tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-92359172011-10-11T09:28:58.705-05:00Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.comBlogger2991100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-56674464928915438112010-04-11T16:29:00.010-05:002010-04-11T17:26:13.300-05:00

a man from near the tasman sea sat with intentions of teaching me in the manly art of burping well; something i though i knew. lesson one, he said, is say "bah-rack"! do not hold it in and do not hold back. practice until you have it right and you will know when you do. i mastered the task easy enough but he warned, it may really get rough. so now here comes your lesson two: belch loudly and

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-12762200140766901512010-03-28T12:32:00.004-05:002010-03-28T12:54:20.921-05:00

aubry leans over the ship's railing, watching the activity below with a keen interest. he and his fellow marines keep their eyes on a tugboat as it gently nudges the side of their vessel. excitement mounts among the soldiers as it draws close to the nearest dock. dry land at last, and aubry shall soon be pleased to stand on it again. for the next twelve months, this small island in the far

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-51111183713557368442010-03-14T20:00:00.005-05:002010-03-28T12:32:28.786-05:00

friday, may 23, 1788 at five bells in the forenoon: the sloop john bedford, under the the respectful command of captain rene magritte, pulls away from the crowded docks of albany. she carries a full load of grain stored below and is bound properly for madeira. there our crew of seven shall trade out our cargo for wine and a few cattle. we pray the weather holds faire. june 29: made record

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-13826453302880997292010-02-23T00:06:00.009-06:002010-02-26T03:32:25.740-06:00

around the middle of november, bart jones sat down with his security team at one of the tables in the snack bar. this was one of the few times he allowed the group to gather together in public. as suggested by him, each of his crew dressed in street clothes in order to blend in with the zayre store shoppers. instead of his usual african dashiki, amos came to work wearing khaki slacks, a

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-45490649542504813842010-02-17T12:32:00.008-06:002010-02-27T10:53:56.146-06:00

my name is crockett. i'm a north american raccoon. i hate to admit to this fact, but i done went and got myself in a mighty tight spot from which there seems no way of escaping. this here is how it all come about. ever since i was a kit, my moma said i was born to wander. she would also claim my taste for adventure would be the death of me. i'm afeared she might be right as rain on that point,

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-3460396471505126532010-01-25T13:24:00.017-06:002010-01-25T19:52:47.408-06:00

camp pendleton, california 1963 ozzie had a car. facing a three-day weekend, some of us got an idea. we had all heard rumors of a nice beach town down in mexico. if we all chipped in for gas, maybe ozzie would drive us there. he liked the sound of it, so plans got underway. kelsey knew someone in base supply. there he checked out several woolen blankets, a handful of tent poles and tent pegs,

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-68091720708141574662009-12-25T14:06:00.004-06:002009-12-25T14:55:05.875-06:00

we sent our son joel, who now lives in washington state, a christmas present that we shipped via united parcel service over a week ago. since he likes spy stuff, the wife picked out what appears to be an innocent ball point pen. actually, the device doubles as a spy camera, which is located at the opposite end of the writing instrument. it looked like the perfect gift for our boy who loves the

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-72897979176509669002009-12-20T14:42:00.015-06:002009-12-20T16:56:55.353-06:00

i once had a job in the military where i worked along side my contemporaries as a graphic artist for leatherneck magazine, published by the united states marine corps. it all sounded glamorous when i first arrived, but i soon learned to hate the assignment. i discovered right away that it was tedious and boring work. confined to a small cubicle, each artist sat at a tiny drafting table where he

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-36499393934138869162009-12-15T13:11:00.023-06:002009-12-16T02:06:06.033-06:00

a bedtime story i invented for my three boys once upon a time there were three little dogs who lived with their momma near the deep, dark forest. they were all happy little dogs, running and playing and having a grand time as they chased after each other, or after their own little tails. now from as long as they could remember, their momma had given the three little dogs a stern warning and

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-27885385298156248702009-12-14T14:25:00.012-06:002009-12-15T16:31:22.168-06:00

i grew up in southern georgia, a place crawling with alligators, all four of the poisonous snakes native to the united states of america, plus the strangest of people who lived near by. we were odd folk as well, i must admit. my family lived in a grits mill which sat on a dam that held back a sixty-acre lake where we all fished and boated and swam for fun and pleasure. my father worked in the

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-73243027957971556232009-12-06T13:32:00.013-06:002009-12-07T15:10:13.924-06:00

when i was a young boy, my mom would tell my two sisters and me lots of stories, always at bedtime. often she would read to us from books as we snuggled in our beds under heavy quilts, warm and secure. lots of her narratives were frightening accounts which commanded our attention. there was a fierce dog with red eyes as large as saucers, or maybe the small girl and her little brother,

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-74929793545051097782009-12-05T14:31:00.014-06:002009-12-05T17:05:59.644-06:00

i once contracted to wallpaper a small kitchen for a young lady named robyn. i had done work for her several times before, and she always loved the results of my efforts. after several weeks later, i showed up at her house on the appointed morning at eight o'clock sharp, ready to go to work. i noticed an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway as i parked my truck, and then after ringing the

