Brook Cat Meets Wrene Robin

Brook “Bob” Cat had lived on the mountain top for many years. He loved the singing creek and beautiful water falls, the leaves as they flashed all the colors of the spectrum in the spring and fall. He found a quiet peace in the morning fog as it covered the valleys, it made Brook feel hidden and safe. He needed to be safe for there were those that would hurt him and maybe worse, lock him in a cage someplace where he would no longer be free to roam his beautiful mountain top. There were many who disagreed with Brook for he was a peaceful cat that did not hunt like the rest. He did not believe in taking another life uselessly, just for the sport of it. Brook did not believe in boundaries and war. Some of the animals on Brook’s mountain thought that they had a right to certain areas and would become very aggressive in order to take away land from others. And Brook refused to do this. So he climbed high into the mountains and found a place that was safe and beautiful. But sometimes in the morning as the sun rose and the fog hid the valleys he would often wonder and dream of what it might be like down there. He had heard that there were many dangers, but also that there were many things of beauty and much to be learned. Brook liked to go to his favorite place by the waterfall and think about these things and what adventures may wait for him if ever he decided to leave his mountain.

And then one morning in late fall as the trees he loved had become a kaleidoscope of bursting color. As he stretched and came awake under the large pine tree and on the cushion of thistles that made his bed. And as he looked down at the rising fog lifting from the valley Brook knew it was time to leave. He had a feeling that in those hidden places below, there was more to be done and things to learn and until he found out what those things were he would never be satisfied. For if there was one thing Brook had it was curiosity. Even in the safety of his high mountain top he always longed to know what was on the other side of the hill, but had never dared to go there. Now he would. And so it was on that beautiful morning in late October that Brook took a deep breath and with a sigh looked back at his home and started down the trail to the valley.

Brook took slow steps, one out of fear of what might happen to him, the other because a part of his heart was staying behind with the few friends he had in the mountains. The old bear and deer, his best friend the wolf that had the reputation of being a fierce killer but like Brook Cat love peace and would spend many nights with Brook by the water fall listening to the wind rustle through the pines and the waters gently rippling as it splashed and ran into the creek and down the mountain. It was at these times that they would talk about where the creek ran to, what was at the other end? Did it go all the way down and around the mountain? They knew that the water could not come back up the mountain and Brook now wondered if he would ever be able to climb back up to his home. If the water couldn’t go back up, could he?

So many fears, but courage carried Brook further down the trail until he reached the last point where he could see back up to his home on the mountain, and as the sun grew late Brook made himself a bed of leaves and placing his head across his fore-paw he curled, slept, dreaming of the old bear, the wolf, and the waterfall.

( to Be Continued)…

The lights below were not those of the moon and stars, or the sun rising through the fog, they were mystery lights. Brook had never seen such lights-what where those lights and what or who was Brook about to meet..

Storm Clouds, And Lamp Post, Two Poems - Blog Top Sites

Storm Clouds, And Lamp Post, Two Poems - Blog Top Sites

Star Fish And Foot Prints

I was thinking just now, not always a pleasant thing for me, often times painful or depressing. I have often been told “I think too much” and I, thinking about it, think that is true. At least that is my thinking at this time of thinking.

I can be funny or at least I think so. I can write about how to do things but I do not think I know too much about how to do much other than the things I think.

My wife told me the other day that sometimes my thinking was annoying and I know that she is right, she is not the first person that I have managed to annoy, and I think that she will not be the last. My friend many years ago told me at the end of the Vietnam War that she hoped I would say our work is finished, but instead I said there is still so much more to do, and turned to the problems of hunger, homelessness, and nuclear proliferation, I think that annoyed her.

I think perhaps that in my thinks I have already managed to annoy some of my readers. Perhaps they say I wish he would lighten up. And tell us about the good ole days of broadcasting. When Vinyl weighed 10 pounds and was played on a turntable. On what says anyone under about 25? What was it like to meet people like Neil Young, Bob Dylan, Judy Collins, Joan Baez, Peter Wolf, no not Peter and the Wolf, Peter Wolf of the J Giles band? I think, oops, there I go thinking again, but I think I just lost any reader under about 50 throwing out most of those names.

What I hope to bring to these pages is a world of varied experiences: A belief that all life needs protecting, that we are indeed our brothers' and sisters' keepers and the keepers of all forms of life, whether they live next door or across the ocean. This belief is not based on deep religious convictions, but simply on a belief in what is right and wrong, what is good, and what is not. There are so many things on our little planet in the galaxy, which need to be changed that it can be overwhelming. It can be so easy to ask, “what difference can I make?" In addition, that statement reminds me of the story of a little boy walking on the beach. As he walked, he was picking up starfish and throwing them back into the ocean. An old man who was watching him asked why you are bothering. You cannot possibly make a difference to them all. At that the young boy replied," You're right, I can't, but I am certainly making a difference to this one."

I was a 60's non-violent radical, and conscientious objector, and during that time, I opposed the killing fields of Vietnam and cried over the dying fields of Kent State. I was present at the 1968 National Convention in Chicago, and forty-one years later, I can still remember running down the streets and back alleys of that city with National Guardsmen chasing me, when my only offense was simply being present. Not one stone had I thrown, not one word of insult had I shouted. I had quietly voiced my opposition to the cruelty perpetrated on a people in a land that should have been left alone.

