such simple concepts
pull to turn on, push for off
no waiting, loading

We moved over the weekend.

Among the many many little things to do was set up new TV and Internet service.

At this move was a little easier and we moved into an apartment complex that is served exclusively by ATT.

Little did I know I was about to enter … the twilight zone of tv service.

It has been a nightmare.

The service has never worked.

I have unplugged, rebooted, replugged, logged in, logged out.

Talking to tech after tech.

I create online TV for a living.

I like to think I am fairly technically with it.

But this has me beat.

The best part was the support guy who told me to reboot my modem while we were chatting.

I told him that would effectivly end our chat session.

He said not to worry as the reboot would solve any problem.

When I rebooted and lost all connected with ATT support, my wife said, “He was right. It solved all the prblems … from his point of view.”

Due to the holiday I have to wait until tomorrow for someone to work on it.

To watch TV I have to watch on a computer and then get that picture on the TV

I have to login on a computer.

Wait.

Then wait.

Then cast to the a device on the TV or connect to the TV and us the TV as a big monitor.

And wait.

And wait.

Call me a boomer.

When I was kid, we walked up to the TV and pulled on a knob and the TV went on.

When we were done, we pressed the button and it went off.

How can something so simple become so stupidly complicated.

And when I think about.

All this effort to what end?

To watch …. TV?

Good grief!

Have I unpacked whats left of my books yet?

rendezvous with Death
I to my pledged word am true
he shall take my hand

For Memorial Day I turn to a poet of World War 1.

Alan Seeger and his poem, I Have a Rendezvous with Death.

I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air—
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath—
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.

God knows ’twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where Love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear …
But I’ve a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.

I first heard this poem recited when I was kid growing up in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

My Dad subscribed the journal, American Heritage and they had sent along a record album narrated history of World War 1.

The narration spent a few minute on Alan Seeger and read the poem.

I can still hear the narrator as he finished the line, “and apple blossoms fi l l e d the a i r.”

The website, Poetry Foundation, states, “Seeger’s poem “I Have a Rendezvous with Death” tells of an expected meeting between the narrator and Death himself. Though the narrator of the poem regrets leaving behind life’s pleasures and love, he does not fear or abhor death. Instead he is stoic, making the rendezvous a matter of honor. Hart described the curious relationship between the narrator and Death: “The union of fallen soldier and Death is, unfortunately, not based upon any profound philosophical or religious belief, but upon a vague romantic fusion of nature’s beauty, sexual love, and life in some undefined other realm.” His “Ode in Memory of the American Volunteers Fallen for France” is considered less aggrandizing and egocentric, and therefore a stronger work, but “Rendezvous” was still more famous. In 1916, Seeger died (ironically on July 4th) in the attack on Belloy-en-Santerre, where he was shot in the stomach. Following his death, the French military awarded him the Croix de Guerre and the Médaille militaire. He was buried in a mass grave.”

Always like the poem.

I understand it was one of President’s John F. Kennedy’s favorite.

Which is somewhat chilling.

It should also be mentioned that Alan was Charles Seeger’s brother.

Which made the the Uncle of folk singer, Pete Seeger.

For Memorial Day, 2020.

home sweet home new home
now home small home – continue
the experiment

Mother sometimes talked to Father about the advantages of living in an apartment. Father said it was all nonsense. A respectable man owned his own home and didn’t go living around in a “hole in the air.”

So wrote Clarence Day in Life with Mother.

We moved today.

We moved into an apartment.

No more Lawrenceville.

Hello Duluth.

Back in the 1880’s when the railroad through this part of Georgia was completed someone asked “What is the farthest place you can get to on this railroad?”

The answer was Duluth, Minnesota.

So the folks down here decided it would be cute to name this town Duluth, Georgia.

We set up this move as empty nesters.

Covid 19 has returned two birds to nest.

1000 square feet and 4 people.

Prayer is requested.

Stay tuned as this experiment continues.

oh anxiety,
hard to accept the unknown
oh the frustration

Everything looks worse in black and white.

Give us those nice, bright colors.

Give us the greens of summers.

Makes you think all the world’s a sunny day.

It’s a sense of scale really.

My friend Doug’s father was a Geology Professor.

Doug told how on family trips his Dad would notice a nice example of agglomerates or amphibolites or what have you and would stop to take a photo.

“Go stand next to that boulder for scale,” he would tell Doug.

He would use these photos as slides in his lectures.

Forever after Doug would run into people who taken his Dad’s classes and they would point at him and say, “You’re the scale kid!”

On a scale of 1 to 10 is my anxiety a 9?

On a scale of 1 to 100 is my anxiety still a 9 or is it 90?

If I see things a certain way that’s my business.

They way you see it is your business.

You don’t have to agree with me at all.

But on the matter of scale.

If it we agree it works, though we don’t agree on what we see, isn’t the scale the same?

Doug didn’t change.

His size relative to rock was constant.

The relative size of Doug the rock stayed the same.

Where do we lose agreement?

Frustrating isn’t it.

Frustration.

Frustration born out of agreement.

Can that get more frustrating?

I should mention the opening lines are taken from Paul Simon’s song, Kodachrome.