Tag Archives: story teller

The Gambler and Me.

For me, it was a Greyhound Bus Station in St. Petersburg, the one in Florida not Russia around 1974. And as I sat there listing to the bombardment of departure announcements, busses now departing for all places north, south, east, and west, and I thought and many places in between. This old gentleman came over and sat down next to me. We listen together for a few minutes and then he looked over at me and said “I’m not going anywhere myself, I’m just resting.  “

 

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Longing

Once upon a time

As the story is told

we happened

Knowing our love

would never grow old

No Soft-spoken whispers

Just cries of longing

Taking each other by storm

For once feeling like belonging

In all our desperate cries

Of yearning

We knew our time

Would not last for long

For like the summers burning

One would soon be gone

We threw off the guides

And let go the tether

Making the most

Of our fleeting

Summers together.

SAD Winter

The trivia question for this week is, What Beatles sad song became their 20th and last number-one song in the United States? This was in June 1970 and was the last single they released as a group.

This is not just about me. I’m fortunate enough to have a relatively mild form of what is commonly referred to as SAD. SAD—seasonal affective disorder—is also known as winter depression or winter blues, but it can happen to some people in summer. it’s a mood disorder in which people who have normal mental health throughout most of the year experience depressive symptoms, usually at the same time each year and most commonly in the winter. From 4 to 6 percent have winter depression and another 10 to 20 percent have mild SAD. SAD is four times more common in women than in men. Although some children and teenagers get SAD, it usually doesn’t start in people younger than age 20. Your chance of getting SAD goes down as you get older. If you know someone who suffers from seasonal affective disorder, try to understand that it is recognized as a legitimate form of depression and that when dealing with those who do suffer from it, it’s real. I worked with a woman once who had it to such a degree that she would start crying at any given moment for no apparent reason. Thankfully, I am not that bad.

September begins the moody season for me, although some people who know me would say my moody season is every season, just different to some measure, and I guess I would have to agree. I would add, however, that my moods take a definite uptick in spring as my hope does spring eternal, at least until mid- to late-August when I realize September is lurking just around the corner. If September comes, can winter be far behind?

Although experts were initially skeptical, this condition is now recognized as a common disorder. SAD’s prevalence in the U.S. also varies with geography and increases as you go further north, ranging from 1.4 percent in Florida to 9.9 percent in Alaska.  A lot of causes have been proposed, and one study looked at whether some people could be predisposed to SAD based on personality traits such as high levels of neuroticism, agreeableness, openness, and avoidance-oriented coping disorders.

I love watching football. I played football from around the age of 8 through college. Until the last two years of my college days, I lived in a cold climate, and I sometimes wonder if my love of the game and my desire to smash into another human being “hell bent for leather,” as my old football coach use to say (and in those days it was leather) had anything to do with my general disagreeableness in winter. I wonder if I had lived in Florida, would I have preferred croquet or perhaps dashing about the green lawn in my tennis shorts under the palm trees for a bit of badminton perhaps.

At this very moment, I could probably program an entire 4 hours of radio music with nothing but sad tunes such as Elton John’s “Sad Songs (Say So Much).”

I’ll have a little more on SAD, some rock and roll news and history, and the answer to the trivia question in the podcast. I hope you join me on the shores of Rambling Harbor.

 

Click Below For The Shores Of Rambling Harbor

The Poet, Not the Politician. Please Pass the Idiom.

Connors and Brooksby farms S3ptember 2015 020 goatMy mother regularly used the expression you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, an expression I’m sure most of us have heard in one form or another. Its general meaning is that you can’t make something good out of something bad.

I’ve been thinking about idioms lately and where that particular one originated and discovered there’s a lot of conjecturing as to just where it did begin. The range is someplace between the devil and the deep blue sea, from the dying words of Hamlet to the Reverend Jonathan Swift in 1801, but an English satirist named Stephen Gosson seems to have made a like statement centuries earlier in The Ephemerides of Phialo in 1579. But one thing I do know for certain is that my mother used it time and time again. Usually, when I wanted something better than what I had.

I have also decided that you cannot make a political essayist out of a poet, at least not a happy poet. I have spent the last few months primarily writing about politics and particularly about my disdain for and fear of Donald Trump who might possibly become president of our country. To be perfectly clear about this, I have in no way tried to make a silk purse out of him and would never insult a pig by any comparison.

In my attempt to convey how I feel about this demon who struts and frets his hour upon the stage, I have all but lost track of who I am. I am a person with a proclivity for poetry, prose, poems, promulgation, and apparently alliteration, and that seems to make me happy as a clam. (If you’re wondering why clams are happy, this may shed some light on that. The original version is “as happy as a clam at high water.” Hide tide is when clams are free from predators.)

My politics are similar to my religion. I consider myself a spiritual person but almost never go to church, but I pay attention and I do pray. I consider myself a political person but never campaign for anyone, but I pay attention and I do vote.

In last week’s podcast, I had a meltdown. As I said then, I was sick of self-obsessing about Donald Trump, and it was true then and it rings truer now. I also realize that mostly I am preaching to the choir because most of my readers already agree with me and the ones who don’t have left me high and dry. (The phrase “preaching to the choir” probably had its origin as “preaching to the converted,” first cited in the works of John Stuart Mill. He used the phrase in An Examination of Sir W. Hamilton’s Philosophy, 1867.)

Now as we approach the eleventh hour of the political process, I have decided to let sleeping dogs lie and return to the poetry, prose, music-loving, storytelling person I am and have my blogs and podcast be what I have always intended them to be, informative and fun. I hope and pray and will vote that Donald Trump is here today and gone tomorrow.

On the shores of Rambling Harbor, there will be a few more idle thoughts on one thing or another and some rock and roll history, but of course, that’s not carved in stone. I hope you’ll join me there.This way to the shores of Rambling Harbor

Copyright © 2016 Daniel (Dan) Sanders. All rights