tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41632594932644480492024-03-05T11:41:39.393-08:00Scott Aycock Singer/songwriterHouse Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.comBlogger115125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-91314049202449076572021-11-01T13:34:00.003-07:002021-11-01T13:34:15.972-07:00Making kombucha with jujubes and persimmons<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS-gEunHyge4HZ-AMDLwb-XavhXIpwS5oAd_4cQHTPlubxHdOTiR-3PIlYFXTvQke0RZMFytrl0Mw3rhAMrpZIJZdm8Nbbcl9QpvoLCZ-J3ej1JKEsr-jgiFK9diskU2xQQ6fc5sYMlEY/s2048/638B4DE9-234A-4C32-A015-832A375C6780.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS-gEunHyge4HZ-AMDLwb-XavhXIpwS5oAd_4cQHTPlubxHdOTiR-3PIlYFXTvQke0RZMFytrl0Mw3rhAMrpZIJZdm8Nbbcl9QpvoLCZ-J3ej1JKEsr-jgiFK9diskU2xQQ6fc5sYMlEY/s320/638B4DE9-234A-4C32-A015-832A375C6780.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBWL5kdMxIZyKGC3PphyWzCz_REHeCPxWBmGasvsn0TTSPyoOPiuqfVOEJt3LLMUWFKAE4JkwQX88q2v0z3eaqTST_xA0juD1o_VR-MCWTE4gn5pmoofZoPMYwZ0dynAzKBQe1aolYxJs/s2048/C39AD2CE-F027-4107-A046-04ED0AD6D712.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBWL5kdMxIZyKGC3PphyWzCz_REHeCPxWBmGasvsn0TTSPyoOPiuqfVOEJt3LLMUWFKAE4JkwQX88q2v0z3eaqTST_xA0juD1o_VR-MCWTE4gn5pmoofZoPMYwZ0dynAzKBQe1aolYxJs/s320/C39AD2CE-F027-4107-A046-04ED0AD6D712.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-5643928798992839192018-01-14T10:17:00.001-08:002018-01-14T10:18:31.691-08:00a page from my ebay art gallery<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-52005968489180622122017-08-15T14:03:00.000-07:002017-08-15T14:03:00.839-07:00The adventure continues....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Well this is Margee on Scott's blog. He called me the other night and said that he had been working on his blog on the iphone ( speaking into the mic) and hadn't published it yet, as it wasn't perfect.... and then tried to make a correction on what was now, a many paged blog, and wouldn't ya know it.... he lost the whole dang thing. I suggested that he just use the old fashioned method, and physically write it ( I had given him a small diary to take on his trip with him for just this purpose ;-) ... then use your new fashioned cell phone to photograph the page and I would type it up for him and add it to the blog for him here in Tulsa. So Plan B.... Send the photo and I will sharpen/adjust contrast and just plug it into the blog as a jpg! Brilliant! So here is the continuation of the Scott adventure saga.</div>
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<br />House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-62105836749598528802017-08-05T08:44:00.002-07:002017-08-05T08:44:56.807-07:008/4 Day 12 of Scott's European adventure Today our noble guide, Bill, wakes in a festive mood. Having slept well, he is looking forward to going to the national Museum, as am I. I however, having returned home late from the pub the night before, I am not so energetic as our guide. <br />
I enjoyed an evening at the Betsey Trotwood Pub, hanging out with the "lantern society" of folk musicians. They are a happy bunch of poets and musicians, despite the fact that our host welcomes us to the Boulavard of broken dreams, and then proceeds with a beautiful poem to start the evening. He says all artists rise from broken dreams and speak truth, giving hope in times of oppression and shattered dreams. We are in those times now he declares. The audience is clearly with him as the applaud.<br />
I had a pint or two and enjoyed wonderful songs and poetry throughout the evening. Fortunately I remembered to ask someone how late the buses and underground run. I left in what I thought was plenty of time to catch the last underground out of Kings Cross. However, after waiting 15 to 20 minutes at the bus stop, someone told me the stop was closed for the night. This meant I must walk to the underground, which though only supposed to be a 20 minute walk, still increased my anxiety, being a stranger in a strange land. I began to walk in the direction of Kings Cross. To make a long story short I at some point asked a young lady directions to the underground and she sent me the wrong direction, which meant that I had to run the last stretch to reach my destination. The good news I did make it on time, weary, but relieved.<br />
Nevertheless, tired as I am, I am ready to see Trafalgar Square and the national Museum. The square is itself, something to see with many statues surrounding a fountain and people of all nationalities gathered. There are street vendors, buskers, and break dancers. Also there are many floating figures all around the square. Apparently the British are quite taken with Star Wars figures that levitate. I should have taken a picture of one of these floating figures. Bill, our guide, asked me if their arms didn't get tired holding themselves up the way they did all day. I may not know Vivaldi from Mozart, but I understand an illusion when I see one, so I had to explain to the professor how the trick was done.<br />
