Let it be known there is a fountain,
That was not made by the hands of men.
— Robert Hunter
Not far from here, in a parallel dimension, people are listening to the greatest hits of Zed Whimsy. Come gather round for a little musical testimony.
a small paper for a small planet
“Be kind to strangers,
lest they’re angels in disguise.”
verse from Shakespeare and Company song
Offbeat questions arise while minding my bookshop in winter on the Oregon coast. Like — why does our calendar year begin with a month named after a double-headed deity who looks backward and forward at the same time?
This morning I awoke early. It was still dark as I went out into the cold. I felt the magic of the waning full moon bathing my world in white light. But so early? It was the whales. They wanted me to feel the moment and hear their message.
The Golden Globes will always hold a special place in my heart. See, I was at the Beverly Hilton as a Production Assistant for the 50th Annual Golden Globes. A night of glory. My first Hollywood job. The first time the curtain fell – or, rather, the screen. You know the one. Between audience and […]
At this ancient Solstice time, when the great trees are honored (with the conifer in the living room), and the power of fire and return of the sun is invoked (with the burning of candles and the splashes of electric lights on our houses), the birth of Jesus, great dissident and rebel, is celebrated by many. In our present era of mind-numbing consumerism, […]
I want to tell you a story. It’s from a book called The River Midnight. The book takes place over the course of a year in a Polish shtetl toward the end of the last century. It is about the bonds of family, friendship, religion and culture. It is the story of four women who […]
Five years ago, my beloved grandfather passed away. I have a reoccurring, monthly dream that he is “back” for a visit. It is so real that I can see the lines on his tan, leathery, face and smell the fish residue on his hands. I just keep hugging him and holding him, realizing that he is only here for a short time and then he is returning to heaven. I feel panicky, but grateful. I know that our time with him is an unexpected gift, and I don’t quite know what to do with it. I wake up feeling sad, but blessed.
‘Twas the perfect day for an off-season wedding. Clouds blanketed Cannon Beach with sufficient wetness to justify rain pants. Enough bluster was present to dispense with hair styling.
Family members and friends huddled together on the sodden sand south of Ecola Creek. For the first time in my life, I was asked to officiate a wedding. The betrothed couple said they wanted me, even though I’m not an ordained anything, because of my core commitment to marriage.
Give me this moment and write, asks Natalie Goldberg, in “Writing Down the Bones” – ok I can try that. Just write about what’s on my mind.
“But what have I been thinking about?” I ask myself as I search for a writing topic.
To be honest I was thinking about panty hose. Yes, panty hose –I remember when panty hose first came out on the market and I remember my first pair of panty hose. I begged and pleaded, stormed and fumed, cajoled and demanded. Finally, at the age of 12 my mother wore down and said I could have a pair. I think she finally relented because it was pretty obvious that I wasn’t going to. I’m not sure now what the big deal was, for her or me. Perhaps it was because panty hose were a pretty new thing at that time or perhaps it was because I wanted to grow up all at once and she didn’t want me to or perhaps it was because we were both just stubborn. I don’t know. But I remember that first pair of panty hose, I got to wear them to Mass.
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