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-67358601888557785232009-12-03T13:52:00.019-06:002009-12-11T15:54:35.987-06:00

spaghetti is a favorite dish around here. i have eaten it for as long as i can remember, starting early in life when my two sisters and i consumed countless cans of store-bought chef boyardee pasta for our supper. my mother was such an inventive cook during my childhood. later on, as a young adult, i continued to eat large amounts of home-made spaghetti noodles, along with meatballs and tomato

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-63829934021032023282009-12-01T20:45:00.020-06:002009-12-04T15:28:23.477-06:00

my family moved to plainview, texas, in the summer of 1953. i was 10 years old at the time. in august of 1960, i joined the marine corps and moved away, leaving behind my parents, along with two younger sisters. currently in retirement, i blog about modern life and childhood memories. while doing research for a current story i am struggling to compile, i telephoned the plainview daily herald

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-12755184477067218332009-11-28T15:22:00.016-06:002009-12-17T15:53:13.451-06:00

this year we kept our thanksgiving celebration small, keeping life simple. the wife ordered a pre-cooked turkey from a local supermarket, along with an ample amount of sweet potatoes, an order of stuffing and a tub of gravy. she made cranberry sauce herself, at my insistence. thanksgiving cannot be right without the homemade sauce. she and our son and i then chowed down together, and afterward,

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-76310065941111163062009-11-26T14:30:00.014-06:002009-11-30T14:22:21.064-06:00

on this day, in 1956, my buddy and i got arrested by the police, ruining the day for everyone around us. here is what happened. my best friend's mom and my mom had gotten together early that morning in the kitchen at my house to begin cooking up the traditional holiday meal for both of our families. in less than an hour, my pal and i found ourselves both banished from the room. "you two are in

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-34437191655006271062009-11-21T16:34:00.007-06:002009-11-21T16:59:33.405-06:00

when i recently mentioned tarzan the ape man as one of my heroes, i forgot about another character i much admired called jungle jim (starring johnny weissmuller), along with the actor johnny sheffield, who played the leading role in "bomba the jungle boy". sheffield also played "boy", tarzan's young son, in some of the later tarzan movies. what brought this to my mind today was bits of the

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-12521260202949528452009-11-20T15:56:00.007-06:002009-11-21T00:57:53.800-06:00

i had lots of movie heroes to admire, as a child who lived in southern georgia during the 1940s. our parents were not poor people, but thrifty folk, so as a result there were few toys to be had in our house, or other worldly pleasures. but one in particular was the movie theater in the close-by town of claxton. the price of admission was a nickle, and we kids went there often. on saturdays, the

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-27591269779980108652009-11-17T14:41:00.005-06:002009-11-21T01:07:35.529-06:00

most american spiders are harmless creatures. we (as compared to our brothers and sisters down in australia, for example) only have two that we have to contend with, which are considered only slightly dangerous by the experts; the black widow spider and our small brown recluse. both are said to be non-life threatening. oh, and then there is the tarantula, a scary-looking hairy thing that still

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-44193835016334364682009-11-16T16:20:00.004-06:002009-11-18T14:21:45.444-06:00

my aunt bessie, who was 95 years old, passed away last week. she lived nearby where i grew up as a kid, far out in the country near the small community of daisy, georgia. my younger sister alma recently drove all the way from east texas to attend the funeral. i just discovered a few years back that neither bessie nor my uncle charlie (deceased) were ever our true kin. they merely lived close

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-16200696289462025572009-11-16T16:00:00.008-06:002009-12-03T13:46:25.868-06:00

i heard a mouse last night. it woke me up from a sound sleep, chewing loudly on something near by. darn it, they are back, i thought. the little gnarly whippersnappers. i laid in bed for a while, groggily hoping the critter would go away. but it kept right on chewing and jarring my senses. i finally woke up and took action. first, i used my hand and banged on the back of a metal chair, which

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-22264055360684729502007-05-04T12:36:00.000-05:002007-05-04T17:46:35.780-05:00

‘ Vincent bought Sally a baby monkey which she soon learned to love. The creature would cling to her bosom while she went about her morning chores, humming tunes and singing gaily to herself. He acted just as content to ride. And then during the heat of long, sultry afternoons, the monkey found delight splashing in shallow waters of a rock pond Vincent had recently built for Sally (he had

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-50464072310819516082007-04-30T21:36:00.000-05:002007-04-30T21:59:18.947-05:00

Felix ran a smooth shop which ordinarily displayed the mildest of manners. But Felix uncharacteristically surprised the entire crew the day his tarantella arrived. Weeks in advance, he quietly requested the spider from a soldier headed for desert maneuvers who agreed to capture one for him. His face shined when the dusty man returned, grinning and holding a white shoebox aloft. “I got you

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-68755767586890896122007-04-27T12:32:00.000-05:002007-04-27T12:35:17.476-05:00

Allen snorts but rolls over and lays still, so Thelma eases her body out of bed, hurriedly buttoning a thin gown against the chilled night air. Then quietly removing a shotgun from its roost over the headboard, she crept from the darkened room to investigate the racket near the end of the dam. Her henhouse just recently sounded an alarm and most of her chickens were excitedly hard at work on