There is so much to see in the national Museum that thankfully we had our great Guide with his Rick Steves Guide book to help us on our journey. Our guide, though very knowledgeable in his own right, seems to rever the words of this greater Guide, with whom he must have a relationship, because he refers to him often, saying, " let us see what Steve has to say," as he consults the guidebook to find out which paintings are worthy of our time. Thankfully we have this greater guide and Bill our lesser Guide to help us on this journey or we would be Forever wondering among paintings of virgins, Saints, and Angels; not that I have anything against them, just that I can take only so many virgins and cherubs in a day. <br />
With the help of our two guides we were able to find our way to Rembrandt, Turner, Monet, Degas, Van Gogh, Matisse and others. There are endless rooms of beautiful works of art, but fortunately because of our Guide we were not allowed to waste our adoration for lesser works, as he would shuttle us off to find more worthy works of art. Apparently Steve is a jealous Guide, and has written down which pieces of art are worthy of our adoration. I am so grateful that our own guide is in such good communication with Steve and can convey to us his wishes.<br />
Again, I poke fun at my friend. With the vastness of this museum and extensive collection of art, I was grateful to have Bill, (with help from Steve) who knows my tastes in art to help me use my time wisely. I highly recommend the National Museum in London.House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-24741456713136324442017-08-03T04:21:00.003-07:002017-08-03T04:21:51.019-07:00Day 5- 11 of Scott's European adventure OK I admit, I have been neglectful in my daily journaling, the result being this readers digest version of the last few days. There is a reason for this failure on my part to keep up, that being there is never a moment to sit down and write. We are on the move from the moment we get up until we return home in the evening and by then we have enough energy to eat and crash. I am traveling with some sort of strange species of human different from my own. These people actually take down notes and chart out every moment of the day and every destination. They have an affection for Maps and guide books and they consult them often while walking down the street. I wonder at the things they might be missing as they scurry about with their guide books and maps for there are strange and wonder pis people everywhere to behold.<br />
I of course and poking fun at my compadres on this trip, Bill and Linda Epperson and Pauly Carroll. Truth be told without them this ADD boy would probably be wandering aimlessly around the city, enjoying myself, but lost nonetheless. They have made sure that we got places mostly in a timely fashion, because of their organizational skills we have been able to pack in a lot in these few days we have. For instance we have visited Hampton a beautiful little town with rolling hills in narrow streets, which has the distinction of being the home for Keats, one of the most distinguished romantic poets. In that town we also visited the Hampton Hills which is a large beautiful park with a hill that overlooks the city of London. We have taken to boat trips on the Thames River, visiting the famous Cutty Sark ship on one day and on another day we went to the Kew botanical gardens. I thoroughly enjoyed both of these outings. We have seen three plays i.e. the first was A musical about the life of Carole king, the second was Shakespeare's "much ado about nothing", which we saw in the globe theater, and the third was "the tempest."<br />
So to give you an idea of what it might be like for these three companions of mine to travel with me I relate the story: on the day we were to go to Kew Gardens, everyone got up dressed and ready to leave on time. We lock the door and began the two block walk to catch the bus upon arriving at the bus stop, I realized I had left my oyster pass and my wallet at the house. I quickly dashed back to the house running uphill. I used the two keys to unlock the door, remembering folks this is the first time I have been the one to unlock the door and turn off the alarm, I turned both keys and pulled the door, nothing happened. The door did not open I turned the key back the other way and pulled, nothing happened. I turn the key back again and pulled, nothing happened. I am quite anxious by this time wondering if I have set off the alarm, but I couldn't hear any beeping. I decided to run back to the bus station and explain my dilemma. Finally after a breathy explanation and Bill asking me did I use both keys, which I had, Linda said did you try pushing the door? Long pause – no Linda that never entered my mind. Needless to say I ran back the two blocks pushed the door open, turned off the alarm, and retrieved my wallet. I ran back to the bus station and the day could only go uphill from there. I might add that on that particular day my fit bit reached 22,000 steps.House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-33424308210580482322017-07-28T16:25:00.001-07:002017-07-29T12:11:52.672-07:00July 27, day four of my European Vacation You have to understand that I am not a history buff. I just like beautiful things, and interesting people, maybe a good story, but I could care less about when something was built or who built it or what kind of architecture it is. I just know I like it or I don't, it's interesting to look at, or it's not, it moves me or it does not.<br />
