Side Story: Moosies and Blackies and Brownies, Oh My!

With apologies to the 1961 American
musical romantic drama directed by
Robert Wise & Jerome Robbins

If you are willing, please tell us more about your camping at Eagle River. I camped there on my way to Denali, and not far from Eagle River had the wonderful encounter with a sow grizzly and cubs that I relate in Part 3 of my moose chronicle. —Paul Clark

Reply by Roger Owens

Father’s Art: Works of Billy Charles Duvall [5]

Detail from lead painting

Three Paintings from an Old Triptych

By André Duvall

Today’s three paintings were originally conjoined on one 6" x 12" piece of Masonite, which my father divided with painted black lines into segments of equal length. Dad completed the center and right paintings in 1988, but “painter’s block” kept him from completing the left side until a few weeks ago (32 years later!) – when I told him that I planned to arrive in town to catalogue another set of paintings for a Father’s Art post, he rediscovered the incomplete triptych, and upon viewing the vacant spaces in the left-side painting, knew suddenly, after all these years, how to complete the painting and what it would be titled (the other two paintings are untitled).

Looking Out the Window (a poem)

By Ralph Earle





The fading sky becomes a lake.
Slowly, sleep approaches.

Descending to the shore
I lean into the brittle smell of a pine

Surviving on Little

Learning Faith and Love in a Box of Sunshine

By Victor L. Midyett

Recently Shirley made the comment to me that, “We know how to survive on little.” I got to thinking about that and realized that it was mostly my missionary upbringing [see “Missionary Kid” stories] that taught me how to survive on little.

Goines On: Dalida’s purse

Click image for more vignettes

A friend of Goines in Paris sent him a photo of the bronze bust in Montmartre’s Place Dalida commemorating the French music icon Iolanda Cristina Gigliotti. The friend reported that “everything is going to Hell in a Hand-Basket these days. In days of yore, as I remember them, the patina on the sculpture was uniform, but step by step in the General Degradation of Public Mores, Dalida’s breasts were polished, thanks to the attentions of passers-by.”

All Over the Place: Cub’s Park, One Evening

—Will We Ever Have the Baseball Feeling Again?

By Michael H. Brownstein






Evening, a clear skinned sky, the outfield
green, well trained, and happy, the infielders
gathering the breeze, winds in motion.
We had box seats, close enough to see
the face of the guest of honor throw the first ball,
my son at my side, his first visit to the park,

Acting Citizen: A Declaration...

That they might be looked on better

By James Knudsen

in florid 19^th Century and utilitarian 20th Century penmanship, do hereby make this declaration, freely and in the case of at least one of us, ecstatically, of agreed-upon consensus that, Donald J. Trump, the 45^thPresident of these United States, should NOT be removed from office by ballot, impeachment, or a better offer from Vladimir Putin.

14 Years Ago Today: I Knew Who He Was

Image by Shirley Deane/Midyett

It hurts to remember

By Moristotle









[Originally published on July 24, 2006.]

It was December and the thin young man had no coat.
I tried to step around him, but he pushed into my path
and forced me to look him in the eyes.

“Do you have a dollar for me to get something to eat?”

It isn’t easy to say no when they catch your eye.
Their eye is like your eye, a man’s eye.
“I’m sorry, but no I don’t have it.”

14 Years Ago Today: Thanks be to God?

This seems timely

By Moristotle

[Originally published on July 23, 2006.]

This morning I linked to an old friend’s church website and read his most recent “letter from the pastor.” It ended with the words, “The wisdom of God surrounds us. Thanks be to God!”
    I share the belief that we are surrounded by and can participate in something we might call “God’s wisdom,” and I believe that gratitude (not taking good things for granted, but accounting them blessings) is a valuable attitude and makes a significant difference in the tone of a person’s life.
    But it seems to me that thanking GOD for things that make us glad implies reproaching God for things that make us mad...such as the fact that we have in our country today a pretend president who makes statements like

Goines On: Nazis...and Trumpzis?

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An epiphany had come with such force during a recent night that it rocked Goines: If Trump is as dangerous and destructive as his actions demonstrate, then it seemed fair to draw a parallel between his followers and Hitler’s followers of 80 years earlier (and neo-Nazis subsequently). Did unsympathetic relatives of Hitler’s Nazi followers have to gulp and tighten their mouths as Goines did with his Trumpist relatives? Weren’t they, effectively, Trumpzis? Was such a comparison of Hitler’s followers to Trump’s a fair one, or was Goines’ muse going nuts?

Old Age

By Shirley Skufca Hickman

“You still have a nice figure,” he says.