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-12542322722065350682007-04-23T19:02:00.000-05:002007-04-24T14:02:19.265-05:00

“Dad!” The word travels muted, like a foghorn. “Dad! Dad? Dad!” The pitch of the note modulates, rising to try a solo flight. “Dad!” Tony darkens my doorway holding a new case of Corona, a bag of fresh limes and a large tub of imported diplomacy. “What’s happening? What’s going on, my brother? Good to see you as always. Alright now!” A flurry of hand motions, fist-pounding,

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-79040979973938454982007-03-29T00:44:00.000-05:002007-04-02T14:42:08.562-05:00

Okay, so I must defiantly (or is it definitely?) be growing older. I currently seem to find myself more fascinated by music, which years ago, inspired me only to try. And, it seems, I now find artists, who once only encouraged me to go forward and experience new things, just staggering. First, few remember the title. But most all of us, no matter what the age, recall the tune; a little song

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-75319878444213926592007-03-11T17:14:00.000-05:002007-03-13T18:42:53.516-05:00

I worked a summer job briefly at our local country club. It was to become my first and last job as a caddy. Arriving early the first day, a kind man directed me toward a shed which stood near a putting green. A dozen or so boys, my age and older, stood outside, milling around and talking to each other. Within minutes a golfer approached us and hired a boy. His partner quickly took a second one

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1162843064957085882006-11-06T13:56:00.000-06:002006-11-06T14:01:48.003-06:00

http://www.geocities.com/mchs_booklover/06eliaf.html

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1162758788478778962006-11-05T14:18:00.000-06:002006-11-05T14:33:08.630-06:00

I had a dream A lousy dream I went to school dressed up in Red pajamas All the little girls And every boy Stood laughing in the hall yelling Red pajamas The teachers and my coach They all choked And they fell upon the floor laughing Red pajamas I thought it couldn’t get much Worse until I saw Out from the corner of My one good working eye

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1162587513719276132006-11-03T14:54:00.000-06:002006-11-03T14:58:33.783-06:00

I salute the young men and women who finished their basic training today at Lackland AFB, Texas.

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1162427851855759962006-11-01T17:54:00.000-06:002006-11-01T18:40:23.810-06:00

My name showed up on a long list of people assigned to take part in a 3-day military exercise. When I reported for duty, I learned I had also been added to an even shorter list: perhaps twenty Marines, including myself, had been selected to play the aggressors in the up-coming mock war game. Everyone on my team, including myself, felt fine with our assignment. The rest of the group of about two

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1162320167090364682006-10-31T12:39:00.000-06:002006-10-31T12:44:58.750-06:00

I thought I would take a short stroll up town Just to see But there I found People all around looking at me Who said And he said Then she said So I said I like Wok-waa She smiled then and took my hand for a mile With no fuss As we walked back They each pointed and stared hard at us And one said Another said And then said But she said I like Wok-waa

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1162163542990371812006-10-29T17:03:00.000-06:002006-10-29T17:12:23.053-06:00

Talked to Joel on his sail phone briefly last night (they call them mobiles over in Yerup). Raining hard, he claimed, as he drove to a Halloween party. Said something about four horns. Promised to call me later. You kids today. Cold front got here. You see any more leaves in the maple tree shadow? Wind picked up fierce. I saw where a squirrel built a new nest out back near the edge

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1162064805437428492006-10-28T14:40:00.000-05:002006-10-28T14:48:58.586-05:00

Loving son, Good to hear you are still alive, rather than being eaten alive by the mean, mean drill instructors. It does seem odd though, getting phone calls from boot camp. Is that some sort of Girl Scout thing they are running down there? The roaches that came with the dog seem to have simply vanished. Either they made their nest in the microwave (a bad idea around here), or one of your

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1161984123704794632006-10-27T16:05:00.000-05:002006-10-27T16:25:09.903-05:00

At one time I worked hard for my money, but since retirement, that dictum went straight down the toilet. The weather outside feels uncomfortably damp today, yet ideas for new stories are dryer than popcorn farts. Yes, always and forever treading on the verge of smelly lawsuits peopled with stinking sorts and boring torts, I find myself compelled now to lead us into the bathroom where we shall

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1161487742357013462006-10-21T22:17:00.000-05:002006-10-21T22:34:33.906-05:00

Favored son, Mom says I should write. I asked if she did; she said no. She’s been really busy all week, but I haven’t done much of anything since David (who has been in school since Monday, and my phone has still not rung) showed me how to get to http://www.pointlesssites.com/ What fun. I got to help a meek little computer guy chase computer aliens and rescue his computer dog while listening

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1161300163027715842006-10-19T18:20:00.000-05:002006-10-19T18:22:43.106-05:00

I got the oven lit up I'm waiting in the next room All I’m hoping now is that I don’t hear a sudden boom I do not want to leave here on a cloud like a mushroom I really want to stay away from that kind of dread doom Hot pizza yes; explosion, hell no! One does not sound like a happy way to go

