Friday, July 23, 2004


Bill and Will Allen Posted by Hello

Thursday, July 22, 2004

Not As Long Asd I Breathe..

John Criswell, my longsuffering firstflight Friend messaged me that my Favotite Prairie Dweller had "passed away".  He was Ken MacLean, of Gainsborough, Saskatchewan, formerly of  Poverty Plains near Broomhill, Manitoba.

He was old, like me.  I'd know him for fifty years. He came to Jekyll Island and visited me. I saw him for a month every summer for 30 years, watching bird dog field trials.

He'll never be "dead" as long as I breathe.


    He was my first, and always my best Canadian friend.I met him on a blustery day when the bluestem was parallel with the greasy prairie road.

    Within an hour, he was teaching me Scot  songs and we were trying to outquote one another from wee Robby Burns.He had no enemy.

    He  overbecame himself with Love and Generosity and Loyalty and grace of character.

    No better horseman ever lived and few knew pointing dogs as he did. 

     He saw Ches Harris, and probably as well as Jake Bishop; Farrior  Pere   and son;  All the Gates men,  Red Weddle,  the Lunsford and Smith  generations.

    He knew.

    I can hear his sweet tenor voice drifting in the pelting hailstorm as we hid the nags under a haystack from the heavens' grapeshot--teaching me the words to  "Tangle o'er th' Isles:

    "If  ye iver falter or ye weaken in yer step, then ye niver smelt th' Tangle o'er th' Isles..."

    I wish I knew who wrote this Farewell.  I heard / saw the great Harold Gould recite it in a motion picture about Old Dying  Folks who loved one another and ran away to the Head of the Yellowstone to die:

DO   NOT  STAND   AT   MY   GRAVE 
                
 Do not stand at my grave and weep.                  
I am not there!
 I do not sleep.                  
 I am a thousand winds that blow.                  
I am the diamond glint on snow.                  
I am the sunrise on ripened grain.                  
 I am the gentle Autumn rain.                  
When you are waking to the morning's hush,                  
I am the swift, uplifting rush                  
Of quiet birds in circled flight.                  
 I am the star-filled silver night.                  
Do not stand at my grave and cry....                  
I am not there.                  
I did not "die"!

 

Wednesday, July 21, 2004


Borsalino From Napoli ! Posted by Hello

Tuesday, July 20, 2004

Blind Man's Blog

Tuesday, July 20, 2004
 
Always intended to keep a jornal, but I might have, as my Brit friends say,  "left it a bit late, eh?"
 
At any rate, its July 20, 2004, and what I plan to do is push my choices in literature, music, and  personal development for victims of the government schools who do noy know what the letters  L O G I C  spell or mean, or just who  Aristotle was.
 
Or who George Santayana was.
 
Since I have been belaboring many old friends with emails  generated by persons other than myself,, yhe BLOG  template will give me a chance to reach them at THEIR  convenience.
 
It is really nice to think about only those who  really WISH to attend the words so doing.
 
At the worst, I won't be damned and deleted as SPAM any more.  At the best possible event,  some youngster my be properly enthralled with things not offered in his/her sphere heretofore.
 
And that is the end of the first post  at Cato's Depot.