I saw a Buddhist burn himself in opposition to the war: I could not do this, so I burned my draft card instead. Someone once asked Father Philip Berrigan who I am proud to have called a good friend when he burned draft records at Catonsville, why he did not burn himself. His answer was, “Life is more precious than property, I gave what was possible." Just as there are men and women who fought in the Vietnam War and still suffer emotional problems because of it, I want to say that I hold no hatred or even dislike for any of our countrymen and women who did fight. They either did so because they believed in the war or believed that they had no choice. Either way they did what they felt they had to do. I know that there are men and women who struggled against the War in a peaceful, non-violent way, and these men and women believed that they could make a positive change and leave the world a better place. I know that many of these people also still suffer from the war. They are Peace Movement casualties, just as there are Veterans of the war casualties. At some point, I will try to explain that in more detail, but these war resistors suffer emotional trauma from a broken heart caused by broken dreams.

In forty years of Radio and Television Broadcasting and Acting, I have also witnessed a lot. Yes, I was at Woodstock, though I must admit I did not stay. The mud and the rain dampened my spirits and I was afraid...afraid of the drugs, and the massive crowds, and I was sure that someone was going to die. So after about a day, I left the same way I had come in--walking. I had come to hear the music, not to roll in the mud, high on drugs with someone I did not know and would never see again. I wanted to see the players on the stage and not the ones on grass, (pun intended.)

However, I have seen a lot. I have been witness to some of the greatest musical, magical, and political moments in our country's history, and I will attempt to share those with you as time goes by. I still believe in the power of you and me to make changes. I believe what I would hope every caring human on this planet believes--that life is precious, and it is all we know for sure. And where do we go from here? No one, to my knowledge, has come back to tell us what comes after, so we had better make the most of every day we have here. That means losing our selfish self-involved me first attitude. You and I are here now. This is what we know. This is what we have. And more importantly, we all need each other!

I read an article in one of our local major papers about what the author called “The Teflon Generation." They are young College graduates, many with degrees and honors from the best Colleges and Universities in the country. However, they are jobless, either because they are just out of school and unable to find a job, or have recently lost their job. The author interviewed some of them in a very high class, high-priced night club, spending ten or more dollars on a single drink and partying like there was no tomorrow. They were doing this not out of fear of their situation, but because they were convinced they were the best and the brightest and they were entitled to live the life their parents had promised them by telling them " You can be anything you want." I don't believe that saying was wrong, but I do believe that it was said before the worst economic times this Country has known since the Great Depression, and I believe that this so called "Telfon Generation", rather than pouring down ten dollar drinks, might instead pour a little money into helping those in need.

Some of my pieces will be reminiscences with a purpose, and entertaining, which might even bring a smile to your face. Some will be a direct verbal attack against injustices. I will also take on issues such as Health Care, and the general Health Care System of this Country, where the poor die while CEO's at large pharmaceutical companies make millions of dollars a year.

Another cause that is very near to my heart is the treatment of the beautiful creatures that share this small globe with us: In many ways, these wonderful creatures have as their worst enemy the human animal. These will be researched stories about what is happening or not, and what more can be done to help them. From the depths of the ocean, to the highest mountains, from the Ghetto to the Hollywood Hills. Who can make a difference? We can! We are the only animals who can truly make a difference.

I will write about how I have tried to change the world - - one small starfish at a time: about how you have tried to change the world and about how we can still change the world together. No one is without power; and no one has power over us except for the power we give him or her. Two are more powerful than one, and groups have more power than one or two alone.

Particular groups of people which I believe must come forth and challenge the consciousness of us all are the artists, actors, writers, photographers and musicians, people like Michael Moore, Bono, Springsteen, George Clooney, Angelina Jolie, there are others but those come immediately to mind. Bob Dylan from the 60’s, people who have the attention of the American people and people throughout the world, and have the creative ability to say what needs to be said. Then there are the unknown thinkers, artists, writers, actors photographers… guess what? there a starfish waiting for us also. And those of you who are artistic in your daily lives the teachers, bus drivers, builders, truck drivers, letter carriers, …and on and on. In short, the most important person that makes up the everyday fabric of our culture, everyone can pick up at least one proverbial starfish and throw it back into the water.

It does not matter if your art is hanging in the Louvre, or in a small bookstore. It does not matter whether you are performing before a hundred thousand or a dozen in a cafe. You have an audience and you have an ear or an eye and you can reach more starfish at one time than most people can. It does not matter if all you can do is say good morning to the person next to you as you wait on line for your morning coffee. And that will make for one starfish at a time one happy starfish.

Therefore, I will write about causes, about needs, and sometimes I will write just for fun. I do that sometimes. I think. And it is my hope that you will find these pages informative, thought provoking, sometimes fun, sometimes sad. You will agree with me, or maybe you will not, but that is what dialogue is all about, and dialogue is a path to change, and your feedback and ideas will always be welcome. We will leave a few footprints in the sands of time and more than a few starfish back in the ocean.