Spirit Lifters-Day 311 of being “Grounded” 1/11/21

You may have seen the video below. If not, well HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

I meant to post it New Year’s Day but got distracted by other stuff.

And now, all I can think of is the powerful question I woke up with this last Thursday morning…the day after the…uh, insurrection at the US Capitol.

I wondered out loud if the way I was feeling…appalled, furious, disgusted, extremely critical of those selfish, insane people, was the same way my elders felt toward me in the 1960’s when I was willing to risk my life for the things I believed in so strongly…Racial Equality and ending the Vietnam war!

I had to think about that for a long time.

I concluded that violence was the difference. Back then we marched, and sat, and sang, and lobbied, and yes, I even put daisy’s in the rifle barrels of the National Guardsman trying to stop us.

So today, I am watching this Fireworks Video differently.

Each explosion is a failed gun shot, blossoming into glorious proof of the miracles in life.

Here. Try it again….

Thanks, and be safe and healthy.

SongLyricSunday-theme Season 12/23/18

HUH??? ChosenPerspectives here…Somehow my post got posted with someone else’s post mixed in it. I don’t know how that happened??? (Helen???) If you know how please inform.

This is mine:

I got completely side-tracked with this theme. I can see many great songs have been shared since yesterday, including the very first one I thought of. I always like to go with that first one because it’s often a real old-timer, and I fantasize I am sharing my old music with younger generations.

But something strange happened as I was preparing to post it.

Disclaimer: I rarely post anything political or controversial, unless it’s really important to me, and what I am about to say has nothing with the other people who also chose the same song I thought of. It also has nothing to do with the group doing this song. (The Zombies were brilliant and I’ve included a couple more of their songs at the bottom.)

It’s just that I was shocked and dismayed at the video that came with the song.

At first, I was completely embarrassed, like somehow a whole generation’s blind spots about sexuality were my fault.

Don’t get me wrong. I was THERE! And I remember all of this going on around me. It was the SIXTIES.

But this video shows only one aspect of a powerful movement, the sexual revolution, not all of it.

Now that I’ve had some time, I have been able to shift my perspective, and see that I did not choose literally one of the most demeaning-to-women, music videos I’ve ever seen…(talk about objectifying, harassing, unwanted touching and the whole game of it all).

But rather this video shows just how far we have come since 1968.

So here is my choice for our theme, Season.

Time of the Season byThe Zombies
It’s the time of the season
When love runs high
And this time, give it to me easy
And let me try with pleasured hands
To take you in the sun to (promised lands)
To show you every one
It’s the time of the season for loving
What’s your name?
Who’s your daddy?
(He rich) Is he rich like me?
Has he taken, any time (any time)
(To show) to show you what you need to live
Tell it to me slowly (tell me what)
I really want to know
It’s the time of the season for loving
What’s your name?
Who’s your daddy?
(He rich) Is he rich like me?
Has he taken, any time (any time)
(To show) to show you what you need to live
Tell it to me slowly (tell me what)
I really want to know
It’s the time of the season for loving
Songwriters: Rod Argent
Time of the Season lyrics © Marquis Songs Usa



Thanks for allowing me to share my personal perspective. Please, feel completely free to take it or leave it.






Nothing below this is mine?!?



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26 thoughts on “Song Lyric Sunday Theme for 12/23/18”

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  18. I almost forgot today was Sunday because I have been trying to get my daughters room finished for Christmas, it being her Christmas gift and all. But I did remember, and I had no idea what to post until I heard a song on a Christmas play list this morning. It is a twist on the twelve days of Christmas, and by the way I loathe that song, but this one was actually worth listening to all the way, so here is the Twelve Days Of Christmas Straight No Chaser.
    Arranged by Ken Burgomaster

