“Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself; I am large – I contain multitudes.”
— Walt Whitman
* * * * *
“I’m just like Anne Frank, like Indiana Jones And them British bad boys, The Rolling Stones I go right to the edge, I go right to the end I go right where all things lost are made good again
I sing the songs of experience like William Blake I have no apologies to make Everything’s flowing all at the same time I live on the boulevard of crime I drive fast cars, and I eat fast foods I contain multitudes”
He Plays To His Shadow (Afternoon Drinks On the Copper Queen Saloon Balcony)
— Photo-Artistry by kenne
On A Bisbee Afternoon
he plays to his shadow devotedly on his violin nobody listens love torturing itself to rise above conversations lost in discontent limits of self-expression
a saloon window reflection
there is no tragedy on the Queen’s saloon balcony the smell of lavender lingers from the ghosts of the hotel whores who are not indifferent listening to classical strings becoming a delightful moan
Member of Bryan Lee’s Band Taking A Break Outside the Corner Pub (June 2, 2007), Conroe, Texas — Image by kenne
Computer Art by kenne
“I always thought that one man, the lone balladeer with a guitar, could blow a whole army off the stage, if he knew what he was doing. I’ve seen it happen.”
Tom Russell posted the following on Facebook and I felt a need to share it — a collaborative effort of three great singer-songwriters:
“Exciting news….we were walking through the old Greenwich Village this afternoon, vastly changed, and I thought – “it would be great to do an album release show at The Bitter End.” So we walked into The Bitter End, and out walks the owner. He warms up to us and I tell him I used to work there every Sunday…so we might hook the opening gig there for the next album release tour. Maybe a return to The Bitter End! Lets make Greenwich Village great again! This is Lucinda Williams and myself doing Bob Dylan‘s “A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall” off of the record “Mesabi.” All records and books: www.fronterarecords.com Your reporter for Nova Beat at the corner of Bleecker and MacDougal….”
Thomas R. Turner, May 23, 1942 – November 13, 2014
Today we are flying to Seattle to be with my brother’s daughters, Vanessa and Lisa and their families and friends to celebrate his life in words that communicate thoughts and feelings manifested in knowledge, experience and love.
My brother often shared and laughed about the closeness to home the following Woody Allen quote was for us:
“It reminds me of that old joke – you know, a guy walks into a psychiatrist’s office and says, hey doc, my brother’s crazy! He thinks he’s a chicken.
Then the doc says, why don’t you turn him in?
Then the guy says, I would but I need the eggs.
I guess that’s how I feel about relationships. They’re totally crazy, irrational, and absurd, but we keep going through it because we need the eggs.”
Saturday’s celebration of Tom’s (aka, Bobby) life will include a “sharing” program, because we need the eggs!
You may call me Tommy, you may call me Jimmy
You may call me Bobby, you may call me Zimmy
You may call me T.R, you may call me Ray
You may call me anything but no matter what you say.
You’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed You’re gonna have to serve somebody, Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord But you’re gonna have to serve somebody.
— minor changes to Bob Dylan’s “Gotta Serve Somebody”
Click to see a pdf file of “In Loving Celebration of Thomas R. Turner.” Tom’s Celebration
Until my brother, Tom, stop sending emails in 2010, many of the titles would read “The ‘blank’ is in the well,” and the message would include this cat image. We never talked about the image or the use of the phase, but he used them often as a preface to the message and a reflection of his condition.
In an October 16, 2009 email titled, “Cat’s In The Well” he wrote:
Your blog was splendidly poetic….(Visually and Verbally)!!!! Such a graceful turning inward and reflecting on two brothers and kindred spirits….. I love yah Talk to you very soon t.
Again, I would think about the phase and the why he would use it, e.g., “Photography is in the Well with the Cat.”
One can gather all kinds of meaning from the image and the phase, but it wasn’t till one day while running and listening to Bob Dylan on my iPad and I heard, “The cat’s in the well, the wolf is looking down.”
“That’s it!” I thought, maybe this was the connection, Dylan’s “Cat In The Well.”
