Woodstock

The Retro channel played the Woodstock documentary tonight.  I used to think I would have loved to have been there if I was ten years older.  After watching the film for the first time in a long time, I'm not so sure now.  The music was unbelievable, but the crap going on out in the fields would have been tough to put up with.  Humanity.  You have to take the bad with the good.  Guess that will never change, will it?  Far out, man.

Winter Sucks!

That's pretty much it.  At least the Seahawks won and the Husky basketball team did, too.  The sun is supposed to make another appearance Wednesday.  

                                            Hiking today.

The Big Five-O

Forty was just a number.  For some reason fifty seems more serious.  A half-century.  Maybe it's partly because I can still remember when my grandparents were at the age I am now.  It is a cliche to say I don't feel fifty, but it doesn't make it any less true.  I definitely thought I would be more mature at this age.  Fart sounds and well-timed "That's-what-she-said!" jokes still crack me up.  I can still happily watch South Park or Beevis and Butthead when I'm in the right mood for it.  I still have problems with authority or perceived authority. 

I was lucky enough to spend yesterday with my best friend, Mick and his family.  I spent the better part of today with part of my family.  It's nice to be around people I've known for over thirty years.  It's relaxing to be with folks who have seen me at my best and worst and still put up with it all.

When I was younger, I didn't think I would make it to thirty.  Now it's twenty years past that point, knowing I should be getting reading glasses, receiving mail from AARP, and talking about surgeries and aching body parts.  Being single at fifty just plain isn't much fun.  The idea of being with someone else who would be trying to tell me what's wrong with me while trying to change me into who they think they want has no appeal, either.

The best I can come up with right now is that turning fifty is still more appealing than not turning fifty.  It sort of feels like being in a car or on a train and realizing the brakes don't work.

  

Coming Down

I've been coaching basketball now for more than 30 years.  I still love the laser-like focus I get during a close game.  The rest of the world disappears, it's just me, the players, the refs, and maybe the other coach.  After all these years it still takes hours to let go after the game has played out and everyone's headed home.

Tonight was one of the few times I've had to coach both teams.  The first game we won by a basket, the second we lost by a basket.  The second game finished about four hours ago, and I'm just now beginning to ease off a little.

One of the things that definitely helps is music.  After so much time and so many different artists, my two favorite musicians are still the guys who were my favorites when I was a teenager - Jimi Hendrix and Keith Richards.

I flirted with playing the guitar for a while, but it didn't take too long to realize that these two hands were not made for playing the kind of music I had hoped to produce.  It's ironic that although I hold pencils, pens, and paper clips all day, my hands look like the were made to turn wrenches, something I definitely inherited from the old man.

I can't even type efficiently to this day.  My fingers are often dyslexic.  Reading has always been easy for me, but the fingers still insist on reversing letter orders.  So tonight I've been slowly coming down, listening to old Stones, Hendrix, and Maytals tunes, and now struggling my way through typing this roundabout stream of semi-consciousness.

Good night.  Soon, I hope.

Soul Fishing

This is a post I meant to do earlier.

I had recently guided a gentleman from Texas and two of his sons.  The place I took them to was one I wouldn't take local clients.  It could be spoiled too easily.

We had a good talk about favorite rivers.  Sometimes it's not an entire stream, but a certain run on a given river that has an almost indescribable quality that keeps you coming back for more.

There are just some places that reach a little deeper than most.   I call this soul fishing, a term I stole from "soul boarding" which is snow boarding in true, deep, light powder.

After fishing these soulful spots I have always come back happier than when I left, often with a feeling that transcends mere happiness.

Here are a few pictures from one such stream of soul.