Tag Archives: DPchallenge

Box Canyon Road the magical place

When times get boring and I have had enough. I take a ride up Box Canyon Rd.

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Box Canyon Road starts at the corner of Lake Manor Drive and Valley Circle Blvd.  It winds up a hill that overlooks the San Fernando Valley.

It leads into the old Santa Susanna Pass road. It is a wild ride that contains the feelings of how the ‘Valley’ use to be when I was a kid.

The desert meets the rolling hills of rocks, dirt, wild flowers and herbs. This is a place of mystery too. It once was the hang-out of the notorious Charles Mansion family who use to creepy-crawl through-out houses in the ‘Valley’.

Yet, this doesn’t spoil it for me. I drive Box Canyon road on rainy days. My favorite time is on foggy mornings when the clouds meet the hills.

The earth opens up with fragrant softness. Is there a valley down below or the end of the earth; a drop into vast whiteness because when you look up you see the same view.

Any time you go there the Lady-Face rock will greet you. There is a ranch half way up Box Canyon road that I dream of owning.

The view from the house I am familiar with and the barn there is a place for horses.

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better than the Beatles… still a beauty of a song…

Around the fire of electirity

sitting-around-the-fire1

Reading, watching and listening are all good and fine. I’ve done a lot of these things in my time. Writing is something different altogether.  It is a focused act or process of sharing. I use to be afraid to write. Going back to my school days I noticed it was always the smart kids that did the writing. I could barely write a sentence without feeling a deep sense of stupidity and peer pressure. In high school I think I wrote one essay and it seemed as foreign to me as learning another language. Then in time I became hip to the game by writing simple things such as live band reviews, and record reviews for a music fanzine.  This little bit of writing opened a door for me; it gave me a voice that I did not know I had. Writing, editing and rewriting became an art form that I love. I am still making up for a weak elementary educational foundation: which has improved and can’t be that bad since I put myself through a BA and Master’s program; which is all about writing.

Now I am addicted to writing. I continue to learn about it too. I would say right now I find writing is more important to me than reading blogs. As a crone this is a natural part of my DNA… to share my stories!! I am hanging out around the fire with the old hags sharing my fairy tales or folksy wisdom; which is the accumulation of knowledge and experience. The fire is now  a computer and my stories are shared via a WordPress blog.

Commentary On The Free Speech Of Children

“Can anything harm us, mother, after the night-lights are lit?”
“Nothing, precious,” she said; “they are the eyes a mother leaves behind her to guard her children.”
J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan: A Classic Illustrated Edition

I put salt, sugar and mashed potatoes in the cream container when no one was looking, then waited silently to see who would get their just surprise. ~ Really I did do this.

I ran after my parent’s car. Wet and salty teats in my mouth.  My sister turned 16 and they were taking her out to a birthday dinner without my brother and me.  I ripped my favorite pink square polka-dot dress. I screamed.  They drove away. They took her to Kwan’s restaurant, a Chinese restaurant where my family went often. My dad was close friends with the owner.  Tonight I was not included in my sister’s birthday celebration and I felt awful. My sister did not want the kids around.

Nights without our parents could be fun. My older brother would turn off the sound to his awful baseball or football games. We listened to classical music while watching sports. He got to watch his sports and we got to laugh. I learned that staying at home is better than going out with my parents, sometimes. This included TV dinners. Mom only brought those out when she went out. To this day I love TV dinners.

I have a niece and nephew on my husband’s side of the family that are the worst of the worst, they are down and out rotten tomatoes. Even my high and mighty mother-in –law ignores them. I avoid them at all costs. Our great-grandmother said,

“Jim and Jane are so spoiled. They are embarrassing to be with!”

My kids are good kids to be around with adults. They are shy and introverted.  They don’t even mind siting at the little kid’s table during Thanksgiving dinner, but then again neither do I. Adults can get pretty full of themselves.

In conclusion I would like to repeat something a nice church elder told me,

“It just isn’t Sunday morning at church, if there aren’t some kids crying on the pews!”

The motto of this little commentary is,

“ Don’t be afraid to use the word “no” when it comes to bad kids or bad parents, while remembering to give a special treat to those human beings that behave themselves.”

Golden Shrill Sistrum

“Many things were among her accouterments, In her right hand she held a brazen sistrum, a flat piece curved like a girdle, through which there passed some little rods – and when with her arm she vibrated these triple chords they produced a shrill sharp cry” ~  Apuleius, The Golden Ass

Letting orthodox belief systems go and rooting in the emerald-green nether lands.

