Ok, so it’s been over two years. Life is so mysterious. It swallows time whole with great gulps and never looks around. And thus my life has been. At 52, I’m wondering about 62. Anyone else at this point? I’m watching others and wonder how they’ll be at my age. Others are probably wondering the same thing about me no doubt.

I’ve said before I’m a twenty year old caught in a 52 year old body. That hasn’t changed. I still enjoy being a kid. Playing tennis with my daughter is fun. I’m not too bd for an old guy. But life is grand and fun.

I need to become motivated. My muse has sat dormant for so long. Any suggestions on getting it started would be so appreciated. I’ve love to hear from you!


Hey, are you looking for a great place for books, presentations and teaching? Look no further:

Fifty – it’s sounds old. It sounds middle aged – middle aged? Like knights of old? Armor?

Well, I turned 50 today.   And I wonder as I look out with dimished eyes how this will change my outlook.  Will I have a different view of life?  How do you feel about life?


It’s like 80 on the free-way,
watching the life blur
agglomoration of houses,
havens and yards,

marriages split,
water runs
gardens wilt
and slow drip
of gas
tastes water

teens taste
love’s first bite
the broken tractor.

only appears
at this speed.

15 July 09

Yes,  I’m approaching 50 and the math overwhelms me.  Half-century sounds old – maybe by it’s nature, maybe by words.  We associate century with old things.   We speak of antigues in this manner. It’s a half-century old brings oohs and ahhs from a crowd.  But not from people.  A half-century person is just an old guy. Where’s the value in that piece of information?  Just like the mist ghosting around the river, it’s here and gone and who cares?  We might acknowledge it briefly, even walk its trails in wonder but then it passes.  Ho-hum, it’s gone. 

But as my birthday approaches (at approximately 8:48am my mother reminds me.)  I think about the last century.  The minutes clicking away and moments disappearing one thought comes to mind.  It’s the same thought I onced asked my boss.  I asked the so-what question.  What impact have I made?  Did you receive your money’s worth?   At work, it’s easy to answer (Or easier) because I can point to various documents, detachments, assessments, etc, that I’ve been privy to.  Never mind the scores of mindless minutes I’ve attended.  But here, here at the end of 50 years, what really do I have?   My daughter is grown. I’ve tried to impart the best to her.  What have I taught her?  Is she ready to be an adult?  Maybe a bigger question (Or better)  could I had really changed her.  She will have to discover her own path as I did.  I must make that way clear for her – some how.   Yes,  I have the same wish – that I had this wisdom at twenty. But what would be twenty without the will, the ability to make those mistakes.   That is what the age is all about- the exploring is what life is about – (I’m convincing myself at this point, aren’t I?)     So, there is one question left, right?

What does the next twenty or thirty years bring?  If I have that long.  There are no guarantees.  I could barely finish this missive and pass on.  Will I do better or will I continue waste time and act like an errant school boy on dirty dog summer days?   I still feel like that boy.  I really do.


Where is my world going? As I watch the traditions disappear, honorable things turn to dishonor. It scares me.   The economy is collasping,  everything is being re-defined.   Racism has increased, not decreased.    Truth is suppressed. (Reference EPA suppressing the Global warming data.)  We’re become what we were never supposed to be.  Freedom has died in a vote – cheered and rallied.   As it was said in the Star Wars Movie.  Freedom has died among thunderous applause!

It’s a strange start,
a sleeping person
turned ill

then the transformation.
My name to Doctor
my time gone,
my house a ward.

I’m wanted with water,

and it goes on.
Chores still needed,
life goes on,

and the hospital

It’s been 10 years.
Maybe at 50,
we can draw the line
decide oil and water
and give in.

Maybe not.

I can’t take pleasure
in shimmering water,

It’s glow,
the way the sun glints
and mirrors,
the naked masts like
winter trees.

They just remind me
of what?

Heck, I don’t remember
the argument
Do you?

Seagulls plunge at the sea,
those last scraps left.

I sure can’t find them.

I have nothing to anchor to.
No piece of earth to tie off,

I’m the guy at 50
wondering what happened.

Why swimming is forbidden
and I have expect
to see a warning sign.

I’m not sure what to do with time
that odd fluid thing
that floats by,

that tempts and stretches
Distorts and reminds.

Is it possible?
I die,
I’ll meet my uncle there.
and he’ll say,
he just arrived!

Or is it some strange
physical ruler
a Planck’s length
I can’t divide,

Invented on purpose,
to keep our brains from bursting?

27 June 09