The cat’s in the well, the wolf is looking down The cat’s in the well, the wolf is looking down He got his big bushy tail dragging all over the ground
The cat’s in the well, the gentle lady is asleep Cat’s in the well, the gentle lady is asleep She ain’t hearing a thing, the silence is a-stickin’ her deep
The cat’s in the well and grief is showing its face The world’s being slaughtered and it’s such a bloody disgrace
The cat’s in the well, the horse is going bumpety bump The cat’s in the well, and the horse is going bumpety bump Back alley Sally is doing the American jump
The cat’s in the well, and Papa is reading the news His hair’s falling out and all of his daughters need shoes
The cat’s in the well and the barn is full of bull The cat’s in the well and the barn is full of bull The night is so long and the table is oh, so full
The cat’s in the well and the servant is at the door The drinks are ready and the dogs are going to war
The cat’s in the well, the leaves are starting to fall The cat’s in the well, leaves are starting to fall Goodnight, my love, may the Lord have mercy on us all
The theme of the song is apocalyptic — very mythological. The cat’s in the well and there’s just no escape.
Goodnight, Tom, may the Lord have mercy on you. Although broken and mangled, you were one “cool cat.”
In Memory of Brother Tom/Bob, One of His Favorite Poems. Thomas Robert Turner (2000) Image by kenne
Diamonds and Rust
Well, I’ll be damned Here comes your ghost again But that’s not unusual It’s just that the moon is full And you happened to call And here I sit Hand on the telephone Hearing a voice I’d known A couple of light years ago Heading straight for a fall
As I remember your eyes Were bluer than robin’s eggs My poetry was lousy you said Where are you calling from? A booth in the Midwest Ten years ago I bought you some cufflinks You brought me something We both know what memories can bring They bring diamonds and rust
Well, you burst on the scene, already a legend The unwashed phenomenon The original vagabond You strayed into my arms And there you stayed Temporarily lost at sea The Madonna was yours for free Yes, the girl on the half-shell Could keep you unharmed
Now I see you standing with brown leaves falling around And snow in your hair Now you’re smiling out the window of that crummy hotel Over Washington Square Our breath comes out white clouds Mingles and hangs in the air Speaking strictly for me We both could have died then and there
Now you’re telling me you’re not nostalgic Then give me another word for it You who are so good with words And at keeping things vague ‘Cause I need some of that vagueness now It’s all come back too clearly Yes, I once loved you dearly And if you’re offering me diamonds and rust I’ve already paid
Lemmon Rock Lookout On Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
“All Along The Watchtower”
“There must be some way out of here” said the joker to the thief “There’s too much confusion”, I can’t get no relief Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth None of them along the line know what any of it is worth.
“No reason to get excited”, the thief he kindly spoke “There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke But you and I, we’ve been through that, and this is not our fate So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late”.
All along the watchtower, princes kept the view While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too. Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.
Joy Otrey and Kenne Turner On Butterfly Trail In The Santa Catalina Mountains — Image by kenne
Keep practicing the art of living.
Like any art, the art of living will evaporate if you don’t stay involved.
We often hear the statement, “If you don’t use, you lose” — a principle most obvious in our physical bodies.
Spend three years sitting down, when the three years are up, you won’t be able to walk.
The same applies to any skill.
Stop using your
creative imagination and it will evaporate.
Stop stimulating and challenging your brain,
it will slowly deteriorate.
Stop caring, and your conscience can switch off.
Look for opportunities to stay involved.
Not only should you stay involved, but the quality of involvement can produce a better understanding of reality.
None of us are immune to the influence of our own world – our friends, our family, and the books we read are constantly shaping our thoughts and our feelings.
Life is what our thoughts make of it.
George Bernard Shaw won a Nobel Prize when nearly seventy;
Ben Franklin produced some of his best writings age eighty-four;
Pablo Picasso put brush to canvas right through his eighties.
Isn’t the issue how old we think we are, not how old we are?
Keep practicing the art of living.