On this day my illustrious God around London, (This was supposed to read "guide" not "God." I decided to leave it because thanks to auto check it turned out to be prophetic. You will catch my drift later.) Dr. Bill Epperson, decided I needed to see Big Ben, Westminster Abby, The place where all those people in wigs stand up and yell at each other, and that building where the queen resides. Most of these places you only get to see from the outside as you are not allowed entrance, I'm sure especially these days. You can go to Westminster Abby for evensong without paying a fee, but I bet they pass a plate, at least. If you want to pay 20 pounds you can tour the inside of the Abbey. I decided to pass, although with my previous experiences with the Underground, I certainly considered it, and thought it might bring me good karma. <br />
We did get to go into the part of Westminster Abby where they keep the dead people. That was interesting and old. Don't ask me how old, remember I don't care about dates. However I was pleased to see that the Abbey had A tomb for the plumber that had served them for so many years. Believe you me, a good plumber is hard to come by and I definitely think they deserve a high place in heaven considering they spent so much time in the low places on earth. Can I get an amen and a flush?<br />
At Buckingham palace the queen was apparently at home because the British flag was flying. I'm told that means she is home. Of course the opposite is true when she is away from home and they also turn off all the lights. We didn't get to see her, but I did think I glimpsed a woman high up in one of the windows for just a moment. Could've been the queen or maybe the pale lady from the Underground .<br />
We took some pictures and Bill, Linda, and I discussed all the gold on the arches and the fountain around Buckingham palace, wondering if there was any real gold there to speak of. We all agreed it must not contain real gold or people would be scraping it off and stealing it. How do you like our powers of deduction? It must be because we are in the land of Sherlock Holmes.<br />
As I said before Bill is our illustrious leader and guide on this trip. I know this because he tells me every day. He reminds me daily of his powers to navigate the underground and the overground. His sense of direction and skill with a map is the stuff of legends. Sonnets will be written in his honor and songs will be sung long after he has shed this mortal coil. Linda and I are just lowly servant's humbled to be included on this knights journey. <br />
As Saint Bill lead us boldly forward to Buckingham palace, across the Westminster bridge there suddenly appeared a chink in his armour, as we had been going the wrong direction. He admitted that he had suspected something was amiss earlier, but hid it, I guess in hopes of practicing some dark sorcery in order to make things right and poor Linda and I would be none the wiser and his mistake would not be revealed. Alas that was not the case and we had to turn around and trudge back across the bridge and many steps before we reached our destination. Saint Bill declared this to be his one small mistake and after all true saints must be slightly flawed don't you see. "Yes Bill," Linda and I nodded, "we can see."House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-83587629345637537432017-07-27T16:41:00.000-07:002017-07-27T17:02:29.421-07:00Day Three (I think): European AdventureSo I am behind on this travel blog, but I have an excuse, I don't know what "bloody" day it is. Yes I said "bloody". When in Rome, do as the Romans.<br />
Seriously,though, when I first got off the plane in London, I had no idea of the time. My Fitbit was worthless, my cell phone was still on Orlando time. Also I was jet lagged and a stranger in a strange land.<br />
I got through customs without a hitch, but I did take off my "Make America Great Again Hat," before getting in line. I asked someone what time it was and though I was fairly certain of the day, I still figured I should ask. "July 26th," he tells me, then he adds "good day mate," and now I'm wondering...am I in London or Austrailia? <br />
After that I manage to catch a train to my first destination London, Victoria. Then it was time to go to the Underground. It should be called Dante's Underground because as I struggled with three bags, jet-lagged and sleep deprived, I couldn't help thinking I was entering levels of hell. <br />
My first mishap was forgetting that I was supposed to request an Oyster pass to ride the rails the entire time in London. Instead I gave the very nice lady the wrong final destination, before I am to switch to a bus. She gives me my one way ticket and off I go.<br />