    On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me,
    A partridge in a pear tree.
    On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me,
    Two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.
    On the fourth day of Christ
    On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me, five golden rings
    Four calling birds, three french hens,
    Two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree
    On the ninth day of Christmas, (on the eighth day of Christmas)
    My true love gave to me (my true love gave to me)
    Nine ladies dancing (eight maids a milking)
    Eight ladies dancing (seven maids a milking)
    Seven ladies dancing (six maids a milking)
    Six ladies dancing (five)
    Better not shout, you better not cry,
    You better not in a pear tree
    On the ninth, no!
    On the eighth, come on!
    On the seventh day of Christmas (deck the halls)
    My true love gave to me (with boughs of holly)
    Seven swans a swimming (here we come a wassailing)
    Six geese a laying (among the leaves so)
    Five golden rings (Fa-la-la-la-la)
    Four calling birds
    Three french hens
    Two turtle doves (here we come a wassailing)
    The boar’s head in hand bear I (among the leaves so green)
    Bedeck’d with bays
    And partridge in a pear tree
    On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me
    Eleven pipers piping (ding)
    Ten lords a leaping (dong)
    Nine ladies dancing (ding)
    Eight maids a milking (dong)
    Seven swans a swimming (ding)
    Six geese a laying (dong)
    Five golden rings
    Four calling birds
    Three french hens
    Two turtle doves
    And Rudolph the red nosed reindeer!
    On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me
    I have a little dreidel, I made it out of clay,
    And when it’s dry and ready, my dreidel I shall play
    Oh dreidel dreidel dreidel (hey, 12 days of Christmas)
    (what? 8 days of Hanukkah. It’s a Christmas medley)
    On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me
    Do do do do doot do (do de do de do de do de do de)
    Do do do do doot do (do de do de do de do de do de)
    On the twelfth day my true love gave to me
    Twelve drummers drumming like Olympus above the Serengeti
    Ba ba ba ba ba ba ba oh
    Eleven pipers piping, ten lords a leaping (Ba ba ba ba ba ba ba oh)
    Nine ladies dancing they were dancing for me
    Eight maids a milking they were milking just for me
    I had Christmas down in Africa
    I had Christmas down in Africa
    I had Christmas down in Africa (five golden rings)
    I had Christmas down in Africa (five golden rings)
    I had Christmas down in Africa (five golden rings)
    Couldn’t take the halls into the things we never had
    Do do do do doot do (do de do de do de do de do de)
    Do do do do doot do (do de do de do de do de do de)
    Partridge in a big pear tree (do de do de do de do de do de)
    Partridge in a big pear tree

    Liked by 3 people

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Song Lyric Sunday Theme for 12/23/18

Veteran’s Day 11/11/18

I try to write a Thank You letter to the Veterans in my life, every year on this day…also on Memorial Day.

I also have to admit when I started writing these yearly notes, I did so from a place of “universal guilt”… a cousin to that instant feeling I have when I spot a traffic cop following me, even when I know I didn’t do anything wrong.

“something happening here…”

But I realized a few years back that though many of my generations’ brothers and sisters treated each other poorly…well, horrifically…during the conflict over the Vietnam War and its Veterans, I personally never threw pig’s blood at a returning soldier.

Like many of my peers at the time, I didn’t really understand who exactly to be mad at- the military vets, or those who drafted them.

“what it is ain’t exactly clear”

So I focused my energy on Peace instead.

I was that girl with a wreath of flowers in my hair, who shoved daisy’s into barrels of the guns of local law enforcement, clad in riot gear. Young men about my same age, I have to add, who were just doing their own confusing jobs.

“there’s a man with a gun over there”

In the 1990’s I tried to open my mind to a new generation of returning veterans, so badly wanting them to have a different experience than those brave men and women, drafted or not, returning from Vietnam.

And then 9/11 happened and did a permanent number on my heart and soul. It was the birth for me of a new level of awareness. People the world over were responding to “attack” event with such dark black or white hot absolutism.

That all coincided with my father’s death so his lessons to me as a kid naturally came rushing back with a warm, loving vengeance. I considered, for the first time really, what he had been trying to say.

There is always more than one way to look at something.

“nobody’s right and everybody’s wrong”

So now, if I say thank you to a stranger in a military uniform, or when I send out my gratitude, in a note or blog post, I feel no guilt. I still don’t like or understand war, but I have room in my head and heart now for many, many more ways to fight for peace.

And I am grateful, and deeply respectful for those who choose the military (and law enforcement) as their vehicle to accomplish that.

This year, my sweet James wrote the letter below to his family. He and his siblings have had a wonderful, daily tradition, thanks to their 96 year old mother’s deathbed request. She insisted that they all stay in touch, even though they have lived across the country from each other. The emails to each other, all these years later, is one of my favorite all- time uses of the internet.

James says I can share today’s note with you too. (I have altered it only to remove other people’s personal stuff.)


