A Charlie Chaplin day

The day went rather normally until about 10am with my breakfast with 4 other men from our church at the diner and then my trip to the gym and grocery store. Then off to the bus and I am standing up getting my fare card ready and I did a Charlie Chaplin routine of falling down on the rear. something that I would not want shown on Americas funniest home videos. But it is on camera through the cameras on the bus I am sure. Hopefully no one sees my antics.
Later this day, I watched classic Chaplin and what Charlie did all the time was "fall and fail to put out fires."
Better get better sleep and not be as concerned about coupons for Pastrami sandwiches and whether the frequent flier miles are still valid on the airlines I have flown on. When an idea hits my head, I can't divorce myself from it until later on. I have to solve it=my pig=headed german stubbornness that is a part of me.

Let us go siancing.

This past saturday night, I attended a valentine's day dinner dance with singles throughout Connecticut at a resort and spa. The facility had trees lined with small white lights and paths that were lit from the grouind. When I walked into the facility, the ladies were dressed in long black and red flowing dresses and the men had ties and jackets on. I enjoyed being around some new people who I did not know before.
The band that evening played christian songs and I really enjoyed one slow dance with Maryanne who held my hands I rested one of mine on her shoulder, and we danced and sang for that song. I wish it could have gone on longer-just moving slowly and us both singing songs to Jesus in worship. To be connected and in an holy embrace-if only just for a few moments. May the moment be remembered even when I at times feel far off. I can just go siancing as I used to sometimes do at work when I hear a good song on the radio at work.
I am currently enjoying on DVD the concert, Harem, sung and danced by Sarah Brightman. In one of her beautful songs, she sings who wants to live forever. I do!!!!!! With the backdrops of temptations and struggles that I face daily, I have to be reminded that this is a promise that I have received from the Holy Scriptures of God and Jesus. I WILL LIVE FOREVER!!!!!
It is a promise that I will not be void. When speaking of promises, God had made some far fetched promises that don't always at the time seem like they are going to work out. Imagine being Abraham being told that he was going to be a father of many nations-which number as the grains of sand on the shore. That is a lot of grains. I have trouble counting after a thousand the grains. Yet, to God, that is fairly easy.
NOw for the modern day of example of having God guide me through my daily life. It is a very hard thing to do since I want to control much of it as I have been discovering in my evenng bible studies in Revelation and Romans. In the areas of intimate relationships, I do not see many ladies that I could start a relationship with, especially with some of the limits that I place upon myself such as the lack of my driving and other man made obstacles. Yet, the beauty of God is that He allowed others to overcome tough obstacles by placing man within a circumstamce and drawing a curtain on the stage and letting us go thorugh the battle and challenges of life with other characters, our friends and enemies, that make us better in the process of life.
So I need to dance off my siancing shoes and do that more often. And to do it in front of a stage with God looking out at me and the special people He has and will place in my life!!!!!

Congress Street Bridge

I have lived in the city of Bridgeport for 20 years. I have never walked on or driven over the Congress Street Bridge. There has been much talk lately of how it has not joined the city together-making the connection between the East end of Bridgeport and the downtown region. It has been like a divorce between the two sides. A tale of two cities. Never a train to cross between the two sides.

At the exhibit in the Barnum museum, the exhibit, Controversaries, depicted several images of buildings and reflections on the city. On one panel, the photographer, David Ryan, took several revealing images of the decaying bridge that acts like a soldier in a saluted position with his arms raised. He is awaiting for the response of a commander to say "Hut" to move it forward and go on a march. Yet, this bridge shows much age with rust forming and a fence surrounds the bridge. The sign has the words detoured painted in white and written around the sign are graffiti marks that say detour. A red empty barrel is sitting on the pavement amidst the weeds and long grasses that are thriving on the black pavement. No movement has exited on the property except for a few random birds that fly by or go through looking for a random seed.

While looking at these photographs, I felt sad since I never knew this part of our city's history and wish I knew more of the human face to this giant.
The name of the bridge, congress, means to bridge together and be an assembly even as our United States government is. Yet, the irony and part of the controversary is how is our society going to put aside differences and establish a priority to restore funding to make this project become a reality and not to have to be part of an exhibit on controversary instead. And to bring a little commerce and community into two regions of the downtown and east ends of Bridgeport. This bridge sits over the Pequonnock River.

I know of the importance of bridges connecting places in my life. When I grew up during the summers in maine, we had to cross several bridges to get to our beloved Pratts Isle. We crossed over the Kittery Bridge where I got to yell, "Yippie, we are in Maine." Then there was the Southport Bridge that connected us to our island which was a bridge where the tenders had to close the span so the bridge could open. The Southport bridge is painted green and the span is wide. It is a metal bridge contrasted to the wooden bridge of Pratt's Island. Whenever traveling over the Southport bridge, I heard the rumbling of the tires underneath as they gripped the metal plates under the tires. I enjoyed looking at the view over the Sheepscot river as we headed into or off of Southport Island.
Even bridges get old with age with barnacles and rust forming on them but when they are tended with care and by tenders with devotion, then activity springs to life on them. It was always a good time for mom, dad and I to guess as we drove around the corner to the Southport Bridge whether it would be open or closed. There were often long waits during our summers there as the bridge had to be extended for boats to pass safely under. The Lewis family in Maine has worked on the southport Island bridge and that family devotion allows for there to be commerce and tourism. We as a society can learn a lesson or two from the Maine community and treat the Congress Street Bridge in Bridgeport that is listed as historic become part of the present and not just the past.

