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Ailinn
Windchimer

1850 Posts

Posted - 04/10/2005 :  08:45:31  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
For Hank. "...I ran because I couldn't fly..." Good morning to New York!

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Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4925 Posts

Posted - 04/10/2005 :  10:24:07  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Hank, that is the coolest story. Really puts a picture to the song. Thanks so much for sharing!

Karen Runk
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 04/10/2005 :  12:04:36  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Thanks, KR... I was watching Ken Burn's Civil War on PBS and thought how cool it would be if we had a little tale about American Trilogy coming out of a chance meeting between three guys... and then, it just happened in my head and came out whole, like you see it, all at once... Thanks, Hank

http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5432 Posts

Posted - 04/10/2005 :  12:14:24  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I figure a lot of stories follow us until we
turn around and share a smoke with them.
One of your finest, Buckman.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 04/10/2005 :  17:14:06  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Thank you, Doug....
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1850 Posts

Posted - 04/10/2005 :  19:20:53  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"My husband's chief complaint was that we'd included
too many people who believed in outer space.
He made no distinction between those who were intrigued
by the problems of the Hubble Space Telescope
and that much smaller group who personally knew
someone kidnapped by aliens. Outer space
was all the same to him, endlessly uninteresting.
I have to admit I was bored myself
by the Hubble Space Telescope. I kept thinking
of the Artist's Renderings I grew up with, how close
you were to Martian canals, for example,
with figures in the foreground to add a sense
of perspective and a little drama. But I'm one
of those people who believe any movie
can be improved by including a giant insect.
I like it when the aliens walk among us
and no one's sure they're there, when they take somebody
up in the ship to examine him, but you never really
find out why. They leave so little evidence behind,
and what there is gets covered up so quickly.
Mostly I keep it to myself, these interests.
It's nothing I count on, and you can imagine what he says,
this and that about the world, the one he cares for.
We wash the dishes, make sure there aren't
any more glasses leaving rings on the piano.
If aliens had been around for so long
you'd think we'd understand
what they want. Instead we don't even know
if how they're acting is smart or stupid.
When it's time to walk the dog I say I'll take her
because I enjoy going into the yard at night.
The sky's spread out above me, clear and chilly.
Ordinary planes are up there, lights flashing off and on,
and of coursr the stars, and all the uninhabitable
planets, and then the others, where right now maybe
plans are being made, where everything's almost ready.
No one can say it isn't possible, not for certain.
I like waiting just a moment for something to happen."

~Lawrence Raab~
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1850 Posts

Posted - 04/10/2005 :  19:30:05  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
In 1996 and again in '98 Stu was treated for esophageal cancer. At one point he was the most radiated man in North America. They tattooed him so they wouldn't overlap the radiation and compromise his spine. Starman, I called him. Terrified. Mick was the only one he would talk to. Stu lost his voice. Couldn't speak for months. Finally when he started gaining weight and his voice came back again he called Mick on May 19th and sang Happy Birthday to him.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1850 Posts

Posted - 04/10/2005 :  19:40:40  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
As Mick's illness progressed he tried to stop writing. "I wasn't going to write anymore, Ro. Wanted... Just thought the flow would... Stop because... Because... I'm too damn tired... But the songs, Ro... The songs... They're there. The songs won't leave me alone." They'd wake him up. He'd call and sing new stuff he was working on. When he'd call at work I'd close my office door and take the phone out back. Reps who came by and saw the phone cord running under the door would tell Barbara and Stu, "I'll come back another day." I'd sit on the loading dock with a pen and a yellow pad and Mick would say, "Get your head clear, Ro. Is it clear now?" We'd talk about everything under and over the sun. He was constantly curious. "Here, talk about this," he'd say with no apparent transition. Then he'd pull the threads together and I'd see the woven whole. "Hahaha," he'd say. He was a genius. With language. With everything. A magician. Yet heartfelt and true. Such a rare combination.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1850 Posts

Posted - 04/10/2005 :  19:53:54  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Let me tell you a story about The Lost Hotel where you check in by the season. The reason I suppose is the view. And the one who is waiting for you. Patiently waiting. How people get broken and partially fixed. Just a little piece of the puzzle missing. Grey cardboard where there used to be blue. Upon arrival there's a complimentary First Aid Kit. Scotch Tape, Elmer's Glue, and Kindergarten glitter. So life at The Lost revolves under a constant bright sky. A shining ribbon woven into everything thought, spoken, or dreamed. Sure, you've seen the road that goes there. When you were on your way to somewhere else. A bookmarked memory. A fleeting thought caught in the corner of your eye. A faded sign beyond a curve that said ~Pavement Narrows and Ends~. The way the veiled trees gathered. A curtain that appeared to open and close.
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Susan Newbury
Sitter

USA
76 Posts

Posted - 04/11/2005 :  11:01:28  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
When Mick reads the board every night, and I'm convinced that he does, I know that the first thread he reads are the posts by Ailinn.

Your writing so enriched his life, Ro.

