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Before the Deluge
Jackson Brown

Some of them were dreamers
And some of them were fools
Who were making plans and thinking of the future
With the energy of the innocent
They were gathering the tools
They would need to make their journey back to nature
While the sand slipped through the opening
And their hands reached for the golden ring
With their hearts they turned to each other's hearts for refuge
In the troubled years that came before the deluge

Some of them knew pleasure
And some of them knew pain
And for some of them it was only the moment that mattered
And on the brave and crazy wings of youth
They went flying around in the rain
And their feathers, once so fine, grew torn and tattered
And in the end they traded their tired wings
For the resignation that living brings
And exchanged love's bright and fragile glow
For the glitter and the rouge
And in a moment they were swept before the deluge

Let the music keep our spirits high
Let the buildings keep our children dry
Let creation reveal its secrets by and by, by and by
When the light that's lost within us reaches the sky

Some of them were angry
At the way the earth was abused
By the men who learned how to forge her beauty into power
And they struggled to protect her from them
Only to be confused
By the magnitude of her fury in the final hour
And when the sand was gone and the time arrived
In the naked dawn only a few survived
And in attempts to understand a thing so simple and so huge
Believed that they were meant to live after the deluge

Let the music keep our spirits high
Let the buildings keep our children dry
Let creation reveal it's secrets by and by, by and by
When the light that's lost within us reaches the sky

Thank you, Rex, for those two songs. Cat Stevens and Jackson Brown know how to sing and to write, I think. Yes, my friend, where do children play?

Here's an interesting wilderness item that reminds me of Dys and Diane's latest adventure:

Giant Waterfall Discovered in Calif. Park
By KATHLEEN HENNESSEY, Associated Press Writer Fri Aug 12, 7:59 AM ET
WHISKEYTOWN, Calif. - Dick McDermott knows these parts as well as any man can. But McDermott says he's never laid eyes on the nearly 400-foot waterfall that park officials recently discovered in a remote corner of the Whiskeytown National Recreation Area, 43,000 acres of wilderness in northern California.

The 92-year-old used to earn a meager living mining the creeks that meander through the deeply wooded hills. He has slogged through the brush and hiked overgrown logging roads, hunting deer and gathering wood for his homemade fiddles.
"Sure, I was surprised," he said from his home in the park, where he's lived for more than 70 years. "I've been all around that place, I never seen 'em."
Until recently, very few had seen the roaring water that tumbles three tiers before pouring neatly into Crystal Creek. That such a spectacle should evade even park officials for nearly 40 years is remarkable, said park superintendent Jim Milestone.
"It wasn't on a map, no one on the trail crew knew about it. People who been here 27 years had never seen it," said Milestone, who is leading an effort to clear a trail to the newly named Whiskeytown Falls. It's expected to be finished by next summer.
There's no doubt the falls have had visitors over the years. The Wintu Indians were probably the first, although archeologists have so far found no traces on the site. A small band of loggers that harvested Douglas firs in the early 1950s left behind a choker cable and part of a bulldozer. A knife blade stuck in a nearby tree indicates that others have also made the trek.
But for park officials, the falls were merely a rumor for many years, said Russ Weatherbee, the wildlife biologist credited with the find.
A couple years ago, Weatherbee was cleaning out a cabinet of old maps when he stumbled across one from the 1960s marked with a note reading "Whiskeytown falls" near Crystal Creek.
"I just decided to go looking for it. But I went in and hiked up and never found anything," Weatherbee said. The map had been more than a mile off.
In the spring of 2003, he was looking at global imaging system maps on his computer when he saw a stretch in the creek that dropped in altitude quickly with a sliver of white leading through it.
"I thought, 'That looks like white water to me,'" he said.
Since Weatherbee's discovery, a handful of rangers and park guests have made the nearly two-mile hike to the falls. The trek veers off a well-trodden trail and follows an eroding logging road through thick brush and manzanita, an evergreen shrub found in the West.
The falls are best viewed from a spot Milestone calls Artist's Point, where a sweaty hiker can sit and admire the rushing water from a rocky jut. Milestone said he wants to bring groups of painters there for inspiration.
He also hopes Whiskeytown Falls will draw other people past the park's popular lake ?- a favorite for boaters and water-skiers ?- and into the woods.
Not surprisingly, however, there are some who would prefer the falls remain a secret. Milestone has even received an anonymous letter criticizing him for inviting outsiders to overrun the park.
Dave Girard, an avid hiker who lives in Redding, said he's known about the falls for about 10 years and has visited at least twice. He said he doesn't oppose Milestone's efforts to open the falls to visitors because he believes no matter how much hikers like to covet their favorite places, "there's always someone who's been there before you."
From his home on Grizzly Gulch a few miles from the falls' new trailhead, McDermott also said he has no problem with officials trying to draw more people into the park.
There are plenty of natural wonders out there for everybody, he said. For example, he's seen a giant manzanita shrub with a three-foot diameter stump, and he said he may be the only person to know about it.
If park officials want to build a trail to it, however, they're on their own.
"They're going to have find it themselves," he said.

