Holly Bush in Bloom

Here is a picture I took of our blooming Holly bush. Now if I could just get the hang of this new Photo Shop software .....!

Blessings:
BluesMan

My Major - What it should have been

Thanks to Ma Hoyt and the link she placed on her blog I have new clarification on the major I should have had. You see, back in the old days, when we walked to our classes, we did so on our knees in respect of our professors (what this has to do with my blog post I have no idea). My major then was Philosophy, with a minor in Religion.

Well, after taking the test I have now come to understand what my major should have been, you guessed it...Drum roll please...

Philosophy

Here are my scores:

1. Philosophy    100%


2. Sociology      100%


3. Anthropology    92%


4. Mathematics     92%


5. Journalism    83%


6. English    75%


7. Theater    75%


8. Psychology    67%


9. Linguistics    67%


10. Engineering    58%


11. Biology    42%


12. Chemistry    42%


13. Art    33%


14. Dance    33%

I was not surprised by my scores, other than I do love to dance. But you see, no one wants to dance with me :(   

Though, if I think about it, it could be because they would have to put warning signs on the floor about my dancing to protect others....like the road warning signs about curves ahead...

Oh well, I never got to finish my major because I changed it, I decided to Major in Marriage instead and I think I am doing well with that choice as my major. What do you think, Rhonda?

Blessings:
BluesMan

Another One Bytes the Dust

These past few weeks have been sort of a blur to me. I have not had a chance to read some of my favorite blogs. So today I decided to catch up on my reading. I was shocked to discover that one of my favorite top 10 blogs has bit the dust. As of January 24th (now you see how far behind I was) PyroManiac has become no more.

I have much respect for Phillip and his work. Both in the blogsphere and his ministry in his home church. I know that anything he puts his hands to do he strives for excellence. This was true for his blog as well, and I respect his reasoning for quitting the blogsphere. I counted myself as one who enjoyed his points of view. Though we did not always agree. Sadness has crept in.

Yet there is light, though I have no idea how bright that light will be, Phillip has decided to create a group blog that is taking it's place. If you like to be challenged, sometimes provoked, or even sometimes humored try PyroManiacs. It's not the original but here hoping it keeps the standard he set.

Blessings:
BluesMan

Raging Waters

Life is sometimes like raging waters. While in the raging water we do not see the beauty that surrounds us. Why is that? It is because we are more focused on the turbulence of the water, but if we would just step back and admire the scenery surround us we then could get a glimpse of God's wonderful creation. The turbulence itself can be a picture of God's sustaining love in that He is in control even when there seems to be no control.

While I took this picture my thoughts were; "My life is like that sometimes, round and round I go and were I may come out, no one knows. But then just as quickly came another thought, there is One who does.

***************************************************

As a second note: Today Rhonda and I had a good time listening to sermons on the Internet. We heard more preaching and teaching today than we have in a long time. If you are ever interested in listening to sermons there are many sites you can go to. Here is one we liked, but I warn you, get ready because the sermons on this site are not your typical 20 minutes...Grace Community Church. Listen to Tim Conway he is a relatively new preacher, and his messages are sometimes very thought provoking.

Blessings:
BluesMan

In Remembrance

Blessings:
BluesMan

Thy Days Are Done - G. Gordon, Lord Byron

Thy days are done, thy fame begun;
Thy country's strains record
The triumphs of her chosen Son,
The slaughter of his sword!
The deeds he did, the fields he won,
The freedom he restored!

Though thou art fall'n, while we are free
Thou shalt not taste of death!
The generous blood that flow'd from thee
Disdain'd to sink beneath:
Within our veins its currents be,
Thy spirit on our breath!

Thy name, our charging hosts along,
Shall be the battle-word!
Thy fall, the theme of choral song
From virgin voices pour'd!
To weep would do thy glory wrong:
Thou shalt not be deplored.