While riding on the Underground I had time to figure out my mistake so when I arrived several stops short of my destination, I climbed out of Hades and a very helpful young man, who called me sir, assisted me in getting an Oyster pass. <br />
So back down, down to hell I go. I approach a very pale lady for assistance to get on the correct underground. When I say pale, I mean ghostly. I am wondering if she is a guide and lives below guiding all we lost souls through the circles of hell, then I realized later, nearly everyone is pale, because the dang sun rarely shines. Anyway, this very friendly ghost pointed me in the direction I should go, after I told her I was going towards Cockfosters. Don't you just love the way that sounds, Aycock is going to Cockfosters?<br />
I am settled in, feeling quite proud of myself and feeling really swell about these lovely Brits, when I start examining the track route above my head, reading the names of all the stops before I reach where I'm to get out and catch a bus and none of those names are being called out, but names of stops leading away from Cockfosters are quite familiar. It's then I realize my pale guide had taken me to the wrong side of the Underground by mistake, or was it a mistake? Maybe this is what hell is, an endless ride on an underground train with the promise of an adventure that never really reaches your destination. Key up Twilight Zone music. <br />
I exited the next stop and fortunately, wasn't too far out from my destination and made it to where I would switch to a bus.<br />
Above ground I was greeted with sunshine and headed to the stop to catch th bus as I had been instructed by friends I was meeting. I was feeling a load had lifted and the clouds had literally parted. I stepped on the bus, with my Oyster pass and told the driver my destination and he told me to go to the other side of the street to that bus stop. Still lugging those damn 3 bags, I crossed the street. Stepping on that bus and informing him of my destination he pointed a long bony finger across the street. I explained my dilemma and he told me to just give the name of the pub next to the street to which I'm headed. I had been giving them the street name and the pub, which was a landmark I had been given by my friends, apparently bus drivers do better with pub names than streets in London. Not sure if that gives me confidence in the drivers or not. I was just glad to be seated and on my way. As I reflected on my journey, I smiled thinking about Dante and how it really did seem like an episode of Twilight Zone, and then at that moment it happened, just as the bus was braking to let me off by the Maid of Muswell Pub, I saw the pale woman from the underground standing on the sidewalk waving as we passed. I quickly got off the bus and looke back across the street and there was no sign of her. I looked up the street in the direction of where my friends were waiting for my arrival and probably a bit worried and then I looked towards the pub, took out my wallet and entered.<br />
<br />House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-91493639359965819682017-07-25T12:24:00.002-07:002017-07-27T14:42:33.654-07:00Day Two: Scott's Excellent Adventure So I'm leaving for London Tuesday at 9:55 PM, but until I leave I'm
staying with friends Paully Carroll and Priss Yotter in Orlando,
Florida. They are two of three identical triplets.<br />
This morning I'm having a cup of coffee and a bowl of flax cereal and looking out the window at the backyard of Priss's home. <br />
Have
you ever eaten flax cereal? Well, if you have not you might just try
cutting up some cardboard in milk. After two bites I thought this needs
something so I scoured the refrigerator and found a bag of organic
pumpkin seeds and threw a handful in the cereal. That did add a little
crunch, But now I just had crunchy cardboard. So then I looked up in the
cabinet and found some cashew nuts and added them. Salt free, I might
add. Now we're talking, because I like cashew nuts, so I added some
more and ate a couple of bites and decided to add some more. Pretty soon
the cashew nuts outnumbered the flax flakes, but it needed something
sweet, so I added half a banana and that seemed to do the trick, giving
me the right combination of health and flavor. <br />
Then while
finishing my coffee I watched two lizards through the window sneaking up
on a horsefly and finally attacking it. I thought for sure the horsefly
was a goner, but he held his own and got away. <br />
I then settled
in to read a book that my wife Marge recommended, the Education of
Little Tree by Forrest Carter. I can't believe I've never read this
book. What a wonderful read. <br />
Pauly came over around noon and we
headed to Cape Canaveral to hang out on the beach and do some boogie
board. I was careful to lather myself with enough suntan lotion to
keep a vampire alive in the sun. However I discovered much too late that
I forgot to put lotion on the top of my feet. My feet are now as red