I know he’s lying, and he knows I know.

What he means is he remembers how I used to look,

Just as I remember his thick, curly hair,

His strong arms tight around me.
Firm thighs pressed against mine.
Now, not so firm, not so tight.

We close our eyes and remember how we used to be.

His experienced hands know how and where to touch.
Our kisses less exciting but more loving.
We are like sturdy oaks surviving savage winds.
We shade each other from the scorching sun
And give protection from the crippling chill of age.

Copyright © 2020 by Shirley Skufca Hickman

Moose: A Family Curse (Part 3 of a Story for My Son)

Conclusion

By Paul Clark (aka motomynd)

My last moose encounter was in Alaska, not far from Anchorage. I had just pulled into a parking area and was pondering if I should take the lowland trail that went past a marshy area (likely moose habitat) or take the mountain trail that followed a soaring, vertigo inducing, knife-edge ridge into high country (likely grizzly bear habitat), when another vehicle pulled in next to me. The driver turned out to be a friendly, attractive college-age woman who was a seasonal worker at a local state park.
    “Which trail are you taking?” she asked.
    “I’m thinking about heading up the mountain. How about you?”

All Over the Place: Dear Chase

By Michael H. Brownstein

Dear Chase Bank
    As a cardholder I am distressed by the Chase ad, currently running on the Golf Channel, with an African American male at a gas pump, prancing around and jiving about how wonderful his Chase card is, while apparently too stupid to know which side of the car the gas tank is on.
    Make no mistake, as an old white man I am glad to see a black actor featured in an Ad for a major financial institution. Especially since major banks are conspicuously absent from the historically black neighborhoods I drive through in Philadelphia.
    But in this era of Black Lives Matter, to have that actor portray a stereotypical racist image of a drug dealer on Speed getting gas and being stupid is not only offensive but blatantly reinforces our worst and deepest instincts. I trust my reaction is not what Chase intended. It’s definitely NOT FUNNY.
                                        —Neil Hoffmann

More Than Enough

Detail from the collage

A collage of covers

By Moristotle

Vic Midyett emailed me on Wednesday afternoon this week that his and Shirley’s package to me had just been delivered at my front door, right on UPS’s schedule. The email arrived almost before we heard the deliveryman ring our doorbell. His big box contained a stretched canvas on which Shirley had painted a modified collage of book covers^* from Moristotle & Co.’s Book Authors’ Corner.

Three Years Ago Today: Tripping to Dickeyland

Still a fun trip

By Michael Hanson

On July 17, 2017, my elegy book for teacher, poet, novelist James Dickey, Tripping To Dickeyland, was published, and I spent the next few months basking in the delicious luxury of being a writer who, 30 years subsequent to finishing his first novel, finally had readers....
    At least a few of them.

In Remembrance Rolf Dumke

(July 16, 1941 - February 29, 2020)

A prolific writer

By Moristotle

In view of the passing of columnist Rolf Dumke, a former IBM colleague of mine sent a link to the list of Rolf’s prolific writings on WorldCat, “the world’s largest network of library content and services.” Here’s a link to Rolf’s list at Dumke, Rolf H. - WorldCat Identities.

Moose: A Family Curse (Part 2 of a Story for My Son)

By Paul Clark (aka motomynd)

One of my most interesting moose encounters came while canoeing. My canoeing partner and I rounded the tip of a small island in the famed Quetico-Superior region, and there was a classic scene: a moose in deep water, feeding, with just its head and back above the surface and aquatic weeds and grasses draped over its antlers. A moose can swim, but not so fast we couldn’t out-paddle it – for a short distance anyway – so we moved closer to take photos. I was in the front of the canoe – the bow – so I was closest to the moose. We had a gentle breeze behind us, pushing us toward the moose, so I laid my paddle across the canoe from side to side, and grabbed my camera while my partner steadied us with his paddle.

In This Difficult Time

By Shirley Skufca Hickman

Our county of Tulare in California has had 3,000 cases of the coronavirus and 95 deaths. What have I been doing during this difficult time? I’ve made over 100 facemasks for our hospital, three cradle quilts to give to children at Christmas, and revised a romance novel. I’m also writing a book about my days at Cal Poly and my involvement in the Civil Rights Movement.

Two Is Enough: Motel repair

Return to “Housing is for the birds”

By Vic Midyett

About the middle of June, I found that one of my metal purple martin motels had been damaged by strong winds. It was one of two that I obtained from an old lady now deceased. I am guessing that both motels are well over 40 years old, and each has bits missing. The one that was damaged seemed to have been constructed of second-hand aluminum. Its bottom floor had slipped down the pole about 3 feet. I got my tall stepladder and tools to fix it back up.