Grey crooked trees. Black crows. Whirling rouge invisible wind blowing dirty golden roses on the ground.

I breathe in and count to ten.

Total darkness.

Only the red lines of  blood vessels and moving snapshots of light.

I breath out.

Slowly the dark wooden boat sails on the indigo sea. The white sail slowly flapping in the salty breeze.

He sits there with his dark skin and darker beard.  Wearing a white kaftan and tight braided cord made of black donkey hair.

He leaned toward the woman dressed in orange. Wearing the headdress of Hathor.

Then she raised her arms up in the shape of a cup and sang,

“I am eternity.”

Her voice echoed and shimmered golden rays around us.

My heart-felt this and the purple vibrations of laughter opened my eyes to the colors of my backyard.

An older rose…

Greens, light dry brown and dirty golden-pink-yellow- rose on the ground.

 

hear the shrill in this song… that is the sound of brazen sistrum !!

You think Occupy Wall Street is licked ?

The Five Rules

” 1. I shall never forget that, I the People, I am the government of my country.

2. The Senators and House Members which form the Congress are my representatives, I elected them to represent me, but not to pursue their own agenda or an agenda their party imposed on them. I elected them to be my faithful servants, and I shall closely monitor the quality of tasks they are doing for me, their boss.

3. I shall remind them by writing to them or calling them that I am approving or disapproving of the way they represent me on matters that are important to me.

4. I shall read and understand the Constitution of the United States including the Bill of Rights and I shall teach and explain to my family and children the wealth and beauty of this constitution and of Democracy.

5. I shall vote. Moreover I shall put voting as one of my top priorities in life. If I vote I am the boss of my government; I help lead the country towards the direction I think beneficial for me and my country. If I don’t vote I am of no help to my country.
Moreover, I am a parasite waiting for the other citizens to do the work to shape the country so that I can enjoy a democracy, without ever adding my contribution to the process.”

I think every US citizen should memorize the above five rules. This is what the Occupy Movement is all about. I agree that the re-election media saturation is not focusing on the Occupy movement now, but The occupy movement still is fighting the good fight ! It will always be there and just because the media does not cover it in the news does not mean that it is not fighting for the rights of the people currently.

As as an older woman who has put a great deal of her history into promoting free speech I hope that a younger generation will continue with this important point. Our rights as US citizens to protest against unjust polices that are running like monsters throughout this republic.

Corporations are not people, the Federal Reserve was not created by the people and for the people but instead by the wealthiest people for the wealthiest people. We are talking big banks, financial investors that play with big money like Texas Holdem Poker.

The Occupy Movement is the voice of citizens crying out for justice, fair-pay, women rights, gay rights and most importantly they are the cry of the watchdog who watches the government. Forcing the government to be accountable for its actions.  Good journalism once was the watchdog of government and big business. Now the people are doing their job. The Occupy Movement is made up of a country of citizens and maybe even your neighbors. Collectively as a people we are witnessing strength, bravely and action and I think we need to honor our friends that dare to fight this good fight called the Occupy Movement. I am proud of them!!

“Jefferson Smith: I guess this is just another lost cause Mr. Paine. All you people don’t know about lost causes. Mr. Paine does. He said once they were the only causes worth fighting for and he fought for them once. For the only reason any man ever fights for them. Because of just one plain simple rule. Love thy neighbor. And in this world today of great hatred a man who knows that rule has a great trust. You know that rule Mr. Paine and I loved you for it just as my father did. And you know that you fight harder for the lost causes than for any others. Yes you’d even die for them. Like a man we both knew Mr. Paine. You think I’m licked. You all think I’m licked. Well I’m not licked. And I’m gonna stay right here and fight for this lost cause. Even if this room gets filled with lies like these. And the Taylor’s and all their armies come marching into this place. Somebody will listen to me.” ~ Film, Mr Smith goes to Washington with James Steward.

Lynn

The smoke filled her brown VW bug from her little pipe. It was something I never tried before. We then entered the theater to go see the 1977 horror thriller Suspira.
“Come on Holly you will love it. It is the scariest movie you will ever see.”
“Lynn where am I?”

Lynn is here. At the front door of my parents home. 1977

Lynn’s house is between the 6th and 7th hole of the local Golf course. It is a private golf course but this did not stop the kids from playing on it. We lived in the San Fernado Valley were we played football, baseball, and golf every day. Saturday and Sundays, we sold Lemonade. I experienced many years as a child growing up with my friend Lynn. I lived a mile up the hill from her. I think the best times together were when we were adolescents. We did not see each other much as teenagers but Lynn did drive us to school in her brown VW Bug. We would often listen to the band Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young on the car radio.

