Dream weaver......

Quilts. Wiki relates they mighta originated as far back as “Ancient Egypt”.. Being a C+ history student, I wasn’t sure wheninthehell that was, so I Googled, which led me back to Wiki, which told me as far back as 3100 BC. Dats a long time ago.

When I thinka quilts, I thinka grannies proudly sitting in the rocking chair, specs on, pieces of cloth about, hand-sowing a bright, vibrant quilt for a loved one, friend.. or for their own warmth.

The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. A 6 inch by 6 inch piece of cloth ain’t nuttin. Strewn together with hundreds of other 6 by 6 pieces – it’s strength. Beauty. Fun 'work'. Giving. Laborious love.

Reviving. Hamilton MO. Smalltown America is, sadly, dwindling. Folks flock from quiet rural farms to hubba-hubba suburbia for employment and opportunities. Jenny Doan had other ideas and preferred to stay put. She turned her quilting hobby into a multi-million dollar business, and she’s “The most famous quilter in the world”. It’s literally woven the town back together as well, thus, the symbolism of quilt to the strengthening of fabric, life, people, teams, yada, yada. I love the words quilt/woven, the idea of small parts joining forces to become a strong unit.

My girlfriend’s daughter surprised her with a quilt. It’s really quite unique as it’s composed of actual T-shirts from her mom's 'yesterday'... Companies she's worked for, places she’d been, sayings, bands she’d heard, etc. It’s not only woven together for her mother’s warmth – it's woven with love, and it’s woven for a synopsis of her mom’s life. Pretty cool. Now what was all that talk about Millennials being selfish, entitled?

Lawn chairs are woven, quilted so to speak. New – proud, strong. Old? Sun-bleached, not quite as strong – and moments happen where one’s butt (larger than last remembered) purges thru the woven fabric – embarrassment happens….. but again, it’s kinda symbolic. Virtually everything ages, becomes frail – at least the lucky ones.

Life is a quilt. Friends, family, jobs, school(s), neighbors, vendors, customers, acquaintances, old folks, young folks, in-between folks, yada.

Facebook is, in a way, our own uniquely planned quilt. The T-shirts of our past. The laughter, the tears, the sharing, the compassion, the silliness, the camaraderie… all molded us into who we are.

Victor, you CAN NOT repeat a line you’ve already written. (Sorry).. Virtually everything ages (quilts, cars, buildings, bodies, brains, etc), becomes frail – at least the lucky ones. I wish you mesh happiness, love Victurd.

Someone's knockin' at the door...

Do you let friends in?

Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Do me a favor
Open the door and let 'em in

Nuh uh, don’t mean ‘opening the door’, I mean do you let friends in to be very very close to you?
Not certain I really do. Not really certain I know why. I make all this talk about feel, emotion, deep – but then I can ‘cover up’ like onea them roly poly bugs..

Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Do me a favor
Open the door and let 'em in, yeah, let 'em in

Prince, RIP. Described this morning on the news as “painfully introverted.” I write too damn much here, so I don’t think I’m necessarily introverted. I think sometimes I don’t let people in (intimately) so it won’t hurt so much should they ‘go’. You?

Sister Suzie, brother John
Martin Luther, Phil and Don
Brother Michael, auntie Gin
Open the door and let 'em in, yeah

I do have a BFF, since childhood. While we’re still, and always will be very close – marriage(s), kids, grandkids, work – stuff like that have gotten in the way – so it’s different… but, still the same closeness/appreciation whenever we do catch up. Just like yesterday (another Beatle's song, ha!)

Sister Suzie, brother John
Martin Luther, Phil and Don
Uncle Ernie, auntie Gin
Open the door and let 'em in, yeah

I so admire certain friends, relatives that have multiple close, lifelong friends. The "drop everything I'll be there in a sec" kinda friends. I too believe I do, but not sure I don’t occasionally roly poly in certain areas.

Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Do me a favor
Open the door and let 'em in, ooh yeah, let 'em in

I do cry at funerals. I cry (inside) when I hurt. I cry when I see others hurt. When it’s all said and done, maybe I actually do let them in. You?

Sister Suzie, brother John
Martin Luther, Phil and Don
Uncle Earnie, uncle Lin
Open the door and let 'em in, yeah

Life’s a shell game… I guess.. Where we look around, look for friends.. Should we, do we, open the door?

Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Do me a favor
Open the door and let 'em in, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Love, Victurd

Blurt

Blurt

Blurt can be curt and can cause hurt.
I go about quite nicely, and then I slip and spurt.

Words they’re sharp, both East, West, North and South –
Blurt, curt, spurt – damnit, you’ve opened your mouth.

Ya can’t yank ‘em back with a rope - you dope…..
Soooooooo, don’t sit there and mope.

Blurt curt spurt, sure can cause a big frown…
Pride is hard to swallow, but it will eventually go down.

Others blurt, and man it can hurt.
Wanna run, hide, drop down in the dirt.

Don’t girt, don’t be pert – simply turn around, lead with your shirt.

When one blurts, damn it does echo…… and echo,
Makes one hurt, sad, green like that damn gecko.

Practice what we preach… Cause once gone, them words we can’t reach.
Suckup the lesson leech.. every waking moment, opportunity to teach.
(Our turn to learn)

Blurt can hurt, tether up there forever….
No temp, no scrape, no bruise, still - belly under the weather…

You can run but you can’t hide – careful what you say or you’ll hurt inside.

He/she repeated, seemed conceited, left one defeated, depleted, mistreated.
The rule is quite simple.. Treat one another how you’d like to be treated.

By Henry Gibson

Those were the days....

Hey Edith, what say we binge-watch a couplea Gunsmoke seasons tonight?
I dunno Archie, I kinda had my heart set on unplugging our phones, taking them to Perkins,
having a bite to eat and staring at them all night….

Boy the way Glen Miller played
Songs that made the hit parade.
Guys like us we had it made,
Those were the days.

Edith, how bout some dinner? Sure Arch, just as soon as I download this S&H Greenstamp app.. Ok, then after supper maybe we’ll get to see Ann Margaret do some twerking on the boob tube eh? Hey, and why don’t you ask Siri to find out where Gloria and Meathead are, see if she'll GPS ‘em, then maybe they can eat with us?

And you knew who you were then,
Girls were girls and men were men,
Mister we could use a man
Like Herbert Hoover again.

Hey Edith, don’t this upcoming election trump all? Next thing ya know we’ll have a female in the White House.. Ohhh I dunno Arch, how could ya cook, clean, entertain AND run the country? The times there’a changin’ Edith.. the times there’a changin.

Didn't need no welfare state,
Everybody pulled his weight.
Gee our old LaSalle ran great.
Those were the days.