Thursday, June 22, 2017


I got up at 0404 this morning to watch the sun rise; turning the black and white landscape into a Kodachrome vista.
At 0444 I think, many of our friends and neighbors watch and photograph the stunning sunsets on the river. Far fewer get to see the spectacular dawn.  Just me and the crows cawwling out our praise of the rising sun.

The old dock is gone, only crib remnants remain; bobbing with the waves. Our only reminder of what once was.  Most mornings, like today's, the river is calm, a a reflecting mirror for the morning light.

It's quiet now; crows satisfied with their waking call to the neighborhood.   Across the mile wide river a Canada Rail train whistles in the distance it's passing, and a blue heron glides by just inches above the placid surface of the water.

Steaming coffee, humming refrigerator, tinkling in the water closet: morning, short lived but oh so striking.

In all the world, I'm truly blessed.

Friday, May 05, 2017

High water on the St. Lawrence River

For the fortieth morning in a row I awaken to the ratta-tap-tap of rain drops hitting our steel roof.

Peering through the window, I spy a large wooden vessel some 500 feet long by 50 feet high floating down the river, St. Lawrence, past our ancient dock which, itself, has slipped it's moorings.

Friday, April 21, 2017

Sexual harassment in the workplace

Sexual harassment in the workplace.

Accusations are not proof of guilt, nor are denials proof of innocence.  But the saying, "there's no smoke without fire," is true more often then not.

The present news cycle notwithstanding, sexual harassment in the work place is just a passing fad I'm sure.  It probably is just a result of changing mores of our current times and I'm confident it will pass by the way just like drinking, eating, breathing, swearing, cheating, stealing, lying, gossiping and fornicating have had their day and are only remnants of past cultures.

That's not to say that sexual harassment should be acceptable.  Especially when exhibited by a superior ; leaving the victim feeling they have no recourse but to tolerate it or lose ones employment.

If we apply enough publicity and/or punishment we will for sure change human nature and eliminate this behavior. Then we can apply the same principles to eliminating workplace violence, terrorism, nuclear arms proliferation, and global warming.

Or maybe we should eliminate the human race and start over?

Saturday, April 01, 2017

Where have you been Bobby boy?

The simple answer is, "I've been in Florida."

"Only one post since December 2016, and a paltry one, of 2 short paragraphs, at that."

I could say I've grown tired of blogging, Facebook is quicker and easier and my audience much larger, or that I just lost the writing mojo. All would be true to one extent or another. One other niggling reason is that I leave my laptop in Dansville (where I work as an anesthetist) and it's easier to do a blog post from my laptop rather than my iPad. there are two main reasons for this it's next to impossible, no wait, I have been unable to find a way to download photos from my iPad to my blog. And secondly, if my post is of any length, I have to complete it in HTML.. Not a big deal you say? Perhaps, but old habits make tasks easier to accomplish. The adage, you can't teach an old dog new tricks actually means, old dogs prefer to not learn new tricks when the old ones suffice.

Three years ago we spent 3 weeks of December at our home in Florida. Two years ago we spent 3 months there and I cut my work week back to 3 days. This year we spent from December to April in Florida, with a 12 day interruption to celebrate Christmas and New Years in Niagara Falls with our youngest grand children. I return to work ( still just Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday) day after tomorrow.

"So nothing to write about in those 4months?"

"Oh yes, plenty."

Time is limited this morning; the garage's tow truck will be here in 30 minutes to take my car to their facility to remedy my DEAD battery situation that greeted me upon my return yesterday. If they can't make my chariot usable today I'll be forced to try to find a rental; bah, bah, bah, or oh fuck, for short!

I'll leave you with this thought for now; for the last 3 years we've been met with a dead battery in our car when we arrive in Florida. (The heat is harder on car batteries than the cold "they" said.) well, my 3 year old car was kept in a heated garage (50 degrees) and it was deader than the proverbial door nail.

The saga may or may not continue"................😢

Friday, March 03, 2017

Morning walk observations

On a, non-run day, walk this morning two unusual, for me, things happened. First a movement in my peripheral vision drew my attention down to my left. There, in a drive-way on Falcon drive, a conch shell is moving along purposefully. What the heck, I think. Wondering how a live conch got this far inland, I note legs, of a sort, protruding out from the shell sides; aha, a hermit crab. Still not sure how it got to where it was.

