Morning all:

“The large print giveth, and the small print taketh away.” — Tom Waits

Fantastic day. Makes it worthwhile to pen this post for a bit, enjoy my mug of Dunkin Donuts coffee (we’re out of our regular and bought a pound), then enjoy a bit of strolling about. The strolling time could be used to plan an ‘event’ to celebrate Mother’s Day tomorrow or also to once more soak in the music of Philip Glass; specifically the soundtrack to the film Powaqqatsi.

For our lesson of the day, Powaqqatsi is a Hopi word meaning “parasitic way of life” or “life in transition”.

Not bored yet? If interested in a bit more then read on, otherwise just skip to the next paragraph. Powaqqatsi is my favorite in the 1988 Quatsi trilogy (only two films, Koyaanisqatsi and Powaqqatsi, have actually been made) and Glass’ music is a stunning blend of both an amazingly haunting and a totally uplifting score filled with children’s laughter.

Now a clever segue from Glass to Paul Schrader. Glass also composed the soundtrack for the film Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters. This particular movie was screenwritten by Paul Schrader (Taxi Driver, American Gigolo, Patty Hearst, Cat People, Raging Bull, Hardcore). Paul was a classmate of mine at our small college, and we were part of a group involved in many a long coffee shop session spent discussing the goings-on of our world at that time; Vietnam, civil rights and the death of Martin Luther King, President Nixon who stopped by our campus, a newly emerging defining of feminism, Bob Dylan, Calvinism, LSD and our (sometimes) psychedelic world, The Doors and Jim Morrison, protest songs by the likes of Phil Ochs, and, very important, the meaning behind the lyrics of the Moody Blues – especially their album Days of Future Past. As you can tell by the world events as they continue to unfold to this day, we did not solve all the world’s problems—but we tried.

Upon returning home from my business travels to Chicago, Marcia alerted me to the fact that there was a break in the rains and therefore a perfect time to drive OUR DUCK to our little neighborhood Dairy Queen ice cream shop. Leaving the small parking lot some teenagers hanging about were all “MAN, THAT’S SO SWEET”. If, at this point, Marcia had dropped and flipped her immensely oversized Waffle Bowl Sundae into her crotch, her ear-to-ear smile would not have changed even one bit. She just loves riding in that little car.

Every so often you can stumble on a little bit of heaven. Last Saturday we went to our city’s outdoor veggie market, Findlay Market. While Marcia was busy negotiating prices and quantity I did my own thing. One small stand offered primarily herbs and spices. It was here that on one side I noticed two dozen or so apothecary jars, each with a specialty tea. It was here that I spotted their “Market Tea”. This remarkable blend consists of Lemon Balm, Rosemary, Lavender, Spearmint, and Cloves. Stop by and I’ll happily brew you some.

Make it a great week. And especially so to my uncle “Joop” who, at the early age of 93 traveled solo from the Netherlands to spend time with my brother and sister in law in Naples, Florida, then to travel on to California for some wine tasting. He has led an incredible life, is continuing to lead an incredible life, and has all the plans in the world to continue on that very same path.

To all you moms, enjoy your special day tomorrow. To all us dads, just reflect on the $117,000 per year your ladies should be earning for all that they do making house a home and managing to morph runny-nosed infants into fully functioning responsible and loving/loveable adults.

Cheers,

Dirk