as a baboons butt and almost as painful to look at. The only thing I
had to put on them was apple cider vinegar. I'm assuming vinegar is a
cure for anything at least that's what my grandfather believed, so why
not give it a try. <br />
Tomorrow they are taking me to some alligator
park where they have told me be prepared to step over some alligators. I
think I will wear long pants. I don't have any boots. Rick Steves told
me to just bring comfortable walking shoes and sandals. Damn him!House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-35061012098945276232015-04-19T14:58:00.001-07:002015-04-19T14:58:13.985-07:00Playing with Poems on Parchment. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Cecil</div>
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Red Ryder Rifle</div>
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<br />House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-75331452375831514432014-04-22T07:55:00.003-07:002014-04-22T07:55:48.924-07:00Live in-studio performance and interview with Ray Bonneville with special guest Little Joe McLerran. <script id='prx-p116526-embed' src='http://www.prx.org/p/116526/embed.js?size=full'></script>
House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-56270082068697889242014-04-15T10:58:00.002-07:002014-04-15T10:58:11.217-07:00Putting the "folk" back in Folk Salad.<script id='prx-p115795-embed' src='http://www.prx.org/p/115795/embed.js?size=full'></script>
House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-46235261213004002032014-04-09T07:54:00.003-07:002014-04-09T11:13:35.174-07:00All Aboard; making sense where there is none. My brother, Joe, gave me a journal in 1982, which began as a dream journal, but since I rarely remember my dreams, it became another well-intentioned, but unrealized endeavor, of which, sadly I could fill up a journal. Today on our back porch with a fire in the stove and rain on the horizon, I returned to that journal and began to write and this is what leapt from my pen. Okay, leapt is not exactly right because spell check has underlined it with one of those squiggly red lines, and we all know that spell check has the final word. Right? Plus I am prone to exaggeration, being a southerner, and like any southerner "worth his weight in salt," why let the truth get in the way of a good story? Anyway, thanks Joe for your belief and appreciation for my gifts, in which, I must confess others have had far more confidence and faith, than I. <br />
<br />
Okay, so where was I? Oh yeah, what follows didn't exactly leap from my pen, but it came rather easily because, well I needed to write. After writing a good portion of the afternoon, and sharing with my dear wife, she suggested I begin a blog with today's entry. I reminded her that I already have a blog, and she reminded me that the only thing I ever post is the radio show. A program that Richard Higgs and I co-host on KWGS, Sunday nights at 7pm. In case you missed that obvious plug for our show, that was an obvious plug for our show. Anyway, after a brief discussion where I questioned the merits of one more person writing one more blog thinking they have something important to say that others should want to read, I conceded, because that is usually what I do in these situations regarding my wife, and secondly, I am vain enough to think I might have something worthwhile to say and truthfully, I believe everyone has something worthwhile to share with the world, and hey folks can read it or not, it's a free world and my feelings aren't going to be hurt. Okay, that is not entirely true, it might hurt my feelings a little, but I promise I won't lose sleep. Whew! Now that I have wasted your time with all my self-conscious ramblings, maybe I should get to my actual journal entry today.<br />
<br />
I sometimes am granted a bit of clarity, but mostly I think we all are walking around in a partly cloudy haze and clarity is just a matter of degrees. Right now, in this moment, I think I am having more than a few moments of clarity, but one man's clarity is another man's mud. Mortality, it seems to me, is ice water thrown in the face of a stubborn, surly adolescent. It shocks awake, but remaining so is far more difficult. Are you still awake?<br />
<br />
Attending church today at Trinity Episcopal, the Gospel lesson was about this very thing, being awake or awakened. We looked at John's beautiful telling of the Lazarus story. It is rich in detail, as is so much of John's Gospel. <br />
<br />
In it we are told that upon receiving word that Lazarus was sick, Jesus tells the disciples he wishes to return to Judea, where the Jews had just tried to stone him. He chooses to put his life in danger for his friend, whom he deeply loves. Also, at this time, Jesus is already aware that Lazarus has died, so he tells the disciples he's going there to "awaken Lazarus from sleep." Then he tells them, plainly, that Lazarus has died.<br />
<br />
Arriving in Judea he finds Lazarus had been dead in the tomb already for four days. At some point Mary, sister of Lazarus comes to Jesus along with a group of folks who were in mourning with her. All are weeping and we are told that Jesus is so moved that he weeps. <br />