Leonard Cohen - Who By Fire

And who by fire, who by water,
who in the sunshine, who in the night time,
who by high ordeal, who by common trial,
who in your merry merry month of may,
who by very slow decay,
and who shall I say is calling?

And who in her lonely slip, who by barbiturate,
who in these realms of love, who by something blunt,
and who by avalanche, who by powder,
who for his greed, who for his hunger,
and who shall I say is calling?

And who by brave assent, who by accident,
who in solitude, who in this mirror,
who by his lady's command, who by his own hand,
who in mortal chains, who in power,
and who shall I say is calling?

Interesting waterfall, Miss Letty! Can we go skin dip there?
As it's named Whiskey Town, I'll invite Dys.

Wow! Rex. You and edgar have a lot in common, my friend, and one is Leonard Cohen. Great song, but a mite disturbing, no?

Francis, you were absolutely right about Starsky and Hutch. Thanks to our gem of a researcher, Raggedyaggie, I now have the answer to another duo that I had associated with David Soul.

It was Peter Duel and Ben Murphy in Alias Smith and Jones. David Soul was also a part of that TV stuff of yesteryear.

Funny, listeners. I can remember lying in a crib with chicken pox and eating a tangerine, but I can't remember some old TV series. Sheeeeeze.

I like songs with passion and Leonard does it for me...


ALANIS MORISSETTE
"Thank U"

how bout getting off these antibiotics
how bout stopping eating when I'm full up
how bout them transparent dangling carrots
how bout that ever elusive kudo

thank you india
thank you terror
thank you disillusionment
thank you frailty
thank you consequence
thank you thank you silence

how bout me not blaming you for everything
how bout me enjoying the moment for once
how bout how good it feels to finally forgive you
how bout grieving it all one at a time

thank you india
thank you terror
thank you disillusionment
thank you frailty
thank you consequence
thank you thank you silence

the moment I let go of it was the moment
I got more than I could handle
the moment I jumped off of it
was the moment I touched down

how bout no longer being masochistic
how bout remembering your divinity
how bout unabashedly bawling your eyes out
how bout not equating death with stopping

thank you india
thank you providence
thank you disillusionment
thank you nothingness
thank you clarity
thank you thank you silence

Comment:
pure passion and bliss

Thank you Alanis...

Oh, my, Rex. You just touched a nerve with that one. Yes--passion! and damned good advice as well.

And thank you Letty

Francis, believe it or not. that is one thing that I have always wanted to do. There is something about secret waterfalls ----and who would stand under clear and cleansing cascades fully clothed? Only the Baptists. and you, Francis, are no Baptist.<smile>

I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine

I dreamed I saw St. Augustine,
Alive as you or me,
Tearing through these quarters
In the utmost misery,
With a blanket underneath his arm
And a coat of solid gold,
Searching for the very souls
Whom already have been sold.

"Arise, arise," he cried so loud,
In a voice without restraint,
"Come out, ye gifted kings and queens
And hear my sad complaint.
No martyr is among ye now
Whom you can call your own,
So go on your way accordingly
But know you're not alone."

I dreamed I saw St. Augustine,
Alive with fiery breath,
And I dreamed I was amongst the ones
That put him out to death.
Oh, I awoke in anger,
So alone and terrified,
I put my fingers against the glass
And bowed my head and cried.

