Moon set from my window...

looking up to the flowers...

Click on the first image

The Terror Outside My Pancakes

Growing up I can site two clear incidents that gave me pause and defined the word Terror in a way that absorbed my imagination so completely it gave me goose bumps and eluded any landing in a familiar or safe place in my head.  Try as I might nothing seemed to be able to distract me from the pure horror behind my eyes:
1. The day John F. Kennedy was assassinated.  The world stopped. We all looked to what we trusted- the news. The live murder of Oswald, the instant justice we all felt, the comfort of revenge falling far short of quenching what we all searched for.  The Why.
2. My Thirteenth October and my mother sitting me down to explain how the world might soon be ending because of missiles and man named Castro.
It was a time when censorship had clearer lines when it came to horror and terror, when the idea of censorship, (seemed anyway) to be a responsibility. Graphic or horrific scenes were rarely shown on the television or newspapers.    
How did all that change? When did sensational usurp reasonable?  No child back then was subject a barrage of headlines rife with threats, horrors and intimidation. It is now ubiquitous among nearly all the media forms. The excuses being “we need to be accurate” “the public should know the whole truth” and of course- “ if we don’t publish it, someone else will.”
In all my collective years in law enforcement, all the live horror, the fear and the loathing, the graphic realities of man’s inhumane treatments to each other, I grew my own personal cocoon around what I saw,  what we saw as we investigated and dove into procedure to help distract. In a few years of these scenes we bragged immunity to the next horror- that was necessary to survive in an atmosphere that often times bred terror and fear and very interesting nightmares.
It was during my second fork of pancakes as I read through the “news” and the litany of horror after horror the terror after... when I thought: where is the value in this!?
Aren't we creating a scar tissue that can only distances ourselves from compassion when every day is filled with what is delivered as “normal”?  Where does a 10 year-old who constantly hears about a bomb attached to a human that blew up innocent people go? Does he or she eventually  treat it like a commercial? There is no time between these published events for perspective, no place to land near solutions when the staccato pulse of horror uses up all chances to take a breath.  
This is an abuse of the 1st amendment in my opinion- and you can site all the excuses and reasons your lawyers can find to defend yourself, but you’re defending yourself against the very people who used to trust you to be responsible Mr. Media.  In my opinion you’ve done more to undermine that document the 1st amendment is attached to than any enemy in the past 200 years.

Soft mornings

A thin fog drifts across the meadow below me. It moves like a knowing smoke and reminds me of the mist above my dearest ocean perch. There is a peace that awaits these mornings, soft mornings, its pure silence is loud behind my eyes and again reminds me that my next breath is above all, fortunate. Whatever the tasks that wait, the duels unseen and the weather prepared to corrupt my mood, in these soft mornings I know I am moored to an idea that elevates my view and sings to me of now, not when, nor if- I dare not try to collect all of these at once, lest I timid become in the traffic of circumstance and forget the silent message before me; tomorrow waits, yesterday can’t, only now can make them both!

…only ones given to dreams can ever hope to awake in one...

Beyond the sea...

On the street where you live...

"How about you"?

October 30th... Last day at Sierra Meadows...

Nina at 13!

My boy with his boy....

Erik and Kai...

Another one of those skies...

While taking the pics I look down and there is this giant owl, staring at me... 

Nina Marin Recollections...

Albino Hummer....!

The growl... hiding a smile

Observation...

The homestead is threatened and the dream is a freefall to a nightmare… no sale pending and the price of staying on the lowering ship has found most off to lifeboats elsewhere.  I think wishing has been replaced with preparation- the 11th hour of interest seems to have slayed any interested party- whether it’s the County or the Owner or Rod Serling, the place ain’t selling.  The same faces grace the fairways and the occasional tournament bringing back a nostalgic view when things were busy and the pro shop rife with choices and sales.  One can’t help but hope, it’s a beautiful venue… it’s incredible no one has stepped up.  No way should the geese out numbers the golfers… I bought into an idea, not knowing it would only be a dream…  I practice moving on but I resist anything that smacks of coercion, a Bronx ethic I suspect. October looms in my head; like Sonny on the Causeway…

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A Bit of "Americana"

Frank Sinatra considered Kate Smith the best singer of her time, and said that when he and a million other guys first heard her sing "God Bless America" on the radio, they all pretended to have dust in their eyes as they wiped away a tear or two.

Here are the facts... The link at the bottom will take you to a video showing the very first public singing of "GOD BLESS AMERICA". But before you watch it, you should also know the story behind the first public showing of the song.

The time was 1940. America was still in a terrible economic depression. Hitler was taking over Europe and Americans were afraid we'd have to go to war. It was a time of hardship and worry for most Americans.
This was the era just before TV, when radio shows were HUGE, and American families sat around their radios in the evenings, listening to their favorite entertainers, and no entertainer of that era was bigger than Kate Smith.