Blessings:
BluesMan

Just stop and smell the roses

A Church on the Olympic Peninsula

This is a church that is on the Olympic Peninsula. It called out to me to take it's picture, so I did. :P



While in Alberta, Canada we were hiking down through a forest area and took a break by this river. It was so peaceful we stopped and reflected on its beauty.

Blessings:
BluesMan
 

A Sad Day

As much as yesterday was a day of rejoicing, today I was reminded of an event that happened on January 22, 1973. This dampened my spirit, such that I had to take time and re-think what this day brought about.

On January 22, 1973 the Supreme Court of the United States of America ruled on a case, Roe Vs Wade that a woman, as part of their constitutional right to privacy, can terminate a pregnancy during its first two trimesters.

Since that historic ruling there has been an epidemic of convenience. What do I mean when I say “convenience”? I mean that the mother and/or father place their lives of convenience before that of the child. That mentality of; "is it convenient or not" has brought about 30+ million abortions.

Now to be fair I will readily agree that some have been to save the mothers life, and some have even been because of rape and/or incest, yet most have been brought about because it was inconvenient to have a child. I was a product of inconvenience but my birth mother allowed me to be adopted and for that I will always be grateful.

Today I mourn those who never had a chance to live out their lives. Matthew 5:4; Blessed are those who mourn, For they shall be comforted.


Blessings:
BluesMan

Special Day - A Birthday Wish

Today is a very special day for me. For on this day (January 21) some 19 years ago God brought into this world a person who just by her mere existence is a constant reminder to me that God in His infinite wisdom decided to bless me. The birth of my daughter, Lauren Paige Garner is a constant reminder of the blessings of God and with that it also reminds me that He loves to bless those that are His.

When the psalmist stated that God lets it rain on the just and the unjust rings true to me. For there was nothing I did, or every could do, that would merited such a blessing as my daughter has been to me. God smiled and decided in his infinite wisdom that he would bless my family with her and everyday I give thanks for her. God has blessed me with two of the most precious gifts in my life, Paige is one of the gifts. She has been one of two great joys of my life.

Over the last 19 years when I think back on her life I believe God has shown me through this daughter of mine how much He loves me. Even when I don't deserve it, He still loves me.

With that said, this is not just my daughters birthday but it is a day that I celebrate the goodness of God even when I do not feel His goodness. I need only to look a picture of Paige to know that he is a Good God.

Here is wishing you, Lauren Paige Garner, a special birthday wish. My wish is this, that God will bless you throughout your life. And always remember this one thing, your Papi loves you!

Blessings:
Papi (alias BluesMan)

Lenore - by Edgar Allen Poe

Ah, broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown forever!
Let the bell toll! — a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river;
And, Guy de Vere, hast thou no tear?- weep now or nevermore!
See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore!
Come! let the burial rite be read- the funeral song be sung!—
An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young-
A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young.

"Wretches! ye loved her for her wealth and hated her for her pride,
And when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her — that she died!
How shall the ritual, then, be read? — the requiem how be sung
By you — by yours, the evil eye, — by yours, the slanderous tongue
That did to death the innocence that died, and died so young?"

Peccavimus; but rave not thus! and let a Sabbath song
Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong.
The sweet Lenore hath "gone before," with Hope, that flew beside,
Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy bride.
For her, the fair and debonair, that now so lowly lies,
The life upon her yellow hair but not within her eyes
The life still there, upon her hair — the death upon her eyes.

"Avaunt! avaunt! from fiends below, the indignant ghost is riven—
From Hell unto a high estate far up within the Heaven—
From grief and groan, to a golden throne, beside the King of Heaven!
Let no bell toll, then,- lest her soul, amid its hallowed mirth,
Should catch the note as it doth float up from the damned Earth!
And I! — to-night my heart is light! — no dirge will I upraise,
But waft the angel on her flight with a Paean of old days!"


Blessings:
BluesMan

The Haunted Palace - by Edgar Allen Poe

In the greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace—
Radiant palace—reared its head.
In the monarch Thought's dominion—
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair!

Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow,
(This—all this—was in the olden Time long ago,)
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A wingèd odor went away.

Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
To a lute's well-tunèd law,
Round about a throne where, sitting (Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace-door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch's high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn!—for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him desolate!)
And round about his home, the glory
That blushed and bloomed
Is but dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

And travellers now, within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms, that move fantastically
To a discordant melody,
While, like a ghastly rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever
And laugh—but smile no more.


Blessings:
BluesMan

A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allen Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone ?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

Blessings:
BluesMan

The Conqueror Worm - by Edgar Allen Poe

"Lo! 'tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.

Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly-
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Woe!

That motley drama- oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore,
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.

But see, amid the mimic rout
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!- it writhes!- with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.

Out- out are the lights- out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"
And its hero the Conqueror Worm.


Blessings:
BluesMan

The Raven - by Edgar Allen Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"-here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning-little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never-nevermore'."

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite-respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!-prophet still, if bird or devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there-is there balm in Gilead?-tell me-tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil-prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us-by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!-quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted-nevermore

Blessings:
BluesMan

Age 4 - Good Looking Kid

Many have said; "You were such a good looking kid, what happened?" I wonder sometimes too.

Posting Pictures

Since my family has begun to post pictures, I might as well join in :D

Look at the pictures below, can you guess who it is? That's right it is Audrey Hepburn! NOT, it is Paigels! They show that her first two loves begun at an early age. Music and books are still one of the ways she unwinds.

God Bless,
BluesMan (alias Papi)

Paige Reading

Paige at the Piano

I'm done, this piano need tuning!

Crazy Horse fights his final battle

On this day, January 8, 1877, General Miles found Crazy Horse's camp along Montana's Tongue River. The soldiers opened fire with their big wagon-mounted guns, driving the Indians from their warm tents out into a raging blizzard. Crazy Horse and his warriors managed to regroup on a ridge and return fire, but most of their ammunition was gone, and they were reduced to fighting with bows and arrows. They managed to hold off the soldiers long enough for the women and children to escape under cover of the blinding blizzard before they turned to follow them.

Later in the year faced by odds that stagger the mind he lead 1,100 hundred Indian to Fort Robinson to surrender. This was the last great battle that the Lakota, Sioux and Cheyenne fought together.

How we treated the natives of this great land has been a dark spot in our American history. I write this not because my heritage is part Indian, but because we as a nation never truly upheld the treaties we made with them. Was there wrong deeds perpetrated by both parties? Yes. But who is truly to blame? This will be a question that will always haunts us.

God Bless:
BluesMan

The Case of the Missing Rolls

My Saturday morning started out as every other Saturday morning. There were some new twists of course, my daughter is headed back off to college for one thing, and my friend Gaylon is running for County Judge. But other than that, it was a typical Saturday morning.

At my usual time I went looking for a snack which is made up of two Hawaiian sweet rolls, cheese, and some ham. I was thinking to myself as I walked to the kitchen how good this was going to be, it has to be my favorite snack of all time. Yet as I got to the kitchen and started to prepare my snack to my surprise my ROLLS were missing. I was in a state of panic as you might imagine. I looked in all the places rolls might hide, but to my chagrin they could not be located. Now at this time I am truly scared for their safety.

After looking everywhere in my house I am starting to go into panic mode. My first thoughts are that they had somehow gotten out of the house and are lost here in the big city of Boerne, or worse, the little rolls had been kidnapped by some diabolical fanatic who would not know what they had in their possession.

I immediately called the Boerne police to report them missing. After giving a lengthy description of the rolls to the police, they finally asked how long had they been missing? I replied that I had just found them missing a couple of hours ago. They replied they could not do anything at this time. The police seemed not to be worried and even told me that the rolls would probably show up. The officer was friendly enough but after taking my statement he said that if they were still missing after 48 hours to call them and they would put out a missing rolls report at that time.

As you may have guessed this did not sit well with me, I was worried that something awful might happen to them. So I called my friend Jack who is a private investigator to see if he could help me locate my rolls. After telling Jack my story he too seemed not to be worried, but told me they would show up. I tried to impress on him the urgency of the problem but Jack would have none of it. He even implied that I might have eaten them and forgot. Really now, I am only 49 and I would remember such things!

