Joy wading out on Galveston West Beach to be with the grandchildren.
This year Joy’s birthday was celebrated in Galveston, Texas. We rented a beach house on the west end of Galveston Island. Hugh had written a song that was to have been performed at the beach house, but schedules made it difficult to happen there. So, several days later Hugh set-up his equipment in Jill’s game room for Joy and myself with James as cameraman and Jill doing the rhythm. Hugh actually did a mini-concert for Joy.
I’m now back in Tucson, Joy will be returning on the 21st — you know how grandmothers are.
Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone It’s not warm when she’s away Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone And she’s always gone too long Anytime she goes away
Wonder this time where she’s gone Wonder if she’s gone to stay Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone And this house just ain’t no home Anytime she goes away
And I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know I know, I know, I know, I know, I know I know, I know, I know, I know, I know I know, I know, I know, I know, I know I know, I know, Hey, I oughtta leave young thing alone But ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone
Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone Only darkness every day Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone And this house just ain’t no home Anytime she goes away Anytime she goes away Anytime she goes away Anytime she goes away
Greater Roadrunner In Patio Olive Tree — Photo-Artistry Image by kenne
“A medium of communication is not merely a passive conduit for the transmission of information
but rather an active force in creating new social patterns and new perceptual realities.”
I can’t think of bluebirds without thinking of Tom Russell’s song, “Blue Wing” — one of my favorite. Both help me see the sky above.
— kenne
Blue Wing by Tom Russell
He had a blue wing tattooed on his shoulder Well it might have been a bluebird I don’t know But he’d get stone drunk and talk about Alaska The salmon boats and 45 below
He said he got that blue wing up in Walla Walla And his cellmate there was Little Willy John And Willy he was once a great blues singer And Wing and Willy wrote ’em up a song. They said…
CHORUS: It’s dark in here; can’t see the sky But I look at this blue wing and I close my eyes And I fly away beyond these walls Up above the clouds where the rain don’t fall On a poor man’s dream.
They paroled Blue Wing in August, of 1963 He moved north picking apples to the town of Wenatchee Then winter finally caught him in a run down trailer park On the south side of Seattle where the days grow gray and dark
And he drank and he dreamt of visions when the salmon still ran free And his fathers’ fathers crossed that wild old Bering Sea And the land belonged to everyone and there were old songs yet to sing Now it’s narrowed down to a cheap hotel and a tattooed prison wing
CHORUS: It’s dark in here; can’t see the sky But I look at this blue wing and I close my eyes And I fly away beyond these walls Up above the clouds where the rain don’t fall On a poor man’s dream.
Joy wading out on Galveston West Beach to be with the grandchildren. 
Joy on Galveston Island (She’s still in Houston with family and I’m here in Tucson.) — Image by kenne
Greater Roadrunner In Patio Olive Tree — Photo-Artistry Image by kenne
Cigar Bar — Digital Painting by kenne
Gary Clark and Diunna Greenleaf (September 2001) — Digital Art by kenne
Western Bluebird — Image by kenne
My Sky is Full of Passion — Image by kenne
