The "Rap" Back and In The Funk Zone

    There is a lot to like about Santa Barbara's funk zone, not the least of which is building art.

  A more extensive look follows, but first, the old goats respond. The Rap back--

**The Text below**

    Frequent readers may recall in the previous post I discussed how our old goats coffee dialectic/cafe debate, populated by a diverse group, was at least civil unlike the wide divergence almost every where else you look these days.

    None of the group seemed to take offense to my characterizations, however Ray, our resident historian responded with verse. BTW Ray has offered up other ditties showing that he could make a run at song writing as a twilight career. 

    I see the group would prefer to be known as the Illuminati instead of old goats. My only retort is a small edit. He noted that my court skills were unknown at Butler U (I was accepted there) but it should read Ball State U, from whence I graduated.  He's right though.  My hoops skills were left for Industrial, Church and Y leagues.

    Thanks Ray, and Illuminati pals. This is a keepsake the kids will find in my files.

the funk

    Santa Barbara's "Funk Zone," between the Pacific, the 101 and adjacent to the Amtrak station is a warren of cafes, wine rooms, galleries, restaurants, boutiques, bistros and plenty to look at. 

      An old warehouse and industrial district, enlivened.

     These 8 x 8 portraits are of Jean-Michel Basquiat, Keith Haring, Frida Kahlo, Yauyoi Kusama, Diego Rivera, Ai Wei Wei. They were done by students and guest muralist David Flores. 

   And then near the Santa Barbara farmers market is another eye appealing bit of public art, on a private home.

     After living in the mid-west my one regret about California is the brevity of the green season. So, enjoy a couple more scenes from nearby.

The Text

Tom came out of Indiana

a sharpened pencil in his hand

vowing to excoriate

every villain in the land

Calif. welcomed him

with widely opened arms

recognizing instantly

those sophisticated charms

He's a Hoosier and a Scot

a journalist most refined

but ignore required readings

and your faults could be defined

At Butler U his court skills

were remarkably unknown

those letters of recruitment

Vanished in the Twilight Zone

you know he's quite the wordsmith

dedicated to the truth

but exhibit mental weakness

and he'll shred you skin and tooth-

He is a well known resident

of many halls of fame

but are those hefty entry fees

just another elitist game?

Tom's an author and a blogger

of national reputation

But I suspect Ms. Lana

supervised his maturation

He's a critic of our president

our "national benefactor"

insisting that insanity

might be a slight distractor

No more distant projects

might an editor seek to send

For we could not tolerate

the loss of such a friend.

Ray Maijala

The Illuminati

 Janos

Dick

Dino

Julie

     See you down the trail.

Give them guns & It was this big....

let's just end this stuff

     I've been listening.  I'm a good listener. As a reporter I'm a professional listener. 

     So, you listen long enough and some place in your cranium rationality gets strangled, choked by exhaust fumes we call politics. Used to be one could take it in and, like the energizer bunny, keep on clicking. That went south sometime in the last year. We are talking survival now.

     Give them guns. Give all of them guns. The candidates, the handlers, the pollsters, the traveling media, the anchor set media, the studio audience, the protesters, the t-shirt billboard wearing partisans-who may already have guns, the House of Representatives, the Senate, except Mitch McConnell, K. street firms, every PAC, the Koch brothers, George Soros, Ken Bone and find old Joe the Plumber and give him a plunger and mop.

       Give the rest of us a bunker. And then give us an all clear when the last round has been fired. Then fire up the band with some John Phillips Sousa. Then cue up Moby's latest -Moby and Void Pacific Choir's These Systems are Failing. Then we'll just listen to the quiet and concentrate on our breathing and then try something entirely new-thinking.
      (Will this qualify me for the NRA Golden Gun award?)

it was this big

     My friend Ray fishes in the Sierras. He's partial to float tubing on alpine lakes on the eastern slope.  Three times this year the weather has conspired against his gentle floats under blue skies. Wind, chop, rain and snow have conspired against him, but Ray is a fisherman and he persists. Thank you Ray.

      This baby was 18 inches and some four pounds as he encountered Ray's lure as a gale was bout to beach him, again. Instead it "got landed" before Ray. Rays says he'd left the net behind and so this guy was in the tube and out of the tube and back in the tube where it stayed, before it was iced.
    A day later it was in my fridge and the next day it had been celebrated as such. Lemon infused olive oil, dill, lemon wedges and thyme bathed and pampered it in a "spa moment." It then got to the sauna, 400 degrees.  Normally it would have been saluted on a grill, but the muse said, "bake this big boy." 

    Soon it was further decorated, celebrated and added to another ring in the circle of life.

     Thanks Ray.  God bless the high Sierras and those who dwell there in, in all of their incarnations.

      See you down the trail.

THE POWER OF THE GREETING

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

     Not sure what the stats show but it's my hunch fewer Christmas cards are being sent via US Mail. A) some folks no longer send cards and B) like so many things in life cards have also moved to cyberspace.

Snow Angel by Jacquie Lawson

          Lana has made our cards since we've been married. For several years she laments, "this is the last time I'm going to do it," but each year she is grabbed again by the old tradition. She creates the card and I write the message.

      I am a great fan of the tradition. I love receiving the beautiful works of art and am moved by the sentiment and message. Like my father before me and his before him, I love the Christmas Season, everything about it and especially the cards. Here is a chance to think about each of the recipients and to recall their role in your life and memories. As a youngster I didn't "get" the idea of the Christmas letter, of course the writer, the events and people were known by parents, for whom the message had significance. Now I look forward to the letters and notes and feel a special connection and bond.
       When the season ends, we put the cards away and then in June get them out and after dinner for a week or two read a few of the cards and messages again. 

     There is something good about the care, selection and pause in life for reflection that Christmas cards signify. Addressing envelopes, signing and adding messages, taking them to the mail box or selecting electronic cards and entering personal emails are an act of thoughtfulness, caring and decency.

     It is a simple thing in an increasingly complicated world. But for that moment that we gaze at a scene or read the words we may feel something, remember, connect and have a good human moment. That is something extraordinary.

     It is thought the first Christmas cards were sent in the 1840's in England. An industry and a culture has followed. What do you think about cards?  

And There Is Also This….

     There is a beautiful rhythm to the story behind this. My friend Ray calls and asks if we'll be around in the next day or two.  "I have a little something to drop by," he says.

     After our years in Cambria I know what that means, and I start salivating immediately.

    Terri, Ray's better half, could well be the undisputed Cheesecake champion of California and all points east. Her creations are tastes of heaven! I consider myself a bit of a Cheesecake connoisseur and Terri's are in a league all of their own.

     I'm not sure Ray had cleared the end of our driveway before I was untying the bow, had plates on the counter and the pie cutter ready to go to work.

     Yea, there's a lot to make this the most wonderful time of the year!

    See you down the trail.