<br />
Here, I will digress for a moment to say that I have always found those two words of the Gospel, "Jesus wept," the most meaningful. In those two words, conveyed to me is a God who is fully human, and understanding of the complexity of human emotions. He is a God of love and empathy. For though, in his heart of hearts he knew the miracle that was to come, he did not dismiss the emotions of the moment and the grief that he felt in those whom he loved. Jesus was always rooted in the present, regardless of what he knew or didn't know of his destiny. <br />
<br />
Ok, back to the story. Jesus has them take him to the tomb and once there he has them remove the stone at the entryway. Already there is "the stench of decay," we are told. Jesus thanks his Father and cries out, "Lazarus, come out!" At this, the dead man comes out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus calls out, "unbind him and let him go." Wow! What a story. <br />
<br />
In her sermon, our priest made an interesting observation that she posed as a question, "what was that like for Lazarus?" I mean we get a sense of what it was like for the crowd, because as we read or hear this story, we are the crowd and we feel the sorrow, but also the anticipation, the wonder, and the relief, but was it the same for Lazarus?<br />
<br />
I mean, he has to be thinking, "Holy shit, what just happened?" Since we are not told much about Lazarus reaction to being raised from the dead, I think God will be ok if we play around with filling in the blanks and see what good comes of it.<br />
<br />
So, here is what I'm thinking, I was taught that heaven is a place of eternal, endless, perfect love, where we will reside with all the saints who have come before and after for eternity. It is a place where, hearts, minds and bodies will be made whole and a place of great joy. Also, I was taught that we arrive in heaven upon our death, so that means Lazarus had already been in heaven four days our time. Not sure how long that is in dog time and certainly don't know how long that is in God time. Ever notice that God spelled backwards is dog, and that both God and dogs are attributed with unconditional love? Just saying. <br />
<br />
Now, back to where I was going with this. So one might imagine that Lazarus is in shock, standing there with the gradual dawning of where he is, and what he just left, he might be thinking, "what the hell? Not this place again." He might even think he was in hell, and feel like the rug had been yanked out from under him. I can just see the little cartoon thought cloud over his head as they remove the cloth from his head, reading, "leftovers again, I was just sitting down to a feast." I mean, remember the adolescent I mentioned earlier, well Lazarus is the teenager, pleasantly dreaming and a parent just tossed a glass of ice water in his face. Yikes!<br />
<br />
Now that may seem cruel, but having experienced ice water on more than one occasion at the hand of my dear grandmother, who raised me, I can say with certainty, that woman was not cruel and was devoted to me.<br />
<br />
Alright, so I know I have taken this story way out on a limb, but I promise to only bend it a little. No trees or faith will be harmed in the process.<br />
<br />
So what can we learn from this story or should I say, "I learn" from this story, since you are free to find your own meaning?<br />
<br />
Well as I have already indicated, it's a story that points to Jesus humanity and our universal capacity for grief. It is also a "miracle story" revealing the power and glory of God through the great faith of Jesus. Still not sure Lazarus saw it that way, but nevertheless to me, as an observer in the audience it's pretty astonishing and I can hear the teenager in me declaring "awesome!"<br />
<br />
Now here is what I love about the Bible and the multi-layered truth found in its pages, even if I don't take everything literally, it is a living Word; meaning, wisdom, comfort and sometimes needed discomfort, speak to me from those pages. Often there are consistent messages of love and forgiveness and at other times I receive a whole new meaning in addition as I "evolve", yes, sorry, my fundamentalist brethren, I did say "evolve," but please don't get hung up on the word. I do not think I am a monkey, though my wife might disagree. <br />
<br />
Where was I?<br />
<br />
Oh, so I'm listening to the Gospel reading and then later to our priest’s sermon and thinking about "death," because, well, the story is about someone who died and death has, of late, been more on my mind. <br />
<br />
It started two years ago when I had the "widow maker" on Valentine's Day. You don't need me to spell out the irony of that. I survived, as you can see, thanks to science and God. That should satisfy everyone. <br />
<br />