Kate was also large; plus size, as we now say, and the popular phrase still used today is in deference to her, "It ain't over till the fat lady sings". Kate Smith might not have made it big in the age of TV, but with her voice coming over the radio, she was the biggest star of her time.

Kate was also patriotic. It hurt her to see Americans so depressed and afraid of what the next day would bring. She had hope for America, and faith in her fellow Americans. She wanted to do something to cheer them up, so she went to the famous American song-writer, Irving Berlin (who also wrote "White Christmas") and asked him to write a song that would make Americans feel good again about their country. When she described what she was looking for, he said he had just the song for her.
He went to his files and found a song that he had written, but never published, 22 years before… way back in 1917. He gave it to her and she worked on it with her studio orchestra. She and Irving Berlin were not sure how the song would be received by the public, but both agreed they would not take any profits from God Bless America. Any profits would go to the Boy Scouts of America. Over the years, the Boy Scouts have received millions of dollars in royalties from this song.

This video starts out with Kate Smith coming into the radio studio with the orchestra and an audience. She introduces the new song for the very first time, and starts singing. After the first couple verses, with her voice in the background still singing, scenes are shown from the 1940 movie, "You're In the Army Now." At the 4:20 mark of the video you see a young actor in the movie, sitting in an office, reading a paper; it's Ronald Reagan.

To this day, God Bless America stirs our patriotic feelings and pride in our country. Back in 1940, when Kate Smith went looking for a song to raise the spirits of her fellow Americans, I doubt whether she realized just how successful the results would be for her fellow Americans during those years of hardship and worry... and for many generations of Americans to follow.
Now that you know the story of the song, I hope you'll enjoy it and treasure it even more.
Many people don't know there's a lead in to the song since it usually starts with "God Bless America."
So here's the entire song as originally sung... ENJOY!

 https://www.youtube.com/embed/TnQDW-NMaRs?rel=0

Quail Lodge...

Wisteria Hysteria

River Creek

Laguna Seca!

learning to share...

The menace to the east...

The Menlo Chronicles

glennraggio.com/

Yesterday ripens with fractional notes. The images grow deeper colors and tease me with degrees of clarity.  Few reversals, but amendments abound.  How often did I choose to not walk down wind, and on those occasions did my resolve last the full measure of making the point needed.  So here I am in today, looking back involuntarily when the flint is struck for no apparent reason that I can think of, taken to yet another image spent, the examination through a much wider tunnel. No use reaching for apologies, they can’t hear. The explanations left in small careful whispers, should I revisit and need to confirm a truth…

"Fire Sunset" (Mariposa Fire on the 26th of May)

The (Nearly) Phantom Ace: May 19th- hole #14 at 10:10 a.m.

The decision to “headphone it” was born more out of laziness than anything else. It was nearly 8:50 a.m. and I was sure Dick was already putting the finishing touches on the cards.  French toast and two slices of bacons later I was on the 10^th tee (the first tee was already lined with other duffers).

Head-phoned and hopeful, I played well. I never got close enough to the twosome in front of me for a “play through.”  I was determined to take my time, be deliberate and allow Dion and Belmonts, among others, to guide my play.  A misplaced ball on my second shot on 11 found me searching/singing to a Dino classic, Don McGuire who had been making reparations around the course joined me in my search and subsequent discovery of my ball.  I thanked him and absently returned to my music, little did I know that Don would play a critical role a few holes later. 

It was windy on the 14^th tee, the couple ahead of me had just replaced the blue flag, and the breeze teased the blue cloth making me again doubt my choice of irons.  The Grassroots were halfway through “Midnight Confessions” when I decided it was safe to hit. The 5-iron appeared to behave at first strike, the gradual draw intensified and helped the Taylor spin as it came down mid-green—the roll after was the rub.  The ball appeared to disappear, into to the cup!  I suddenly wondered if indeed I hadn’t just hit the ball over the green. I realized no one probably saw it!! I was thinking the only more incredible thing would be if Marvin Gaye was in my headphone singing, “Can I get a Witness.”

I looked at the couple heading to the 15^th tee, hoping they might have looked back saw the phenomena I was only in half belief of—nothing.  I pulled off my headphones and immediately remembered Don! I turned around there he was! I yelled, and he looked up.  I was willing to be caught being foolish, golf offers that one on a daily basis.  I told him,  “ Hey, I’m not sure, but I think I just hit an ace, of course I might have also just hit it over the green, would you check this out with me?” Don being Don replied, “Why sure!”  Then asked what kind of ball, I told him. I knew my red line would identify it as well.  We drove the length of the hole and he walked over to the pin, looked down, looked at me, then he waved at my ball in the cup!  11 years since my one and only ace at Sea Ranch (6-iron 160 yards)

Man, I love the Grassroots!

Spring!