All Over the Place: The Sound of Fear Late in the Midnight Hour

By Michael H. Brownstein

We talk about everything I don’t want to talk about, and that is enough.

Quiet sings from beyond widowed walls
and earth does expose children gone to pieces.
It’s just that machine-guns really are that loud
and there really is intrinsic value to pain.
My daughter asks if blood washes vegetation,
if words can come from soil when it rains.
I’m afraid I do not know if I will ever understand the answer.

Copyright © 2020 by Michael H. Brownstein Michael H. Brownstein’s volumes of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else and How Do We Create Love?, were published by Cholla Needles Press in 2018 & 2019, respectively.

Poetry & Portraits: Happiness

Drawing by Susan C. Price

Happiness
By Eric Meub

Nothing’s been more fiercely sought, yet less
Accomplished in my life than happiness.
How can a quality that seems so clear
Take longer than a lifetime to appear?

Moose: A Family Curse (Part 1 of a Story for My Son)

By Paul Clark (aka motomynd)

This is an excerpt from my autobiography Stories for My Son, so I will ask other readers to bear with me as I address my son directly. Son: Hopefully I am with you when you see your first moose, for they are truly magnificent animals and I would love to see another one. I would especially love to see one that was not trying to kill me. In case I am not with you, however, here is what you need to know: When you see your first moose, do not stand there in awe thinking “Wow! That is a really big deer!” Instead, devote those few calm seconds – before chaos descends – to looking for a tree small enough to climb, yet big enough that a moose can’t reach you or knock it down. Why? Because, when you see a moose nearby, you need the biggest head start you can manage: Moose are a family curse that traces back at least as far as your great-grandfather.

Fiction: The Virus

By Ed Rogers

Most people think the virus started in the city of Wuhan, China, sometime around December of 2019. Scientists from around the world have scrambled to find the origin of the virus. Most have settled on the stalls of live wild animals being sold in the open market within the city. However, they still haven’t explained how two different viruses mated within these animals to come up with a wholly never-before-seen virus.

This Is No Sunset (a poem)

By Ralph Earle

This is a cloud avenue
so vast we lose ourselves
as under the vault
of a cathedral
in a crowd of haloed saints.

The Militant

Looking back 52 years

By Shirley Skufca Hickman

I wrote the poem below at Cal Poly [California Polytechnic State University in San Luis Obispo] after Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated [on April 4, 1968]. A black student and I were friends, but after King’s death, he had nothing to do with me. When I asked his friend, also black, why, he said, “He doesn’t like white people now.” I protested. “I’m not prejudiced.” My student’s friend replied, “It’s hell to be judged by the color of your skin, isn’t it?”

All Over the Place: This Is Why All Black Lives Matter

For Dorothy Stevenson and Deborah Wymbs

By Michael H. Brownstein

All cancer survivors matter.

But what about diabetes? Muscular dystrophy?

A swollen prostrate? Graves Disease?
No one says a specific disease survivor matters.

A Worthy Candidate for Political Office

Cooper

By George Pickett

Cooper is a local favorite in our Congressional District.
    Female. Years of practical experience. Great attitude. Articulate and observant. Listens well. Knows how to get people to support her views. Dislikes guns. Is indifferent to a person's sex or color (measures the content of character as opposed to color of skin).
    Independent of any PAC.

Black Mountain – Part 3

In and around Dubrovnik

By James T. Carney

Photos by 

Detmar Straub

The next day, the rest of the tour group went to the Dubrovnik airport to return to London, but Det and I had arranged to spent two days in Dubrovnik (formerly known as Ragusa). It is Europe’s best-preserved medieval wall city. For a number of centuries it was an independent political entity and opposed Venetian attempts to dominate the Adriatic (though it did pay tribute to the Ottoman empire).

Unresolved Childhood Voices

Drawing by
Shirley Deane/Midyett

A case study

By Victor L. Midyett

Breakdowns in an interaction, communication, or negotiation can break down for reasons having nothing to do with “here and now.” A salesman walks into the sales manager’s office with a business problem to discuss.
    The sales person begins by explaining the problem in his normal speaking voice while the manager listens. As they to and fro about different aspects of the problem, the salesman becomes frustrated and, wishing to avoid speaking louder, unknowingly raises only the pitch of his voice to try to get his point across.

Turtle on the Rocks

By Blake Adamson

On the river rock I wake

the mist from the rage on my eyelids
From the warmth I stretch my legs
and raise my head

The torrent around me streams and shakes

But today I will go, even if unbid
Today I sink or swim
And I move from my bed