Right where you are supposed to be.

Have you ever felt that you were right where you were supposed to be? Today I had that experience.

I left for lunch, and traffic was bad. As I was waiting for a long light, I noticed an older gentleman, maybe in his mid 70’s trying to get across 6 lanes of traffic in the crosswalk. He was walking with 2 canes, one the type that wraps around your upper arm, wearing a small backpack and appeared to be trying to get to the bus  on the opposite side of the street.

He would take several painful steps, then wave the short cane trying to get the bus drivers attention. Then he would take several more steps and repeat the process across all 6 lanes of traffic.

The bus driver must have saw him I thought, as the bus sat unmoving; that is until the gentleman made it to the curb. Then, without fanfare, it drove away.

I could see the gentleman give a heavy sigh, and started towards the bus bench.

The area of Phoenix I was in is close to the Veterans Hospital, and this young fella looked like he had spent some time in the military. I knew I needed to see if he could use a ride. Thinking I would have to go through this light and around the block, I suddenly noticed a break had appeared in traffic. I was sure we were bumper to bumper just a moment ago, never the less, here was an opening. Making a U-turn across 5 lanes of traffic I rolled down the window and asked if I could give him a ride.

Bob said yes.

It took several minutes for him to get up into the pickup I was driving, but it was worth every minute. He offered his hand, let me know his name was Bob, and he really appreciated the ride.

Bob is a Vietnam vet, and spent his service in the Air Force I found out. Currently he was headed to the VA for an appointment for his prostate cancer. He needed to get that taken care of so he can get his hip replaced.

Suddenly my trials and troubles of life, were of no consequence. I spoke little, but listened to him as we drove the 2 miles to the hospital. He asked to be dropped off at the corner and he could make it across the street to the hospital. Yes across those same 6 lanes that he crosses twice each trip.

Instead I asked him to give me the directions, and he guided me into the complex and I dropped him off at the front door. We shook hands, a firm handshake, and I wished him the best with both the challenges he was facing. He climbed down, and with a wave he went inside.

Lately I have been questioning my self worth. What do I really have to show?  How have I contributed positively to the world. What has my 49 years been spent on. The last couple of weeks have been rough, with those thoughts dragging further me down the rabbit hole if you will.

What is my purpose? Did I fulfill it? Is it still coming? Worse yet, did I miss it. When I came to the fork in the road, by choosing right, did I miss where I was supposed to go?

Today, for 10 minutes, was I where Bob needed me?


Today for 10 minutes, Bob was right where I needed him to be.

Bob, we didn’t exchange last names, and I am pretty sure this will never get to you. Thank you. Sincerely, thank you, for showing me that maybe its not the large great plans we have for ourselves that matter. Instead, maybe its just the little things.

I hope you were able to get good news today and they will get that hip replaced. I hope the pain you have been dealing with goes away, and you can get back to doing the things you enjoy.

I grabbed a quick lunch and as I was walking back to the truck, I had a beautiful butterfly fly alongside me for a bit. I felt peace then, not sure why, but it was magical none the less.




It is in the eyes.

Are you an eye person? I am. When I speak to someone or they are talking to me, I maintain eye contact. “The eyes are windows to the soul” was once said, and I believe it.

Over that last couple of weeks I have met several new people. Some old, some young, and some around my age. What I noticed in each case was their eyes. How bright and vibrant they were, no matter the age or the color. Do eyes age? Not around the eyes, where we earn our wrinkles, but the iris. My grandfather was 100 the last time I saw him, but his eyes were bright and full of life, as any time I had seen them.

Some people hide their eyes. Either they advert them, looking away, or they  wall them up behind sunglasses. I am suspicious of these people, as I always feel they are hiding something. Something they must assume someone could figure out, just by their eyes.

Then there are those who return the look. Sharing their current mood of happiness, sadness, understanding or questioning. I can remember looking at someone and their eyes searching mine for………. for what? To see if I really could peer into their soul? To see if I knew the secret they had kept hidden? Were they looking into my soul, to see what I was feeling? What I was hiding? Was I being truthful, fearful, loving, angry or just a blank stare, where the lights are on, but no one is home. During these exchanges, once of us would eventually ask, “what?”

The implication is that something was  seen. Again, it may have been nothing, but their eyes  told  me, it was something.

There is more that is  exchanged when two  people, communicate, eyes to eye.  It is as if they increase the level of understanding, for good or bad.

