Fog City

Well a week of steady rain has subsided. Of course the common theme is, "we need it," and we did. The mountains got a ton of snow, which bodes well for the spring run off. Being housebound for most of last week coincided nicely with the start of March Madness. Consequently I was obliged to watch championship basketball from mid-morning until mid-night, hardly noticing the extreme weather outside. I should feel guilty for such a waste of time, but I don't. I don't hold time in such high regard as most, and I'm sure that is a personal flaw. I'll dwell on it when I get a moment.
Today the sky cleared and the brisk winds dried the landscape. We celebrated our St. Patrick's Day luncheon at the SF Lawn Bowling Club, consisting first, of a draw game of 14 ends, followed by a festive corned beef and cabbage feed. Everyone was in fine spirits, and the majority wore a bit of the green, honoring their psychological connection with the Irish in us all. Well sports fans, my recliner beckons for one final b-ball game before the weekend ends.

Tom's Art

Fog City

There seems to be a serious gap in blog postings. Why? I think it's the post holiday blahs. All my natural rhythms, creatively speaking, were compromised. I'm sensing a resurgence of focus. This sensibility is manifested first physically, with a hint of exercising activity, and then with a clear mind tasks are completed. I'll admit our very temperate winter weather is a major factor in a timely recovery. There are very few things, like warm sunshine, for much needed motivation.
The holidays lasted over a month. It is indeed a test of endurance. Albeit each event was joyful and memorable. This positive characteristic is attributable to each and every family member, whose only goal was to share love. So I had little opportunity to express my cantankerousness.
My generous in-laws, Larry and Linda Brooks, invited everyone to their annual Hanukkah extravaganza. It's a fantastic food fest, surrounding the celebratory traditions. Larry has instituted a Hanukkup golf tournament, which is my highlight of the weekend. All the lads joyfully participate, but there is a slight undertow of serious competition. A traveling trophy (Hanukkup) is presented to the winner. It is a wonderful day of golf!
The conclusion of the long season was a lazy day at my house. After Christmas Mass, the local clan staggered over for Christine's nontraditional afternoon meal. We decided against another bite of turkey or ham. Instead we wallowed in the comfort of endless Sloppy Joes and chips. It worked for me!
There you have a partial and brief catch-up. Stay tuned.

Fog City

Where have I been? Recently or presently, they are the same for the most part. I cling to now, but time stretches and bends, until remembering is difficult. So I'm circling, constantly circling, inside the confines of my cranium. My mind sails like a very slow rotating tornado, much of life's debris sticks, good and bad. While it's circling I gauge and select what's pleasing and store it. Of the debris that's less desirable, I allow it to spin out and back into the never ending flow of flotsam. Of course time re-asserts itself and the now, presently, becomes recently, and I have to start again, adjusting, selecting, detaching, waiting and wondering. These processes are continuous and sometimes I have to put my foot down and say no, no more. Distractions help, like a round of golf, or a game of lawn bowling, even a walk to the ice cream shop. Here I'm lucky, grateful, to be retired, because I can ponder while wandering and give new meaning to doing nothing. Yet circling. And when I share time with my granddaughter I realize the circle has encompassed her, and I know I'm blessed!

Fog City

Today is different. Why? Simple, the fickle weather has finally agreed to a performance of virtuosity. The warm sun, bright and magnetic, inspires women to sport body baring fashions and the visual is most alluring. The inanimate City itself dances a tango of sensuality and breathing this refined, perfumed air transforms one into the poet bursting forth. All of the senses can feast on a day like this. Even the sirens blaring from red racing fire engines seems surreal, and the cacophony resonates. Colors, sounds, smells, all, are heightened with an unnatural vibrancy. Simply awesome!
And this was the scene, the setting, Saturday afternoon on Potrero Hill here in the City. The views of the downtown skyline were, and are magical. The happy children ran, zig zagging through the crowd, drawn to booths with expected sweets. Local politicians waded amongst the revelers, glad handing and soliciting votes for the upcoming election. Booo! At the end of the block on stage, were the Soul Delights. This wonderful group plays smaller venues, ones that suit my criteria to a tee. As their name suggests they truly delight, covering classic soul sounds which I grew up on. I'm going to post a short video sample I enjoyed taking, for your listening pleasure.

Fog City

On this day 36 years ago, Christine and I were wed. What can I say, where did the time go? It is difficult to wrap my mind around all that's transpired. So many memories, great and less than great, so many changes, changes that reminded me, sometimes shockingly, that complacency wouldn't work. I'd arrive at a comfort zone, and naively think, I got it, and it would last forever. Change and adjustment. This thrust and perry through life was labeled maturity, but I still can't put my finger on it. I think it can be defined a bit more glumly as old age. Only the changes continue, slightly more excruciating because of the added effort. But the rewards are truly graceful. Three sons, who keep me laughing and crying, and living as an emotional human. They have provided me with the concrete foundation to weather any and all oncoming storms. For this I'm ever so grateful. This journey Christine and I have been treading, one of resoluteness, has been tempered with love. A loving family, hey not so bad!!

Fog City

Good morning. It's Monday. The sky is overcast and light showers are dampening the sidewalks and asphalt. That indescribable aroma of warm, moist concrete is wafting upwards. I think of it as the smell of humidity, if that's even possible. I'd like to briefly recap a couple of noteworthy experiences. Of course you probably know, the Bluegrass Music Fest was nearby in Golden Gate Park. Friday morning before the constant wave of humanity converged, the music was free after all, I walked over to hear an old crony.  Charlie Musselwhite was opening the proceedings and his classic blues style is always a treat. We had been emailing in the past about Hepatitis C. We shared medical information, treatments, resources, and side affects, and what to expect and dealing with the slow moving disease. Charlie like most of our ilk sings and lives the blues.
    Saturday was different. I was surprised by an unexpected musical performance. A preface; As a retired (euphemism for lazy) person I choose not to be serious or productive every waking hour. Consequently I've latched onto a couple of trivial melodramas on the evening TV schedule. House is one of them. Well I was delightfully stunned to find out Hugh Laurie is an accomplished musician. The night before I saw him live in the park, PBS had a Great Performances episode of he and his band playing in New Orleans. Inspiring indeed. But Saturday I was drawn out-of-doors, not only by Hugh, but some fine young family members, Lisa from LA, Isaiah, new to this world, and the effervescent Danny and Teresa. We wove our way into the throngs for a comfortable spot. The company was spot on, and Laurie played a set resembling quite closely his PBS special. A fine time.
    Sunday my focus and energy shifted completely. It was time for serious golf. You ask, how can golf be serious? Well, you gather most of your club members, drive to a neutral course, with a higher degree of difficulty, and offer a distinct prize. Yes a serious competition. We played in the bucolic Sonoma Valley, an hour North of the City. It was a beautiful day, partly sunny, and temperatures in the mid 70s. The tree lined course was in remarkable shape. Excellent for scoring or not. The only noticeable distraction was the murders of crows inundating the idyllic environs. If they weren't thieving sandwiches from the carts, they would dance on the limbs above us cawing their hysterical laughter. Back to the prize if you please. The low four scores would form a 4-man team and compete against all the other NorCal  teams, in Monterey, at the renowned Poppy Hills Golf Club. In case you are wondering, I did play rather well and fortunately qualified to be on the team. So I'm quite pleased.