Bob Dylan

John Lennon

Keith Richards

Back to Work

FuFu

Shasta Lake

Mom's Homemade Jam Label Sketches

Adam vs. the Mechanical Bull

Odd Jobs

Yet another week threatens to pass without a definitive start date for employment. For my sanity's sake, I've started applying to jobs in which I'd normally never consider. I've found that I'm adept at justifying my credentials.

Body Guards Needed: A high profile New Age guru will be visiting Southern Oregon, including Ashland in early September. First off, there's nobody I'd rather work for than a high profile New Age guru. I'm also heavily trained in supervision, with an additional 26 years of attentive people watching. I like walkie talkies and surveillance videos. I'm reluctantly willing to take a bullet for most people. Restraint trained as well. I'm bigger than most and believe me, I'd have no trouble telling an overzealous hipster to BACK OFF.

Bible Study Group Leader: First United Methodist Church of Ashland is seeking a Bible Study Group Leader for Sunday meetings. I've lead various groups for years. I love round-table discussions. I love pondering. I love coffee shops, bagels and breakfast burritos. I'd get paid to meet and converse with kind,  devoted Christians whom I really do admire. I'd do my homework as well - lying in bed on Saturday night highlighting passages from the bible (I've always wondered what that would feel like).  And I'd only challenge my students with easily refuted questions that would further solidify their faith in the bestselling book of all time. Qualified? Yes.

Actors for Dinner Theater: Looking for actors for our Community Theater Group Performing Dinner Theaters. Now, is dinner theater something that takes place while others eat, or does the performance itself center around a dinner table in which the actors sit? If dinner theatre is the latter, count me in. I’d be a terrible actor on stage if I had to stand but terrific at a table. I’m comfortable, confident and loose when sitting. I have an expressive face and long arms. There'd be plenty for me to fidget with between lines - silverware, food and such.  Although I’d be pretty shaky with memorizing lines, I could improv at a dinner table all night long. I could dine with celebrity socialites on Friday, border patrol on Saturday, Sivananda Ashram Yoga farmers on Sunday, without ever skipping a beat. I’m a dining-room actor with range, an undiscovered dinner theater superstar.

Tour de Wyatt Lake

Urban Hunting

Last month, Jackson County voted to lift its ban on urban deer hunting.  Local parents, retirees, and vegetarians have been outraged.  I, too, find myself walking on egg shells - Ashland has quickly morphed into a war zone.  Gunshots ring out at all hours.  I see residents walking their dogs, a leash in one hand, a shotgun resting on the opposite shoulder.    I see old men in rocking chairs and camouflage, patiently waiting.  Bi-Mart has enjoyed a sudden increase in their rifle, wrist-rocket, crossbow, head lamp and power saw sales.  Neighborhoods smell of roasted venison, gun powder and beer.  The local taxidermist sold his trailer and bought a home.  The Daily Tidings now prints, on Sundays, photographs of the weeks biggest kill.  The honor went to a high school student the first week, a retired police officer the next and a seamstress the following - each proudly lifting a large rack of antlers for the photographer.  This morning, I sat in my car, patiently waiting for a buck to cross.  He hobbled across the street, a single arrow protruding from his ass.

Soul Shake

While staying at the hippie hideout that is Wellness Springs Resort, I've learned to appreciate the soul shake.  During a typical shake, two people extend out their hands from a safe distance and shake.  During a soul shake, two people extend out their hands - step forward, embrace palms, hug thumbs, and then shake.  It makes the typical shake seem detached and phony. 

The next time someone reaches out for your hand, give 'em a little soul.

Rucker Lake Reunion, 2025

Adam and I argue about seasoning as we man the grills.  We sip beer and joke - one eye on the food and the other on our kids.  Adam's girls require more attention - three redheaded triplets that herd and corner the boys like wild jackals - Buddy's son escapes into the lake and swims to his Dad.

Buddy sits in his kayak near the opposite shore, watching his son swim towards him like a frightened tiger shark.  Buddy has been fishing for an hour or two, hasn't caught anything and has just realized he may or may not be severally sunburned.  

I sense a bear looming behind me - hungry and grunting in anticipation of grilled food.  I turn my head in the wrong direction as McFadden swipes a strip of bacon from my skillet.  I shout NO! and bang together pots and pans.  He jumps away and lumbers back to his reclined lawn chair in the sun.  

Wasley and Mosby square off for another game of beer pong.  They do all the drinking, their kids do all the shooting, and everyone talks trash.  Twenty minutes later, Mosby's six year old daughter drills the final cup.  

Joey's boys are smitten with the three redheads.  They pretend to run from them.  Eventually, the gingers run out of steam.  Sensing a decline in competition, the boys shift their attention to bocci ball.  

My kids finish their lunch, thank the cooks, help with the dishes, destroy everyone at bocci ball, roast the perfect marsh-mellow on sticks they carved, catch three large blue gill before dark, tell a few jokes and head to bed without complaint.

Tentside Reading