A Different Holiday

Each Christmas is different. A year ago I was over 6000 miles away and getting ready to spend Christmas Eve with some of my Roman family. While much of the preparation was normal to them, nothing was normal to me. I spent the afternoon working along side Fabrizio and Abul. Packed up, had drinks with them, Sandro, Paola and everyone left in the Campo. Then tagged along with him as he went home. 

Because I was the first one there, I was able to spend some time with Silvia and the boys. The rest of the the family starting with Marina began to arrive...and so did the fire brigade.As we watched and listened from our  balcony the Firemen attempted to gain entry to a nearby apartment. The son of the woman living there had called the fireman because he could not reach his Mother. They tried the door without success and finally after some confusion and lots of noise were able to get in through one of her windows. While surprised to see the fireman she still greeted them with a happy "Buon Natale". With her hearing aid turned off and the music turned up she too was cooking the Christmas meal...you have to love her and her spirit.

That started a three day holiday celebration like no other I have ever enjoyed. While I can not be there in body, in spirit I certainly am. 

Auguri a tutti! baci!

What the missing filter missed

Can this actually still be relevant?
...paradise by the dashboard light?

This...
...everything is beautiful...
could almost be believable, if this...
Puff the magic dragon...
was the next line!

One of two options here,
...drove my chevee to the levee, but the levee
was dry...
1.) post Katrina
2.)needs a better place dump his junk

Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire...
No explanation should be required all you ex- Submarine racers!

Adam and Eve cast out! No papers...the first recorded immigrants!!!!!

If your Grandparents came here years ago with no friends, no knowledge of the land and unable to speak the language do you think they would have put a bumper sticker on the back of their buck-board proclaiming their ignorance?

Among the adjectives applied to me the word romantic is a natural exclusion. So, when I remember, not one but two of the most romantic things that I have ever done it is only natural that I no longer recollect how to spell the girls' name...apt!

Men modern technology makes us doomed! As soon as the vibrate app gets amplified to a high enough level...perhaps not that high in some cases, we will be toast!

All the medications are lined up for the week, each in its appropriate day/time slot...where did I put the memory one?

When my grandchildren reach my age I can imagine them grumbling to their children, "you don't even know what a game-boy was!"

Movies allow us to enjoy reality in any form we choose...or to just escape from it. Enjoy being the key word.

You are so totally unaware of yourself, yet you know and understand me so well...I am confused!

Humans are ego-centric. We each think that we are the center of the universe...see! You can be wrong.

How do you respond? Molly Ringwold is 47! Me: Still a babe.
My daughter: Really? My grandson: Who?

Those of us that do not believe in a hereafter have a strong interest in making this one count!


All wars end up as Phyrric victories. Carnage only leads to further anger and outrage.

I remember "going out to play" without parental guidance. That was fun!


I remember Ricky Nelson singing Fats Domino songs. He was a kid. Do you really think he knew the difference?

Consider this, if you don't pay taxes you must be a cheater...know any churches paying taxes?

When you hear this being said as a question, "Truthfully?"...do expect to hear the truth?

A child's life is full of events. The term "too busy" not in their lexicon.
An adult's life is full of happenings and they are always too busy. 
While an elder's  life is frequented by memories and busy simply another memory.


As a boy I read sci-fi. There isn't a genre more positive, more hopeful or more progressive. The future always provides. Now I read mysteries, I guess realism wins out.

Something that doesn't sit well. I am 72 and do not desire a "girl-friend", a "lady-friend", a "friend with benefits" or any other friend with a denigrating label. Just a friend works perfectly!

A Baker's Dozen

How is it that every women in Europe can manage to look stunning even while riding a bicycle and so many American women simply envelope the damn thing?

When people claim to think "less of you", count your blessings. After all you are the only that you must please.

How many continents are there? Nations? Cultures? Peoples?
...but somehow we are always right?
Please look up jingoism!

For all of you that believe this statement "everything is beautiful, in it's own way." Please turn on the news, now pay attention!

Equality ends at birth. Disbeliever? For poignant proof check out a classroom near you.

If Adam and Eve only had two sons...Lucy! Someone has some 'splainin to do!

Can Santa Claus get workman's comp if he slips on some of Rudolphs' "left-overs" and hurts himself?

Speaking of Santa, with all those raindeer pulling, how does he stop?

We get recipes from books that have been written in alphabetical form, while those done numerically are frequently "pre-cooked!"

Politics as usual...visualize this, a chicken after it has met the axe...politics as usual!

What looks more absurd than a two foot long grey mullet? Two of them on a trike!

A photograph is filtered by glass and a painting by your heart.

A reflection is a shadow in technicolor.

