Wayward Landlubber

The Faces in Granite They stare out from the polished granite, faces frozen in time. They were young then, forced too soon to mature. Their eyes stare out into an unstable distance, seeing everything and nothing. Their faces are grizzled. They seem to be pleading, "Get me outta here, I did not want this". Each face was laser-etched in the granite wall from battlefield photos. They were heavily decorated, carried lifeless from the field. They stare out over a field of nineteen bronze comrades in attack formation, weapons at the ready. The leader of the bronze squadron is half-turned, his M-1 rifle raised high as if to say, "Follow me into hell". At night with the floodlight illuminating the bronze squadron, and the granite wall with the frozen faces, the reflection of the bronze squadron doubles in size to thirty-eight. They signify the 38th parallel, marking the boundary between North and South Korea, before the war and after the war. So much sacrifice for an un

I was wrong. The geese have not flown north. This morning I saw a paired couple teaching three fuzzy gozzlings to swim. The gander, later on,  sat on the water honking to the goose and babies. The ducks have also returned. They disappeared for a couple days, probably to Ross Island,  a mile or two down river.

A perfect end to a wonderful day. The two ducks that nest in the adjoining marina just flew over. The geese, and the rest of the ducks have flown north. Swifts flit about the boats in the marina, other small birds that nest in the BlackBerry bushes along the sidewalk fly in and out. A Nutria, I believe, swam by as I returned from the shore bathroom. I went to Bi-Mart to by a propane camp stove grill combination. The electric/ alcohol stove in the small galley still intimidates me. And it is awkwardly place, with it's two burners oriented towards the beam. It requires me to use only one burner or reach over the near burner. The interior design of this boat is awkward. I will have to adapt the design to my needs. That can wait.

Living in a marina is good for your blood pressure. I say this not as an academic, or a medical professional,  but because the intrusions of street life are far away. This may change as the summer boating season comes into play. When the damned single occupancy watercraft(Skidoos), and water skiers begin pursuing their pleasure. But a marina is supposedly protected by a courtesy that requires you to keep your speed below wake speed within the safety buoys. Marina users honor it, we will see how well the renter's of these maritime chainsaws comply. Evenings, as the sky turns pink, then darkens, the marina is filled with the sounds of birdlife, a distant growl from a cabin cruiser engine, water lapping the hulls as the tide changes, and conversations among the few residents. It is a great time for reading and reflection. I might even become less grumpy. I dont anticipate becoming less grumpy with trumpy's.

This is a stellar week for me. I took possession of my live-aboard boat on Sunday. Today I emailed the manuscript to my story to a publisher, Inkwater press. And I started my blog. I plan on sharing with you my thoughts on culture and politics, life in a marina on board a small boat, and the challenges of adapting. In time I plan on sharing my spot with a rescue cat. For now I welcome you aboard. There are some offerings I transferred from a previous blog. Enjoy those and let me knowbyourbthoughts.

They were not my brothers, those men of my generation standing nearby on a blustery March day in the nation's capitol.  We were staring at a marble wall remembering a time when our waists may have been thinner and our hair thicker, in many cases much longer.  The names on the wall were young men, boys really, whom we had known in that far off time, sometimes closely, sometimes more distantly.  We had grown into a comfortable age.  They had not. We were a motley group, those of us among the living.  We would have been a motley group then grooming standards being what they were.  Some of us were wearing remnants of old uniforms, seemingly smaller than when first worn.  Some of us had sleeveless denim vests festooned with patches and biker colors.  Many of those patches were POW/MIA.  Some of us were indistinguishable from the run-of-the-mill tourists on the mall.  We had come to be in this spot to honor our memories; in some cases for catharsis. We were the last generation o

I assume there will not be a lot of readers, at least for now.  This blog is an attempt by me to practice  my writing and blogging skills.  Why the title?  First: I like the double entendre.  I intend to offend some people with this blog, specifically those evangelical christians that voted for Trump.  No, I don't intend to capitalize the c.  i'm not here to talk about the magic man in the clouds; it's about the orange man in the White House. There are many good Christians whom I respect even though I don't share their belief: The Sojourners who follow the Rev. Jim Wallis, the followers of the Rev Dr. William Barber III, Jimmy Carter, and many others.  I respect their integrity and their devotion to human rights.  Those evangelicals who follow Pat Robinson, Franklin Graham, and their vile breed get neither my reverence or my respect.  Only my contempt. The 2nd reason for the name is that I am a sex offender.  I have no victims but I am guilty of surfing, and sometim

     There is an old joke: A psychiatrist is administering a Rohrschak test to a patient.  Each inkblot card the psychiatrist held up would elicit a sexual reference from the patient.  As the last card was laid on the desk the psychiatrist wrote some notes in a document, then turned to the patient: "Mr. Bottomly", he said, "each of your answers suggests that you are fixated on sex."      "Me", said the patient, "you're the one showing me the dirty pictures."      In September of 2009, the Oregon Supreme Court handed down a ruling in the case of, Oregon V Rodriguez/Buck (SO 55 720).  The ruling by the court challenged Oregon's measure 11 law, and required sentences to be proportionate to the seriousness of the crime.      That the court ruled in this way should not be surprising.  That the bench let the original convictions stand, with lesser sentences, is what is disappointing.  The two defendants, Veronica Rodriguez and Darryl Bu

Umberto Eco was a writer who penned many books on Catholic societies in the middle ages.  He was also familiar with fascism, having been born in 1932 in Italy.  Besides his trove of books he left us his 10 elements of fascism: All governments can find themselves being unfavorably compared to some of these but our present government has crossed the line 1) A state of extreme methodological state oppression: systematic state oppression. 2)Violence buttressed by ultra-nationalist mythology and narrow religious bigotry 3)Militarist with Imperial ambitions 4)Use of continual state harrasment 5)Cruelty towards sexual minorities 6)Repression of labor in favor of corporate controlled state power 7)Open contempt for democracy 8)Deifying strong leaders; unable to tell the diffrence between a strong leader and a strongman 9)Opposition to rights of assembly 10) Spying on the citizenry