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1160852871064475962006-10-14T13:41:00.000-05:002006-10-14T14:14:25.240-05:00

Today looks bright outdoors. It is trying to trick me, I know, because I saw a mosquito out there earlier, shivering and begging to be let in. We gave David your old cell phone. I just took his first call for the day. Your little brother is sitting on the couch in the living room, telling me that he is sitting on the couch in the living room while getting Buddy T. Dog ready to go for

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1160666615242406182006-10-12T09:48:00.000-05:002006-10-12T10:23:35.580-05:00

“Dad, after just a few days of this crap, I understand where you were coming from when you were always yelling at me and Joel to do stuff. The idea of boot camp is genius!” Two days ago, David lost another pair of glasses, so mom took him to the optometrist ($200,with a coupon) again. While they were gone, a lady from DCFS rang the doorbell here at the cave entrance, asking to see David.

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1160504140202602442006-10-10T13:09:00.000-05:002006-10-10T13:22:19.326-05:00

Hamilton Allen Tippins rarely spoke about it. He had bigger fish to fry, he always said. Prior to 1929, the youthful man enjoyed steady employment working in a busy office machine shop. Located just blocks away from the banking district of a metropolitan seaport, the repairman would soon learn the horrifying news on the same day of the infamous crash: the Mercer National Bank of Savannah,

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1160419972376003582006-10-09T13:44:00.000-05:002006-10-09T15:13:23.143-05:00

“First, you got to find the right size. And look for the smoothest, flattest kind.” I nodded my head and listened closely as he searched the ground with his toes until he found exactly what he wanted. “Then curl your finger around the edges like this. Make sure it fits in there tight.” I looked over his hand to see what he meant. “Now bend down just a little, see, and then sight out yonder

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1160349786799195982006-10-08T18:19:00.000-05:002006-10-08T18:41:11.910-05:00

The older son has fell into the clutches of the United States Air Force, but we somehow manage to get messages delivered. On the way up here, Alma had called several times, telling me her current location. At some point, she mentioned fleas. She had seen a couple crawling on the dog’s head, but after looking closer, she found lots more. Her cell phone crackled out the ruinous news.

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1160245591374207002006-10-07T13:17:00.000-05:002006-10-08T18:25:19.910-05:00

The older son left for boot camp recently, so during the next few weeks, my thoughts will be with him. Meet Buddy. We’re pretty sure he’s a Yorkshire terrier, but who knows? All of Alma’s mutts died, as you recall, except for one pup. Been a hard year for dogs down in the heat of Texas, we reckon. But just as she was preparing for the long drive to Great Lakes Naval Training

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1160169391546010992006-10-06T16:12:00.000-05:002006-10-06T16:16:31.596-05:00

Ottmar Liebert, like any musician, is permitted to have odd traits. An obvious one must be a healthy dislike of shoes, for he often appears barefoot while performing on-stage. Close your eyes now as you listen to two different versions of Barcelona Nights. But watch out -- your own feet might want to get naked and dance. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V4CQKwEQROY http://www.youtube.com/

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1160081933619671952006-10-05T15:36:00.000-05:002006-10-05T16:07:04.740-05:00

Some days I wonder if being homeless and a drug addict would be any improvement. Ding-dong! Of course, that made Buddy start barking. How can anyone nap around here? Ding-dong! Whoever invented doorbells should be wired to one. Ding-dong! “Hello. Can I help you?” (followed by) “Sorry, but I can’t open the door (a head pokes at a one-inch gap with its nose) or the dog might get out.” (

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1159543503945646492006-09-29T09:40:00.000-05:002006-09-29T10:30:00.640-05:00

The vibrating noise has finally stopped. Everything is still and quiet now. Questions begin to rise silently from the others. Jostling again. A tossing about. A yell and a shout. A lone object moves among us. It travels hurriedly, and it strongly desires to be at a far-away location. The being acts impatient and uncaring. Six of us are transported by this object for a short distance. It

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1159468650238216142006-09-28T13:33:00.000-05:002006-09-28T14:27:30.560-05:00

This I cannot explain: I have an ability to reason. This capacity, this flair, this knack – call it what you will -- seems to expand on its own, and it continues to grow by the hour, causing shapeless new questions to taunt me. The source of this gift invites a great amount of curiosity on my part, but somehow I know answers will come later. My peers also possess similar talents, yet I remain

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1159382891003612312006-09-27T13:16:00.000-05:002006-09-27T13:48:11.956-05:00

They took command swiftly, communicating with each other by making rapid-changing tones. These curious but baffling bursts of sounds came from a single flexible aperture located near the upper part of each of the objects. In no amount of time, the creatures hurried by us on their sets of sticks, arriving quickly at various posts; apparently, prearranged sites where functions would soon be

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1159196778841970542006-09-25T09:33:00.000-05:002006-09-27T11:36:38.923-05:00

The big rise in temperature only puzzles me. It is unlike anything I have ever encountered up until this very moment. But the mystery continues to go unanswered, for I am enveloped by a restrictive darkness. Also, I notice that my parts have begun to emit a mix of curious odors. The fresh red rises, sharp and pungent. It feels powerful. And the black, an exotic blending of synthetics, calls

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1159134712108051592006-09-24T16:48:00.000-05:002006-09-24T16:53:07.726-05:00

Okay, settle down. And I don’t mean go get married. There are certain advantages to growing old. The main ones that I can recall (there are certain disadvantages as well, but these, like lemons, are supposed to be used to improve the flavor of a bland life, as we shall see shortly. That is, if I remember to come back to it. Work with me here.) are unmerited respect from strangers,

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1159133198408030242006-09-24T16:24:00.000-05:002006-09-24T16:26:38.410-05:00

Achoo! Pardon me, but I just got a sneezing fit. Be back later.

