A Tacana Family Headed Down the Tuichi River to Rurrenabaque in the Amazon — HDR Image by kenne
The Tacana people live along the Beni River in the Madidi National Park, Amazon.
The Tuichi River joins the Beni River upstream from the town Rurrenabaque.
Pedro, our Tacana guide demonstrated the indigenous technique of fishing.
Matt did have some success on our Day 3. — Image by kenne
Amazon Rainforest Sunset (August 2019) — Image by kenne
— kenne
“Let’s Dance, Grandma” — James and Joy (October 2, 2021)
Charles Bukowski
– – Charles Bukowski (Source: Oldpoetry.com)
We spent some brief moments with brother Tom during our trip to Seattle for Lisa’s and Mike’s wedding on Lummi Island (August 29, 2009).
It’s never been easy for anyone to figure out the Turner boys, let alone one to the other. In some ways,
however, if you know one of us, then you know the other. We are very much alike, but selectively taking some similarities to an extreme (by choice and personality), which appear different.
This video is about my brother; therefore, it’s about me.
“The cat’s in the well and grief is showing its face
The world’s being slaughtered and it’s such a bloody disgrace.”
— kenne
For Crying Out Loud (September 2009)
(The video can be enlarged by clicking on HD at the top right and the four arrows in the the lower right corner.)
Eastern Bluebird — Photo-Artistry by kenne
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
Well, he got that blue wing up in Walla Walla
and his cellmate there was a Little Willy John
and Willie, he was once a great blues singer
so Wing & Willie wrote him up a song
— from Blue Wing by Tom Russell
Another Glass Of Wine My Dear (April 5, 2007) — Image by kenne
Have Some Medeira, M’dear
She was young, she was pure, she was new, she was nice
She was fair, she was sweet seventeen.
He was old, he was vile, and no stranger to vice
He was base, he was bad, he was mean.
He had slyly inveigled her up to his flat
To view his collection of stamps,
And he said as he hastened to put out the cat,
The wine, his cigar and the lamps:
Have some madeira, m’dear.
You really have nothing to fear.
I’m not trying to tempt you, that wouldn’t be right,
You shouldn’t drink spirits at this time of night.
Have some madeira, m’dear.
It’s really much nicer than beer.
I don’t care for sherry, one cannot drink stout,
And port is a wine I can well do without…
It’s simply a case of chacun a son gout
Have some madeira, m’dear.
Unaware of the wiles of the snake-in-the-grass
And the fate of the maiden who topes,
She lowered her standards by raising her glass,
Her courage, her eyes and his hopes.
She sipped it, she drank it, she drained it, she did!
He promptly refilled it again,
And he said as he secretly carved one more notch
On the butt of his gold-headed cane:
Have some madeira, m’dear,
I’ve got a small cask of it here.
And once it’s been opened, you know it won’t keep.
Do finish it up.
It will help you to sleep.
Have some madeira, m’dear.
It’s really an excellent year.
Now if it were gin, you’d be wrong to say yes
The evil gin does would be hard to assess..
Besides it’s inclined to affect me prowess,
Have some madeira, m’dear.
Then there flashed through her mind what her mother had said
With her antepenultimate breath,
“Oh my child, should you look on the wine that is red
Be prepared for a fate worse than death!”
She let go her glass with a shrill little cry,
Crash!
Tinkle! it fell to the floor;
When he asked,
“What in Heaven?”
She made no reply,
Up her mind, and a dash for the door.
Have some madeira, m’dear.
Rang out down the hall loud and clear
With a tremulous cry that was filled with despair,
As she fought to take breath in the cool midnight air,
Have some madeira, m’dear.
The words seemed to ring in her ear.
Until the next morning, she woke in her bed
With a smile on her lips and an ache in her head…
And a beard in her lug ‘ole that tickled and said:
Have some madeira, m’dear!
—Flanders and Swann
Ye Vagabonds LP
I love British folk music — enjoy.