At my wits end I finally decided that I needed to inform my wife of the tragic events of the morning. I had wanted to spare her the pain of learning that these special rolls were missing but she had to be informed of their missingness. As I sat Rhonda down to break the news to her she all but laughed in my face! How could she be so callus to their plight!

After laughing for about half an hour, and trying to keep her composure she gently told me how these rolls had been abducted. She had sent them with my daughter (as you might remember is on her way back to college) to eat as a snack. So the case of the missing rolls has been finally solved. They are now somewhere between Boerne and Longview.

I will think of them fondly and remember how good they might have tasted, but I have the satisfaction of knowing that they are in good hands now and are being loved...... PS, daughter...Is there anything else missing that I might want to know of?

Love,
Papi (alias Bluesman)

A Short Time

It seems like yesterday that my daughter drove up from college for the Christmas holidays. How the time flies, but she is getting ready to leave for college again to attend her third semester. I know I am not ready for her to go, but I really do not have a choice in the matter ... or do I?

Not really, so goodbye for now pumpkin, hope you enjoy your semester and I will await your return....Hopefully at Easter or Spring break!

Love you,

Papi (alias BluesMan)

Riddle - Philosophical Answers

Why did the chicken cross the road?

Plato:    For the greater good.

Jean-Paul Sartre:    In order to act in good faith and be true to itself, the chicken found it necessary to cross the road.

Karl Marx:    It was a historical inevitability.

Nietzsche:    Because if you gaze too long across the Road, the Road gazes also across you.

Carl Jung:    The confluence of events in the cultural gestalt necessitated that individual chickens cross roads at this historical juncture, and therefore synchronicitously brought such occurrences into being.

Aristotle:    To actualize its potential.

Darwin:    It was the logical next step after coming down from the trees.

Epicurus:    For fun.

Ralph Waldo Emerson:    It didn't cross the road; it transcended it.

Johann von Goethe:    The eternal hen-principle made it do it.

Ernest Hemingway:    To die. In the rain.

Werner Heisenberg:    We are not sure which side of the road the chicken was on, but it was moving very fast.

David Hume:    Out of custom and habit.....

My daughter gave the link to site, so if you wish to view the full list go to philosophy.eserver.org

God Bless:
Bluesman

Thankfulness for What I Have

As I begin a new year I have to take stock of what I have. I have a loving God who in His great mercy saved me, I have a loving wife and a wonderful daughter, and a job that supports us all. And yet, something is still lacking...

During the Christmas season I watched the tradition holiday movie, "It is a Wonderful Life" with Jimmy Stewart and the lump in my throat was not there. Why? Why did not I feel as though I could relate to this movie as in the past years? Time to reflect...

This past year has been somewhat of a downer for me. I have noticed for the first time in my life limitations of my body, I cannot get up and down as easily as I could in the past. I have trouble getting up stairs and I get winded easily. I must confess that the disease that I was born with, Muscular Dystrophy is catching up with me. It has been a thorn in my side all my life but not a complete distraction. This past year however it was becoming just that.

Self pity is starting to creep in...So I need to take stock of what I do have.

I still can get out of bed though somewhat slowly

I am still able to walk with out braces or crutches

I still can work .. Which is a good thing with a daughter in college...

I am not confined to a wheel chair as of yet

When I look around and see those who have the same disease they are not so fortunate as I. Many of them could only wish for those items I listed. Many of those afflicted with MD will not reach the age that I am (but really 48 is not that bad).

So who am I to have self pity? Sure things are harder but I can still function on my own! Praise God for that, many would love just to be in my shoes with all my limitations! I need a dose of the old "gratefulness for what I have" like Jimmy Stewart. For you see, I have much to be thankful for. Life is a gift even with it's limitations. I must then agree with Paul the Apostle,

2 Corinthians 12:10 "Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong."

God Bless:
BluesMan