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1158968448183785002006-09-22T18:39:00.000-05:002006-09-22T18:40:48.230-05:00

Okay, you tubes. Ride a carrousel and dream. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kWQAGh6p_BE Watch Tommy burn Classical Gas. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oc7SufBR2u0 See Bela beat up on Bach. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0pdQuxqhJiY Victor sounds amazing, Grace. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FYgcHT5dV2U

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1158883450758925462006-09-21T19:02:00.000-05:002006-09-21T19:04:10.760-05:00

Stop bothering me. Go to Youtube and watch Skeleton Man instead.

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1158614576815420722006-09-18T16:02:00.000-05:002006-09-18T16:22:56.940-05:00

Everyone but dad cheered after reading the postscript of mom’s letter. At the tender age of 65, the woman had finally reached the end of her rope. “Today, I am done with doing housework for that ungrateful man. You can all now consider me officially retired.” She then ripped the neatly-sandwiched batch of paper-and-carbon sheets out of the typewriter so she could scribble her signature

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1158090563505010132006-09-12T14:46:00.000-05:002006-09-12T14:49:23.606-05:00

There goes a tiny spider searching the walls A lone hummingbird returns for sips Who can count the blooms on the hoya vine outside One hundred-fifty pounds the bathroom scales read Concord grapes wait to be picked Five years have passed for some or is it just the two

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1157736902640452692006-09-08T12:29:00.000-05:002006-09-08T12:35:02.790-05:00

I have no recollection of where this came from, but it keeps rattling around inside my gourd, possibly encouraging a future lawsuit for telling lies. (I mentioned the word tail in my last post. That will always make a man think. Or maybe it’s just me.) But if I do get a summons (a man can sure hope), who among you knows of a good lawyer? I would be delighted to entertain emails

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1157654233749563222006-09-07T13:17:00.000-05:002006-09-07T13:37:14.080-05:00

You got the bushy eyebrows too? The squirrel froze and looked at me bug-eyed. Then he flicked his tail twice and scampered up a near-by tree. Oh. So that’s a tail you got, roof rat. You lucky rodent. Me, I am fresh out. Uninspired, exhausted and running on fumes. I got the flat-line mind, I tell you. In West Texas, such a man might brag, “It feels like I been rode hard and put up wet

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1157137306292866622006-09-01T13:52:00.000-05:002006-09-01T14:03:45.853-05:00

One of my sisters regularly met with mom during her final months. Curious, she quizzed her on family histories while at the same time scribbling down her last words. What a brilliant idea, I thought! So after hearing about this event many years later, I asked for a copy, hoping to learn some new things. I had to laugh after reading the end of the last page, because when I finished, I had even

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1156980614981637092006-08-30T17:47:00.000-05:002006-08-30T18:31:36.473-05:00

"‘Tis a lone road to travel, this dirt path that meanders about God’s green Earth. Yet there is the call of crows nearby, or the repetitious cry of a mourning dove, coming from some hidden spot among the wood, or up ahead, a place where the whippoorwill sings. The fearsome swamp-wampus is held at bay with a few stones secreted away in one pocket, while in the other is kept a small knife for

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1156869508843172332006-08-29T10:45:00.000-05:002006-08-29T11:38:29.130-05:00

I feel like dancing. I don’t mean the herky-jerky, sweat-inducing moves inspired by disco, or even those endless varieties brought on by rock and roll, but something more like the mellow style performed at a small club called the Wild Hare and Singing Armadillo Frog Sanctuary. Its name is long and almost impossible to remember easily, or to even pronounce correctly on the first try, but if you

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1156787565710006772006-08-28T12:20:00.000-05:002006-08-28T12:52:46.163-05:00

People tend to shy away from the uncomfortable subject of death. And who can blame them? A co-worker made plans to go home the same weekend I transferred south to Quantico. A girlfriend in Philly had changed her mind and took him back, so the last time I saw handsome Joe Karpen, he waltzed out of our D.C. office wearing a broad smile and a new after-shave. Two months later, another Marine

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1156721886063390312006-08-27T18:11:00.000-05:002006-08-27T18:38:06.126-05:00

The house arrived one day unannounced. A truck must have surely delivered it. I got home after school, and there the place sat; complete, spotless, tan in color and brand-new. Finished. Ready to move in. Looking totally done, except for the surrounding yard. Deep ruts of a delivery vehicle told the whole story, but green grass was to never grow in the dirt across the street. Strange, but

