Music, Oh Their Music

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The irony of being our age is that now we can afford to go to concerts of our favorite singers and they are our age:

They have given their last concerts. Some have retired, some have health problems, and some have died.

Oh, they all were so very much the part of our youth, our parenting days, our middle age years.  When we hear a vinyl classic on radio, we sing along loud and smile.

We did see Willie Nelson, Neil Diamond, Bob Dylan, and Ricky Nelson.  Good memories. Ricky is gone tragically and Neil Diamond retired with Parkinson's. Dylan is still performing, at age 77.

Gladly, Willie Nelson is still with us, still performing at age 86.

Official video, Just Breathe

In 2017 at Harrah's in Valley Center, California, Willie and his son Lucas Nelson performed. I gave (expensive) tickets to my husband for his birthday and we sat in good seats and they were worth it.

Lucas Nelson started the performance with his own incredible voice like his father's and his amazing guitar skills. He was part of A Star Is Born by Bradley Cooper's request.

Then his father walked out on the stage and the air was electric with us fans shouting, clapping.  

It was obvious that Willie was ill, coughing and having difficulty breathing. He sang and played some of his classics, Lucas and brother Micah with their father's voice. For that all too brief time, it was a gift.

When Willie left the stage, he tossed out his battered straw cowboy hat like always. We clapped until our hands were numb. Then Lucas picked up where Willie left and gave us a concert I will always remember. (Willie had pneumonia, had to cancel the next few concerts.)

You know, someday he'll hand his battered guitar to Lucas. A talent like Willie Nelson's will continue even when he steps off the stage and walks on ahead alone. 

I wonder what he will be singing?

This is a chat about their lives, affect of his music
about 3 to 4 minutes

The Truth about Fairies

working with fairies

Being a fairy is no easy job, I tell you.  I know the truth. I have been one for years, and hated every moment. Every. Single. Stinking. Moment.

Oh, sure. Some fairies paint flowers, some water lovely green plants. Their primary job is to care for the planet, keeping all plants healthy. 

They flutter around with gossamer wings, whatever gossamer is.

Their soft skin shimmers with a fluorescent glow, their clothing is even cross-stitched with spider webs, and their boots are soft butterfly cocoons. 

They even have great hair. Damn them.

My job? My job??  I am the fairy in charge of slugs and carnivorous bugs.  

In fact, I am President of Chapter 207 Union of Scavenger Bugs. One assassin bug attacked me, put me in fairy hospital for a week.  Best week of my miserable life, the only best week.

If there were even one thing about my job that I loved, that would be wonderful.  But as it stands now, I live in fairy mud hell.


This a re-post-rewritten-upgraded from a "Wednesday Words" challenge for writers to see what they could do with the underlined words back in 2016.

I love taking an old post and changing it.  Also, it shows me where I was as a writer then.

Old Men in Caps

Harry Miller, veteran of WW 2, Korean War, and Vietnam

Old men in caps

Canes, walkers, wheelchairs

Old men.

USMC WWII

Army WWII
Navy WW II
Army Air Corp

Korean War
Vietnam war
Now, war in places unknown.

US Navy air craft carriers sending planes to fly off

Army Air Corp, carrying food, supplies,
and bombs—

Women who served,
but hidden.

Men and Women,
not on the front lines,
But at home, making survival
possible.

Gold embroidered

On black.
Proud to wear their caps.

Old men in caps.

Walking away,

Walking on ahead.

Oldest veteran of WW 2, Richard Overton, died at age 112 In December 2018

Lately, I see very few WW 2 veterans, as most are in their nineties. When I do, I shake their hands and thank them for what they and their comrades did.

Now, the Korean vets are the old fellers. They still walk straight and tall. Shake their hands and thank them for their valor.

The Vietnam veterans are from my era. I thank them and ask how they are doing after their unappreciated service. We talk a while, share our memories of friends and families. 

My small county with the rural towns had many men who headed to Vietnam. Some returned, some returned but with scarred memories, and too many found their ways home in caskets.

Now veterans from this era come home and are welcomed by a grateful nation.  Too many come home with prosthetics and horrible scars. If you meet one, shake their hands, thank them for what they and their comrades sacrificed. 

Try not to cry.

 This was originally a re-post from 2013, now re-written.

My appreciation and understanding have grown. I have shaken many hands.

We live near Camp Pendleton.

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