My 2 sets of grandkids are growing up w/ their parents in Honolulu (37yo daughter's family) and Norfolk (34yo son's family). I'm divorced. Have been medically retired since a severe heart attack in May '01. Limits on my activities have not been imposed on a general love and appreciation of music across a diverse range of genres from the classical period to the present. My common listening habits focus on the classic rock period to present day w/ lots of blues and some modern jazz stirred into the mix. I'm not a musician, but have a high regard for those who are, and very much enjoy watching them masterfully perform their art - be it a large symphonic or rock concert, or blues groups in small local venues.

I will now proceed to entangle the entire area. Because..., I think I am, and I-think-I-can I-think-I-can. In the Beginning (if only the wayback machine could visit that moment!) a mutable impression undertook me in a prime motive through manifold destiny and manifestly conflicted free will with divine rights. Rights of passage? I'm a pilgrim in progress on a mesmerizing odyssey through the doors of perception. Sometimes briskly awakened from dreams by sirens wailing in the distance before being brusquely tossed onto wave swept rocks. I continually attempt to fill my vessel in a land of milk and honey (no sales pitch for material things). In inherent fashion, riches are cavalierly squandered. A most obvious paradise is lost from sight: an evaporative mirage dissipates in the desert, like sand castles melting in the tide. On a thirsty crawl, encounter the desert rose: the white gypsum and plaster of a hard cast which steadfastly bounds me to an unyielding work ethic (beware of "idle hands" and all that). Profoundly smitten with her beauty - the unalterable effects from uncontrollable biochemicals. She is a desert rose also, my soul becomes encased in an unfamiliar role. Realize that foreboding scenes have been purposely absent from cave walls: those out hunting were not the painters. Glorify the hunter, then feast on the hunter after his pride demands that he shall be the cook also: please, make mine Medium Rare!

While coining the phrase, "The Vast Wasteland," Newton Minnow in 1961 extolled the great virture of television to best other mediums when it is "good." It can be good, though its goodness often is few-and-far-between. TV is a vital tool as a source for gathering information which is significant to the process of my life. I care to ignore its beneficial presence no more than my ancestors cared to ignore the pictographs on their cave walls. Television is a spectacular presentation on the immediate walls along man's journey through a time tunnel of experience. Just DVR it and liberally fast-forward. Let us hurry to the Holodeck!

Thanks very much, Thomas Edison, for the kinetoscope! I've been watching movies for more than 55 yrs. Some are loved, a lot I liked, and many horrible ones litter our world and steal my time. A luxurious, affordable pastime. If a movie can be argued to have redeeming social value, let it be (Miller time!). The breadth of film categories ensures there is something for everybody. Let none miss the experience of motion pictures. The powerful influence of some movies is reason to cite that 'life imitates art' more than the reverse - gotta love that!

Most Recent: "Chaos" by James Gleick (an orderly appeal to my sense of cause and effect). I must soon finish "Consilience" by E.O. Wilson, but am rereading "A Brief History Of Time" by Stephen Hawking - for the time being. "Language In Thought And Action" by S.I. Hayakawa is on a short list of books I need to crack, as is "Einstein" by Walter Isaacson (a gift last christmas). The many essays on science by Isaac Asimov are an excellent read and provide an invaluable foundation on which to build diverse disciplinary interests. For fiction, my tastes have run the gamut of genres all these years, but the first couple pages must hook me. Although, I'll enthusiastically admit that some years ago it took 6 pages or more before I really got into "Tough Guys Don't Dance" by Norman Mailer - who capably inserted into the book's middle a storytelling about the title's phrase (impressive). I've more recently enjoyed the hilarious outdoor stories by Patrick McManus. My general daily reading is of newsprint and much online text covering a wide variety of subjects. (Hey! I process information. What more can I say?) Too busy to add more here as yet.