2.1.2026 – we should have a land

we should have a land
of love joy wine song, not this …
land where joy is wrong

Adapted from the poem, Our Land by Langston Hughes as printed in The collected poems of Langston Hughes by Langston Hughes (Knopf: New York, 1994).

(On the 125th Birthday of Langston Hughes.)

We should have a land of sun,
Of gorgeous sun,
And a land of fragrant water
Where the twilight is a soft bandanna handkerchief
Of rose and gold,
And not this land
Where life is cold.

We should have a land of trees,
Of tall thick trees,
Bowed down with chattering parrots
Brilliant as the day,
And not this land where birds are gray.

Ah, we should have a land of joy,
Of love and joy and wine and song,
And not this land where joy is wrong.

There is a call today to make America great … again.

Funny thing, I always thought it was great.

Feet of clay to be sure.

Lots of dirt swept under both now and in the past.

But something about it, still great.

Great maybe, for the reason that there was a way things happened.

A process for the way things happened.

A process that was due to all people to be followed.

Due process.

Rules.

Simple rules.

But that isn’t how the MAGA people see it.

They see themselves as victims and as being victimized.

They tell me that the guy in office will fight for them.

Fight for them regardless of the process that was due.

I my gut feeling is that they see themselves as the Undertaker in the Godfather movie.

The undertaker who starts out the movie with the lines, “I believe in America. America has made my fortune.”

The Godfather responds, “I understand. You found paradise in America. You had a good trade, made a good living. The police protected you and there were courts of law.”

The Godfather continues, “Had you come to me in friendship … and that by chance if an honest man such as yourself should make enemies, then they would become my enemies. And then they would fear you”

And then they would fear you.

Is that not the perfect line?

And then they would fear you.

They would fear you.

Fear you.

Fear.

The thinking goes that the guy in the oval office fights for me and then they will fear me.

Make America great again by making people fear America.

As so many people are saying.

That’s not who we are.

Or at least, who we were.

For me?

I trust in God.

Let people think about that one.

For this country?

We should have a land of sun,
Of gorgeous sun,
And a land of fragrant water
Where the twilight is a soft bandanna handkerchief
Of rose and gold,
And not this land
Where life is cold.

We should have a land of trees,
Of tall thick trees,
Bowed down with chattering parrots
Brilliant as the day,
And not this land where birds are gray.

Ah, we should have a land of joy,
Of love and joy and wine and song,
And not this land where joy is wrong.

One more time out loud please.

Ah, we should have a land of joy,

Of love and joy and wine and song,

And not this land where joy is wrong.

1.5.2026 – much emotional

much emotional
content occurs before we
are nineteen, twenty

Probably everyone feels this on their first true flight from whatever nest, but it is no less real for being so universally shared!

We all have mothers and fathers, and what sweet anguish, sometimes terror, there is in those names.

If you give it much thought, the skeleton of life is stupendously ordinary.

So much of the emotional content of our lives seems to occur before we are nineteen or twenty, doesn’t it?

After that, especially by our age, we seem like stone walls, mortared together by scar tissue.

The whole point is not to be.

From all my reading done in construction camps throughout the world, the main point or challenge is to stay as conscious as possible, absurd as that seems.

Sundog: a novel : the story of an American foreman, Robert Corvus Strang, as told to Jim Harrison by Jim Harrison (Washington Square Press: New York, 1989).

1.1.2026 – Janus, two faces

Janus, two faces
one looking forward, one back
doorway to New Year

January Latin Janus, the ancient Latin deity who guarded doors and entrances. Naturally he looked after the doorway to the New Year, too. Janus had two faces — one looking forward, one back. That useful but humble man the janitor derives his title from the same root, janua, door. Janus’ temple was closed only in times of peace, which were not frequent.

From In a Word by Margaret Samuels Ernst with illustrations by James Thurber (Great Neck, N.Y. : Channel Press. 1954).

Janus might have had two faces, one looking forward and one looking back but in the words of Willy Wonka, “You can’t get out backwards. You got to go forwards to go back.“

Hope for a new years worth of good thoughts.