Are you an eye person? Do you seek for understanding in another’s eyes? Or do you hide yours away? Protecting  more then just your vision, behind the dark lenses.

The Door.

He sat there, staring at the doorway, waiting.  It was how he spent most days and evenings since she left. Currently he had it open, staring across the fields, across the river, to where the sun was beginning to set. That damn door. He had closed it, locked, even nailed it shut at one time. But then, out of the blue, a knock, a note, a smile and he would think, its going to open again.

Only he ever opened the door.

Tonight would be different though. He had marked the date, purely by random, and circled it. If she didn’t come to the door, then he knew drastic changes would need to be made. The old clock chimed midnight, and still he looked, longing, hoping, against the odds, but there was no sign of her. Slowly, he raised himself out of the chair. He snorted, “wonder which of us creaks more chair, you or me?’

The chair couldn’t respond, but it knew it was the man that creaked.

He walked to the table next to the door where he had left his tools. As if turning a page, he went into work mode, banishing her from his thoughts. Picking up the screwdriver and  his well worn hammer, he punched out the 3 hinge pins. They came out easily, as he had kept them well oiled, waiting for her return. He was at peace when he worked.

Lifting the door off he set it outside and continued his work. Switching screwdrivers he began to remove the hinge plates on the door jam.  A few screeched as if holding on, he knew that feeling. Several came right out, ready to be done. Two were missing, they knew when it was time to go.

With that done he switched to a pry bar and removed the jam. He was in the zone. Humming a long forgotten tune, he worked away. His companions, a couple of old dogs, and cats, came in and took over the chair. The dogs went right to sleep, the cats, however, kept an eye on him. They had a side bet if he would go through with it this time. The Calico was up 5-0 over the grey cat. But Scruffy, the grey, had a feeling tonight he would finally get a win.

Time flew by as he nailed in some studs, and began the drywall. He continued through the night, lost in the work and the happiness of a job well done.  He wasn’t sure when he finished. Seemed like he has just sat down and  closed his eyes when he was awakened by the sun streaming through the eastern facing windows.

He confused at first, not recognizing where he was. This room was all white, a blank canvas for his life ahead. Gone was the door, he couldn’t even remember where it had been, along with all the pictures and mementos that always brought her back to him, at least in his mind.

A new day.  A new start. He realized he was finally just happy to be alive. It had been a long time since he had that feeling. He got up and told the animals it was time for breakfast. He had already turned away and missed Scruffy cuffing the calico, 5-1. It was a start.

Whenever one door closes, yank it off its hinges and fill in the wall. Sometimes it is the only way.

Ramblings of a mad man, July 2, 2018




She stands in the river of time. As if the universe has captured her in this single moment. She feels time pulling her along. The water and silt flowing over her bare feet as she puzzles the great mysteries of life.

She is not alone here.

Her shadow, her past, solid, ever present, is before her. It stretches across time to solid land. It is all she has been. All she has endured. All she has experienced. Joy and love, pain and loss. They are all part of her. She cannot escape her past, nor should she. All parts together make her. Take away any, and it changes who she is.

There is another here.

Her reflection on the water ripples with life, a living thing. It is almost translucent. It is her future. Unlike the solid shadow of her past, her future is always in flux. It does not control her, nor is she trapped by it. It will be as it will be, is her mantra. The only thing in common with the shadow, is she always has her future with her as well.

She is V3

She Waits


She stands at the edge of the great ocean.

The water caressing her as she watches and waits.

The warmth of the sun engulfs her, as if giving her a last embrace, before it falls beneath the horizon.

Behind her the night approaches.

The shadows grow long and dark.

The sand that glitters in the sunlight, turns to stars sparkling in the night.

In this moment, everything in it, is her.

Light and Darkness.

Water and earth.

Time and timeless.

She breathes in the eternity of the moment.

She waits.


She Walks in Moonlight

She walks in moonlight. Even in the daytime her shadow is bathed in moonlight. It is appropriate I suppose. As, like the moon, she goes through her phases. Nor can she deviate or escape them, any more than the moon can change its path through the celestial sky.

What a force of nature she is. She effects all those who encounter her. As the moon applies its power to the tidal forces, so does she to people. It just happens. Sometimes she seems to be just as surprised at the effects as those affected.

She is celestial, ethereal, magical and possibly immortal.

She walks in Moonlight.