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1156451727084132382006-08-24T14:46:00.000-05:002006-08-24T15:39:26.616-05:00

A summer job with the Washington Post. Haul bundles of newspapers. Do deliveries around the beltway. Mainly southern Maryland. Short days. Odd hours. Great pay. Boring work. Eleven-thirty at night, deep inside a fluorescent-lit, underground loading bay. Along one wall, trucks wait, facing out. A biting odor of diesel fumes combines with the sweeter smell of printers ink. Scattered piles of

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1156348013581448952006-08-23T10:33:00.000-05:002006-08-23T10:46:53.640-05:00

A thoughtful reader sent me a letter. Rather than do the polite thing and respond in kind, I figure here is another shot at me winning the Pulitzer, so follow along, kids; I have blogging material. Now let’s hope that all of America decides to vote me in. I am not the type who goes in search of new readers (not that I am adverse to having more readers; I am merely your basic lazy lazyman. If

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1156126207728952962006-08-20T21:05:00.000-05:002006-08-20T21:10:07.783-05:00

Here Dreaming in the dark A desire to reach out And touch where she lay There Two rooms apart A universe to go Yet silence only comes Failure makes a friend And sticks close by True to the very end While coffee fills the pot Daylight staggers in Ahead around the bend Words Arrive and then they go None seems to work They come here for the show Pain Never one to grieve

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1155769462324580342006-08-16T17:37:00.000-05:002006-08-16T18:04:22.466-05:00

What is the saying: those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat the same mistakes? That sounds close enough to enable me to launch into a story which I might have already told once or twice, or maybe more. So what, I say? Ever listen to a hit song just the once? Or did you wear out the grooves (or magnetic tape or CD player, or whatever new technology you might have bought

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1155679880649066882006-08-15T16:44:00.000-05:002006-08-15T17:11:28.816-05:00

Since I was the one hitchhiking, there was little to do but accept the ride. Who knew the couple seated inside the sedan would be all that drunk? The odor of alcohol made me want to decline their invitation at first. It had reached my nose as I jogged the last few feet to where the car sat and waited. But I climbed inside anyway. A midsummer night on a lonesome strip of highway can cause some

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1155346630351253582006-08-11T20:07:00.000-05:002006-08-12T10:54:46.000-05:00

The coyote raised her nose higher to test the afternoon air. Across the broad valley, where rugged cap rock edge met with soft blue sky, stark earth shimmered and wavered slightly, while only twenty feet away, the shape of a lone male, sitting in the shade of a mesquite thicket, stood out plainly. The female rested comfortably inside her shallow lair, studying him through half-closed eyes. He

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1154230131602632302006-07-29T22:14:00.000-05:002006-07-30T13:17:44.746-05:00

A secret and seldom-used footpath worms its way deep into a cool forest of green. It is well-shaded back in the ancient hidden parts, and more hushed, so one hot afternoon I left the house to take a lone stroll there. City life can be so annoying at times. At some point on this walk of solitude I came to a bend where ends of low branches extended out over the trail. I pushed one aside to

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1154126998386615322006-07-28T16:59:00.000-05:002006-07-29T18:03:32.393-05:00

Friday, late afternoon. Too hot as usual. A typical brilliant sun does its job, unmercifully baking the surrounding desert landscape. Nothing stirs. The heavy front door to the Tahiti Reef had never been set properly to begin with. Or maybe countless coats of black paint brushed on over the years might have helped the sticking effect. Give a tug on the big brass handle. It will resist at

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1153949559688431882006-07-26T16:10:00.000-05:002006-07-26T16:32:39.886-05:00

“Stand off to the other side.” My father told me. He leaned out of a second-story window to keep a closer watch. I waded back to the tiny island, and then ran to the farthest edge to squat and wait while he and his pal Tony reloaded each of their rifles. The soft sand beneath my bottom, heated up by the Georgia sun, felt wonderfully warm against the pair of wet shorts I wore. I wriggled

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1153880971453377992006-07-25T21:03:00.000-05:002006-07-25T21:29:31.553-05:00

If walking into the run-around room did not cause a person to instantly become more happy, then that person had no business being there. The room was designed to do precisely that: make smiles blossom and flourish. I came into that unfurnished room for the first time, and it faced true north, as I recall. This important fact tugged sharply at my artistic interests. Then I looked at the four

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1153865655135962122006-07-25T17:12:00.000-05:002006-07-25T17:14:15.203-05:00

When you say cool I think in degrees Wine comes to mind as you chill You must mean neat like tucked-in sheets But what is this over the hill? I picture a bear just standing there Seeing what only bears see Far out you say so I look straight up Heaven it looks like to me

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1153792439695559512006-07-24T20:48:00.000-05:002006-07-24T20:53:59.836-05:00

I have been called some choice names in this short life of mine. Who hasn’t?* But in the past couple of years, two new titles have cropped up, and each one unbidden by yours truly. Both of them took me by surprise. And both made me wonder. How was that meant? And what in tarnation did that one mean? The first of the two latest awards came about voluntarily from a mad gaggle of

