I saw the Pope's high school last night on TV. His picture was on the wall, so every young boy and girl could look up and wonder how far they might go too.
In a way that's kind of heartless...probably works as inspiration and detraction. "Well, if he made Pope there's nowhere for me to go." Did the Pope know how many students at his old school were getting high? Pregnant?
Sometimes when a place is traveled enough it's still alive, even when empty of the living footsteps. Old schools, churches, jails, even rocks in the desert. I come here now and in the place inside me before language it still hasn't sunk-in; Rusty is gone. Bill isn't here. Before the thought takes shape, I wonder if I'm alright, if Bill and Rusty are going to be OK with me as mod. I'll do something wrong. I'm not as smart. Then language does come to the forefront and I remember/know/grasp they aren't here. Oh, I know we carry them inside, and I know like the hallways in churches and old schools they can still be heard in echoes.
Talk about a new roll of the dice. Talk about a new reality. Change.
I see bowmaking threads and that is good. I like to keep busy. I like to make things. I have this crazy stick I'm thinking of sending my old Man; the Moses Staff. Thick, spiraled, hard. It's cracked but still strong. I can't figure that out.
"Will I get hit over the head and robbed for it if I carry it?" My Father wanted to know.
"Maybe." I told him. "It's too good for me to use. It'll just get damaged in with me. You can take it when you walk past the golf course."
"An old man and his stick."
"Yes." I was amused by the thought. Another silly retiree with a Staff too big for his britches. Better he than me.
"You can take it with you when you walk your 300 yards from the car into the desert, when the flowers bloom. You can kill a snake."
I wanted a stronger stick. I'd use it hard. He'd never break the Moses Staff, though. A waste? Yes. He'd never use it to 'its potential', but it would tell the old rascal he was loved.
I know Dad would never carry a khuk. Too bad. He'd get a kick out of the staff though.
I like to keep my hands busy. I like to see wood take shape. That's the kind of change that brings peace. The other kind, when a new chapter starts, I don't like as much. I've been known to reread books. I'm glad the voices are here, the ones you do and don't see. Bill Martino swore this place was alive.
I'm so glad Yvsa and Howard are around, and all of you. This is our big change. A new book. I liked the old one fine, but I can't get it back.
A few of you might wonder about munk- perhaps you see a new arm of the Republican Party about to take shape. I didn't accept this change for indulgence. Give 'em hell, all of you, and like the beer I can't drink the political must be lightened also.
It's the damndest thing for We Who Remain, isn't it?
What was it Nasty said, that Bill and Rusty are wondering if we learned anything?
Well, I don't want to put them on a pedestal, I never liked that. But it is up to us now- to hold this place. Let's make a few more sticks and bows, rehandle some khuks, talk about the latest FF crop, and get on.
munk
In a way that's kind of heartless...probably works as inspiration and detraction. "Well, if he made Pope there's nowhere for me to go." Did the Pope know how many students at his old school were getting high? Pregnant?
Sometimes when a place is traveled enough it's still alive, even when empty of the living footsteps. Old schools, churches, jails, even rocks in the desert. I come here now and in the place inside me before language it still hasn't sunk-in; Rusty is gone. Bill isn't here. Before the thought takes shape, I wonder if I'm alright, if Bill and Rusty are going to be OK with me as mod. I'll do something wrong. I'm not as smart. Then language does come to the forefront and I remember/know/grasp they aren't here. Oh, I know we carry them inside, and I know like the hallways in churches and old schools they can still be heard in echoes.
Talk about a new roll of the dice. Talk about a new reality. Change.
I see bowmaking threads and that is good. I like to keep busy. I like to make things. I have this crazy stick I'm thinking of sending my old Man; the Moses Staff. Thick, spiraled, hard. It's cracked but still strong. I can't figure that out.
"Will I get hit over the head and robbed for it if I carry it?" My Father wanted to know.
"Maybe." I told him. "It's too good for me to use. It'll just get damaged in with me. You can take it when you walk past the golf course."
"An old man and his stick."
"Yes." I was amused by the thought. Another silly retiree with a Staff too big for his britches. Better he than me.
"You can take it with you when you walk your 300 yards from the car into the desert, when the flowers bloom. You can kill a snake."
I wanted a stronger stick. I'd use it hard. He'd never break the Moses Staff, though. A waste? Yes. He'd never use it to 'its potential', but it would tell the old rascal he was loved.
I know Dad would never carry a khuk. Too bad. He'd get a kick out of the staff though.
I like to keep my hands busy. I like to see wood take shape. That's the kind of change that brings peace. The other kind, when a new chapter starts, I don't like as much. I've been known to reread books. I'm glad the voices are here, the ones you do and don't see. Bill Martino swore this place was alive.
I'm so glad Yvsa and Howard are around, and all of you. This is our big change. A new book. I liked the old one fine, but I can't get it back.
A few of you might wonder about munk- perhaps you see a new arm of the Republican Party about to take shape. I didn't accept this change for indulgence. Give 'em hell, all of you, and like the beer I can't drink the political must be lightened also.
It's the damndest thing for We Who Remain, isn't it?
What was it Nasty said, that Bill and Rusty are wondering if we learned anything?
Well, I don't want to put them on a pedestal, I never liked that. But it is up to us now- to hold this place. Let's make a few more sticks and bows, rehandle some khuks, talk about the latest FF crop, and get on.
munk
:grumpy:
Bill and Rusty are tickled pink, i'm sure. The "new" leadership is really just the old leadership that took the situation in hand when neither Bill nor Rusty were around to handle it. I think we have a wide gammet of wisedom, knowledge, and heart in this new trifecta of mods. The Cantina is a two way street where we must all walk the walk. It is Yvsa's, munk's, and Howard's duty to keep the peace. It is the duty of the rest of us to make sure we behave ourselves and keep the cantina clean, and warm, and friendly. Uncle Bill and Rusty's shoes are mighty big ones, indeed. So big, in fact, that I think each and everyone of us could and should put a foot in them to do our best to honor what they and many other's started long ago.
