Dreamranch is experiencing severe drought while I deal with the New Mexico Legislature.
Find my online Legislature columns for the Albuquerque Journal here.
Dreamranch is experiencing severe drought while I deal with the New Mexico Legislature.
Find my online Legislature columns for the Albuquerque Journal here.
Daydream No. 23,501 — I retire, rent a room on the top floor of The Murray in Livingston, Montana, and write people notes on The Murray’s great notepads. I would read books, get my Lena Endre fix on Netflix and eat wherever fine biscuits and gravy were being served. I might want to ride into the mountains, instead of walk, if I could fine someone else to keep the horses and do all the work. Maybe an occasional drive up through White Sulphur to Helena to see family. I would not catch and release. I would turn my fish over to the chef at The Murray or a friend with a smoker.
My favorite Journal flag ever.
My temperature gadget read only 39 degrees on our evening walk, but my feet got cold in my regular boots and even snow-loving Cooper seemed to trot as we turned toward home.
Long day at the computer on this shortest day of the year. Walk helped shake it off. I’m going to unfocus even more with the Swedish version of Wallander on Netflix. I especially like the part where Lena Endre moves in next door.
I’m thinking why buy cards when you’ve got an iPhone, computer and printer. But Coop doesn’t seem to get it. Happy holidays, all. 
Those of us of age recently remembered where we were at the moment we heard the news of President John F. Kennedy’s assassination on Nov. 22, 1963. Before that shocking day, I remember older people telling me where they were when they heard the news of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Unfortunately, 911 since has been added to the list of dark days remembered. But I do not want to overlook Pearl Harbor Day, today – “a date,” said President Franklin D. Roosevelt, “which will live in infamy.”
This brass vase, brought home by my grandfather from his missionary days in 1930s China, reminds me of Pearl Harbor. Far, as we called him, was listening to the radio in the basement of the white house on Main Street in Granville, Ohio, when the news came. He rested his pipes in this vase. I’m sure it was near him on Dec. 7, 1941. It’s hard to imagine horror streaking his kindly face, but I’m guessing that’s what happened when the basement radio crackled that morning with the report of the Japanese attack.
This guy can play the harmonica, and this is a real American classic dating back more than 100 years. Stumbled across Charlie McCoy performing “Oh, Shenandoah” on an old Hee Haw (RFD TV). Feel like I should be watching a big, rolling river on a warm summer evening or the sun setting beyond broad pastures, but glad I found this version even on a snowy November night.
We all struggled to understand what couldn’t be understood. Beyond the images of a young president’s vibrant life and sudden death, the framework of our lives had been shaken, our leader taken from us.
dream ranch 