Old Man — Image by kenne
A Man’s a Man for a’ That
Is there for honest Poverty
That hings his head, an’ a’ that;
The coward-slave, we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a’ that!
For a’ that, an’ a’ that.
Our toils obscure an’ a’ that,
The rank is but the guinea’s stamp,
The Man’s the gowd for a’ that.
What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an’ a that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;
A Man’s a Man for a’ that:
For a’ that, and a’ that,
Their tinsel show, an’ a’ that;
The honest man, tho’ e’er sae poor,
Is king o’ men for a’ that.
Ye see yon birkie ca’d a lord,
Wha struts, an’ stares, an’ a’ that,
Tho’ hundreds worship at his word,
He’s but a coof for a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
His ribband, star, an’ a’ that,
The man o’ independent mind,
He looks an’ laughs at a’ that.
A Prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an’ a’ that!
But an honest man’s aboon his might –
Guid faith, he mauna fa’ that!
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
Their dignities, an’ a’ that,
The pith o’ Sense an’ pride o’ Worth
Are higher rank than a’ that.
Then let us pray that come it may,
As come it will for a’ that,
That Sense and Worth, o’er a’ the earth
Shall bear the gree an’ a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
It’s comin yet for a’ that,
That Man to Man the warld o’er
Shall brithers be for a’ that.
—
Rainbow Images (December 10, 2020) by kenne
After several months to little to no rain,
we received about one-quarter inch with some beautiful rainbows.
We are thankful!
— kenne
Rainbow Connection — Willie Nelson
Jabberwocky Moon Over the Tumtum Tree — Abstract Art by kenne
Jabberwocky
Houston’s Trudy Lynn (October 24, 2002) at Houston’s Photofest — Image by kenne
David Hidalgo, Los Lobos Guitarist — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Pala Casino, Spa and Resort Pool Area — Images by kenne
Since moving to Tucson ten years ago, we have annually spent Thanksgiving
with Joy’s family in southern California. However, because of COVID, this year,
we will be staying in Tucson.
Instead of the usual big family get together (as many as 25 people), we decided
to meet two of Joy’s sisters (Jody and Jeri) at a neutral location, and of course, for them,
it would have to be a casino.
So, last Wednesday, we drove to Pala Casino, Spa, and Resort, which is located in
the mountains northeast of San Diego. Since I’m not into gambling, I spent time
around the pool, took photos of oranges, and listen to live music in the casino.
During past visits, I usually spent time walking the 1.5-mile Pala Band of Indians
Cultural and Nature Trail behind Pala Spa. This time it was closed.
We returned to Tucson last Friday.
(During this time of COVID, we have found casino resorts to be relatively safe, keeping everything clean, requiring social-distancing and masks, except when eating and drinking.)
— kenne
Tom Turner (08/29/09) — Image by kenne
With so much of my knowledge of literature I was taught by my brother, Tom. In an April 26, 2003 note from him, he wrote:
“Hey . . . you
Metaphysical degenerates . . .
Bantered alone by impulse . . .
Here I am attempting to essay a few
coherent thoughts . . . God it’s risky!
‘God and the imagination are one.’
I am in the midst of trying to
memorize a poem . . . ‘Final Soliloquy
of The Interior Paramour’ by
Wallace Stevens . . . never mind why.”
Tom goes on to write about a piece by George Steiner
on memorization amid the technological revolution
where media is ubiquitous:
“The danger is that the text or music will lose
what physics calls its ‘critical mass,’ its implosive
powers within the echo chambers of the self.”
He continued — “I can really be in awe of
Shakespearean stage people in recitation
of exact lines!! Read closely . . .”
Our wills and fates do so contrary run
that our devices still are overthrown:
our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.
(The Player King’s Crucial Speech in the Play
Within the Play — Act 3, Scene 2, 183-209-Hamlet)
I probably don’t need to tell you that Tom
never memorized the Wallace poem.
Final Soliloquy Of The Interior Paramour
— Wallace Stevens
Becoming is Superior to Being 