Logical progression...from 15 year old eyes

It was the winter of 1958 and the coolest dude on TV was kind of like Tonto on steroids. Pahoo! A knife throwing Indian with a sawed-off shotgun slung under his serape for back-up.

Here we see him with the star, Jock Mahoney as Yancy Derringer and Frances Bergen as Yancy's current girl friend. For a show that didn't see a second season there is much to say about this group.

Here goes... X Brands plays Pahoo the stalwart side-kick. A seldom speaking Pawnee Indian. He actually received a letter of commendation from the tribe on his authenticity...he was of German decent. Perfectly normal in Hollywood where Leonard Nemoy (Spock) started out as an Indian.

Jock Mahoney, the lead, had worked his way up from stuntman to star and after a successful run as the Range Rider was taking a second stab at Cowboy stardom. His character was an ex-confederate officer  making his living as a gambler and as a covert agent on the side...even then New Orleans had a bad rep. In the cast, as sort of maid in waiting was Mahoney's real wife, Margaret Field. As befits the name Derringer was heavily armed. Not sure if that to thwart all the weekly villains or to keep all the girl-friends aligned.

In the cast there was a previous companion that now was running his favorite watering hole. But, the girl of the moment was played by Frances Bergen both attractive and accomplished but perhaps better known as the wife of Edgar Bergen.

 Ok, I am going to attempt a chart...

We have an Indian sidekick that is really German

A girlfriend with two wooden step-children ( Charlie McCarthy and Mortimer Snerd) and a real live beautiful daughter ( Candice Bergen)

A girl friend in waiting...his real wife, that has a daughter named Sally.

The hero, not the sidekick plays a southern gentleman despite the fact that he himself is part Cherokee.

How can you beat that?

Let's try, one of the wooden stepsons seduces the Flying Nun and begat...

Enough?

No! 

Later, Sally joins up with a large cast to film the epic, Hooper!
A film based on the life of?????  Jock Mahoney!

This whole thing is stranger than fiction, but mostly true!

If only---

We have commenced the loons and lemmings season. All of the would be messiahs are busily inching their heads out from under their favorite rocks. Each insisting that he (she) can help us live our lives better, under his/her leadership , than we are currently doing without it.

All of you know who I am talking about, the saccharine saviors that surface every four years seeking to lead us to a bright new moral, patriotic and economically stable future. At this point we will divest ourselves of reality, simply because none of them start with clean houses themselves. From Trump to frump they scream of "the good fight", "moral indignation", "the cause", etc. Arrogant, power hungry petty despots seeking public admiration...and a buck or two along the way. Yetch!

Save me...no, save us from the saviors!

Does anyone have a clue just what an "ad hoc" committee is? Other than a clarion call for all these public feeders at the trough, that is. Has any one out there ever been asked their thoughts on these buffoons? I haven't. 

Now this is where I wish fiction was the true reality. Because we could jump into H.G. Wells' Time Machine and flip the dial to a day just after the election. Next, we would accumulate all the results and other pertinent information, ie costs, and return to the present. 

With this info on hand we fine each of the losers for the cost of each of his/her vanity trip plus triple damages for our collective pain, anguish and suffering. With this money in hand the national budget should balance with perhaps a little left over so the next generation might get edumacated!!!

Memorium

 Malaise is a word most of us neither use or can clearly define. However in  a very loosely defined way it is a curse I have been  living with for too long. I just didn't feel right. There was something hanging over me that needed to be finished. I was carrying baggage, a box full of grief. A box that needed opening and placed where she might have chosen. Today was the day. While we had discussed our desires on this event neither of us had chosen a spot or spots for our final rest other than the obvious, Rome. 

 That aspect was completed quickly. But, you can not carry a box of grief across the ocean. You must be realistic in a time that nothing seems real. So, while the box was open, it was only for a short time and nowhere near empty.

 I was left with an uncompleted task and no desire to proceed, thus a malaise. Somehow over the past weeks it has seemed more difficult than before. Maybe because I had been so involved with just proceeding with my own disjointed life...or I simply did not wish to face it. 

 Today I got up, got the box out, opened it and left the house on a trek to find final spots of beauty to spread the mortal remains of my wife.

 There will be no stone with her name and dates, but the things she loved and cherished will honored and graced with her presence. 

 The water, where she loved to be...

 A playground where one can imagine her playing with all her beloved grandchildren...

 The theater and...

the central point of our combined hearts and souls. Peace my love.

Too much time

Too much time? Too much coffee?

Is this a guy thing...or is it just a sensible reaction?