The Journey


Have you ever wondered about the people behind the stories? What were they really like? What drove and inspired them? Lately those questions have been coming into my mind. History is available for writers of our time, and possibly going back two hundred years. Autobiographies, biographies, antidotal writings, all tell a piece of who the writer was.  Can we find out what inspired and drove them? Is that needed to understand the context of their work? Or, is the work a stand alone item?

Recent events in my life have led to an over load of emotional energy. This energy had built to a level that I felt I would explode. In the past, I would release this energy through self destructing activities. Those would bleed off the negative energy, but the resulting mental and emotional vacuum, and dealing with any repercussions, could lead to a downward spiral.  I am sure that is a normal course of events for many people. How the energy gets dispersed may hold the key to some of the creations that astound us even today.

I found that while I was contemplating how to deal with it, (the realization that just contemplating was bleeding off some of the energy), I noticed that thought and writing ideas began to flow. Is it possible, that negative as well as positive energy, weather emotional, or mental, could be harnessed to create a work that is worthy?  I believe so.

A Journey to another country may have actual begun the Journey of self discovery.

As with all Journeys, we start with the first step………



Ramblings of a mad man.

The moon shone brightly over the barren landscape. Nothing moved in that cool stillness. You would have missed him, sitting there, staring off into space. The only sound  coming from his breathing, and the ticking of engine cooling off behind him. Funny to think that one could miss a bright pink barracuda named Jolene, especially in all the moonlight. Tonight though Jolene seemed to fade into the scenery like her owner. His mood was dark and black tonight, his thoughts barren like the deep reaches of space he pondered.

They had run hard and fast tonight, two entities working as one, a man and his machine. But Jolene was more than that. She was alive, and a big part of his soul, and she knew it. She liked nights like tonight, although the mood was something she wished she could change.

They had been partners for over 32 years, and if anything, she was winning the battle of age. Sure she had some nicks and scars here and there, but his scars were deeper. Lately the scars he had been gathering were mental and emotional, unseen but just as painful  That is what brought him out tonight. She knew the moment he arrived to pull her out, something had him troubled. He fired her up and headed out, only stopping for fuel. He ran her hard, and fast, and she responded. Usually he would get to 100, or even 120, then he would be in the zone. His pulse would slow, his mind, concentrating, feeling the road, feeling her respond to his request with raw power. His mind would clear and they would return at a normal pace. However, Tonight 120 came and went quickly, and still the needles climbed. She loved to race and run, but as the needle crossed 135, she realized he was not right. 140, 145mph the needle almost pegging. Her heart screamed, the tach read 8000 rpm and climbing, the wind wiping by the car. Suddenly they were at 150, the needle up against the stop, surely this would calm him. But he wasn’t himself tonight. mile after mile they ran, her engine screaming, flying down the deserted highway. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, his right foot lifted slowly and brought her back down to the speed limit.

Tonight he didn’t find his peace, but he knew he could only run her for so  long. Eventually he pulled off the highway and down a side road to where they sat now. He sat there, quietly, leaning up against her. He was tired. Physically yes, but more than that. His soul was tired. Slowly he stood up. His  body creaking like an old staircase as he came to his full height. He should head back, but he was just to drained. He sat up on her hood, then slid back. Her twin hood scoops cradled him gently as he leaned back against the windshield. In a moment he was asleep.




He Dreamed. Tonight they were not of butterflies and unicorns, though they seldom were. His breathing came rushed and ragged, his body shaking, he seemed to be engaged in struggle. Indeed. Tonight he wrestled with demons. His own.

Let there be light, and there was.

Let there be light, unless the bulbs are burned out. This happened to the light fixture in my girls room yesterday. Not a big deal usually, right? Unless this beautiful 2 piece frosted glass fixture has the 2 t9 circular fluorescent bulbs in it. Then you have 2 bulbs, each about $10 plus a ballast, another $20, that may or may not work.

Not wanting to spend 20-40 dollars on this fixture, especially since I have been converting to L.E.D bulbs everywhere else,  I needed a new idea. I ended up taking the fixture down and tossing the old fluorescent parts. Then I wired in 2 socket pigtails ($3.27 each from Home Depot Model # R60-00055-000) through the fixture and into the house power. Once there, it was easy to screw in 2 L.E.D. Bulbs. Using the 40 watt equivalent bulbs that costco was selling for 3 for $10.  

Replaced the covers and there you have it. More light, less energy, and maintenance friendly.

So if you have a favorite light fixture, that currently runs on fluorescent tubes, or rings, consider changing the sockets out for some L.E.D bulbs. Most use only 10% of the power of Fluorescent.