View From Colossal Cave: Vail, Arizona (Children and Grandchildren: Dave, Katelyn, Jaxon, Kate, and Nick) — Image by kenne
Archive for the ‘Family’ Category
View From Colossal Cave: Vail, Arizona Leave a comment
30 Years of Togetherness — Some kind of lovely ride. 11 comments
Kenne & Joy, Las Vegas, 1989.
We were a couple for 16 years before getting married May 18, 2002 in Los Vegas. Thirty years of togetherness, but who’s counting.
“The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time.”
Secret O’ Life
The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time.
Any fool can do it, there ain’t nothing to it.
Nobody knows how we got to the top of the hill.
But since we’re on our way down, we might as well enjoy the ride.
The secret of love is in opening up your heart.
It’s okay to feel afraid, but don’t let that stand in your way.
Cause anyone knows that love is the only road.
And since we’re only here for a while, might as well show some style. Give us a smile.
Isn’t it a lovely ride? Sliding down, gliding down,
try not to try too hard, it’s just a lovely ride.
Now the thing about time is that time isn’t really real.
It’s just your point of view, how does it feel for you?
Einstein said he could never understand it all.
Planets spinning through space, the smile upon your face, welcome to the human race.
Some kind of lovely ride. I’ll be sliding down, I’ll be gliding down.
Try not to try too hard, it’s just a lovely ride.
Isn’t it a lovely ride? Sliding down, gliding down,
try not to try too hard, it’s just a lovely ride.
The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time.
— James Taylor
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Christmas Past #7 2 comments
Christmas Past #7 (James and Chase, December 23, 2009) — Image by kenne
I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.
— Charles Dickens
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Christmas Past #6 2 comments
Christmas Past #6 (December 24, 2005) — Image by kenne
Maybe Christmas, the Grinch thought, doesn’t come from a store.
— Dr. Seuss
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Christmas Past #3 3 comments
Christmas Past #3 (Me, Kate and Mother, December 22, 2004) — Image by Joy
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Bourbon on the Rocks 2 comments
Kenne philosophizing on becoming the next president of the Sabino Canyon Volunteer Naturalists (SCVN),
after returning from visiting friends and family in east Texas.
no leaders, please
invent yourself and then reinvent yourself
don’t swim in the same slough.
invent yourself and then reinvent yourself
and
stay out of the clutches of mediocrity.
invent yourself and then reinvent yourself,
change your tone and shape so often that they can
never
categorize you.
reinvigorate yourself and
accept what is
but only on the terms that you have invented
and reinvented.
be self-taught.
and reinvent your life because you must;
it is your life and
its history
and the present
belong only to
you.
— Charles Bukowski
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Happy Hour Leave a comment
“Happy Hour” — Image by kenne
Two for the long drive
Leaving Kingwood headed west
Looking for sunshine.
— kenne
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Eagle Scout Bird House Project Leave a comment
Eagle Scout Bird House Project — Image by kenne
Eagle Scout bird house
One of thirty in the park
A cobweb entrance.
— kenne
Bird House with Cobweb Entrance, East End Park, Kingwood, Texas — Image by kenne
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Down On The Bayou 1 comment
“Down On the Bayou” — Images by kenne
A lone cloud moves by
collecting others
as the day warms up
over the east Texas swamp.
Here’s the thing,
if you desire
to go on a bayou
nature walk
bring mosquito spray
and a small cooler
of Saint Arnold beer
to watch swamp critters —
alligators,
deer,
nutria,
otters,
bobcats,
coyotes,
and many species of snakes
and birds.
Without cat-like patience
spotting wildlife
can be nearly invisible
to the naked.
It sounds like a vacation spot:
Eagle Point.
But let’s call it what it is
a place where family rules.
We.
Would.
Not.
Be.
Here.
If not for the family.
— kenne
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“All Women Are Wounded” 1 comment
Kate and Jaxon — Image by kenne
All women are wounded
Who gather berries, dibble in mottled light.
Turn white roots from humus, crack nuts on stone
High upland with squinted eye
or rest in cedar shade.
Are wounded
In yurt or frame or mothers
Shopping at the outskirts in fresh clothes.