Let us somehow try to keep it open and give others an opportunity to experience life over a bridge and see how a rumbling of car tires over it can produce a rhythmic drum dance and get life back into two communities and commerce begun again. Not an easy thing to accomplish though but it would be well worth the effort.

BLESSINGS

Living in the Northeast can be a good time of seasons. Having passed the half-way point of the winter, we have only had the occassional dances of the snow which has come as a whisper that has floated across the sky. Yet, the few drops has just been a coating of frost that has glistened upon the sidewalks and driveways to show us that Old Man Winter has slept in Fairfield County this year. But I will take the abberration of not walking to the bus stop and work in drifts of snow as a gift and not complain.

With the high costs associated with living in this region, it does display beauty in the oceans and forests that are present. And the parks and places of refuge that line the area as well. It is a place where the rich and poor gather and can work out issues that are faced in life. And is a place where intense struggles and contrasts exist as well.

New AT THE TOWERS

Nothing really new at the towers. Just the usual routine. A usual fire alarm going off due to excess heat building up in the boiler room. Steam causes the alarm to sound. a walk down the stairs but no real follow through in an exit plan. Exit plans are important but hard to follow through these days for many people. I especially feel foolish when I start heading out at work when I hear our alarm but that is what they were meant for-to listen to, especially with the fire drills I was subjected to once a month during my public schooling from 4th to the 12th grade. And to my brave cousin who exited from the world trade towers on 09-11-01 to safety upon hearing and seeing damage from the sky.

rough spots

some days, it is easier to get going and to have a day where all is running smoothly on8 cylinders. today was one where I was on 4 cylinders and was a little clunky not being as fully alive as I could have been =numbing some of the sensitivity of the senses a little while back. Sorry Lord.
Go to the sister site for more insight.

rainbows and roses and lobsters

From my window sill looking out over the darkened limbs swaying in the distance.
Still winter out and wanting to touch the rose bush with bare hands
prickles nearby-wanting to be pricked by the sharp shard of blade of growth
carefully avoiding the barbs in memory--on occassion getting stung by one. an ouch exclaimed.


looking out over the edge of the lobster boat and seeing into the brine of the ocean-a depth that is fathomed
rope pulling upward with water glistening off it
straining forward and upward as the winch carries forth a load of tasty morsels-slowly restrained and rested by the rope and mesh of the trap.
A grab of the hand of the lobsterman and the snap of the rubber bands. Giving the opaque crustaceans a little more freedom to roam around-yet not pinch anyone. Transferred to white and green tanks for the summer visitor-
unknown as to where and when they are headed.

looking heavenward for the rainbow to appear in the sky
after a hot summer rain and the wind rushing by my face.

All Scarlet in color and brilliant in their many ways.

Icy A.M.

Ich. It is winter again. "We had some slick driveways today. But at least George was there this morning to help me across the parking lot to the church so I would not fall on my rear and be in pain. Good to have a helping hand get across the parking lot. Yet kind of hard at times to ask for one to make my life a smoother one yet I try to manage a lot of the time on my own.

serendipity found

Awaking on friday morning, I opened my front door and found my daily CT Post and scanned the front section and noticed in the happenings section a forum in Fairfield called the Poet's turn at the Fairfield Arts Center which was happening that evening. I quickly went to a couple of my pieces and printed out them so I could share them that evening.
It is a fine find when I see how God answers small prayers of long ago of opportunities to share my work and to have it happen in this way. To be able to go and be a part of an exciting evening of 11 local poets, 2 of whom had a book each for sale. To be able to share my life amongst theirs and to hear how words as common building blocks build different structures that have somewhat similar meanings. One of the poets expressed her concern of a friend or relative that was in a school system that was challenged under No Child Left Behind and how it was a struggle for this child to keep up. I then decided when it was time for additional readings to share a piece I wrote last June that gave first hand insight into that struggle.

Hello Santa Rita Mountains

This morning in the local newspaper, The Connecticut Post. there was a picture of a grove of cacti that were covered with 2 inches of snow. Several years ago, my mom and dad saved a snowball that was made one winter from a few inches of a quick snow that was brought out of the freezer of our home on Casa del Mundo. A quick snapshot of an event from a few weeks prior to my visit, carefully preserved for me to see.

I will not be visiting you, Çacti, this year since I will not be visiting my parents in Arizona since we have given up our base of the last 18 years of going down there. But I am glad to see your cousins and relatives in the print and media that show your presence down there still. I will still miss you but nature has a way of staying within our souls and when we reach out to it, we can see the impact that it has on us.
Elephant Head, I won't be seeing you as the Stagecoach limo approaches you, but I will always remember your stately presence on the indian landscape of the Santa Rita Mountains and of your neighbors that have been naturally etched by erosion. Glad to still have glimpses of your stately sights within my imagination=even if slightly faded from the last sight of you.