One question I ponder, do fans of that team in Columbus feel better about this season that ended with a 1 win and then 2 losses then they do about last season that ended with a loss and then three wins and a ‘so called’ National Championship?

Deep in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s world of “a real dark night of the soul it is always three o’clock in the morning,” you bet they do.

12.31.2025 – life not segmented

life not segmented
months, years, dawns, noons, evenings, night
rather moods, traumas

Life is not segmented artificially by what we call days,

months,

years,

dawns,

noons,

evenings,

night;

rather, life is segmented by our moods,

impressions,

traumas,

odd transferences of power from inanimate objects—

the aesthetic principle—

dreams,

linked by time spans of loves

and hates

and indifference,

unexpected changes in the prism of our understanding,

areas of passion or lust that disappear in a moment,

lapsing into a kind of sloth,

dread

and slowness …

From Sundog: a novel : the story of an American foreman, Robert Corvus Strang, as told to Jim Harrison by Jim Harrison (Washington Square Press: New York, 1989).

1,000s of titles on my devices and nothing is catching my interest.

Can’t get into any of the novels I had such high hopes for when I got them with the idea that I could lose myself for a day or two.

So I end up back in Jim Harrison’s Sundog which again I realize is needlessly profane, off color and inappropriate in so many ways and yet with such a powerful use of language that I come back to again and again.

This passage I found particularly appropriate for the day when we review the the top 25 of everything because of it being the end of the year.

Hard to think that the passage of time, the revolutions of the earth and the orbit of the planets are artificial segments used to divide up life but I find that I cannot argue with the thought that life is not segmented artificially by what we call days, months, years, dawns, noons, evenings, night; rather, life is segmented by our moods, impressions, traumas, odd transferences of power from inanimate objects—the aesthetic principle—dreams, linked by time spans of loves and hates and indifference, unexpected changes in the prism of our understanding, areas of passion or lust that disappear in a moment, lapsing into a kind of sloth, dread and slowness….

12.27.2025 – sleepless reduces past

sleepless reduces past
awesome, distorted essence
of all we have met

Adapted from the passage:

It was a night I would remember poignantly but not wish to repeat. Insomnia opens the door to previously untraced memories, makes a mockery of the good sense that possesses us at high noon, and any effort we make to channel our thoughts twists the energy, rebukes us with half-finished faces, sexless bodies; we learn again that our minds are full of snares, knots, goblins, the backward march of the dead, the bridges that end halfway and still hang in the air, those who failed to love us, those who irreparably harmed us, intentionally or not, even those we hurt badly and live on incapsulated in our regret. The past thrives on a sleepless night, reduces it to the awesome, distorted essence of all we have met.

From Sundog: a novel : the story of an American foreman, Robert Corvus Strang, as told to Jim Harrison by Jim Harrison (Washington Square Press Collection: New Yor, 1989).

It had to happen didn’t it?

I am now of the age when too much can impact my sleep, but on the other hand, when hasn’t too much impacted my sleep.

I mean how many plates of turkey, pieces of pie, chunks of chocolate, handfuls of cookies covered in icing and gallons of drink can one person imbibe and not pay for it later?

It was little surprise that laying down my brain and my stomach where both operating at 1000mph.

A Christmas carol earwig was stuck in my mind and maybe Dicken’s Christmas Carol was on my mind as well as it started.

The previously untraced memories, makes a mockery of the good sense that possesses us at high noon.

Any effort we make to channel our thoughts twists the energy, rebukes us with half-finished faces, sexless bodies.

We learn again that our minds are full of snares, knots, goblins.

The backward march of the dead, the bridges that end halfway and still hang in the air, those who failed to love us, those who irreparably harmed us, intentionally or not, even those we hurt badly and live on incapsulated in our regret.

The past thrives on a sleepless night, reduces it to the awesome, distorted essence of all we have met.

It was a night I would remember poignantly but not wish to repeat.

God bless us, everyone.

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