“May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation when the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful and may you song always be sung
May you stay forever young Forever young, forever young
“Buckets of rain
Buckets of tears
Got all them buckets comin’ out of my ears
Buckets of moonbeams in my hand
I got all the love, honey baby
You can stand
I been meek
And hard like an oak
I seen pretty people disappear like smoke
Friends will arrive, friends will disappear
If you want me, honey baby
I’ll be here …”
— Bob Dylan, “Buckets of Rain”
The Monday Morning Milers hiking group had scheduled to hike upper Butterfly trail to Novio Falls, which I had done Friday with the SCVN group. I like this trail because it is both a beautiful and challenging hike. It was a sunny morning on the mountain when we arrived at the trailhead. The faster hikers had already started down the trail, so I set out to catchup with them and was making pretty good time till I started stopping to take photos. I was trying to take advantage of the sunlight we didn’t have on the Friday hike.
Before leaving the parking lot to car-pool up Catalina Highway, some of the hikers indicated they would only be hiking to the Crystal Spring trail. But, when I reached the Crystal Springs cutoff, no one was there. Not seeing them on the trail, I assumed they had continued on to Novio Falls. As I got closer to Novio Falls (The area to the right of the big rock in the above image.) I could see clouds beginning to cover the higher elevations.
When I got to the falls no one was there, so I decided to continue to where a F-86 airplane had crashed in 1957. Once I got there, the rain began, so after taking a few photos, I started back toward the falls when I met a couple sitting under a large ponderosa pine. There didn’t have rain gear, but the tree was keeping them dry, at least for a while. (Unlike my earlier hikes in the rain, there was no lightning.) As I left them behind the rain began to come down heavier.
This is when I learned that my wind-breaker was not waterproof. I had already placed my camera in a plastic bag, but unlike my previous hikes in the rain, I decided to remove it now and then to capture some rainy images. Since the rain was still pretty heavy, I tried keeping as much of the bag over the camera after removing it in order to still keep it as dry a possible — then back in the bag.
The higher elevation in this view shows the direction in which I was headed returning to the upper Butterfly trailhead. I wasn’t sure how the images were turning out, since I wasn’t taking the time to view them, nor check how much rain was on the lens.
As I got further down the trail from the falls, I turned around and took this image toward where I had been.
As you can see in this image, see the clouds were beginning to break up over one of the last ridges I would be hiking to the trailhead.
At this point in my return the rain began to diminish.
This image is a view not far from the trailhead. The rain was now a sprinkle as the clouds continue to break up.
Remember I mention that we carpooled up the mountain, so those in my carpool had to wait for me — at least I was hoping they would. Based on where the others had turned around on the trail, and the distance I had gone, they had to wait one hour — man, did I blow it! I was very apologetic and pleased that they had not reported my failure to return after an hour to the Forest Service.
As we rode down the mountain they shared the various scenarios discussed while waiting, if I had not returned in more than an hour. They knew I’m a capable hiker, but . . .!
With all the rain I’ve experienced this month, while hiking on Mount Lemmon, I decided to start this blog posting with the lyrics of Bob Dylan’s song, “Buckets of Rain” and included a YouTube video for those of you interested in listening to this Dylan song — with buckets of moonbeams in your hand.
I love the music of Tom Russell, he is a singer-songwriter who is in touch with those who ramble the earth. In the introduction to his 2012 book, “120 Songs” Russell writes about how songs beckon you to move a little closer, “Let me tell you a story.”
“They beguile us with their sing-song rhyme and tinkle-down melodies, yet they are imbued with trued feel for human history, poetry, emotion and cold hard facts of life, than a thousand dusty tomes from social scientists, poets, politicians, theologians and academic historians. Songs travel.”
Russell’s songs are about real people, their suffering and survival, and times when whiskey needs to be drank like wine — songs for as long as forever is.