As we grew older Lynn became competitive for men, friends, and drugs. She came between many of my new friends. She would hang out with the bullies at school sometimes as well. She had an exotic look about her. The long dark hair and dark skin made guys like her. This was extremely irritating to other girls. Yet, we were very close as kids and we played with the flowers and walked home from school together on rainy days. Then there were the foggy mornings when we could not see two feet in front of us. The smell of eucalyptus trees scented our stories as we searched through the morning. Life was so easy then. All we had to do was to get to school on time. I wonder how we did this while telling scary stories on the way to fourth grade.

One scary thing we liked to do was have our fortunes told by the Ouija board. We asked it everything. We knew when we were to be married, how many children we would have, and when we would die. The Ouija board even materialized a dog. My family once had a dog name Peepers. She died a few years earlier. She was a red collie. One day while playing with the Ouija board our hands held tight on top of the planchette, the indicator below slowly spelled out Peepers on the Ouija Board. Lynn and I were spooked about this. We never contacted a person or animal that died. Later, I walked home from Lynn’s house to mine. It was just getting dark so I ran most of the way. To play it safe I sometimes would jump from the street and roll-down the hill if I heard a car coming. No cars passed as I walked home. Instead, I saw a red collie. She looked very like Peepers. She licked my hand and followed me home. I felt safe with her. She was sweet. When I arrived at the back door of my house my mother let me in.

“Holly, whose dog?”

“I don’t know Mom; doesn’t she look like Peepers?”

My mom tried to shoo her away. I went and got a bowl of water and put it outside. I looked at that dog from the window all night. The red collie was gone by morning never to be seen again.

The funniest dog adventure Lynn and I had been when a pet bulldog escaped form a neighbor’s home. We were eight or ten years old. The hills around our neighborhood were open and there were lots of trees to climb and dirt hills to dig in. We happened to be digging in the dirt when a pet bulldog came at us. Lynn and I ran away from it. I fell to the ground on a big dirt hill. Lynn pulled me up and went underneath me. I pulled her up and went underneath her. We did this as we were screaming and grabbing at each other and hitting each other. The dog was racing towards us and barking. I guess it would have been something to see at a distance. Years after this event, even when times get rough between us, this story always made us laugh. I can still see Lynn screaming and running away from the bulldog. She passed away a few years ago before her 50th birthday but this story still brings good cheer to me.

Lynn and I irritated our older brothers. They build go-carts that were so cool. We followed our brothers everywhere with their go-carts. One day they took the go-carts up to the hill we kids called big-bruiser, which is the biggest hill that all the boys dared each other on. Lynn’s brother Mark and my brother Gus would not even acknowledge we were there because they knew we wanted to drive their go-carts down the hill. They kept saying no.

“Come on Mark…just one ride down big bruiser” Lynn said. “Yes, Gus you both got to let us ride them!!” I said.

We must have watched our brothers go down big bruiser fifty times. Then I guess they got tired and let us ride the go-carts. We were only half-way up the hill when we started out.

“Ready set Go!” They yelled.

Bang and roll and it was over. Lynn and I wiped out. It only took a few minutes but our blood was everywhere. Lynn and I went home crying. We totaled their go-charts. That was the end of it. Gus and Mark did not talk to us for weeks.

The magic and mystery I felt growing up with Lynn is still with me. Autumn is her favorite time of year. I think Lynn lived her life exactly the way she wanted to. She always was joking with me even at eight years old.

“Here Holly try this. Put your noise up to it and smell it.”

“Cough, choke… what is this Lynn?”

“Ginger Ale.” She said.

Standing On Guard ?

“Come here Mr Po Po it is time for a bath!”  His big blue eyes gazed into mine.

“Yes beautiful Himalayan cat, yes people smart cat. Papa and Shayne say you smell bad!”

My son named the cat after a Aminma cartoon character from Dragon Ball Z.

I put warm water, Mr Po Po and soap into the bath tub. I closed the shower door, except for a wee bit of room for me to do my scrubbing.

The wet cat did not  meow or scream.

“Soak your feet white kitty” I said.

He trusted me until the bath ended. I picked Mr Po Po up and wrapped him in a towel.  Mr Po Po went outside to dry.
Outside the water sprinkled everywhere in all directions as his pink tongue came out and the sunshine came down.

Standing on guard Mr Po Po’s comrades Mr Flash, Miss Football and Miss Dudea did not say a meow.

(OK this is harder than it seems…)

Mt. Olympos

Mt. Olympos.