i am a mere small parcel of land
pocked marked with flat sandstone slabs
like an infant’s skull coming out of the womb
poking out of the dirt
sprouts of weeds claiming their space
dandelions
sprigs of grass in clumps
non-productive dirt
barren
useless
but
unique
some might say
a pocket of resistance
to progress as we know it
a relic which has outlived its time
hanging on, hanging on
for the next step
then
the small brown ground squirrel
emerges from the acacia
to nibble on a morsel on one of the slabs
the gray falcon alights from the street light standard
diving, sweeping, looping
gaining speed
for the kill
but
some noise
some instinct
leads the squirrel
to bolt underneath the acacia again
small flowers, weeds really
bloom in the parcel
hard to see unless one bends over to get close
a plant in its cycle of life
attempting to live for the next phase
there is merit here in my parcel of land
for what is unknown
but
it’s there.

Two very close friends crossed over the bridge in ’24. i have taken my loss in stride by following the dictum that hit me in the head when Ray Boggs, my father-in-law, passed over that bridge in 1992.

i’ve written about it before. Still, it resonates with me. Danny, Ray’s son and i were walking to the pro shop at the Singing Hills Golf Resort (well before the Sycuan tribe bought the property). We were going to set up a time where we could spread Ray’s ashes over the 6th hole on the Willow Glen course where Ray had his first of six holes-in-one.

Danny forged ahead when i paused to look at the executive course, Pine Glen, where Ray had played his last round with me three weeks earlier. i was standing there, about to break into tears, when the dictum grabbed me out of nowhere, came into my head completely formed almost as if Ray was talking to me. It said “Don’t cry for me. Behave as you know I would want you to behave. Don’t be sad. Rejoice and laugh at our adventures and misadventures.”

The dictum got me through that process, and several other times before i used it when Marty Linville passed last July ’24 and JD Waits passed last November.

i keep remembering historic, in my mind, moments and quotes both of them had during my time with them. i hope to remember them all and post them here until i can no longer post posts.

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One of the best moments came early in my time with Marty. Honestly, i don’t remember whether it was the hole i was playing or if Marty was the golfer. We were playing with our friend and fellow officer from the Naval Amphibious School Coronado, Rod Stark on the Naval Air Station, North Island’s “Sea ‘n Air.” golf course.

Whoever the golfer was, Marty or myself, he was having a horrible hole: bad tee shot, several whacks in the rough, hitting the ball in the water hazard, and finally reaching the green somewhere between eight and ten strokes. The putt was a very long one with undulations, tough to read and tough to get the distance correct. The golfer sunk the putt.

The three of us laughed, and the Marty described it. It has become a standard response to such play on a hole, regardless of who played the hole:

“Whipped cream on horseshit.”

Posted on Monday…after all, i am a curmudgeon

i was just wondering what all of those folks on every visual medium: television, talk shows, interviews, etc. are going to have on their bookshelves when ebooks the books i can feel and smell.

i am trying to envision shelves crammed with old iPads, iPhones, smart phones, and all sorts of electronic gizmos used to read ebooks.

i don’t think it will have the same aura.

◆ ◆ ◆

i have been observing friend, good friends, even on occasion myself, espouse their political viewpoints in winner-take-all, vindictive comments on social media.

Today, it occurred to me that if all of this rock throwing against each other could be channelled into getting rid of the clowns at the top, all parties, and we put our efforts into term and age limits for all politicians, how much things could be better.

◆ ◆ ◆

A glorious weekend for an old Southern boy:

Friday night, Maureen sponsored me cooking one of my (few) favorite meals. She found and bought okra (a difficult find in the Southwest corner). i cooked the goofy guy’s meal that relates but is not exactly like many Southern dishes: okra, Tennessee Pride Country Sausage, onions, mushrooms, and diced tomatoes, adding a bunch of spices of which i wing it. Served with my cornbread (Maureen prefers my cornbread to cornpone, and i struck to the basics, foregoing my usual side of cornpone.

Saturday, we had a late lunch at Rod and Joann’s La Jolla home. They had prepared a wonderful traditional Irish meal of corned beef, beets, rutabagas, potatoes and corned beef with Irish soda bread.

Tonight (Sunday), we had Maureen’s salad with the leftover cornbread, Maureen buttered and heated. i finished off the cornbread with molasses (wishing it was Southern sorghum molasses).

My stomach is happy and so am i.

Ever since the Vanderbilt baseball team, a.k.a. “The Vandy Boys” began their early West Coast games, Alan Hicks and i have attended almost all of them. If i have it straight that began in 2010.

Alan came down from San Francisco. i picked him up at the John Wayne Airport in Santa Ana. We headed to the Hilton Doubletree at the Port of Los Angeles Marina in San Pedro. That evening, we went to watch Vanderbilt beat UCLA in baseball. Saturday, we watched them lose to USC’s Trojans. Sunday morning, we went back to UCLA’s Jackie Robinson Stadium where the Commodores lost to UConn.

Even though our “Vandy Boys” lost two out of three, it was a great weekend, a frolic of two old boys reliving what they’ve been doing since 2010 any time Vanderbilt made a West Coast swing early in the season. We made a habit of such Vandy jaunts to this part of the world when Alan was the Director of MARAD’s Golden Gateway and i was making weekly jaunts to Long Beach for safety inspections and training at Pacific Tugboats facility in the Long Beach harbor.

The Geezers dined at one of their old haunts on Friday after the game at The Whale and Ale restaurant, a British pub in San Pedro. Saturday after the game, we hit another one of our favorites, King’s Fish House in downtown Long Beach (the oysters were fabulous).

In many ways the trip was wondrous. Good times with a more than good friend adding to our memories. It also was grueling for this old fart. Over 550 miles were covered traveling to the games…and this was in the worse driving in the good of U. S. of A. As i have said many times, there is horrible traffic in many of our cities including the Southwest corner. But no place, no place has traffic that bad 24/7, seven days a week over 100 square miles.

But you know what? It was worth it for this old Geezer.

For all of you who are my friends on this FB page, it will go away soon.

You see, i’m no longer in business. I’m shutting it down. I still have copies of my book “Steel Decks and Glass Ceilings.” You can still buy it by going to my website, jimjewell.com or from Amazon or Barnes and Noble. And signed copies are still available on my website jimjewell.com.

i found i was spending a great amount of time meeting all of the administrative and reporting requirements and losing a bit rather than making a bit—i’ve never been a successful financier.

i also struggled with making the same entries on two FB pages.

So, i’m shutting  ‘er down, boys and girls.

The “Jim Jewell Writer ” will go away on March 15, 2025.

If you are not already on my jim jewell Facebook page, you certainly can become my FB “friend” there, which contains all of my posts. And if you don’t wish to do that, you can go to my website, jim.jewell.com, and subscribe. The “Subscribe” section is in the horizontal menu at the top of my home page. There is no charge.

I’ve enjoyed the adventure, but i am old enough to just enjoy being me.

Thanks, and i hope you migrate to my “jim jewell” Facebook page.