Wealthy, out of touch.
The President defending his actions and clarifying his position said,
“They don’t put America first. I do, and I always will.”
Twice he expressed his “love” for American workers.
Trump is pretty sure Americans work primarily in coal mines.
Picking a location to eat breakfast is the first work of the day. There are only two places to eat on the list, one is tree minutes away, the other thirty. Breakfast at home is always an option, but it's more fun to go out when we feel like.
Later, another daily chore is checking the starting time of the Cleveland Indians baseball game. Seems the team plays most everyday. The game of baseball is slow enough that when something finally happens on the field, it is exciting and you're ready for some action.
Playing professional baseball is good work to have. They pay those guys enough, over a million a year. That's good compensation.
The fun part of watching the game is leaving the sound of the TV on, then running in there when you hear something happen. Yesterday we ate in the kitchen and came back to the TV to find five runs scored during the ten minutes we ate. I guess the sound on the TV wasn't on loud enough to hear the screaming crowd.
Antonio invited us to a party at his place. He's below us on the second floor. He had two bedrooms, a normal size apartment, but in a two hundred year old building that meant ceilings about twelve feet high, with tall windows that overlooked a garden fountain and had views of our quiet street. We met some old friends and about a dozen new people. Everyone was dressed in the same sporty casual style of day.
A center table was spread with appetizers and several bottles of local red wine already decanted. Of the people we knew there was Bru, his girlfriend and our land loard. Others were friends of Antonio we'd see a few times and friends passing through Rome.
There was a young man from England dressed in good casual clothes who had recently returned from Africa. He was a talker. I was reaching for a slice of cheese from the buffet table and he began speaking to me. “I have been in Africa for six months and am going back to London for a short while.”
“Africa, for six months." His hair was neat, he seemed normal, civil. How he got to the party I had no idea. I was friendly to him. "What were you doing in Africa for that long?"
“I am a missionary and am going back for funds, to Britian.” I nodded. He was about thirty and enthusiastic. “It’s a fund raising expedition for my work.”
“What’s your work?”
“I’m a missionary.”
“What type of work does a missionary do, exactly? Are you working in hospitals or helping children?”
“We are attracting hunters, hippopotamus hunters. It is hippopotamus hunters for Christ, that’s what the organization is called.”
"What was that?"
"Hippopotamus hunters for Christ," he repeated.
I closed my mouth. I had heard him correctly. He was serious. I was stunned. Seconds past, I swallowed and finally responded, “No shit...interesting. Excuse me. I want to try some of that other cheese.”
After the antipasti we had a great sit down dinner with pasta. About eleven the party broke up and we climbed a few stairs and were home. I never heard any more about the missionary.
there is a site called "poets who blog".
mine could be "poets who carve wooden spoons from wine barrel staves".
now though, a bigger problem ,,,
i am home alone and keep expecting the phone to ring.
it won't for a while, M is still on her way to Seattle.
i checked the mail ... the mail box, that is. No mail.
at five in the afternoon the day is wonderful.
no idea what the temperature, but warm enough and still.
concern is passwords for the computer.
i am too cleaver inventing passwords. they become novelties that i create and hide..
time passes, sometimes years before i stumble onto a novel password i made, however by now i don't recall what i made the code word for; consequently, where it goes, did go ... is obsolete now?
Now there is no phone, not now now, yesterday or the the day before now; but it is current.
i have a new phone, mine. M is working on keeping our olnd number because I asked for it.
I have a cell phone, that's what we called them in Rome twenty years ago ... you know what I mean.
That is it. We'll go to Shiloh shortly. Maybe in a day or so I will have a number for my phone.
21st Century, look out. Here comes another participant.
ride on and on okok
did the indians like to smoke?
they seemed to if i believe.
what? TV, books i've read ...
wait, i've read hundreds of
books with indians ... yes, a few ...
and smoking occurs ... but,
how big a deal? it seemed ceremony.
i'm tired of talking about this ...
let's smoke. yes, the indian also
and join us ,,, o he is the other part of us,
so there is no joining, great ... more
time for smoking.
A month of no smoking. It seems ...
It is. How abut a fire and we all sit
around and ... marvel at the event.
No big deal, it happens everyday.
Some start, some stop.
To begin again,
To begin this writing again ...
Is like not smoking ...
is no big deal ...
I was lucky, I guess. for some reason i quit smoking those cigarettes.
I had a lot of experience, Now I'll learn new things, I suppose. That's
just a guess.
