Auntie Hortense was a kindly and quiet lady… except when she read to me about the Musketeers and their adventures. Everyone has a hero, or two… even three. In Dear Auntie Hortense’s case, there were four. When she was a very young girl she began reading, as a way to practice the art, about the Three Musketeers and D’Artagnan; they became a staple in her daily life. As a growing child, she was very convinced they were real and traipsing around the French countryside, running errands for the king and queen. Apparently no one could tell her, much less convince her, about the difference between fact and fiction. They were real … Period! ... No arguments! As she grew up, the fictional reality of the story began to tentatively creep into her thought process but, don’t think for a minute that she believed these almost saintly characters –from her viewpoint, anyway- had never existed. She was willing to negotiate a settlement and admit that … maybe, just maybe, they had a streak a fi...

There are traditional ways to explain and define issues, then there are interesting ways to do so. There has been much said about the so named “Obama-Care”, proposed by the President to, eventually and if it actually works, supply health care to all.  Because of all the nuances involved, I do not believe even those who put it into law truly could fully describe it, nor could they begin to explain how it is that this mammoth undertaking will truly be paid. Of course, all the political pundits on both sides are busy either pushing it or taking potshots at it. The only problem is that because of the very hugeness of the proposed project, no one really can either explain it or attack it with enough clarity for the average individual to grasp and/or understand the message. Today I received an email from a long time friend. It was a short –about 2 minutes long- presentation by a lady who seems to be a doctor and she was speaking out against the plan, so I will assume this w...

Fleeting thoughts and memories of unrelated moments in time and space. So… now that I came up with the flashy title and trailer… what do I do? Let’s see… fleeting thoughts I have a lot of… Unrelated moments … there are tons of those… Time and space?  Too complicated a concept for a Thursday afternoon. Where do I start? ... maybe High School would be a good starting point... 1963… Fall. Just started my senior year in high school… Think I am going to ask Tresh to be my girl. Met her before and really liked her… good looking and seems to be a nice person… Hmmm… did and she said yes. We went out and I met her mom and dad; lives outside of town in an “outpost” called West Richland… Have to cross the bridge. She met my foster parents and they liked her. 1964… Spring. Have to make some decisions… my father wants my sister and I to go to Puerto Rico. My sister has to go; she has no other options but won’t go if I don’t go with her. Mr. C., my foster dad, tells me he has secur...

But it gives us the chance to live beyond the line of sight. As many of these entries, the title and possible subsequent content were spurred, in time, by something said or read. I say “possible” subsequent content because whenever I sit at this keyboard, it seems that a direction of its own is taken by the written stuff… Me thinks that we will go north with any given piece and end up somewhere near Patagonia… There is, in my humble opinion, no better fuel for the imagination than curiosity. Or… is it perhaps the other way around? ... No matter in which direction this may go, it sparks flights of fancy and also flights of despair and possible disaster. But … What If? With this short question, my mind looks at something and begins to see it differently, spinning it on its own axis and looking through whatever matter is there, allowing me to see the all the way to its core, or even beyond. While someone else who is next to me and looking at the same object is only seeing a ...

When it comes to religion and politics… even the home front is affected. Last night, the Democratic National Convention came to an end with (the)POTUS accepting the nomination for a second term… nothing new or unexpected here. I listened to most of the speech from afar, for there were other issues that needed attention at the same time. I am not a professional speaker, although there were several years my income depended on my ability to do so and convince others of my ideas. There were some thoughts that came to mind while I listened to the man speaking… The speaker was somewhat subdued; unusual for this particular speaker. There were no specific details, but far too many “independent and third party expert” references, none specific. Therefore… credibility is an issue. No major promises made; perhaps fear this would bring up other promises made that went unfulfilled… References ( made by both the President and the VP ) to remarks made by “That Other Guy” which were not full...

Sometimes, hearing from Cheíto becomes a reality check… a needed one. I had not seen so many flashing lights since a bad electrical storm over the Okeechobee Swamps some years ago. This morning, in a 3 block stretch, there were enough police cars to ferry half a city, all with their “party tops” full a’blazin… Then, as I approached the perimeter road, there came a blazing procession of motocops, followed by an array of black SUVs and trailing vans... all with their lights flashing to impress, like there was no tomorrow.   I guess with the party convention in town, this was to be expected. Especially when this was not the “other guys” convention, but the ruling party’s convention… nothing but big wigs and big guns (almost literally) in town. After I came back home, there were some things to be done but, as soon as I got into it, the phone rang. Almost didn’t answer, but I did… - “Hey compadre… JUAT'S GON ON’?” It was none other than Cheíto, coming back to ...

Nothing to do with this fine, fine movie but… maybe we can draw some parallels to the story. The story for the movie is based in the south, circa late1940’s (more or less) and it is about a white reporter who comes back to her native town and begins to interview the “Help”; those black women who came in to the homes of white folk and usually kept these homes running on a day to day basis. As a result of these interviews, much changed and many employers who thought they were above reproach, found themselves looking at the same reproach from beneath. It is difficult for me to envision that we, whoever we might be, can look at our own reflection and see the negative aspects which are so easily seen. The “bad” traits are usually left for others to identify and then, for us to vehemently ignore or deny. Life in the public eye for someone whose career depends on others’ perceptions of self must be an exhausting existence. Especially in our day and age, where nothing we may have...