The beginning of the long goodbye

If you were to ask me why this painting is part of this post, I would respond by saying that nothing about this post makes a great deal of sense and everything in it is the product of a scattered mind. Usually, the photograph/illustration and the words and the music have a connection. Well, usually. The painting is by Frederic Remington and was completed in 1897. It depicts cavalry troopers during a January 1879 encounter with a band of Northern Cheyenne led by Dull Knife. Several skirmishes took place over a period of ten days near Fort Robinson in Nebraska. The trooper standing atop the ledge was Sergeant Carter Johnson. He was a rather amazing soldier during absolutely amazing times. Simply for the sake of mentioning it, I will note that another rather amazing man, the Oglala Lakota (Sioux) war leader Crazy Horse, was killed at Fort Robinson in 1877. I have been there, more than a century later, of course, and it is beautiful in the springtime compared to the harshness of winter on the plains. No matter which season, though, the fort and the region around it will reveal its ghosts to those who believe the past is still alive somewhere in time and who care to know it.

Be Lucky

Around this time a year from now, I hope I will be writing about the great experience I had at The Who concert, which will have taken place "just down the road a piece." (I love that idiom .... it is an idiom, is it not ??) Whatever .... The Who will be in town (Minneapolis) October 10, 2015. I saw them once before in concert. That was a night to remember, and I do .... I most certainly do .... it was a fantastic night in many ways .... I wonder if next year's concert might possibly match it .... hmmmm, I wonder if I even will be living here a year from now ....

The title for this post, "The beginning of the long goodbye," came not from me but from a remark by Roger Daltrey, lead singer for The Who. He made the comment in reference to the 2014-2015 tour. Rather poetic and haunting words, do you not think? And, they could be adapted for so many uses.

By the way, did you notice? This October is approaching its half-way mark. Move it, baby .... run, run, run ....

Beards, kisses, hunting, cigars & whatever

I have worn a beard on and off (hmmmm), and have kept it in sort of goatee form during the past few years. This winter, I have decided to wear it full again. That, for some, should be evidence there is no woman in my life. (I have a difficult time believing any woman anywhere actually prefers kissing a man who wears a beard over kissing him when he is clean-shaven.)

In this neck of the woods (I love that idiom .... it is an idiom, is it not ??), many men who deer hunt devote a few weeks to growing their beards for deer season. I really do not know why so many hunters grow them. It seems silly. It is a tradition of sorts, part of the ritual, I guess, having to do with bearded, pioneer immigrants. You know -- farmers, ranchers, store keepers, cavalry troopers as they looked when arriving from the "old country" during an era when hunting often provided much of the meat a family would eat. Anyway, in these contemporary times, when deer season ends, off come the beards.

My on-again, off-again beards have had nothing to do with hunting. Whenever I have grown a beard, it has been as a protest to winter. Winter would be perfect if it lasted only two or three weeks. I used to grow a beard most winters and shave it when winter ended. I might shave this one in the spring .... or not .... or, possibly, return it to sort of goatee form.

I stopped hunting a number of years ago. I miss it. I quit it for two reasons, one of which was because it became too easy. Being a successful hunter is like being a success at anything .... practice, practice, practice. Any hunter who is not successful .... well, maybe, he should trying bowling or golf or something which does not involve firearms or other lethal weapons .... you know, something in which the individual's skill level does not make much difference except in an egotistical sense. I am being only a bit sarcastic.

Yes, I miss hunting. I also miss smoking cigars. I quit smoking for two reasons, too, the primary one symbolic in nature and a gesture. One of these days (months, years), I will try both hunting and cigars again .... well, cigars, anyway ....

Let me think. What else do I miss? Uffff .... enough aimless rambling for this evening.

Incidentally, does anyone see a link -- a connection -- between the painting, my words and the song? I am curious ....