Two stents later, congestive heart failure and trauma-induced diabetes II, I am not exactly bouncing back, but I would say my recovery, though not on the same level as Lazarus, was still quite remarkable. Within a year I was back working out 4-5 times a week, riding my bike to work, playing racquetball once a week and beating my long time racket buddy 90% of the time, unless you ask him. Within two years I'm sailing along controlling my diabetes without medicine and my cholesterol levels, with the use of medicine, were lowered to a level that, for me, was unprecedented. Then, remember that "rug" I talked about earlier, well it was yanked out from under me. I get the results of my echo cardiogram and I had my Lazarus moment, well sort of. "What the hell? This is messed up. This can't be right." My score had fallen from 45 to 25 in a little less than two years. What that means to you laymen, or should I say, "you lucky bastards that haven't had a heart attack," it means the heart ain't what she used to be. It's pumping, but at a quarter of what it was doing. Ok, a quarter is probably not right either, you numbers guys can do the math, I'm a poet. Here's how I would put it. It's the difference between a 16 year old hard on and an 82 year old erection, that is, before Viagra. It's working, just not up to speed. <br />
<br />
So now I'm standing there with Lazarus going, "Not again. Do I have it in me?" I mean I was just getting comfortable with the illusion of living forever again. Well not really, because once you have encountered near death, or been touched by death in some real way, there's on illusion, there is just suppression or acceptance, or both. Notice I said suppression, not denial. Denial is no longer possible; suppression is the best you can hope for if denial is what you are after. Frankly I think most people are like me and it's a little of both, suppression and acceptance and any of you who say different, well you are in denial. <br />
<br />
Seriously, I question the honesty of anyone who says I'm totally at peace with my maker and I accept whatever happens, even embrace it. Whoa, now I know you are lying. I mean I will give you that there's maybe a grudging acceptance at some point, sort of like a child being urged by a loving parent to try something completely foreign or even scary to them. The parent knows it's inevitably an experience they will have to encounter, so the kid is like "I don't wanna, but if you say so." I also take some comfort in that, in most instances the parent wasn't lying and it, whatever it was that we feared, turned out to be quite fun. "Okay dad, you were right, swimming is fun."<br />
<br />
Now for me, acceptance is a process, about which I could wax poetic, but death is bored and yawning already, and saying, "Frankly, I don't give a damn," and so he, she, it doesn't, give a damn that is. <br />
<br />
Now before any of my dear Christian brethren go ballistic on me, I'm not saying God doesn't give a damn. Quite the contrary. I mean, I believe God cares very much, otherwise, he wouldn't be promising eternal love, and joy, and a bunch of virgins (provided you are Muslim and I think martyrdom is also a requirement). <br />
<br />
You see I believe the promise and believe, after death, I will be surrounded by love and some great music, but I have that now, so kill me if I'm not that anxious to leave. Ok, grant it, in addition, God promises all that multiplied 100 times, and no sickness or suffering. You can't get that here, so put that in your pipe and smoke it. Not really, unless you live in Colorado. <br />
<br />
Anyway, I'm being silly now, as well as off track. I know this is a little confusing, but I must say the past few weeks have left me a little dazed, so be patient. <br />
<br />
I'm aware that I may be coming across in a contradictory way. I prefer "paradoxical." I mean it was good enough for our Lord. However, I'm just trying to make sense and isn't that, after all, what we are all doing all the time, and maybe even what we were placed on this earth to do; if you believe that sort of thing, and I do. I don't think we are put here to make that right meaning, because who knows? Don't tell me your preacher, because your preacher might be that guy who shows up to protest military funerals and yell "this is god's curse on you because god hates queers." <br />
<br />
I think we are here to try to make the best meaning, the one that leads to more love, more light, more grace.<br />
<br />
God says, "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life" and for many, the Bible points to the Way, the Truth and the Life, and contains within its pages the possibility of answering all of life's important questions. I agree, but, in my opinion, we just think we keep asking the wrong questions.<br />
<br />