Twenty minutes later I witness an armadillo crossing Oriole blvd. stopping traffic. I pulled my camera phone out of my pocket intending to photograph this, never before seen by me, critter, but alas he quickly sought refuge in a sluice pipe under a drive-way.

Tuesday, December 20, 2016

Nobody likes sore losers

The 2016 election for president of the USA is over.  Our electoral college put it in the books.  Like it or not, Donald Trump is going to be our 45th president.

There was quite a hullabaloo created in the time between the election and the electoral college vote 5 weeks later.  A large cadre of people decried the election results, screaming fraud, unfairness; their candidate won the popular vote, and the Russians made it happen.

Their shock and anger is understandable. Their candidate was a shoo-in.  As the November 8th Election Day approached, die hard supporters of Donald Trump, even Trump himself, believed he'd lose.

In the aftermath of his crushing electoral victory and his opponents crying foul, I'm reminded of the game of baseball; America's game.  All the players, or teams, if you will, agreed beforehand to the ground rules in place and to accept the umpire's decisions.  Well, except for the eventual winner. He didn't commit to accepting the umpire's rule; calling the system rigged.  His opponent called him out on that saying he must accept the rules of the game!

But, all the teams in the playoff accepted the rules, long ago established.  So on Nov. 8th, 2016 the World Series of politics came down to the final game.  It was agreed to by both sides that who ever scored 270 runs (electoral votes) or more, would be the winner.

Now I'm recalling Ernest Thayer's 1888 poem, mighty Casey at the bat.
It was assumed by the most vocal of fans that Mighty Casey would hit the ball out of the park, and that homer run would give Mudville the win.

But Trump's Opponent i.e. Casey, egotistical, too big to fail, Casey struck out; Mudville lost.

Now Casey's fans cry foul, fraud, kill the umpire!!

You lost Mudville, you lost.

Put your has been star on the bench and start building a new team for the next championship game in four years.

Whining and crying only diminishes you and exposes your weaknesses.

Monday, September 26, 2016


The midnight blue sky
Over Dansville is filled
With stars tonight.
And airplanes.
He died twenty years
Before I was born;
John Noel,
My great grandfather.
I never knew him
Only about him.
I only saw him once,
When I was 7.

Seven is just a guess.
I was a youngster laying on Aunt Nellie's couch.
Perhaps I was asleep, but if so, I was awake in my Dream.
I saw a man get out of a car.  It was an old car, maybe Uncle Ed's.
I can still see it in my mind's eye; black 4 door, like a 1920's style 4 door.
Whatever, It didn't seem out of place.
The man was wearing a calf length dark gray overcoat and a felt hat; one of those hats  that I always see Humphrey Bogart wear in some of his movies.
Strange, he didn't come up the front steps but walked down the 12 inch wide walk at the side of the house to the small porch leading to the door opening into the dining room.  Strange because no one ever used that door as long as I remember.
Aunt Nellie met him there and as they talked, I couldn't make out what the were saying, I knew it was her father, John Noel.
I don't remember him leaving, but when Aunt Nellie came into the living room where I was on the couch, I asked her "who was that?"
"Who are you talking about?"
"That man who came in through the side door."
She stared at me with a puzzled look on her face, and said nothing except to ask, would you like something to eat.

A dream?  Perhaps, but still it's a memory that stayed with me all these 60 plus years.
I've replayed that incident innumerable times and have decided it must have some significance, even if I can't say what that might be.

John Noel was a Civil war Veteran,  I think he knew I'd be going to Viet Nam in 10 years and maybe he came to his last home just to let me know he was real and not just a story told when people asked about the Civil war discharge enlargement framed and hanging over Uncle Ed's chair in the Living room.

He enlisted, volunteered, in the army for the civil war, against his parents wishes when he was 17, just like I would enlist and volunteer to go to Viet Nam.

History repeats itself.  An old adage that as proven itself time and again.  I don't know John Noels story, but I like to think I do know it through my own experience.