Whose sick eye bleeds the land,
Fast it! thick throat shields from evil,
you young girls
First caught with the gut-cramp
Gather punk wood and sour leaf
keep out of our kitchen.
Your garden plots, your bright fabrics
Clever ways to carry children
Hide
a beauty like season or tide,
sea cries . . .
— from “Praise for Sick Women” by Gary Snyder
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Dare To Be Naïve 8 comments
Boy In Window II — Image by kenne
“Dare to be naïve.”
— R. Buckminster Fuller
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You Are My Valentine Leave a comment
Fairy Duster (February 9, 2015) — Image by kenne
If there were no words, no way to speak
I would still hear you
If there were no tears, no way to feel inside
I’ve still feel for you
And even if the sun refused to shine
Even if romance ran out of rhyme
You would still have my heart until the end of time
You’re all I need my love, my valentine
All of my life
I have been waiting for all you give to me
You’ve opened my eyes
And shown me how to love unselfishly
I’ve dreamed of this a thousand times before
In my dreams I couldn’t love you more
I will give you my heart until the end of time
You’re all I need my love, my valentine
La la la la la la
And even if the sun refused to shine
Even if romance ran out of rhyme
You would still have my heart until the end of time
‘Cause all I need is you, my valentine
Oh, you’re all I need my love, my valentine
— Jim Brickman & Martina McBride
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Sisters 1 comment
“Sisters” Joy and Jody (June 2, 2003) — Image by kenne
Sweet, crazy conversations full of half sentences,
daydreams and misunderstandings
more thrilling than understanding could ever be.
― Toni Morrison
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Tear Drops Keep Falling 2 comments
Tear Drops Keep Falling — Image by kenne
Tear Drops Keep Falling
After saying our farewells
Keeping it private.
— kenne
Turner’s Notes
“In a world ruled by photographic images, all borders (“framing”) seem arbitrary.
Anything can be separated, can be made discontinuous from anything else:
all that is necessary is to frame the subject differently.”
— Susan Sontag
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Coach Turner 10 comments
Ana Claudia
Last weekend, as I stood in front of those attending the celebration of life services for my brother Tom, I couldn’t help but notice the tears on the face of a dark-haired women among those attending. I had not yet met this beautiful women, so I had no idea who she was.
Knowing that some of Tom’s former students would be in attendance, I was not surprised when she came up to me after the service, with tears still in her eyes, and introduced herself — Ana Claudia, one of Tom’s former students. We embraced with the affection of dear friends seeing one another after years of being apart. For Ana, I was channeling Couch Turner, something that is second-nature for me since my brother and I are kindred spirits. We talked, drifting from the present to the past and back, her tears of joy still on her face.
As we talked and hugged, Ana shared something she had posted on Facebook after the death of Coach Turner:
I don’t often share my feelings on here,
but today I have a good reason to do so.
I’ve often thought about how blessed I am
for having had tough but kind coaches
and mentors throughout my life.
I am grateful beyond words
that good-hearted people took time
to help keep a poor immigrant kid from the hood
on a path towards a positive life
that included the desire to give back or pay it forward.
I know most of you didn’t know him but in honor of him,
I want to say that among all of those good people
none made more of a difference
in my life than this good man — Coach Turner.
He passed away yesterday and now,
here I sit openly weeping still, smiling,
and remembering him not only as a coach,
but also as a mentor, a defender, a family friend, and even a father.
I’ll never forget you Coach Turner. Thank you from my heart.
— Ana Claudia
I have no doubt that her words are shared by so many of his former students. He was a special man who liked using the power of his vocabulary to impress those around him, but for Tom his ability to share his feeling was more powerful the words. Like all of us, he had his demons, but above all, “Bobby”, my little brother, knew the value of caring and sharing.
In the form of a elegy, I share the last two stanzas from Federico Garcia Lorca’s, “A Dream of Life”:
No one knows you. No one. But I sing you —
sing your profile and your grace, for later on.
The signal ripeness of your mastery.
The way you sought death out, savored its taste.
The sadness just beneath your gay valor.
Not soon, if ever, will Andalusia see
so towering a man, so venturesome.
I sing his elegance with words that moan
and remember a sad breeze in the olive groves.
— kenne
Coach Turner
Turner with some of his track students
