Morning all:

” Weather forecast for tonight: dark. Continued dark overnight, with widely scattered light by morning.” — George Carlin

I have heard it said that serendipity is looking in a haystack for a needle and discovering a farmer’s daughter. I was looking for an insider’s viewpoint as the Israeli’s invaded Lebanon last summer and found a blog done by a Lebanese guy named Mazen. Beside astute insights I found some wonderful artwork. Then, the other morning over my coffee, I realized that I might have some other use for his artwork. Serendipity.

This picture from Mazen’s blog is one of my favorites, the artist and the mighty pen while a neighbor wants no more battles, just sleep. The real reason I bring it up at this time is because of the news footage taken at stores around 4:00 AM all across the country the morning after Thanksgiving. I went back to Mazen’s blog to re-read his attempt to maintain normalcy and humor in his life as the bombs were flying about. I tried to juxtapose that against folk living in our “normal” world using cartons containing high definition TVs as battering rams and climbing over anyone near them in the middle of our night.

Well, in my mind anyway, the previous paragraph had me trying to bring a little humor to a pathetic scene—and in reality it did not: the reason it didn’t is probably because my mind is still sloshing about a bit after all of yesterdays rains sluicing down around here. Actually, on the heels of the rains, what came down was that stuff the weather folk love to call “wintry-mix”.

One of the things we enjoy about spending Saturday mornings at Findlay Market, our fresh greens marketplace, is the people, and in summertime the music—outside while enjoying a fresh baguette with cheese. This past summer Marcia and I had the good fortune of catching a set by the legendary “H Bomb” Ferguson, one of the original “Blues Shouters”. This past week “H Bomb” died and the nation lost an original, one who shaped modern music starting with his first gold record: “Good Lovin’ ” in 1952.

Last night Marcia and I spent a half hour on Skype connected complete with a video cam to our Florida family. Five-month old Kellen cooed, smiled, and waved, and is the absolute cutest. Derek, the big brother, primarily was a blur in the background stopping long enough here and there to give a quick “love you Oma, love you Opa.”

Closer to home lives Marin. Common sense would conclude that I’d see him constantly. The problem is that everyone is busy and sometimes several weeks go by without seeing the little guy. All that changed over Thanksgiving weekend when we did it all. In fact, I think I became a doppelganger as I lived the weekend viewing the world through the bright eyes of three-and-a-half year old Marin—saw a movie, attended the light Cincinnati festival, built a gingerbread house (I took pictures), watched hot-air balloons at Baluminaria, petted police horses, saw a deer cross the street. I even climbed a 74 step outdoor stone staircase with him on my shoulders—and yes, my calves are back to normal. But best, I laughed a lot.

Make it a great week everyone; stay young—in mind and spirit.

Cheers,
Dirk