Saturday, January 28, 2017

Real men; Natural and unnatural order of things; More unnatural

Real Men

As I sat down one evening, twas in a small cafe,
A forty year old waitress, to me these words did say:

"I see you are a logger, and not just a common bum,
'Cause no one but a logger stirs his coffee with his thumb.

My lover was a logger, there's none like him today;
If you poured whisky on it, he'd eat a bale of hay

He never shaved his whiskers from off of his horny hide;
He hammered in the bristles, and bit them off inside.

My logger came to see me, twas on a winter's day;
He held me in his fond embrace, which broke three vertebrae.

He kissed me when we parted, so hard it broke my jaw;
I could not speak to tell him, he'd forgot his mackinaw.

I saw my logger lover, go striding through the snow,
Going gaily homeward, at forty-eight below.

The weather it tried to freeze him, it did its very best;
At a hundred degrees below zero, he buttoned up his vest.

It froze clear down to China, it froze to the stars above;
At a thousand degrees below zero, it froze my logger love.

They tried in vain to thaw him, and if you believe it, sir
They made him into axe blades, to cut the Douglas fir.

And so I lost my lover, and to this cafe I've come,
And here I wait till someone, stirs his coffee with his thumb." 

a 1969 John Wayne movie
will remember the scene.

Wayne as Rooster Cogburn
confronts his outlaw adversaries
- the bad guys -
from a birch-treed rise.

He calls them out offering them a quick death by bullet
or a ritual hanging per the law.

The killer of Rooster's client father
and his three armed companions in arms
scoff at the growled threat

whereupon Cogburn does his famous cocking of his rifle
by twirling it in one hand by the trigger ring
and charges down the rise, rifle and handgun blazing,

horse reins clamped in his teeth
to free up his shooting.

Rent the movie sometime if you have on seen it
in a while (or ever).

View this trailer:


IN THE 1920s
 a real man plied his photography trade
in Waukesha
shooting from the lower wing of a new-fangled

The Schoenknecht story was in the Freeman 1-27-17.

O'Brien got out of he way of the propellor draft
and spattering oil from the engine

standing, holding a wing strut and shooting
his heavy Graphlex camera
at target views below and behind the aircraft.

Thus situated he minimized the propellor draft
and flying oil.

(Pick up John's article at the Freeman lobby.)


said he'd like to punch DeNiro in the face.

DeNiro publically said, "Oh Yeah? Well, I'd like
to punch HIM in the face!"



If Janboree is here
can spring be far away?

melting ice
awakening moss

I do believe it
I do believe it's true


the City of Waukesha Forestry Department
has hung its red ribbon of death 
on the Gingko tree right in front of the Putney/Odd Fellows.

In the coming redo of South St - in order to conform
with the new plan - some Gingko trees will be removed.
 Our heavily photographed tree, from which we have
gathered the lovely leaves in autumn
is going to be quickly cut down by a city speed machine.

As a downtown stakeholder 2nd class
~ a mere tenant ~  though now a seven year long one,
we can only lament our soon departed tree.

These South Street Gingko trees have been beautiful
while they lasted.

As the city enhances the downtown
streets per their long-range and unavoidable plan,
one thinks of these tree cuttings - and replacements -
as their being merely houseplants that can be easily rearranged.

But what of the attachments downtown residents form for them?

When Main Street construction began, I was frankly hurt
when the trees across the street at the Clarke were bulldozed down
and  splintered for easier hauling.  Too brusk, no feeling.

Some attribute spirits to these fragile but hoped-for
long-term investments these trees make of themselves
for beauty.

I am one of those.


More unnatural

Sisters March DC 1-21-17