An incredible friend and family member of mine recently posted "Everyday is my chance to thank someone for his or her impact in my life."
So now I say back to you....Thank you for your impact on my life. It is part of who I am. And I thank you.
Our pastor challenged us this weekend to think of something for every letter of the alphabet that we can be thankful for...no food items or animal items please...take the challenge. As the economy weakens and the Christmas buying frenzy begins, we should all take stock of what we already have that money will never replace...be thankful!
Aaron
Brittany
Christian
dogs a'plenty
education
family...oh my this list could go on forever...what a great family i have!
grandmas and grandpas
home & health
intelligence
justice
Kelsey
love and harmony
Mary!
nurses and doctors
options
parents that nurtured me and loved me unconditionally...still
quiet (a forgotten treasure)
repentance and forgiveness
sports!
time...special moments
u (whoever you are)
vocation
water
xylophones! marimbas
youth (the promise of the future)
zappiness
Monday, November 24, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
The Fall of HEROES
What a great show Heroes used to be! If you didn't watch year one of this show, catch it online or via DVD. Tremendous. Year two, not so much. Year three started with promise, but it is now going the way of series two...in to the can. Too much totally unbelievable character switches, too much convenient time travel / dream travel to make the plot work or change. Too much. It is just not enjoyable right now.
Too bad, so sad.
...
Too bad, so sad.
...
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
The Francis Suite
The power of Facebook has, via a friend in California, reacquainted me with one of the most memorable sounds and friends from my college days. Kenny Rittenhouse has a CD titled "The Francis Suite" and his trumpet playing is as beautiful, emotional, and soulful as I remember it from my days of sharing the stage with him in the West Virginia Wesleyan Jazz Ensemble. Through Kenny, along with Chris Loftis, John Clarke, David Choban, and others I learned my place in the world. I saw greatness and his name is Kenny Rittenhouse. I will always treasure the measures and notes we shared.
If you enjoy jazz, and especially the trumpet, treat yourself to a copy of this fantastic CD.
www.kennyrittenhouse.com
...
If you enjoy jazz, and especially the trumpet, treat yourself to a copy of this fantastic CD.
www.kennyrittenhouse.com
...
Serenity
Beside the pond, I relax
the water moves slowly
beneath it's surface there is chaos
but it is hidden from my eyes
I see peace, serenity
The world around me is constant motion
each fighting for the same rung on the ladder
yet in my home
it is hidden from my eyes
I see peace, serenity
I'm heading home
...
the water moves slowly
beneath it's surface there is chaos
but it is hidden from my eyes
I see peace, serenity
The world around me is constant motion
each fighting for the same rung on the ladder
yet in my home
it is hidden from my eyes
I see peace, serenity
I'm heading home
...
Friday, November 7, 2008
david wilcox
Another fantastic singer / songwriter that I enjoy at all times...David Wilcox. If you haven't explored his offerings, I would encourage you to start. Just wonderful...check him out at http://davidwilcox.com/
Some example lyrics:
SHOW THE WAY
You say you see no hope,
you say you see no reason
We should dream that the world would ever change
You're saying love is foolish to believe'
Cause there'll always be some crazy with an Army or a Knife
To wake you from your day dream, put the fear back in your life...
Look, if someone wrote a play just to glorify
What's stronger than hate, would they not arrange the stage
To look as if the hero came too late he's almost in defeat
It's looking like the Evil side will win, so on the Edge
Of every seat, from the moment that the whole thing begins
It is...Love who makes the mortar
And it's love who stacked these stones
And it's love who made the stage here
Although it looks like we're alone
In this scene set in shadows
Like the night is here to stay
There is evil cast around us
But it's love that wrote the play...
For in this darkness love can show the way
So now the stage is set.
Feel you own heart beating
In your chest.
This life's not over yet.so we get up on our feet and do our best.
We play against theFear.
We play against the reasons not to try
We're playing for the tears burning in the happy angel's eyes
It is...Love who makes the mortar
And it's love who stacked these stones
And it's love who made the stage here
Although it looks like we're alone
In this scene set in shadows
Like the night is here to stay
There is evil cast around us
But it's love that wrote the play...
For in this darkness love can show the way
And it's love who stacked these stones
And it's love who made the stage here
Although it looks like we're alone
In this scene set in shadows
Like the night is here to stay
There is evil cast around us
But it's love that wrote the play...
For in this darkness love can show the way
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
11-4-2008
America is a great country. Regardless of your leanings, sit back and admire the process of this election...the class with which concession and acceptance speeches occur...the dignity of the candidates, their families, their supporters.Good luck to you President-elect Obama. Russia is already threatening. Many other countries do not care for our country or are watching your every move. The economy is down and the country needs a lift. I wish you God-speed on your accomplishments.
(photo courtesy of Jae C. Hong/Associated PressJae C. Hong/Associated Press)
Monday, November 3, 2008
It is worth repeating...
Inaugural Poem
Maya Angelou
20 January 1993
A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no more hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.
The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A River sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more.
Come,
Clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I and the
Tree and the stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your
Brow and when you yet knew you still
Knew nothing.
The River sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing River and the wise Rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They hear.
They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.
Today, the first and last of every Tree
Speaks to humankind.
Come to me, here beside the River.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River.
Each of you, descendant of some passed
On traveller, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of
Other seekers--desperate for gain,Starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot ...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.
I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours--your Passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need.
Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes, into
Your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.
...
Maya Angelou
20 January 1993
A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no more hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.
The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A River sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more.
Come,
Clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I and the
Tree and the stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your
Brow and when you yet knew you still
Knew nothing.
The River sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing River and the wise Rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They hear.
They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.
Today, the first and last of every Tree
Speaks to humankind.
Come to me, here beside the River.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River.
Each of you, descendant of some passed
On traveller, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of
Other seekers--desperate for gain,Starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot ...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.
I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours--your Passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need.
Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes, into
Your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.
...
Come Away to Sea
Just another beautiful song from David Wilcox!
"Come Away to Sea"
The wind is right for sailing
The tide is right to go
So come away to sea with me
There's things that you should know
There's things I'd like to tell you
That words can't seem to say
Unless we're on this simple craft
Sailing far away
Sail around this sound
Far away from shore
Come away to sea with me
Sail your heart once more
Join me in this simple craft
Welcome to my home
The things I'd like to say to you
Are better said alone
So let your heart sail with me
We'll cast away from town
And we'll sail away on music
Inside this simple sound
This simple craft I play upon
Is made from wooden parts
Its never sailed an ocean
But is sure can sail my heart
And if you feel the music
Then we've raised another sail
The ocean wraps this world around
The wind will never fail
...
"Come Away to Sea"
The wind is right for sailing
The tide is right to go
So come away to sea with me
There's things that you should know
There's things I'd like to tell you
That words can't seem to say
Unless we're on this simple craft
Sailing far away
Sail around this sound
Far away from shore
Come away to sea with me
Sail your heart once more
Join me in this simple craft
Welcome to my home
The things I'd like to say to you
Are better said alone
So let your heart sail with me
We'll cast away from town
And we'll sail away on music
Inside this simple sound
This simple craft I play upon
Is made from wooden parts
Its never sailed an ocean
But is sure can sail my heart
And if you feel the music
Then we've raised another sail
The ocean wraps this world around
The wind will never fail
...
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