Gratitude in Four Days

My dear friend, Valerie is a rock star.  This designation, star, is certainly figurative, but it’s also for real – like, it’s her job.  That’s not all.  Valerie’s a mom, and a wife, she’s a sister and a dancer and a teacher – and she is one of Dr. Day’s two daughters.  Valerie, her father, her sister and brother have been engaged for months now with the precious progression of Dr. Day’s transition… Read More

Youth Leading with Music

This past Tuesday morning, I met a friend for coffee.  Just a week earlier she had approached me, eyes shining especially (Soraya’s eyes about always shine) to say she hoped I’d have time to meet with her and her husband.  She described Chaz as a musician and a man of activism – quiet, but profound.  And not quiet when it comes to sound, because Chaz is a musician of sturdy repute.  He… Read More

Montana’s Red Lodge

Yep. On the road again.  This time listening to the wide stretch of country called Montana. Right now I’m sitting with the morning sun where it falls across this tooled leather couch and onto pine floors reclaimed from beneath years of inhabitants, each leaving behind their layers of linoleum, carpet and, in the bedroom where I’m sleeping — astroturf.  It took plenty of my friends Joe and Roxanna’s work to call these wooden boards… Read More

Rose Festival, Jubilee and Jazz

My friend, Mark, is teaching himself to play the piano.  He’s reading a book by David Sudnow called Ways of the Hand.  Sudnow’s book sounds daunting (at its easiest).  It’s a phenomenological inquiry into the intersection of physical forms (hands and all their linked physiology), consciousness and the music of jazz piano.  Or at least that’s the closest I can come to a description. Mark says, “Music lives in the hands.  Every… Read More

Post-Florida-Primary Points of Note

Well today there’s the Susan G. Komen flip flop on their relationship with Planned Parenthood, there’s the unreliability in signs of economic recovery and there’s the hideous violence occurring in Syria and on the Wind River Reservation in Wyoming.  No doubt, the pundits who fancy themselves either political or entertainment, could be and are spinning these stories to fit their agendas. Last night I finally got off the road with the promise… Read More

Write Brain Change — guest blog by Dave Jarecki

Back in October I got a call from Dave Jarecki.  He had been assigned to me by the Lewis & Clark College Chronicle — the alumni magazine of the college where I’ve been a professor for well more than 20 years.  I was happy to know my school was pleased with the publication of 100 VOICES – AMERICANS TALK ABOUT CHANGE and wanted to have an article following its release.  Dave and I… Read More

Mr. Prude – III

“I didn’t make the second cut.”  Mr. Prude was smiling. We’d run into one another again in the crosswalk on Sandy Boulevard and I’d turned to walk with him back toward the dialysis center.  We stopped to stand on the sidewalk just beyond the old Barber Babes (EX:C blog, “I’m Not Done Yet,” 5-21-2011).  Mr. Prude had been telling me about being just back from Joseph, OR where he’d spent a week… Read More

J. Murry Owen 1955-2011

There are threads that run through a life.  There’s the vague story of birth – the shifting shadows and bright spots childhood – the teen years, every one of them – and what came next and next and next.  There are memories of scent and touch and sound.  Images of faces and bedrooms and meals and travels.  And there’s the land where you were raised. Today the ashes remaining from the 56-year-old… Read More

Mr. Prude – I

Ever since my garage door crunched itself into an intractable accordion, trapping my car inside, I’ve been riding the bus.  I like it.  It takes more time, but it’s easy – and its richer.  One of my companions at the bus stop most Tuesdays and Thursdays is Mr. Joey Prude. The first time we spoke was on a Thursday.  That day, like every other day I’d seen Mr. Prude he sat under… Read More

Missing Murry

I just got e-mail.  I’ve been writing e-mail back.  And crying.  My friend, Murry Owen, died last night.  His body just couldn’t manage to breathe anymore. Yesterday I started this week’s blog.  I called it “Big Changes.”  I wrote about how I got to spend time yesterday morning with my friend Jim.  Jim is the friend who found out 7 months ago that he has Rheumatoid Arthritis (EX:C blog, “Chronic Pain,” 6-4-2011). … Read More