Daily Blues & Views

Every teacher knows about interruptions.  They come with the territory.  Usually it's the sudden variety like an announcement, or the classroom door swinging open for a late arrival, a note for a student, or some sort of summons that just couldn't wait until the class arrived at a crucial juncture in a well-planned lesson. Teachers complain, they ignore, the whine, and they emote, but as sure as yearly layoff notices come by the end of March, classes will be interrupted. Sometimes the interruptions are memorable.  Two stand out for me in the scope of 34 years.  The first occurred on a quiet afternoon just before my last class for the day ended.  In that two minutes when books are returned or stored away, backpacks are re-packed, and conversions turn casual, I calmly strolled over to my classroom door to open it before the period ending bell rang.  I would often stand by the doorway as classes changed to say farewell to one group and check out the happenin...

The thunder and lightning storms stopped.  The flooding abated.  A cooling breeze settled over the city of Austin, Texas.  People came out of hiding an onto the main drags.  Parts of Austin resemble Bourbon Street where music streams from adjacent bars and clubs.  In one block you can go from down in the alley blues to traditional country.  Barkers assist.  Many choices, many chances. So, we ambled on down to "The Home of the Blues," Antone's. On this particular night we awaited the arrival of Miss Lavelle, an 89 year old blues singer who has a local following and who has been treating Austin's music scene with her humor and soul for decades. We got a beer and a table and wondered about food.  Anton'e has a bar, but no kitchen.  There is a little record/souvenir shop in the front of the building that sometimes sells poor-boy sandwiches.  None remained on this night.  But, when a kindly older woman arrived on the scene, something ...

Fifty years is at least half a life      more than half the decades we were apart, Our images remain locked inside our 20s      those people will forever reside there. Humidity and cheap beer,      heat and cheaper wine, wear a hat with curled edges,      it serves as camo for the mind, For the first time we had nowhere to be,      no due dates, calendars, or curfews to limit the time we craved 103 degree days ended deep into the night      they became 95 degree days that begun deep into the early hours I regret very little but wish I'd spent more time with my hosts      Lost in this biblical purgatory, where ashes stained my boots and hymns swirled in the still air,      I carved icons from swollen hands, bronze fingers that held a kitten with care, and ice that gave life to everything. Once I carried a watermelon to the pews     ...