In the the discussion the subject of cleanliness arose. Number one son mentions that he changes towels, about once a week. Mom is aghast. Son, you wipe your tush with that towel. Not until I have washed it, Mom. My view is the same as #1 son. There isn't a maid coming behind me picking up all these wet towels, washing them, folding them or putting them away. Just how many towels does it take to dry a clean body and a flowing head of hair? Aren't you already on the road to dirty as soon as you step on the floor after exiting the shower? And if the dirty towel argument is to  be logically pursued, how often do you change sheets???

An awful lot of water goes over the dam and down the drain simply to fulfill this unsustainable argument. 

When I joined the Navy I was given two kinds of towels and a face cloth. Some knew the purpose for each, but many of us were totally at sea. The natural reaction to this unknown was to logically think it out and react accordingly. Every item we owned was to be perfectly clean, folded perfectly square and stowed properly for daily inspection. If you don't use it, you don't need to constantly try for that unattainable uniform perfection on a daily basis. Thus one towel until the laundry is done. We most certainly did not concern ourselves with the flowing locks dilemma...it didn't exist.

So, Mom, worry about your daughters and their pile of wet fabric that trails behind them as they merrily wind there way to their rooms scattering water and dampness all over the beautiful hardwood floors on the way beauty, style and the American dream...who is cleaning this mess? Just sayin'

A meandering post

Sitting here on the lanai, fan blowing, temp around 85 degrees with zero ambition. The cat is sprawled near my feet, exhibiting no more thoughts of moving than I have. Just another day here in the sunshine state.

Yesterday I successfully reinstated my Skype account, but I have no idea how many of you are also on there...please let me know. I also discovered that some of my e-mails were not getting delivered. No ideas on that one, but this post is sort of a general one to let all of you know I'm still here.

My "palace" is nearly done. Sure, there are a few things left to complete, but there always will be. Main thing I am living in a home that is something only I conjured up. A lot of paper, pencils and erasers have gone to heaven because of this design/redesign/gut/rebuild/etc. May they rest in "piece." No miss-print, just some droll  (sick) humor! The previous posts have shown before and after shots as well as some exterior landscape photos...so no more for now.

Nothing I do seems to follow a game plan so I am now, finally, getting  to a point where things that were "down the road" may be considered. As usual I will start off with travel. My thinking right now is that I may get to take one trip this year. And' if that does happen, it will most likely be to visit my daughter. No, I haven't told her yet, but since there are no tickets paid for I will talk and plan a lot prior to getting on the plane. Besides my Cats' co-owner needs to return before I can go jetting off. Got that Dorothy?

Soon it will too quiet here...the last import will be returning to Canada. My old friend that lives somewhere near the North Pole tells me that Toronto is actually nearer to Ohio than Boston is and further south than Boston...then why does the entire Provence empty in November...if it is truly so far south? Of course my "pal" lives somewhere near Baffin Island...and he wants me to come visit. Which day is summer up there Fred? 

Since I first visited here, about a year ago at least four of us "out-of-towners" have purchased permanent places here. It speaks to the people here, as most of us are not sun worshipers, but we do share a kinship for warm friendly people and a quiet (mostly) lifestyle. Perhaps the difference is that no one here has an air-conditioned garage to come home to. Every other place that I have been  (in Florida) people live an air-conditioned life, to the point where there have been neighbors that, while dwelling right beside them, I never saw...let alone spoke to. Sad. 

Time to bring this to  a close. Final question; anyone out there have a clue as to where I can find Aleksandr Rodchenko prints?

...ciao!

Not so perfect, but...

It is still 78 degrees. The rain has stopped and perhaps I won't have to water all the plants today.

 The "tropical downpour' has stopped all work, in truth I had stopped before the rain. After all, I am supposedly retired. About one third of my front yard is complete with the second third in the ground and the final third purchased and waiting. Waiting for divine intervention or a sudden burst of energy. Good luck on that!

 Red Cuban Banana plant, Canna Lily and White Bird of Paradise, with Iris, Jasmine, Copperleaf and two grasses in the background.

 My new walk (50%) complete and the before and after sides of the front yard.

 One of the "Ti" plants.

 Another Ti, a Canna and a Cassia plant...waiting patiently

for the rain to end and me to return to work. To quote Annie, "Tomorrow!"

Sadly, many of my friends are nearing the day of departure. They are all busy trying to find their muk-luks, parkas, keys to their snow-blowers and not least the GPS co-ordinates for their homes...so they will know where to commence shoveling when they get home. The good news is that by the time they find the front door it will be time to return here to the place where everyone knows their names. I will miss you all, but I might be able to win  a card game or two now.

My main priority at this time is completing the outside landscape before it becomes absolutely too miserable to work outside. As you can see it is progressing well. With some luck the front will be complete this week and the back yard is no where near as ambitious...only a few vines along the fence and two/three tall shade plants (white birds or seagrapes.)

