Smoke On The Wind

How can a memory be so hard to take?

So hard to take that you can’t remember

So hard to remember that you can’t take it

How can a memory be so forgotten?

So buried under layers of life

So lifeless yet burning away

How can a memory be so elusive?

So untraceable you don’t know where to start

So puzzling without all the parts

And why are some memories so frightful

And others so delightful

Some are imprinted so we never forget

Some are like smoke on the wind

So promise me the memory is there

That I can search and destroy it’s hold

But through all the layers of me

It’s so hard to see it

Yet I feel the memory burning

I smell the smoke on the wind

Is It Because I'm Tired?

Is it because I’m tired

That I’m feeling very nostalgic,

And longing for a time

When I didn’t have to care

About all those grownup things,

And all we had to worry about

Is what game we’d play today,

Or what time is dinner,

Or waiting for the 3 o’clock school bell to ring –

And I remember that some of it was painful

But I go back anyway

And I remember that some of it was scary

But I go back anyway

And some of what I remember

I try to forget

And still I’m drawn to that time

When I could have been anything

But came out slightly damaged

And I go back anyway

And I love those days

And I’m feeling very nostalgic

Is it because I’m tired

Ralphie

R.I.P. Emma The WeinerDog

                          Dec. 26, 1998 - May 7, 2015

Quiet On The Porch

Secret fog clinging to trees

  Feels like winter now  

Ralphie                                                                                                                            

Emma T. WienerDog

A listener asked for more photos of Emma The WienerDog. Her full name is Emmapajama von Schnizengruben.

Emma will be 16 the day after Christmas!

Here is Emma the day we brought her home!

And here in her golden years!

                   Basking in the sun...do you see a pattern?

She is still very active, but kinda senile, which can be sad and funny all at the same time.

Emma used to be on the radio , joining me on the air when I worked 7 to midnight. She has many fans around the world!

In her later years she has turned her back on showbiz…I’m ready for my close-up Mr. Demille…

Emma’s favorite things are:

Food

Treats

Food

A sunny spot to sleep

Food

A warm bed with lots of blankies

Treats  

And

Food

In that order!

That's all for now!

Ralphie

Requiescat In Pace

I’m sitting in the Felton cemetery…it’s an old cemetery, with dates going back to the 1800’s. It’s quiet and interesting and I like coming here because there’s no one around…well, no one who is going to bother me!

I’m sitting here looking out at all the markers, some fancy, some not so much. Most are very old, some more recent.

There’s gonna be two dates on your tombstone, everyone will read ‘em

All that’s gonna matter is the little dash between ‘em

Some of the markers are tilting, others have fallen over. Some are so old you can’t even read them. Some are gone, leaving no trace…

The grass is dead, the weeds are overgrown…it looks like a movie set. That’s why I like it…it’s very surreal, and very peaceful.

It’s hard not to think about the people here who died so long ago. Looking out at the various markers, which acknowledge that this person existed and for this long, I wonder about all these people…

All the lonely people, where do they all come from…

I wonder about their lives, their loves, joys, triumphs and sorrows. I wonder about their hopes and dreams, desires, faults...about their concerns, successes, failures. Real people who lived and breathed and had families.

Did the family breakdown as they came here to bury their loved one, or were they stoic?

Did they die with regrets? I think everyone has some regrets, no matter what they say. If I died right now, I’d have a few…

But then again, too few to mention…

That would be ironic if I died right now, being in a cemetery and all…

I find myself wondering how many of these people suffered; suffered from physical or mental disease. How many suffered from depression, or were bi-polar, back before they even knew what it was! A scarey thought!

Were they poor? Did they live well? Were they born here? Did they go to church? Where did they work? Would I have liked them? Would they have liked me? Did they even have families to miss them?

I sit here and I think all this, as the wind blows through the trees, and I feel a little sad.

As I look out across this old cemetery, I can almost see a family gathered ‘round a grave, with someone singing Amazing Grace, and I know that someday they’ll be gathered ‘round for me.

That sounds like a song…I’ll work on it!

Ralphie