Daily Blues & Views

While running a few errands the other day I chanced to hear an international call-in program on PBS. You may know this broadcast; it features people from all over the world having a say in a chosen topic. Like most media attempts to deal with crucial issues, it seems to be exhaustively rushing through it's time slot and capable of little more than a few sound bytes, people talking over one another, and an occasionally salient point made amid all the frenzy. I think it's a BBC program, so all the hosts are Brits and they do a reasonably fine job of sorting out the mess. Sometimes they ask inane questions. I usually talk to the radio when I hear this program in the car. Rarely do I want to join the conversation. A few days ago I caught this worldwide discussion in mid-stream. They were discussing compulsory voting and much of the conversation centered on how practical this idea would be. Seems like people who live in more recent democracies think it's a good idea to ...

While the stock market self-destroyed we watched; some of us waited. We're still waiting. Some folks panicked. They moved their money around, lest they have nothing to move if the bleeding didn't stop soon enough. What shall we do with our money? Do we have any money left to do something with? When will this stop? Who is to blame? All good questions, but the wrong ones. There is really only one question, as I see it. How much of what I care about is related to money? That is, what do I care about, and how will my life and ability to live it according to what matters most to me be affected by all the financial crises and maneuvering going on around me? I'm not at all surprised at the Congress' inability to act. Anyone remotely familiar with our national legislative branch knows it's been broken for years. Some of the corporations that are major players in this fiasco have a few legislators in their pockets. When the stock market losses hit -777 yesterda...

After I accidentally took a dip in Gold Lake (Western Cascades) I knew my digital camera was toast. At least I had the presence of mind to pull out the memory chip. Both the chip and the camera basked in the high lakes sun with me for the next six hours, but by the next morning there was major condensation in the camera. I did what I could to clean up the camera and was thrilled when my local photo store nerd told me the pictures on the chip could be saved. "There are 25 images on the memory, but corrosion will set in; the camera is history," he said. I took the camera home, set it aside, bought a new one, and turned the page. A month passed. Somehow, I couldn't leave the old Sony Cyber Shot alone. It looked so good, so pristine from the outside, so...so... dry. One afternoon last week I placed some new batteries inside and was astonished to see it jump back to life. Of course the flash didn't work, but after pushing the shutter sternly four or five times, ...

     I was always a bit embarrassed by his name. Who names a horse Shotgun? Her son must have; sounds like something a kid who joins the Navy at 19 might do. It was his horse and she wanted to keep him just in case her son came back home. The sister had tried to make a Hunter/Jumper out of the black quarterhorse; he was big enough, but must have sensed that horses called Shotgun don't take to dressage and English saddles. So I agreed to take him on. Pay for a share of his care and board; get him wormed, brushed and exercise while I tried to hold on to my teaching job, find the love of my life, and become a man. One of my early goals was to keep horses in my life and Shotgun gave me the opportunity I craved. He didn't take too well to my mare's hackamore. (a bridle without a bit) When I gave him his head and let him run a little he soon ran out of the bridle. Fortunately the land he called home, with its weekend warriors, wannabe trainers and lovestruck pre-teen...

Who's whining now? The economy continues in free fall and people are scared. Those that played by the rules, of course, get hit the hardest. While pundits and professors debate, analyze, pontificate, and admonish, I have a simple explanation. GREED. Enough said. I keep wondering when some of the folks I know who lose sleep over their dwindling IRAs, or second guess their home's value, or wonder why all the money they've squirreled away over a lifetime won't bring them any contentment; when... will they, or perhaps... will they ever... realize that there are far better things to do with their time. I don't wish financial misfortune on anyone. It's just that many of these self-righteous capitalists are in denial about the gambling they do in their lives. It's a spinning wheel, a roll of the dice; it's a dealt hand, a wager on a first time starter. It certainly is. I'm fascinated that in this election year, many folks are more concerned wi...

I love potatoes. Sometimes potatoes make it even easier to love. In this case, an Eastern Oregon farmer I patronize at the Portland Saturday Farmer's market, offered this LOVE ly potato for sale. Aside from it's wonderful color and flavor my new friend brought equally wonderful smiles from two of my most cherished friends. Anni and Naomi know how to share the love. Sometimes it's that simple.

I knew an old Greek San Francisco cab driver from the race track. He was so sure of his ability to pick winners that he actually believed certain horses were "supposed to win." He would approach me from time to time, slowly reach his arm forward and place it around my neck in a fatherly way, and in his wonderful accent say, "Let me tell you shom-ting my friend..." It's a useful phrase that I save for special occasions. This is one of them. So let me tell you something my friend, In this post convention, pre election phase, when Sarah Palin continues to wow the ignorant, and Obama is slipping faster in the polls faster than a Jamaican sprinter, all is not lost. It's time to play switch the music. This is a little game you can play while driving from here to there in the privacy of your own vehicle. If you take public transit, simply take along any MP3 player, or whatever your earphones happen to be connected to these days. Here's what I do. ...