Paola, the sister of my fried Giacomo, quit smoking and mentioned it on Facebook. I only needed a mention, evidently, because on Sunday last I didn't smoke.
You know how many times I have thought about not smoking and failed to do more than think about it. This time it just happened. It is not pleasant, I am waiting for some good to come from it, but I have gone through six days without smoking. This is worth a mention.
Years ago, while standing at our favorite coffee bar, Bar Farnese, better known as Angelo's, I put brown sugar in my coffee with the small, delicate spoon Angelo had provided. Much smaller than a regular spoon, shiny silver; I was impressed by the delicate instrument. Surly he had many others like this one. We were alone in the bar and I took the moment to ask Angelo a rare thing, "Angelo, could I have this spoon?"
He looked at what I held and without hesitation smiled at me, nodded, and said, "Yes."
Here my wife differs in this account, she says she was sitting outside and had asked me to ask Angelo for the spoon. Regardless, this morning I held the tiny silver spoon and remembered that day,
and the many days there. Thank you for the remembrance of many fine coffees and the good times spent at your coffee bar, Angelo.
Your American customer of many years,
1975 in Hollywood I got called to dub an actor in the movie “Grizzley”. I knew the producers wife, a co-star in Grizzley. We were in a voice workshop together. I'd never dubbed before, she said I could do it easily. It meant a day's work at Paramount. You can find the film on You tube. If you know my voice you'll recognize me from forty years ago. The job went well, no problem. (I'm between five and six mintues into it, also other places, but that's enough.)
As it happened, a few hours into the dubbing session the director called a break. I asked and they told me how to find the coffee machine. I went down the hall, got there and stood front of the machine pushing buttons. It wouldn't go. Then a woman's hand came from somewhere, reached over and hit a few buttons. I had coffee.
We talked. A very nice woman. She was on a break from another studio. Dressed in street clothes as actors do in public, had no make up and a lot of freckles. She looked familiar. I thought she could have been Doris Day. She could tell I didn't recognize her, then stuck out her hand and introduced herself. Mary Tyler Moore. What a sweet person. By then we were old coffee talkers. About twenty minutes later we decided we'd better get back to work.
in 1960 Nixon and Kenedy
spent ten million each
in their runs for president.
when corporations drop millions into a campaign they expect something in return.
They're not thinking of legislation to benefit the people.
We the people
The theme songs from the early television cowboy shows captured me as a child, and have stayed with me for a lifetime. When Harry Warren and Harold Adamson wrote The Legend of Wyatt Earp they had no idea their words and the music would live in minds and media beyond black and white TV and far beyond their time.
Like Italian Gioachino Rossini could not have known that he would leap into the future in an odd manner with the last of 39 operas he had written. In 1829 he premiered his opera William Tell that contained a dazzling overture now associated with and famous as the theme for a television show - The Lone Ranger.
I never missed an episode when I was a kid. Years later in Los Angeles, I happened to work with a guy who lived next door to Clayton Moore, The Lone Ranger. My friend said Clayton used to go around outside his home in his Lone Ranger outfit, complete with mask, and continued to do so long after the television show had ended. You can draw your own conclusions. I think cowboys and cowboy music had affected him also.
You don't have to throw your rope out too far to lasso this one.
My mother told me, well she told a friend and I overheard, she was angry that my older brother had asked her if there were cowboys around when she was a child. What a silly thing to think. She was unaware that the sheriff of Tombstone, Wyatt Earp, passed away in Los Angeles in 1929 when she was a young woman of fourteen.
Reputed at one time to be the richest man in the world, American entrepreneur Howard Hughes hired a cowboy to move a large herd of horses from Oklahoma to northern Arizona, then got the cowboy and world champion rodeo rider a job riding horses in the movies. Soon Ben started stunt riding, doubling for actors like John Wayne and James Stewart and many others, known actors that could never be as skilled and daring or get a star on the sidewalk in Hollywood as a real cowboy, or be inducted into the Pro Rodeo Hall of Fame. The former rodeo star, rider turned actor, was Ben Johnson. He was a friend of mine and one of the nicest guys you'd ever know.
This morning I woke with the words and melody of that television show from so long ago: The Legend of Wyatt Earp. The words and melody circled my mind as I had my first cup of coffee and decided to write these notes. Coincidentally, my wife read in the news that today on the sixth of September, television actor Hugh O'Brian who played Wyatt Earp in the TV series died at age 91. Yet, the cowboy legends live on.
"And none can deny it
the legend of Wyatt
forever will live on the trail."