“Happiness is like a butterfly; the more you chase it, the more it will elude you, but if you turn your attention to other things, it will come and sit softly on your shoulder.”

                                                                                                                        Henry David Thoreau

This is my favorite quote regarding happiness. I have known a few people in my life who seemed to have it all, except they seemed like they could never be satiated. Some were glum and acted as though they had given up. Some were angry that the life they had envisioned for themselves simply never arrived despite all their gallant efforts.

My father was a simple dairy farmer. I learned happiness lessons from him early on. It was all about attitude! He sang as he worked. He sang happy, quirky songs, not the Blues. I remember him singing:

 Oh what a beautiful morning

 Oh what a beautiful day,

I’ve got a wonderful feeling,

Everything’s going my way

To this day, I sometimes sing it and it always makes me smile and gives me a surge of his love even though he hasn’t been around in years My father was not a singing fool. He achieved a small fortune by investing the sweat- of -his- brow- farm- profits into the stock market. He enjoyed simple pleasures like dessert, especially ice cream  and watching crowds at the county fairs and walks on the beach with his kids when he could get there a couple times a month and the fireworks on the Fourth of July and weekly Saturday suppers with his brothers and their families at the ranch house and arguing and teasing my mother in his own German Swiss way; singing and laughing and being present with family and friends and walking out when he felt like it. I always thought it was probably to have some alone time to have his own daydreams and schemes and to chat with God (which he taught me to do,too)

So, this one’s for you, Pop. When I think of “happiness” you are the first person I think of. I know what a great gift it was to have you as a father and guardian. The butterfly was always close by and it taught me to get on with my life and just let it be…and I do, and remarkably like you, I am happy, too!

 

Mekong Delta Blues

Dedicated to an Army Ranger I never really knew.

Way down south, now

on the Mekong Delta

Me and my buddy

smoked a pipe and

watched the war go by

We heard a bomb blast         

and saw a rocket flare

Oh, I was there when

my buddy lost his life…

Chorus:

I don’t care, now

if I live or die, now

and I got a baby girl

and a real sweet wife

But nothin’ matters

in the world, now

since the day I saw

my buddy lose his life

I came home from

a war that mattered

to some muckety-mucks

smokin’ stogies in D.C.

But I can’t think of

anything further

than that day in the swamp

and my buddy and me

My wife is gone, now

she took our baby

shook her head and cried

the day she was free

No more misery

No more worries

all I got left are memories of

Nam and my buddy & me

(Repeat first stanza)

 

Old Shoe

What good is a comfy old shoe

Without its mate?

Well worn, seasoned, softened

By long roads and off road

Journeys

Chorus:

Old shoe, old shoe

Where are you?

Old shoe, old shoe

Where are you?

This old shoe wonders where

Its mate is

Walking and walking

Looking and looking

Curious, wondering why

She cannot find him

Chorus:

Old shoe, old shoe

Where are you?

Old shoe, old shoe

Where are you?

Where are you, old shoe?

I’ve been looking for you

For so long-please come

My way- join me?
Let’s walk hand in hand
toward the setting sun...

Chorus:

Old shoe, old shoe

Where are you?

Old shoe, old shoe

Where are you?

Hey! Is that you?

RMK- May 2015

Osprey

Little fish swims along

the surface

getting sun, minding

his own business

Did not see the osprey

zeroing in from above

Friend Jade, building

a nature photography portfolio

zooms in as the

Osprey strikes

talons grabbing

innocent fish and

swooping back up

to meet the sky

triumphant in

his catch

Routine day for the osprey

Great day for Jade,

She got the shot!

Bad day for the fish…      raintreepoet, reporting.

Jordan, Montana

They said the U. S.  Government had no

jurisdiction over them

They believed in: “individual sovereignty”

They created “Justus Township” and

a “common law court”

They raised money by putting liens

on public officials

They produced counterfeit checks and

money orders creating refund cash,

defrauding banks

The FBI, reputation sullied by

the Ruby Ridge and Waco debacles

decided to be more strategic

this time-intent on redeeming

their selves in the public eye-

It took 81 days of dogged negotiation,

but nobody got shot and

the Freemen surrendered to the authorities

on June 14, 1996.

Why then have we not remembered Jordan, Montana

and the Freemen as vividly as the Branch Davidians

of Waco, Texas or the Weavers of Ruby Ridge?

Why is the bad and the ugly so much more memorable

than the good? (in terms of resolution)

Why?

Why?

Tell me why?

Can anybody tell me why?!

Inspired by Stalling for Time- My Life as an FBI Negotiator

By Gary Noesner

When Thoreau met Whitman

Thoreau was 39 and Whitman was 37 when they met

Alcott knew them both and

thought they should meet

Walt Whitman had published

Leaves of Grass the year before and

Emerson, Thoreau’s dear friend,

upon reading it wrote to the then unknown

poet “I greet you at the beginning of a

great career.”

Whitman quoted him on the back of

his next edition

Perhaps that is why when Whitman & Thoreau

 met in a parlor “They surveyed each other curiously-

like two beasts”

 A threat may have been perceived

Cold compliments were exchanged

Whitman a man of the people was polar opposite

of Thoreau who preferred squirrels and trees

Thoreau remarked about Whitman (paraphrase) that he

was strong and coarse, of sweet disposition

and well loved by his friends

Whitman noted Thoreau’s lack of empathy for

his fellow man and intimated that Thoreau was

“supercilious” but likeable,-“…an interesting

Man, simple, conclusive.”

Needless to say, no friendship developed as

Alcott may have hoped

Whitman, open and free-wheeling

probably scared the shit out of Thoreau!

Inspired by a different drum

a Charles Norman biography

Rainy Knight © April 16, 2015