GUADALUPE
There are ghosts out in the rain tonight, high up in those ancient trees Lord, I’ve given up without a fight, another blind fool on his knees and all the Gods that I’d abandoned, begin to speak in simple tongue and suddenly I’ve come to know, there are no roads left to run
Now it’s the hour of dogs a barking, that’s what the old ones used to say It’s first light or it’s sundown, before the children cease their play when the mountains glow like mission wine, then turn gray like a Spanish roan ten thousand eyes will stop to worship, then turn away and head on home
She is reaching out her arms tonight, lord, my poverty is real I pray roses shall rain down again, from Guadalupe on her hill and who am I to doubt these mysteries? Cured in centuries of blood and candle smoke I am the least of all your children here, but I am most in need of hope
She appeared to Juan Diego, she left her image on his cape five hundred years of sorrow, cannot destroy their deepest faith so here I am, your ragged disbeliever, old doubting Thomas drowns in tears as I watch your church sink through the earth, like a heart worn down through fear
She is reaching out her arms tonight. . .
When you read the words in Russell’s songs, you can see the influence of Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan, Dave Van Ronk, Ramblin’ Jack Elliott, Federico Garcia Lorca and Charles Broskoski. The words and songs, “. . . suck us in, slap us around, kick us in the belly and heart, and then push us back out into the world with a memory we’ll never purge from our blood.”
Bob Dylan, Psychedelic Hair by Milton Glaser
He Plays To His Shadow (Afternoon Drinks On the Copper Queen Saloon Balcony)
Montgomery County Friends of the Blues, 2002 Fund Raiser — Image by kenne
Member of 
Computer Art by kenne
Bumblebee on Aspen Fleabane — Image by kenne
Thomas R. Turner, May 23, 1942 – November 13, 2014
Until my brother, Tom, stop sending emails in 2010, many of the titles would read “The ‘blank’ is in the well,” and the message would include this cat image. We never talked about the image or the use of the phase, but he used them often as a preface to the message and a reflection of his condition.
…..
The cat’s in the well, the gentle lady is asleep
Thomas Robert Turner (2000) Image by kenne
Lemmon Rock Lookout On Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
When I got to the falls no one was there, so I decided to continue to where a F-86 airplane had crashed in 1957. Once I got there, the rain began, so after taking a few photos, I started back toward the falls when I met a couple sitting under a large ponderosa pine. There didn’t have rain gear, but the tree was keeping them dry, at least for a while. (Unlike my earlier hikes in the rain, there was no lightning.) As I left them behind the rain began to come down heavier.
This is when I learned that my wind-breaker was not waterproof. I had already placed my camera in a plastic bag, but unlike my previous hikes in the rain, I decided to remove it now and then to capture some rainy images. Since the rain was still pretty heavy, I tried keeping as much of the bag over the camera after removing it in order to still keep it as dry a possible — then back in the bag.
The higher elevation in this view shows the direction in which I was headed returning to the upper Butterfly trailhead. I wasn’t sure how the images were turning out, since I wasn’t taking the time to view them, nor check how much rain was on the lens. 
As I got further down the trail from the falls, I turned around and took this image toward where I had been.
As you can see in this image, see the clouds were beginning to break up over one of the last ridges I would be hiking to the trailhead.
At this point in my return the rain began to diminish.
This image is a view not far from the trailhead. The rain was now a sprinkle as the clouds continue to break up.
Becoming is Superior to Being 
Keep practicing the art of living.
Like any art, the art of living
will evaporate if you don’t stay involved.
We often hear the statement,
“If you don’t use, you lose” —
a principle most obvious
in our physical bodies.
Spend three years sitting down,
when the three years are up,
you won’t be able to walk.
The same applies to any skill.
Stop using your
creative imagination
and it will evaporate.
Stop stimulating
and challenging your brain,
it will slowly deteriorate.
Stop caring,
and your conscience can switch off.
Look for opportunities to stay involved.
Not only should you stay involved,
but the quality of involvement
can produce a better understanding of reality.
None of us are immune
to the influence of our own world –
our friends, our family, and the books we read
are constantly shaping our thoughts and our feelings.
Life is what our thoughts make of it.
George Bernard Shaw
won a Nobel Prize when nearly seventy;
Ben Franklin
produced some of his best writings age eighty-four;
Pablo Picasso
put brush to canvas right through his eighties.
Isn’t the issue how old we think we are,
not how old we are?
Keep practicing the art of living.
“May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
when the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
and may you song always be sung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.” *
— kenne
( *from Bob Dylan’s song, “Forever Young )
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