Susie
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 04/11/2005 :  16:22:26  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I agree wholeheartedly... This thread [Ailinn's parts] have greatly enriched all of us... Thank you so much, my dear... Hank

http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1850 Posts

Posted - 04/11/2005 :  19:54:58  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Dear Susie,
Mick so wanted the Board to continue. I too believe he reads it every night. Here comes his big closed-eye grin again. For old friends and new friends. The love and the words. His ever-growing family.
Our hearts to you in Oregon!

S & R
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1850 Posts

Posted - 04/13/2005 :  19:18:28  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
O taste the sudden truth he speaks through sleep to you. Bend nearer to his breath. The Hallows shall be lost. And all of Eden. But the cycle, like the season will return in healing time. So sayeth he, the seeker of the Grail.

~Book of Durrow~
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 04/13/2005 :  19:37:55  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Visiting Cloud Peak with Priest Tenge in Fall

Human existence in this world:
Duckweed cast adrift on the water.
Who can ever feel secure?
That is the reason
I took up a monk's staff, left my parents,
And bade farewell to my friends.
A single patched robe
And one bowl have sustained me all these years.
I'm fond of this little hut
And often spend time here-
We are two kindred spirits,
Never worrying about who is guest or host.
The wind blows through lofty pines,
Frost chills the few mums that remain.
Arm in arm we stand above the clouds;
Bound as one, roaming in the far beyond.

-Ryokan (1758-1831)
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1850 Posts

Posted - 04/13/2005 :  20:02:33  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
When the fire engines arrive he ties the sheets together. Lowers them over the balcony rail where the canyons are silently warming. Heat funneling up through their honeycombed trails where she climbs into the abandoned future. His steady hand at her elbow when she takes the first step.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1850 Posts

Posted - 04/14/2005 :  19:34:01  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Without Faith there is no fullness."

~Mickey Newbury~
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 04/14/2005 :  21:48:28  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The Cry of the Dreamer

I AM tired of planning and toiling

In the crowded hives of men,

Heart-weary of building and spoiling,

And spoiling and building again,

And I long for the dear old river,

Where I dreamed my youth away;

For a dreamer lives forever,

And a toiler dies in a day.



I am sick of the showy seeming,

Of life that is half a lie;

Of the faces lined with scheming

In the throng that hurries by;

From the sleepless thought's endeavor

I would go where the children play;

For a dreamer lives forever,

And a thinker dies in a day.



I can feel no pride, but pity,

For the burdens the rich endure;

There is nothing sweet in the city

But the patient lives of the poor.

Oh, the little hands too skillful,

And the child-mind choked with weeds!

The daughter's heart grown willful

And the father's heart that bleeds!



No! no! from the street's rude bustle,

From trophies of mart and stage,

I would fly to the wood's low rustle

And the meadows' kindly page.

Let me dream as of old by the river,

And be loved for my dreams alway;

For a dreamer lives forever,

And the toiler dies in a day.

John Boyle O'Reilly


http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1850 Posts

Posted - 04/21/2005 :  19:57:06  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Autographs required. From all the waiters who served them. Cast in their roles of 'The Waiter'. SAG cards defining their true identies. Stars. Halos hovering above their heads. A little to the left but still shining. The man and the woman were drunk on the sunset's just-right light and shadow. And the fragrance of scrolled-edged roses when he lifted his glass and touched it to hers.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2705 Posts

Posted - 04/22/2005 :  21:25:07  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply


Martina took her time
Putting her face on…

With two words and a gesture
She walked out on me
Taking everything that was beautiful
In my life with her…
As I sit tired of the sound
Of my own voice ringing
In my ears
I remember the places we cheated…
The dark end of streets
The dirty motels, the cars…
Somehow I knew it would end like this…

When you break somebody's heart
To give yours to somebody else
The Universe will owe you one…
And it Will get you back
Someday someway…
I am only getting
What I deserve…

Martina took her time
Putting her face on…

Hank Beukema


http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1850 Posts

Posted - 04/23/2005 :  19:24:03  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
This weekend is the Poseidon Street Fair. And new open-air Farmer's Market in Carlsbad where Stu's a volunteer. These two days profits go to San Diego's needy kids. "Get him an apron!" they cry. Vendors wear dark green aprons. "Oh, the next time I'm here you must help me pick out my oranges! You know so much about fruit!" says a pretty lady in a big straw hat. "Fruits and nuts are my specialty," Stu says straight-faced. "Don't tough that rhubarb now. It won't keep. Unless you're gonna use it for pies." "Happy Poseidon Day!" the pretty lady says. Poseidon Day? I've got a Halloween feeling. My tall black hat and broom are getting restless in the closet. Now Stu's downstairs basting corn with tequila and lime juice. And Mirella's brought tiny flour tortilla sombreros. Filled with spicy beef and chilies, green onions and three kinds of cheese. "Pecadillos," she calls them, "little sins." Ralph is in the corner pouring Cointreau into the whipped cream and Catherine's smiling. Tomorrow there's a parade.
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