Good Morning

Today, we remember those of us who have served and died in service to freedom of expression, religion and political choice. I must admit that I am distressed by the present political situation in this country and the direction we are taking. Having said that, I honor all men and women who have participated in protecting us and giving us the right to chose our lives in a turbulent world where such freedom is becoming less and less available. I have heard from the men I served with in Nam and am reminded of the quality of men I was lucky enough to have shared that experience with. 
I had a fun trip to the islands. He picked me up at the ferry landing. We did a couple of errands in town, then joined a group of men for
The Stand Up Men Against Domestic Violence
on the courthouse lawn to remind citizens that violence against domestic partners is not acceptable as a solution to personal problems. These men have been doing this every Friday for the past four years. They organized after a couple of domestic violence deaths on the island reminded them how prevalent this problem is in our society. Two deaths were recorded there in the past twelve months so it continues to be an important issue for those who suffer at the hands of their partners. 
You can read about this amazing group here:    http://safesj.org/sum/
These guys are truly Veterans of their own local “war” against domestic violence. And they deserve to be honored, celebrated!!
Afterward, we went home where we a nice lunch and we relaxed the rest of the afternoon. About five pm, started a fire in the fire pit and we sat around with an adult beverage until men began to show up for the poker game. By seven, there were eighteen men there. We adjourned to the poker tables and played poker ’til around ten thirty, then back to the fire pit for another round of chat before everyone trickled away for home. We cleaned up the poker mess before retiring sometime between twelve thirty and one am.
(I included the description of their gathering after because it demonstrates for me that there are many really wonderful men in the world, a message not so clear in the media these days. Their “Poker Game” has been a monthly tradition in this smaller community for around 20 years. They rotate the home where it takes place. They have what they call a “Party Bag” (different from a Gift Bag) where each person throws in some of the money they win (they play with quarters) and the money is used for things like replacing the worn out felt on their vintage poker table, or, get this, a nice night on the town with the wives! These guys also golf together, and once a year, they take the Poker Game to a beautiful mountain town many miles away, for a retreat weekend of golf and poker.
I love the men in this small town. I have witnessed several times over the years, how one guy can put out a call for help (or not put it out) and the rest just show up, barn-raising style. It’s just the way they live.
James ends his letter with:
We plan on accepting Applebee’s free dinner for Veteran’s this afternoon. My worker, John is a Navy vet so he’ll get a free meal too. 
Am I lucky or what??
Again, thank you to all who served, men and women, who made the choice, regardless of their reason. It was a precious, brave and probably unbeknownst to you at the time, a healing decision to make for all of us.
There’s something happening here
What it is ain’t exactly clear
There’s a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware
I think it’s time we stop, children, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
There’s battle lines being drawn
Nobody’s right if everybody’s wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Getting so much resistance from behind
It’s time we stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
What a field-day for the heat
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and carrying signs
Mostly say, hooray for our side
It’s s time we stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you’re always afraid
You step out of line, the man come and take you away
We better stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop, now, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop, children, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down


SundaySongLyrics 11/11/18 Theme- Soul

Talk about SOUL!!!

Worth the watch for the drum and guitar solos…but don’t expect to hold still.

Definitely a “pump up the volume” song!!


Woodstock….ahh, so close and yet………(another post someday!)


(First version, longer but poor video quality)


(2nd version shorter but easier to watch)





Song Lyric Sunday Theme for 11/11/18


VJWC (VJ’s Weekly Challenge) 10/22/18- theme River

Here’s my entry for VJ’s weekly challenge, River. Her’s is great and worth a visit!

V.J.’s Weekly Challenge #20: River


I ran away from home when I was just a kid…I mean, a LONG way from home.

Left my beaches and my ocean in San Diego, and headed east in search of peace.

Ended up in Natchez, Mississippi, and lived with relatives I thought could save me.

I guess they did, but not how I had hoped they would.

I lived in Natchez throughout high school, learned very hard lessons about education, religion, music, politics, and friends.

Left there in search of my adult home, and for people less confusing. In the deep South, they were, and still can be, the most warm, open, loving, giving people you will ever meet…and some are also historically and genetically predisposed to be filled with hate and prejudices. Dual Realities.

But that river. She really gets under your skin and draws you back and back and back again. And I’m glad she does because without her pull, I never would have ended up with the love of my life, James. Natchez was his San Diego.

So we go to visit as often as we can. Ol Black Water, indeed. (sound track for your visit to THE River.