Dylan


My musical tastes border on the profound.

Sing, mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy...
...there, happy again?

Oh, my goodness, Rex. What a delight and St. Augustine would be quite pleased. Not far from where I live is St. Augustine, Florida and a most beautiful inlet. Entering St. Augustine one can see the historic Bridge of Lions.

If I could create pictures as Francis, Raggedy, Walter and others can do, I would not have to refer you to this site:

http://www.jaxshells.org/matzan.htm

And this one:

http://www.byways.org/browse/byways/2477/places/37501/

Well, listeners. The heavens are becoming angry, so I must leave you for the moment.

Back later, my dear friends.

I Dreamed I Saw Phil Ochs Last Night
Billy Bragg

I dreamed I saw Phil Ochs last night
Alive as you and me
Says I to Phil "You're ten years dead"
"I never died" says he
"I never died" says he

The music business killed you Phil
They ignored the things you said
And cast you out when fashions changed
Says Phil "But I ain't dead"
Says Phil "But I ain't dead"

The FBI harassed you Phil
They smeared you with their lies
Says he "But they could never kill
What they could not compromise
I never compromised"

"Though fashion's changed and critics sneered
The songs that I have sung
Are just as true tonight as then
The struggle carries on
The struggle carries on"

With the song of freedom rings out loud
From valleys and from hills
Where people stand up for their rights
Phil Ochs is with us still
Phil Ochs inspires us still

Aldo Leopold Wilderness is located astride the crest of the Black Range of soutwestern New Mexico and is a portion of the original Gila Wilderness fostered by Aldo Leopold. Rising from hot, dry desert and semi-desert the Black Range stands as a prominent land feature from nearly all directions. Aldo Leopold Wilderness is 202,016 acres in size and contains the most rugged and wild portion of this mountain range. The deep canyons and precipitous timbered ridges typical of this area extend to the east, south, and west and support a natural blending of resources making the area outstanding as a wilderness. The mark of man and evidence of his activities are relatively obscure. Over a wide range in elevation, a network of deep canyons, rincons, timbered benches and many high vista points offer solitude and an opportunity for the visitor to escape the clutches of a mechanistic civilization. The superlative beauty of this wild and broken country is a natural setting for spiritual refreshment through self-evaluation.

Do What I Have To Do
Phil Ochs

All around this country, trouble in the air
And I hear the voices calling me
Asking "do you know and do you care?
Do you know and do you care?"


So I'm a-gonna do what I have to do
Say what I have to say
And I'm gonna be what I have to be
Now won't you come on along with me?
Won't you come along with me?

Don't want to cause no sorrow
Don't want to cause no pain
I'm only gonna cause what I have to cause
until this land is free of shame
'til this land is free of shame

So I'm a-gonna do what I have to do
Say what I have to say
And I'm gonna be what I have to be
Now won't you come on along with me?
Won't you come along with me?

Only one thing I know, I know we're not alone
Was a million here before we came
Be a million when we're gone, we're gone
Million when we're gone

So I'm a-gonna do what I have to do
Say what I have to say
And I'm gonna be what I have to be
Now won't you come on along with me?
Won't you come along with me?

Oh, I'm afraid of trouble, yes I'm afraid of jail
But I'm more afraid, lord, not to try
More afraid of what happens, now, if we fail
What happens now if we fail

So I'm a-gonna do what I have to do
Say what I have to say
And I'm gonna be what I have to be
Now won't you come on along with me?
Won't you come along with me?

Mother Nature's Son
The Beatles

Born a poor young country boy--Mother Nature's son
All day long I'm sitting singing songs for everyone.

Sit beside a mountain stream--see her waters rise
Listen to the pretty sound of music as she flies.

Find me in my field of grass--Mother Nature's son
Swaying daises sing a lazy song beneath the sun.

Mother Nature's son.

Eating lunch on a rim rock, high above a turbulent stream, he (Aldo Leopold) and some companions saw a form, breast-deep, fording the white water below. At first, they mistook the animal for a deer. As it climbed onto a bank toward them, they realized it was a wolf. A half-dozen others, evidently grown pups, sprang out of the willows, tails wagging, to playfully welcome her.

