Anyone that is a Blues lover in Houston, Texas knows about KPFT’s “Blues On The Move” Sunday morning show, hosted by “The Love Doctor,” Mr. V (James Vaughn) and his lovely wife, Mrs. “V” (Jo). wherever live Blues is happening in Houston, it’s not uncommon to see the “V’s” in the house, and Saturday night at the Corner Pub in Conroe was no exception. This time the “V’s” were there to see Mean Gene Kelton and the Diehards, along with many of the original “Friends of The Blues — Montgomery County.” (FOBulous!)
As usual, I was taking some photos and when Mr. V went on stage, I pulled out my little video camera. (I’m still working on the best way to upload my HD video to YouTube, so I’m still not pleased with the quality.) This was a reunion, of sorts, from last year Mr. V’ 69th birthday and in Memphis.
The song Mr. V does is Call It Stormy Monday (But Tuesday’s Just As Bad) by legendary and great, T. Bone Walker.
Who are you, you who share my very existence with your expectations, sometimes calling them traditions, placing more value on the worth of your expectations, unwilling to understand neither the what nor the why of my very being.
Who am I, I who share your very existence with my expectations, sometimes calling them logical placing more value on the worth of my expectations, unwilling to understand neither the what nor the why of your very being.
Who are we, we who share a finite existence with our expectations, sometimes calling them unconditional placing more value on the worth of our expectations unwilling to understand neither the what nor the why of a finite being.
Who are they, they who share our very existence with their expectations, sometimes calling them laws placing more value on the worth of their expectations unwilling to understand neither the what nor the why of our very being.
Who are We We who share an infinite existence with our expectations, sometimes calling them spiritual placing more value on the worth of all expectations willing to understand both the what and the why of a universal being.
If you want to get the small-town feel of the city of Tucson, go to the races. Located in an urban setting on the edge of the Santa Catalina Foothills is Rillito Park. Considered a historical landmark for Quarter Horse Racing for over 50 years, Rillito Park captures the images of classic American horse racing without the serious sophistication of Triple Crown racing. Whether in the grandstand, clubhouse or near the rail, you can’t help but feel you are a part of the action. Going to the horse races at Rillito Park is just one of many ways Tucsonans can enjoy the beautiful cool outdoors in the Tucson winter.
Not being the big gambler, I generally offer support information to Joy. Arriving after what I thought was the first race, with minutes before post time, Joy placed a $2 bet on number two, Battle Gal (most of her choices are based on the name), in the second race. Number two won! However, we quickly learned that the winner was number two in the third race, not the second race. She had picked the winner in the third race by selecting a horse in the second race, giving her over $12 on her $2 bet. She was not as lucky in the remaining races, maybe because she was betting on horses in the correct race – still it was an enjoyable Sunday afternoon.
Deciding to pull up roots and move from The Woodlands, Texas to Tucson was not an easy decision. But, what about a family of six that decides to travel all 50 states in 12 months? Now that takes a lot of guts, but then, that’s what adventure is all about. “No guts, no glory!” To say the least, we were impressed when we saw this car in the Sabino Canyon parking lot. Check out the web site at http://www.hoamteam.com/Hoamteam/Welcome.html.
A few images of hiking in Sabino Canyon and a verse from Whitman’s “The Mystic Trumpeter:”
Blow again trumpeter! and for thy theme, Take now the enclosing theme of all, the solvent and the setting, Love, that is pulse of all, the sustenance and the pang, The heart of man and woman all for love, No other theme but love – knitting, enclosing, all-diffusing love.
O how the immortal phantoms crowd around me! I see the vast alembic ever working, I see and know the flames that heat the world, The glow, the blush, the beating hearts of lovers, So blissful happy some, and some so silent, dark, and nigh to death; Love, that is all the earth to lovers – love, that mocks time and space, Love, that is day and night – love, that is sun and moon and stars, Love, that is crimson, sumptuous, sick with perfume, No other words but words of love, no other thought but love
I am so blessed to be alive and healthy on this “. . . my driftwood seventieth wind-turned age.”
Pete was someone I knew only when we were in high school, yet I still remember the fun conversations we often had while killing time at track meets. (This was back when he was a tall skinny high jumper.) He had the kind of spirit that has always attracted me to very creative people. I don’t recall our physically crossing paths after high school, yet he has always remain the bigger than life figure I had of him from high school, occasionally embellished by stories told by the nieces’ (Vanessa & Lisa) Pete and I shared.
One story I recall my brother Tom telling me had to do with Pete leasing the gatehouse to an estate that my stepmother and I had previously leased. Tom was visiting with Pete when he noticed a painting of a woman on the wall. Tom asked Pete where he got it, and his reply was, “it was here when I moved in and I like it.”
The reason why Tom asked about the painting was he recognized that it was my painting of a former girlfriend. When I heard the story, I was impressed to hear that Pete kept it because he liked it. We all appreciate compliments from those we admire and respect.
You may know, from previous posting, Joy and I traveled to Seattle to attend Lisa and Michael’s wedding on Lummi Island. One of the reasons I wanted Joy and I to be at the wedding was the opportunity to see Pete. I was really looking forward to the opportunity, since I knew he would not miss your wedding. But, as fate would have it, his health didn’t allow him to make the long trip from Fort Myers.
I know Pete will be dearly missed by a lot of people. The Emerson line in Lisa’s blog posting is so fitting. (“It is not length of life, but depth of life.”) Some of the most endearing people have been those with whom I have only briefly traveled in life’s journey. Pete was one of those endearing, unforgettable people.
I share these feelings now, yet regret having waited too late to share them with Pete. At least, with all of today’s social media connections, I was one of Pete’s Facebook friends. We linked up in August of 2009, but like many of our generation he said, Hello. Have no idea what I’m doing with FACEBOOK. 🙁
Sometimes, it’s the little things that mean a lot. Pete passed away January 10, 2011, just a few weeks before his 71st birthday.
Corner Pub In Conroe, TX — Image by kenne
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