More pix as I proceed. Ciao a tutti!

This wasn't built in a day either

Many of you are wondering where I have been, what have I been doing, when would I reappear? These photos are of my house ("The project"). My seemingly sole task in life, something that I originally thought was an easy patch, paste and paste makeover...wrong! 

I have moved in, about a six weeks ago and the remaining tasks still boggle my mind. The shift from interior to exterior is more of a sanity break than  any claim to completion. Their are many incomplete jobs remaining inside, but I can put them aside for the moment. Soon it will be too damn hot outside to work. So the outside is my focus now. Plants, plants, plants...and COLOR! And then return to complete the interior.

As the pictures show this project  became a total "gut job." At one point I was standing on a floor joist looking down at the earth beneath me, out through the aluminum siding that was more a sieve than a protective wall or up at a ceiling waiting to be destroyed. The more recent shots show a better, more livable atmosphere. Between trips to IKEA, Lowe's, various hardware stores and unknown quantities of furniture stores my sanity and budget are at all-time low levels. And yet, after this is posted I need to go find closet doors.

My hope is to post the job completion photos prior to my demise...at least I now perceive a completion.

I would love to hear from all of you, your thoughts, ideas, advice....donations?

What's a vagary?

Something that doesn't seem to follow a proscribed pattern or path, such as life to this point.

There is no such thing as a straight, narrow and easy way through life. A more apt description of my path at least would bring back memories of old roller coasters, two in particular. First the Virginia Reel, where some genius created a round car that spun in circles as it careened up and down the track at break neck speed and secondly, the Wild Mouse, where an individual car for two ran madly around a narrow gauge track trying to flip you out into the world at high speed. 

When I entered the Navy at age seventeen it was because there did not appear to a future in front of me. Of course now I am seventy-one and the same logic applies. There isn't a twist or a turn along the way that doesn't remind me of those old "coasters" or was any more comfortable or any more direct. But, here I am now thousands of miles from where I live, which in turn is thousands of miles from where I grew up and thousands of miles from my birthplace. Roots? Perhaps not, wonderful memories regardless. 

So for me a GPS is simply a gizmo with an atlas crunched onto a silicon chip and a voice to tell me where to go. Not the first to try and tell me where to go, but my reaction to them has always been, "if you know the way, you lead...I'm turning here!" In one week a stewardess will have the dubious pleasure of showing me my seat as I once more leave Rome to return stateside. I am never at my best on those days, but at least I am quiet Dougie. 

Then, like the new year, I'll start anew, another path and another wait until I write the next yearly episode of this adventure. I must give thanks that money is not my driving force, because obviously my prayers were answered. 

The "driven ones" are the ones I feel saddest about, perhaps even pity, because what they want, desire and seek is unattainable...more. More of this, more of that...just more. Once they get more, they want more. It's a self-perpetuating panic driven dream. What about people, after all, you are here because of them and without them you can't even gloat!

Off for the next turn on my own "Wild Reel" of a ride...ciao!

2015

Day one; shiver and shake. Rome is more like Boston than Florida in  that there is a real winter here. Perhaps more-so than usual. That being said, I am exactly where I want to be to start the new year. 

It is certainly cold, but it's a "warm" cold. What? If  it was climate I was looking for I would have stayed in Ft. Myers. Warm and open hearted, kind friends that are happy to see me and put up with me being an American are what describes the warm cold I am writing about. I am surrounded by friends and lots of hot coffee. 

last night's noise is gone and many are awakening to their own internal din and clamor of last night. Not for me a wine induced hangover. I intend to travel back and forth from this site to the coffee bar today. This message the only effort to be put forth.

To catch this city in the bright early hours sans people is a wonderful experience. The few that are up and about are on the way to work and can't understand why on earth I am so happy. I have my camera, splendid blue skylight, reflections and photos to take. Make my day!

Reflection is a large aspect of my photo taking and a smaller part of life. Just for this moment I bask in the times that I have been able to spend here with a family chosen, not just by me, but by Grace and more importantly the ones I spend so much time talking about. While we in the states grouse about how bad things are it only takes a few minutes of observation and conversation to see just how well off we still are. Read an European newspaper as opposed to one of our doom-slinging American rags just for a different slant.

Despite their horrible economy and political mish-mash of characters the thing I admire most about my friends is their ever-positive approach to life...as if Bill Belichick quoted their life mantra, "It is, what it it!"  Hopefully that mantra is what I will utilize and follow this year. I am positive about one thing, the universal disdain of politicians is well earned and well deserved. In a country where any job is respected, the politician is the exception to the rule...also well deserved.