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1153505653801447382006-07-21T13:11:00.000-05:002006-07-21T14:14:05.000-05:00

Strange days. This one even more strange. An old friend of mine sent out an original letter to fifty of his friends on this day, including one original copy to myself. My own dear mother used to do something sort of similar. She typed all of her correspondence, using a brown, standard Royal typewriter, which she then sent via the post office to her geographically-scattered children. But

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1153160741482109642006-07-17T13:16:00.000-05:002006-07-17T13:31:03.766-05:00

Oceanside Saturday night. Slick handrail. Painted black. Solid. Cold. Worn. Iron leading downward. Wide cement steps. Gritty hall. Cool air. Wrapped overhead pipes. Fluorescent-lit linoleum floor. Yellow ceramic-tiled walls. Footsteps echo excitedly. Heady disinfectant stink. Mirrors reflect snow-white lavatories. Timed faucets gush. Pink soap oozes. Paper towels tossed. Hurry. Run fast. Go

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1152625151900007182006-07-11T07:56:00.000-05:002006-07-11T09:52:15.936-05:00

Garza was a amiable young man, and wise. Garza always acted polite, even though he was strong and courageous. Garza understood humor and smiled a lot. He could be silly, but Garza rarely told funny stories. Garza could be best-described as an honest and likable man. I admired the good qualities of my Corporal Garza. He might hold up his hand in the middle of another man’s discourse on some

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1152469689011850932006-07-09T13:08:00.000-05:002006-07-09T17:39:34.600-05:00

DIDGERYDOO/SINGER: Hmmm-chirp-hmmm-chirp-hmmm-wow-hmmm-chirp-hmmm-ooooo NARRATOR: I woke up that morning to find myself laying in a pool of warm sweat. My back felt clammy but hot; vaguely like I had been placed on a bed made up of many pins and prickly needles. My brain felt as if a wildfire raged uncontrollably inside my aching skull, burning away layer upon layer of all its dense growth, and

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1152385291895602882006-07-08T13:42:00.000-05:002006-07-08T14:03:16.193-05:00

The younger son came to me recently with a most serious question. “Dad, can I go to the park so I can catch some grasshoppers?” Hoohooville features a park like most any small town. Our official version lays far from here on the western edge of this fair city, surrounded by a row of well-kept apartments, several blocks of houses of different shapes and sizes, plus an expansive, private lawn

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1152292246187399892006-07-07T11:52:00.000-05:002006-07-07T15:01:07.596-05:00

God certainly had dynamics in mind by telling man to go forth and subdue this huge Earth of his. We humans have been at the job ever since, and every day provides us new details to write home about. An able coworker of mine, Jules Teasley, altered his role on one noteworthy summer day by becoming a close and personal friend of mine. He accomplished this feat in what I thought was a most amazing

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1152212237136030642006-07-06T13:25:00.000-05:002006-07-06T14:07:34.070-05:00

“Stop it! Just stop it! Stop it! No!” Soon as I heard the screaming, I got up and walked into the kitchen to get a cold drink from the fridge. While I was there, I took out one of the lime slices my wife keeps stored inside a baggie which sets on a shelf in the door. They nest there with several whole limes and lemons. Then I eased the door shut and went out and sat down on the front steps

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1152130013419148592006-07-05T15:00:00.000-05:002006-07-05T23:25:56.356-05:00

You know how a person can get a song stuck inside their head, and then the tune decides to stay and rattle around over and over until it drives them past the edge? Those ditties visit me as often as hiccups. First they come, and then they finally go away, but all are mercifully soon forgotten by me, and life is just fine again. Pesky little maddening melodies; we all get them. And then

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1152013040121723602006-07-04T06:34:00.000-05:002006-07-05T09:33:12.623-05:00

Ring-ring, says your phone Dulcet melodies play on While mine twice harangues

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1151953172120146752006-07-03T13:34:00.000-05:002006-07-03T14:01:58.113-05:00

I remember being taught during childhood how to use certain phrases at certain times for certain places. It must have been an instinctive way to learn the complicated language my parents spoke, as I seemed to have understood those meaningless phrases relating to normal body functions easily enough, and I took to them all with no objection. In the end I can recall completing each duty exactly

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1151166436481077232006-06-24T11:20:00.000-05:002006-06-26T11:17:12.720-05:00

His stare caused time to stand still. The tone of the man’s commanding voice rang clear, and it effortlessly calmed the surrounding air. Each statement he uttered came deliberate and steady, and every brand new soldier before him stood riveted and focused. Good morning, and welcome to Hotel Company. His dark gaze swept over the group. Stand at ease, men. The platoon relaxed.