IMG_119612-18-06 293DSCN1239

12-18-06 295
James is home here

Natchez Reunion Band 067DSCN1303IMG_1205

a 3 brothers reunion at the River






V.J.’s Weekly Challenge #20: River

“phone calls/calling” for SongLyricSunday 2/11/18

Song Lyric Sunday Theme for 2/11/18

Helen’s choice of a theme this week was inspired by her contemplation on the whole “cell phone as connection” life style these days.

It’s 3 AM and I can’t sleep so this is the best song I can think of in my current state….zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…dreaming of the early 1960’s….


Memphis by Johnny Rivers
Long distance information, give me Memphis Tennessee
Help me find a party that tried to get in touch with me
She did not leave a number but I know who placed the call
‘Cause my uncle took a message and he wrote it on the wall
Help me, information, get in touch with my Marie
She’s the only one who’d call me here from Memphis Tennessee
Her home is on the south side, high upon a ridge
Just a half a mile from the Mississippi bridge
Last time I saw Marie she was wavin’ me goodbye
With “hurry-home” drops on her cheek that trickled from her eye
We were pulled apart because her mom did not agree
She tore apart our happy home in Memphis Tennessee
Help me, information, more than that I cannot add
Only that I miss her and all the fun we had
Marie is only six years old, information please
You got to put me through to her in Memphis Tennessee
Songwriters: Chuck Berry
Memphis lyrics © BMG Rights Management US, LLC


In Honor of Dr. King

WordPress will not let me re-blog or add photos right now but here are the posts I want to share again today. Maybe you saw them before but in case you didn’t…

Please do comment. I feel so alone with this these days….







Communal-Daily Prompt from WP, uh, don’t get me started!


(disclaimer: wordpress keeps freezing on me and then I lose entire posts because it also does not save drafts for me. This is a late night re-creation of a post I wrote earlier today…and I think the original was a lot better.)

This word is my preferred way of living, by far, and not just because I came of age in the 1960’s when that was all the rage. I did live in actual communes in my late teens and early twenties, and I thrived in that setting!

But really, I was kind of raised that way in the first place.

My Mom was a single working mother and was so well-loved by all of my friends, they all called her “Mom”. At several points in my young life, there were many other kids (besides our three) who either lived with us or crashed on the living room floor in sleeping bags….this latter category often as a short respite from their own broken and painful homes. During my highschool years (before I prematurely left home myself) a few times, my Mom would even find one of her extra “kids’  passed out on our front lawn. She would nurse them back to sobriety and eventually send them to their real homes to try to work things out.

And my mother also had other single-mom friends who would be around (or not), kids in tow (or not). My tiny childhood home, when my Dad was out of the picture, was delightfully unpredictable and often filled with additional people, bringing a variety of interactions, activities, and support. There was always someone to talk to.

When I became a young single mother myself, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to open up my home to other young women in similar boats….the more, the merrier after all. That expanded to renting rooms to students from a very close-by college. And before I knew it, many years of this lifestyle flew by, and I had lived with so many people and kids and animals, I almost lost count. I wrote a post all about it for my friend Badfish. You can read about it here:


One of my favorite experiences of communal living was on a Once-in-a-Lifetime (which turned out to be twice) extended trip to the South Pacific. Me and my six closest people, as well as a crew of four, lived together on a 95 foot yacht called the Tau, for well over a month. We sailed down around and explored the Southern Lau Islands (Fiji).


We lived on the TAU (in Fijian, it means friend) and though it was a beautiful and spacious ocean going craft, it could be crowded, so we had to develop some communal living rules to live by (like honoring the silence above deck during sunrise and sunset… Oh, and flushing only 3 squares of T.P. at a time or incurring the wrath of our Captain!)

Now, in these later years of my life, I think my version of Communal Living would be more like some of the wonderful Co-Housing communities born in the greater Seattle area this last 20 years or so. But I currently have a houseful of people I dearly love (my partner, my son and two grandsons, and a long-time family friend…oh and three cats) And we will live together communally in this rustic old house, for as long as the current economy will allow.

I have some very close people in my life-my adopted sister, my son, and my best friend-(all introverts) who cringe at my chosen lifestyle, but they can’t be surprised. Co-Housing and Communal Living is in my my history, my blood, maybe even my genes.

Though I am not a Mormon, my great, great grandfather was Brigham young. If you have come across his history, you know that at least 16 of those 55 wives, lived in row houses close to the Salt Lake City Temple.

And you just know they lived communally.


Anyone know where the weed trimmer is?


Whose turn is to PAINT?