Remember when I said, it's a "process" or "journey" if you prefer, well I believe it's a journey where everything we ever needed, hoped, or longed for; everything we ever imagined possible is placed on the train, but we think the destination is the thing. So we ride along getting just enough glimpses of paradise to build anticipation and increase longing, but we are counting on the arrival to be the great unveiling and for some, perhaps even the great escape. I have no doubt that because they do, it will be so, but only because enough of the layers of mud from this world with all our pretensions, our self-absorbed obsessions, and our utter and complete failure to accept that we are loved unconditionally by a loving father, mother, presence, whatever. And, yes, had we eyes to see, we would have to know that the journey and the destination are one in the same. God was sitting next to me on the bench, punched my ticket, drove the train, and shared a meal. We would know that everything we needed and wanted was always right there on the train all along, and no luggage had been sent ahead or left behind. All aboard!House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-79715997651951214222014-04-08T17:41:00.000-07:002014-04-08T17:42:17.015-07:00We are serving up soul salad on this addition Folk Salad with a special emphasis on Stax Volt Soul out of Memphis.<script id='prx-p115155-embed' src='http://www.prx.org/p/115155/embed.js?size=full'></script>
House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-43169541139994198322014-04-03T07:52:00.003-07:002014-04-03T07:52:43.305-07:00Folk Salad pays tribute to hometown hero Tex Montana. May she rock on.<script id='prx-p114630-embed' src='http://www.prx.org/p/114630/embed.js?size=full'></script>
House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-90580614786725798722014-03-27T19:35:00.002-07:002014-03-27T19:35:09.750-07:00Eclectic show with new cuts from Chuck Meade of BR549 and cuts from The Beatles- Live at the BBC<script id='prx-p113335-embed' src='http://www.prx.org/p/113335/embed.js?size=full'></script>
House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-89011063781388076982014-03-14T08:51:00.001-07:002014-03-14T08:51:32.552-07:00Just some things we have been enjoying listening to on Folk Salad.<script id='prx-p112783-embed' src='http://www.prx.org/p/112783/embed.js?size=full'></script>
House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-70102034841245076482014-03-06T07:24:00.004-08:002014-03-06T07:24:57.677-08:00We take a trip to Austin Texas for some vintage Austin music. <script id='prx-p112251-embed' src='http://www.prx.org/p/112251/embed.js?size=full'></script>
House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-90809313403322869722014-02-26T21:08:00.003-08:002014-02-26T21:08:43.946-08:00All local, home grown artists on Folk Salad. Artists like Tom Skinner and Jeff Graham, as well as an in-studio performance and interview with Brandon Jenkins. He has a new solo acoustic album coming out.<script id='prx-p111574-embed' src='http://www.prx.org/p/111574/embed.js?size=full'></script>
House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-2975089252971570682014-02-19T07:31:00.003-08:002014-02-19T07:31:20.381-08:00It's Valentines on Folk Salad and Richard Higgs and myself invited our wives to join us on Folk Salad to co-host and bring in some of their favorite love songs. <script id='prx-p111070-embed' src='http://www.prx.org/p/111070/embed.js?size=full'></script>
House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-39829824396635088092014-02-19T07:18:00.000-08:002014-02-19T07:18:00.494-08:00We kick off the show with a tribute to Pete Seeger and then continue with some of our favorite singer/songwriters. The angel choir now has a banjo player and a saint.<script id='prx-p110714-embed' src='http://www.prx.org/p/110714/embed.js?size=full'></script>
House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-65117836483809126602014-02-07T13:16:00.003-08:002014-02-07T13:16:41.076-08:00Roots rock is the flavor on Folk Salad tonight. <script id='prx-p110213-embed' src='http://www.prx.org/p/110213/embed.js?size=full'></script>
House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-30704913459238025592014-01-30T07:39:00.002-08:002014-01-30T07:39:14.179-08:00Just a lot of songs we just love tossed together in the Salad. <script id='prx-p109730-embed' src='http://www.prx.org/p/109730/embed.js?size=full'></script>
House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-44049373398828890082014-01-23T10:45:00.001-08:002014-01-23T10:45:03.028-08:00Vintage Red Dirt music with this serving of Folk Salad.<script id='prx-p109062-embed' src='http://www.prx.org/p/109062/embed.js?size=full'></script>
House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-78140901329478824052014-01-15T20:40:00.003-08:002014-01-15T20:40:55.483-08:00Happy New Year on Folk Salad. It's out with the old and in with the new. <script id='prx-p108661-embed' src='http://www.prx.org/p/108661/embed.js?size=full'></script>
House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4163259493264448049.post-76419972820107877552014-01-09T07:13:00.001-08:002014-01-09T07:13:07.118-08:00Lots of great music from some of our favorite singer/songwriters. Samantha Crain kicks it off.<script id='prx-p108427-embed' src='http://www.prx.org/p/108427/embed.js?size=full'></script>
House Concerts Unlimitedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14636400344275921364noreply@blogger.com0