Memorial Day for a Great Warrior

Mount Shasta, California, Memorial Day, May 28, 2007: My cat Percy was found in the Mendocino countryside by a short-term roommate when I lived n Mill Valley. The roommate was moving and I asked to keep the kitten.

"Sure," said the roommate.

There we lived with Morgan, my durn ol kitty, who liked the kitten, and taught him such cat wisdom as she could. Then we moved and became trailer trash in San Rafael. Percy the kitten grew quickly into a long-legged male with yellow eyes, and a short gray coat. Together they roamed the trailer park. There Percy discovered a vile enemy. Black cat.

Black cat, and Percy had many rumbles. It was a scandal.

At the end of the day, as the sun sunk slowly over Toys 'R Us, I'd step from the trailer and whistle loudly twice. From somewhere up the way would come wandering Morgan and Percy, tired from the day's toil, and ready for supper.

And then we moved to San Anselmo.

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Left my Heart

San Francisco, Monday May 21, 2007: For the last week, San Francisco has, once again, been my home.

My raison de etre for San Francisco is the ShopBot Jamboree down peninsula way, where I've learned things useful for Mobius Megatar, gave a presentation on a novel clamping system that we developed, and had such fun at the Maker Fair, seeing wonderful things.

However, as a thrill and delight, living with a cherished friend from times gone by, San Francisco, opening her Golden Gate just like in the song. A foggy mystery opening into a sun-bathed beauty, both comfortable and known and suddenly new, more exciting than ever. I expected to visit several people I know, but as it turned out, I had my hands full just visiting the places I wanted to see, more than enamored by my time in the city.

Walking the streets, and driving the neighborhoods, dining in the wonderful restaurants, seeing old haunts, haunted by the past and charmed by new vistas, things I'd never seen before. Things I wanted to see for a long time. Beautiful, sensual, familiar and new. A deep sigh of contentment and joy.

Au revoir for now.

I'll be back.

On This Day: Bay to Breakers

San Francisco, May 7, 2004: Once again, today is the famous Bay to Breakers race where thousands of runners run from the San Francisco Bay to the ocean. That is from way downtown, up Market Street, and then out past the Panhandle Park and through Golden Gate park to the beach.

In years past, I'd wake in my fourth-floor garrett at Lyon and Oak, fuzzily wondering what was the hubbub. Peering down from my kitchen windows, I'd see the runners -- many in oddball costumes -- pouring up the street and through the skinny park. There, watching them and drinking my coffee, I would ponder life and experience the gratitude that comes of not being among them.

This year, there's bad news about running naked.

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Bloggard Debut on YouTube

Sunday, May 6, 2007: The Bloggard, in his Traktor Topaz persona, now appearing on a computer near you. In fact, appearing here on this computer right in front of you!

For the Mobius Megatar company, a simple how-to video about modifying guitar straps to make two-handed touchstyle playing easier on a standard guitar.

For future reference, here's the link. But if YouTube is online, then you should be able to see the video here --



Yow. That's fun!

Musicians

January 1979: R.J.'s mother had been a music major, and so when they joined the small rural church, perhaps it was natural that she volunteered to lead the music, since they had nobody to play piano or organ.

However, since she'd been a vocal major, in fact she couldn't play piano or organ either, but that didn't slow her down. She got a three-ring binder, and wrote in the lyrics, and above the lyrics she wrote the chord symbols such as "C", "D7", and "G". Then, she'd strum her autoharp and lead the choir, singing sweetly together.

About that time, two brothers who were truck drivers started attending the church, and in a rural church, since it's the custom for everybody to pitch in, it soon developed that they were standing behind R.J.'s mom with their two guitars.

She'd start playing the next song, and they would listen for a measure or two, and then they would follow along. And follow along they could, quite well.

One day, she saw them huddled around her three-ring binder, and she overheard their discussion.

"What are those letters written above the words?" asked one of the truckers. His brother gaped at him.

"What's wrong with you?", his brother replied, "Can't you read music?"

Meltdown

Jade Garden Chinese Restaurant, May 18, 2004: Adrienne said, "Let's go to dinner!" and so we did. The food was good, and we were noshing on garlic prawn and rice and some peppery-hot thing.

And then the waiter brought our check, and there were two fortune cookies. I picked them up, and then remembered.

Adrienne saw me, and began to cry.

It's been just two months since Tulip our border collie died in our arms. Now what you didn't know is that Tulip's favorite food was fortune cookies. In fact, back in San Anselmo, at Christmas-time before we moved here, I gave Tulip a present which was a huge bag of fortune cookies. It was a big hit.

Tulip loved to go get Chinese food.

Adrienne cried, remembering. I said, "We'll just have to eat these fortune cookies for her." Adrienne nodded.

I loved that Tulip, and then she died. It leaves such a hole in our lives, that she doesn't come stretching to see us, waking late as we drink our coffee. Sometimes in the middle of nowhere, it comes back, and it hurts all over again.

Tulip, Gone

Mount Shasta, March 15, 2004: For many years, Tulip our border collie has believed that she is my secretary, and yesterday she came back to work, resting on her blanket, beneath the counter beside my file cabinets.

Later in the day, she heard that we were going to the store, and she perked up and came with us. That's her job, too; it's our pack going hunting. She got stuck halfway onto the back seat, and needed some help. After our return, she worked as my secretary until the sun went down.

In the fading light, we walked up the sidewalk, but she was stopped by the two steps at the deck. As I had done earlier in the day, I picked her up below the chest to help her up. In my hands she went into a seizure.

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Tulip Fades

Mount Shasta, March 14, 2004: Today is bright and clear and the air fresh, promising Spring. Our dog Tulip, retrieved from the animal hospital with terrible blood tests, spent a bad night. Tulip cannot sleep, will not eat, throws up bile. Her body is failing; overnight she is ancient. Thin and gaunt, she shivers and trembles. Tulip is dying.

Because of blood and bile, she had to sleep in the kitchen. She wanted her own bed. She wanted her life back, but that life is gone now, fading as we watch.

Today she visited beside me in the office. This is her job, and comforts her, though she shivers, gasps, rail-thin.

I had to lift her up the steps. She is weak, and fading.

Adrienne and I spent much of last night, and most of today, sitting with Tulip while she is dying.

Tulip fades.

How I Became Cronos

Tiny apartment near Carl and Cole, San Francisco, March, 1984: Approaching my 40th birthday, again I began thinking about changing my name.

I'd been born 'Richard French', and known that way back in Henrietta Texas, in college, and on my travels, but ever since I was 30 I'd been thinking about changing my name.

My theory was that we humans tend to 'act out' our name. The only reason that this is not always so totally obvious is that each person's idea of what his name means is very personal, quite idiosyncratic, and not always visible to an outsider. I figured that, if this were so, maybe it would be a good idea to consciously choose the name you'd like to act out.

Although I'd had this theory for ten years, I'd never found a good name to choose.

Until now.

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