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1151006524691696562006-06-22T14:25:00.000-05:002006-06-22T15:12:22.170-05:00

So far, I have said little about this territory which surrounds me, but today I throw cares to the winds as I prepare to speak out. (I feel duty-bound to do this deed and once I am done, you have my permission to have your way with me.) But the anticipation has me all excited. My heartbeat has begun to pound inside my chest, while right outside my doorway, the air lays thick, still and heavy. My

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1150745280572232002006-06-19T14:16:00.000-05:002006-06-19T14:39:26.356-05:00

I once went to a place where peacocks roamed free. I had come because of an invitation to an expansive garden estate where a wedding would be performed later in the day; a mixed ceremony: half Christian -- half Hindi. While I ventured out for a mid-morning stroll around the grounds to admire things, a catering crew arrived. The next thing I knew, I found my self being forced to stop and

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1150717312781227402006-06-19T06:40:00.000-05:002006-06-19T06:41:52.883-05:00

WARNING: DO NOT READ MY POEMS WHILE DRINKING MILK WHICH COULD SHOOT OUT NOSE

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1150624703763414192006-06-18T04:27:00.000-05:002006-06-18T05:11:32.286-05:00

My father is called Hamilton Allen Tippins. He was born the year the airplane first flew, and he grew up in Savannah, Georgia. As a young man he learned to play the coronet, the accordion and the six-stringed guitar. He went on to woo a younger woman with all three of these instruments, and soon after that, married her. Throughout his life he admired the complete works of Mark Twain as well

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1150587576601995842006-06-17T18:37:00.000-05:002006-06-17T18:39:36.650-05:00

A fan cools me fine But a pirate with night sweats? (Yo, blow the man down)

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1150559055357235002006-06-17T10:31:00.000-05:002006-06-17T10:52:32.253-05:00

The idea of a family reunion caught fire with Douglas Jennings. He is a most-delightfully kind and cheerful person, this brother-in-law of mine. He was born the fifth of six children, and aptly called the Last One during the first few years of his life. That allegation suited everyone until an unscheduled smaller brother came along. The new baby then became known as the Very Last One.

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1150557459044022892006-06-17T10:15:00.000-05:002006-06-17T10:17:39.083-05:00

I have loud grackles Confession is the first step To recovery

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1150480792802343152006-06-16T12:08:00.000-05:002006-06-16T16:02:15.596-05:00

Night sweats: how metaphorical. Now I suddenly relate to this enormous, wild and unhealthy planet I have been riding for my entire life. I manage to stay in my own orbit with no problem. I have many, many neighbors who lead similar lives. There is some slight evidence of scars left on my surface, resulting from an occasional rock hurled in my distant past, but those have healed and are almost

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1150210334751158102006-06-13T09:40:00.000-05:002006-06-13T09:52:14.930-05:00

Portugal. I have always liked the sound and shape of that far-away land, from early on. Portugal remains singular in my mind for a fact that I never had any desire to visit any other country. My dear, mysterious Portugal. How be you? Some Portuguese there have colorful fishing boats. I recall admiring their hulks from the moment I saw pictures. Grand forms, brilliant colors and exciting

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1150129823678451032006-06-12T11:28:00.000-05:002006-06-12T11:30:23.756-05:00

My doggerel is So bad it swallows cats whole So watch it, buddy

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1149970594314658952006-06-10T14:41:00.000-05:002006-06-10T15:30:20.900-05:00

I am about as current as a Franklin woodstove. In case you never met one of those cast-iron affairs, here are some snaphots: they are not what you could call air-tight. They are drafty, creaky, cumbersome and old-fashioned things, and they tend to crack easily in the worst spots. None have ever once been rightly accused of being an efficient heat source, to my knowledge. A Franklin stove is

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1149794638199515172006-06-08T14:19:00.000-05:002006-06-08T14:23:58.240-05:00

It is not enough to be a crazy individual; I also have a few humans dubbed as friends who assist me occasionally. One and I sat discussing the life cycle of another, and then much later, at some point between a unbridled night-sweat and an early cup of coffee, I got this urge to compose. I hereby now dedicate the following lines to my frond-friendly Dicksonia and my loosely-geared Gyro. I went

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1149622550983980012006-06-06T14:18:00.000-05:002006-06-06T18:03:39.180-05:00

The planners outnumber me now. Was this their original idea? My wife is a planner. She plans everything, even short trips. Buying milk for this rambling cavehold will require several spur-of-the-moment meetings among almost all members, and sometimes a phone call or two helps her decide. She plans these parties. She plans baths. She even plans laundry. She bothers me constantly with her

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1149547738876755912006-06-05T17:44:00.000-05:002006-06-05T17:48:58.920-05:00

Part of being a man is that compelling notion of explaining things to others. Right at this very moment I want to stop here and carefully explain to you exactly what I meant by that opening shot, but that job will have to wait until after I explain (to my satisfaction) from where the thought originated in the first place. Nonetheless, hold on. Then there is the procrastinating. Or is it

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9235917.post-1149525622999643492006-06-05T11:26:00.000-05:002006-06-05T12:17:14.356-05:00

INGREDIENTS: 957 IMPORTED WORDS. SERVE AT ROOM TEMPERATURE. I like riding the bus. My first year of school, I had to walk a half-mile. My second year I did the same. The third year of that experiment, a bus began stopping in front of our place, so I hopped on, took a seat and rode to school on it. I do have mixed feelings about those years. But later in my life, and as an inexperienced

Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18313556878709472843noreply@blogger.com3