you sleep in the next room;
i, tired from weekend tasks,
start to bed but stop
to look at Lisi Tang’s painting
striking me as a “lonely” painting;
a beautiful tribute
to the loneliness of
the vast and omnipotent sea
yet
there are two gulls,
beautiful in their flight together,
graceful, in syncopation,
juxtaposed against the vastness of the sea;
i see us, the gulls,
flying into the mist of the morning sea
aware of its vastness, its cruelty, its beauty,
flying toward infinity together:
a significant moment:
the two of us
flying above the sea of time.

Dear Mister Warren,

i am reading you again,
more thoughtful reading perhaps
buffered by the passage of Time:
your time, my time,
perhaps because
we come from near the kindred borders
of Kentucky and Tennessee
with limestone, pockmarked hills
of cedar, pine, oak, poplar, dogwood
and, of course, hickory;

lives reared by the hills,
farm gardens, several dairy cows
in the pasture next to the barn,
hogs in the muddy slop of the sty,
all of which did not know Time,
your time, my time
until it was gone.

The mockingbird trills another song
as the stars mock Time
but not in golden California
or the snow blotted woods of Connecticut:
did i write of stars mocking Time
or did i repeat what you said?

Does it matter with Time?

i am more often now older than Time,
antique words past Time,
lost
far from those rolling, curving rivers
of Water and Time
in the hills and valleys of the Shawnee
when deer and bear roamed the woods;
even then, the mockingbird
trilled its borrowed music
in our ear.

Time is forever and never
as it was then,
as it is now;
we will have our time with us
for we are in Time,
always and forever.

i have you to thank
for my thoughts of Time;
at least, it makes me gracious,
conscious of how Time, us
fit together.

It is a drizzly, dour, Saturday morning. i feel blessed to be in the Southwest California for the rest of California is getting smacked in the face with snow and rain. This little section of the state, nay, the country is usually like there is some kind of invisible shield.

The shield was admittedly down back around my January birthday when the lower areas od San Diego were flooded. Most of the time, those big storms veer around the Southwest corner.

Still, today is not a good day for tromping around a golf course, or long walks, and, although this is the kind of weather i enjoy for walks on the beach, it is not an attractive activity except for old salts, crazy ones like me.

So i arose for dreary day work stuff. Then my day changed when i read a sports article on line and got…Hope.

For the last several months, really stretching into a year or two, my buddies and i have had a running discussion on the state of college athletics, especially the major sports, and especially Vanderbilt. Including is this group are two former Vanderbilt basketball stars from my era. Jerry Southwood and Kenny Gibbs played on the Vanderbilt teams that excelled (and would have been in the NCAA finals in 1964-65 except for a horrible call in the last two minutes against Michigan — but i’ve sang this song before).

Our discussions have centered around recruiting, the Name, Image, Likeness (NIL) rules (which in my mind, makes the college athlete a professional athlete), the transfer portal (which, in my mind, throws loyalty and team spirit out the window). Then a month ago, Vanderbilt’s Vice-Chancellor for Athletics, Candice Lee, asked supporters to encourage their congressmen to look into the current practices in the NCAA, especially the NIL.

i forwarded that request to my brothers and several others. It struck me as appropriate Jerry and Kenny were more skeptical because, as Jerry, said, that horse is out of the barn. We also have been discussing something a late brother, Joe Francis advocated years ago: Vanderbilt, Northwestern, Stanford, Rice, Tulane, Wake Forest, and other good academic schools form their own conference and have true college athletics.

i have been a strong supporter of Vanderbilt succeeding in the SEC, even against very strong odds. A good deal of that comes from my belief in the late David Williams who preceded Candice as head of Vandy athletics, and Candice herself pursuing college athletics the right way or as David Williams coined, “the Vandy way.”

i have been losing faith in the possibility of success in the SEC.

This morning, i read “The Athletic” story on Ray Davis by Zak Keefer entitled “Ray Davis grew up homeless, now he seeks to be a ‘name you’ll remember forever.

My hope is restored.

i can’t come up with numbers of success stories that would make others feel Vanderbilt doing it the right way is worth staying the course, but i think Vandy being part of Ray Davis’ story is worth it.

Unfortunately, i cannot embed the link in the post. i’m sure this is because one must have a subscription to read. i hope you can find it. It’s worth it.

My only snarky comment about this afternoon…okay, okay, i’m likely to be unable to resist and make a couple more before this super bowl (no caps because it ain’t) is when i first came in for the evening, the game was about six minutes old. The color commentator described the 49er back as “running downhill.” i have bitched about this terribly bad description since the field is level for a long time. And then i wondered has anyone heard one of these talking heads say a runner “ran uphill?”

i came in to be social. Maureen is interested in the game, but she wants to watch the commercials – she has mixed reviews thus far.

When it began, i went outside, not sure i would return until the game was over. i am, admittedly, a curmudgeon who disdains hype of which this super bowl extravaganza is about 95% hype. Hey, it’s everyone’s thing. The deal of the hour we have to watch. i have dedicated Chiefs and 49er fans on both sides of my family. i’m happy for them. i’m happy for all the folks who are stuffing themselves with food and drink at the parties. After all, i remember when the NFL championship ended in early December. There was one college bowl game, the Gator Bowl, on New Year’s Eve, and four, in order, the Sugar Bowl, the Cotton Bowl, the Rose Bowl, and the Orange Bowl — note not one had a company name in their title — on New Year’s Day. It was just as much an incredible array of food and drink across the country. So i’m not claiming it was better. But it wasn’t as commercial. AND it was over on January First.

Outside, i sat down with martin and patio heater, and a book, a marvelous book. Shortly after i settled in, i heard this rustle in the sky. Winging low was a raven — it has taken me a long time for me to differentiate between a raven and a crow. i’ve finally figured it out. The wingbeat was impressive. i don’t think i’ve heard it before. Then i wondered how Edgar Allan ascribed “Nevermore,” such a beautiful lyrical word, to the “caw” of a raven.

i took my moment and connected the raven to Poe and felt connected, peaceful.

While the event of the day was beginning, i turned to my book. i have some surprises for several friends, so i won’t reveal all about this book, but i will quote a passage from the southwest Pacific 125 years ago:

When I came to a Samoan village, the chief did not ask the price of gin, or say “How will you pay for roast pig?” but “Dollar, dollar,” said he; “white man know only dollar.

“Never mind dollar. The tapo has prepared ava; let us drink and rejoice.” The tapo is the virgin hostess of the village; in this instance it was Taloa, daughter of the chief. “Our taro is good; let us eat. On the tree there is fruit. Let the day go by; why should we mourn over that? There are millions of days coming. The breadfruit is yellow in the sun, and from the cloth-tree is Taloa’s gown. Our house, which is good, cost but the labor of building it, and there is no lock on the door.”

So, i sat there in the Southwest corner, wishing i could have visited the Southwest Pacific two score and a century ago where the world was pacific and the wild, enjoyable, commercial event was raging inside.

Now, i’m not immune. i am watching the end, the playoff is about to begin. But i do wish the world was a little bit different where we could “never mind dollar” and have “Our house, which is good, cost but the labor of building it, and there is no lock on the door.”