In those days, it would have never occurred to any of them not to shoot wolves. When the rifles were empty and the smoke cleared, the female lay dying, and a cub limped away, leg dragging, disappearing into impassable rocks. In their excitement, and shooting down a steep hill, their aim had been more enthusiastic than accurate.

Decades later, in his 1949 book of classic essays, A Sand County Almanac, Leopold marked this event as a turning point in his life, both professionally and personally. He recalled, "We reached the old wolf in time to watch a fierce green fire dying in her eyes . . . something known only to her and to the mountain. I was young then, and full of trigger-itch; I thought that because fewer wolves meant more deer, that no wolves would mean hunter's paradise. But after seeing the green fire die, I sensed that neither the wolf nor the mountain agreed with such a view."
In his Forward to Sand County Almanac, Leopold wrote, "There are some who can live without wild things, and some who cannot." He could not. Aldo Leopold ultimately became the creator of the first "desiginated wilderness area" in the world.

ah, dj. The songs of history. You and dys are basically saying the same thing, right listeners?

".....The superlative beauty of this wild and broken country is a natural setting for spiritual refreshment through self-evaluation......"

FOORPRINTS OF WHITMAN
FROM HIS DEATHLESS ORBIT, THE POET STILL SPEAKS TO THE BODY AND SOUL
By Doc Searls
May 8, 1996

The first time I truly heard Walt Whitman was when Garrison Keillor read selections from "Song of Myself," accompanied by Leo Kottke on guitar. I was driving North on highway 280 south of San Francisco, on the spine of The Peninsula. The setting sun made silhouettes of the mountains to the West, and brightened the fog in the long valleys below. Beneath the fog lay the Crystal Springs and San Andreas reservoirs, the latter of which gives its name to the world's most famous fault. The setting was perfect. So was the reading.

I was so knocked out by what I heard that I had to pull over and stop the car. Here, I knew, was Truth with a captital T:

Urge and urge and urge...
Always the procreant urge of the world...
Out of the dimness opposite equals advance...
Always substance and increase...
Always a knit of identity...
Always distinction...
Always a breed of life.


This man, "Walt Whitman, American," wrote with the same force and arrogance as Beethoven. But while Beethoven was "a titan, wrestling with the gods" (as Wagner put it), Whitman was an ordinary man with a calm awareness of the holy power in us all.

".....I think that I could turn and live with animals...."

What beautiful contemplations we find on our radio.

and some combinations of my own, listeners:

'My father, John Lomax, discovered Leadbelly. Pa was one of the earliest folk collectors. He visited a chain-gang and there was this guy with a scar from ear to ear. He'd nearly had his head cut off, fighting in a swamp. The other feller was dead. "I've written a song for you," he told Pa. "It's called Goodnight Irene," and he sang it then and there. "That song should free him," Pa told the governor. "Not a chance." "Not even if I were to be responsible for him?" "And keep him under surveillance, night and day?" "I would be prepared to do that." Pa won, but at our home in New York Leadbelly proved to be a wild one and nobody could control him - but Big Black Minnie - when she was around he was as gentle as a lamb.' (Joan Littlewood, Joan's Book 409)


The Lyrics For Every Bryan Ferry Song
Goodnight Irene
(Huddie Ledbetter - known as Leadbelly)
I asked your mother for you
She told me that you was too young
I wish to the Lord I'd never seen your face
or heard your lying tongue
Irene goodnight, Irene goodnight
Goodnight Irene, Goodnight Irene
I'll see you in my dreams
Sometimes I live in the country
Sometimes I live in the town
Sometimes I have a great notion
to jump into the river and drown
Irene goodnight, Irene goodnight
Goodnight Irene, Goodnight Irene
I'll see you in my dreams
Stop ramblin', stop your gamblin'
stop stayin' out late at night
Go home to your wife and your family
sit down by the fireside bright
Irene goodnight, Irene goodnight
Goodnight Irene, Goodnight Irene
I'll see you in my dreams
I love Irene God knows I do
love her till the sea run dry
And if Irene turns her back on me
I'm gonna take morphine and die
Irene goodnight, Irene goodnight
Goodnight Irene, Goodnight Irene
I'll see you in my dreams

Goodnight, WA2K folks.

From Letty with love