Healthy advice to warring countries - Nuke Apples; Bespangled behemoth; Preserve Frame park; Imagine - guitar harp

BOOM !

You take a good Wolf River apple

preferably  that juicy variety

obtained on a Saturday ride a half hour

south of Waukesha out East Avenue

to Ela Orchard, Rochester

a 3rd generation family connected

to my son in law

(small plug)

If you reach in the bag

and pull out a Wolf River big one

with a heart on the peel

so much the better for influence

Core out the center leaving a cavity

in which to pack in brown sugar, raisins;

 a bit of ground clove, and a snippet of rum

are optional, 

Place apple in a microwave oven

for, say 5 minutes.  Experiment with a bit more

Allow a minute after the nuclear blast to meld the flavors

An Ela Wolf River apple will literally explode

in the old covered Corning-ware casserole

we use ~

💘 EAT

^,^

Bespangled Behemoth

I have on my screensaver and will  feature in the  Raccoon  an underwater picture I took in the 70s and much later decided to amplify my recollection with computer-drawn-in snapped fishing lures - of a Northern Pike in Lake Lundgren near Pembine WI.  See attached versification.  I changed the lake name.

This lurking in the depth of the lake giant dragging its accumulation of what amounted to a breastplate of lures that caught filtered yet bright sunrays ~

flashes of residual still-there color on the lures caught my face-plated eyes before the fish did actually ~

gave me just a passing glimpse of a great battle to live.  To survive the death-dealing trinketry attached to strong, but not strong enough, lure linage.  The fish bit through these invasions of his peace every time.

One supposes the stubborn finned one met an eventual end by the overcoming weight of his e'r lurid armor.

But what a fight !

A clearer image


^,^

Two classmates
of the Waukesha High School
- class of 1954 -

enjoy the peace and tranquility of Frame Park
which is under threat, contrary to the bequest
of  the late philanthropist, 
Waukesha's Andrew Frame
that the park be set aside for a wide and open green space
next to the Fox River that flows through Waukesha.

Developers have their eyes on the White Rock corridor,
counting on the changing times in the community
allowing passage of a professional lease for a baseball stadium
going in the west end of Frame's reserve.

We WHS 1954ans may have by virtue of age 
some blindness, like the cat with just one eye that sees,
'BLINDY' the beloved 
Ela Orchard former barn cat -
now a welcome in-house older resident. 

But we are clear-eyed, and
with a gathered group of 
"Friends of Frame Park"

WE OPPOSE THIS, 
YOUNGSTERS AND OLDSTERS ALIKE

^,^

Imagine

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8kpnhxoGYw

'trinket', Odd Fellows, Waukesha

A diamond in the right setting; Somewhat moth-eaten, Craigie; Gravity (from Delaware Bentz); Another baton is passed

The Formal Garden in Waukesha's Frame Park

It is a diamond in a donor-intended green grass setting

where citizens can find expansive escape, and beautiful prospects

unknown, no matter how lovely their littler yards may be

Let them stretch wide their legs here, as meant

and do the seventh inning stretching in a true ballpark fashion

Sardine-like; elsewhere

[SRN Opinion 1-5-18]

^,^

The Sons of The American Legion

I wore this now moth-eaten hat, so did cousin Craigie,

after WW II was over

when my Dad and Craig's step-dad Uncle Lee who served

as the Commander of the DJ Martin Legion Post

in Waukesha were loyal ex-fighting-man members

of the that full-fledged band.

I was proud of my heritage.

You can still see these fortified country servants

gathered at streetside or marching if able

in local parades.

Uncle Lee struggles to stand to give the colors the smartest salute

at Arcadian and Hartwell Avenues

Dad in his doorway, Fairfax VA

^,^

Craigie

Cousin like a brother

Craigie 1942

His name was David C. Craigmile

Son of my Aunt Frances and a man called Chick

Chick Craigmile, I didn’t know much about him

But I think like my maternal grandfather

Herman Elies, a miller by trade,

Chick and Herman were rogues

So my boyhood friend and brother in arms,

Craigie and I

Were related to rogues, we had roguery

In our blood, and we were often naughty together

Naturally;

One time Aunt Frances, local beauty, was spotted in town by

Uncle Lee, long after Chick and Herman blew the home scene

And Uncle Lee tracked Frances to the Methodist Church

Where she sang in the choir, good Welsh chorister

That she was

And Uncle Lee became a Methodist in his method to meet her

Starting off a romance with Frances and the church

That lasted Uncle Lee – not a rogue, ever –

A lifetime

Faith and faithfulness came to us spawn of rogues

But we were boys, sons of rogues

And I don’t think it took fully

Uncle Lee became Craigie’s father

And tried to instill Christian values

But it was too late;

By that time we were picking pockets,

Stealing cookies and fresh-baked pies

And later, planning bank jobs

At the Avon movies we sided with the bad guys

And went to the Salvation Army retail shop

For black hats

Craigie taught me to spit between my teeth and cuss

And get almost as much distance and vehemence as he got

And at night on sleep-overs we took flashlights

Under the blankets and read our favorite stories,

 Including Seven Keys to Baldpate

Which we then alternated telling by rote in the dark;

It was World War II and at the Avon

We watched the RKO newsreels

And saw how the Nazis and the Japs were treating

Our American forces in the French woods

And at Bataan;

For a while I honored Craigie with an heroic

Battlefield name:  Corregidor

Craigie was interested in drums so

Uncle Lee got him a set of used Slingerlands

And lessons

And through Craig I learned about Gene Krupa

And took to revering a paradiddling pothead;

We didn’t care if he had a bad habit or two

Because he could wail on the skins;

 Craigie helped me practice tolerance;

Later Craigie served a hitch in the Navy

The branch Uncle Lee had been in

And did well until while on board a ship

He dove into the pool and cracked his head bad

And they gave him a medical discharge

He returned to the states and wasn’t quite

The same

But he married a nice girl, worked hard and had two kids;

One day when I was in the Army in 1958

They pulled me out of formation at Fort Holabird

To tell me Craigie had died;

He blacked-out, it was thought,

And plowed into the rear of a truck

On the way to work;

Thus ended the life of my brother

The end of a beautiful friendship

The beginning of a life without him

But his picture and his spirit are nearby,

The boy who fought for me when bullies threatened

Who traded a thousand tales with me

Who when we walked together

Threw his arm around my shoulders

Because we were buddies

Now he has Uncle Lee to put his arm around

Along with his mother

That’s the way we think in this family

And that’s the way it is

[David Dix 1-9-2003]

At Frame Park formal gardens 1948
Craigie, me and cocker spaniel Trooper

^,^

from

Gravity

by John Frederick Nims
sent to the Raccoon by Delaware Bentz



... there—in fields of space—is where she shines,
Ring-mistress of the circus of the stars,
Their prancing carousels, their ferris wheels
Lit brilliant in celebration. Thanks to her
All’s gala in the galaxy.


Down here she
Walks us just right, not like the jokey moon
Burlesquing our human stride to kangaroo hops;
Not like vast planets, whose unbearable mass
Would crush us in a bear hug to their surface
And into the surface, flattened. No: deals fairly.
Makes happy each with each: the willow bend
Just so, the acrobat land true, the keystone
Nestle in place for bridge and for cathedral.
Let us pick up—or mostly—what we need:
Rake, bucket, stone to build with, logs for warmth,
The fallen fruit, the fallen child

. . . ourselves.




SRN adds this
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CYQ1cjghzA0

^,^

And another baton is passed

John Helt holds soon-to-stride Lyda

as new year arrives...

g