.”

Father also told, and retold, a number of his Army stories.  One that came to my mind this last week was his story of “Dock Duty.”  Here is my retelling of that story (I’ll do the short version – dad’s version could take 20 minutes or more depending on the level of embellishment):

A couple of times a month the supply would come into port and all enlisted men were called for dock duty to unload the ship.  Father didn’t really like this heavy lifting detail and like any good enlisted man did his best to figure a way out.  Normally the arrival of the ships wasn’t announced – mostly to give the men as little time as possible to think up an excuse to get out of it.

Being in the coast artillery and working the radar set, father often found out about supply ship arrivals well before anyone else (some times even before his CO knew).  Well one, cold snowy day, father had learned the ship was coming in and came up with a plan.

He went down to the radar shack just before he thought the lieutenant would be around to collect all the enlisted men for dock duty.  When the lieutenant came into the shack father was ready – he had his maintenance manual out, a set of tools and the log book.

The lieutenant came in and called out, “Fall out for dock duty.”

No doubt he put on his innocent face and replied, “That’s today sir? I’ve got a problem, the set needs it’s weekly maintenance and it should really be done today.”

“Dock duty is important too, Reynolds, now move it,” replied the lieutenant.

“Yes, sir,” says my father, “Could you just sign my log book saying you sent me to dock duty instead of working on the set?”

“You son-of-a-bitch, you’d do that too.”

“Just following procedure sir, you see I’ve already started and if I don’t do it, it should be noted in the log.”

The lieutenant didn’t press the point, didn’t sign the log and father dusted the vacuum tubes, made a few voltage checks and put on a pot of coffee.

Father claims he did this twice.  Then one morning father was in the barracks when the lieutenant burst in and called out, “Dock duty, everyone fall out.  and you Reynolds, I suppose the set needs maintenance work today?”

“Yes sir, I was just about to get started,” replied father.

“Well, get going, Reynolds,” growled the lieutenant.

Father hadn’t been on the radar set the night before so didn’t know that a ship was coming in.  He just figured the lieutenant was just tired of the game.  Father said that he never did dock detail after that day.

But father did his share of KP – I suspect because it was the best way to steal extra food from the officer’s mess, but that is a story for another day.

Till next week,
Andrew

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