Hammer Mill Days

  Macky (2004 – 2022) Lost my best friend today. Though my heart is broken, all I can say is that I was fortunate beyond words to know this little guy. Absolutely the sweetest, best-natured little fellow I ever knew. We tried to give him the best life we could offer, and I don’t regret a single moment of the last fifteen years. I’ve got a lot more to say about Macky, but I’ll save it and just share this lyric Matt wrote decades ago – one that sums up how I felt about my boy. It’s a song called Natural Laws. The other day you looked so small Standing by the bonsai tree I was sure you’d be taken by the breeze I’ve got some nylon rope, and I bought some iron spikes I’m going to hold you down if it’s the last thing I do Last night it was a dream that provoked you I was lying next to you just watching you turn I would have awakened you if I thought you’d be better off I would have awakened you if I thought I could make you safe If words could make you safer Then I...

In remembrance of our mom Iris, who passed away this week, I'm posting the lyrics to this song Matt wrote more than a few years back (one of my favorites) that keeps running through my head (and out of my mouth). It's called Don't give up the ship , and here it is: Well, it grieves me when I see you in some moldy homemade raft You've no life jacket, there's no precautions You're spinning downstream and you're laughing Well, I'm not about to stop you I've not the will and I've not the means Still I stand here like I'm waiting A world without you I've never seen You say, read it off the flag, boy Don't give up the ship says the flag that flies above the turbulent waves Don't give up the ship Be a fool and hold the course away from the shore Sailor learns something from each splinter in those old and creaking boards Now you're not apt to change your reasons You'll never reinvent the doors that led you ...

Hello, all. Just taking a moment out from our interstellar tour saga to remember an old friend and one-time band-mate who died unexpectedly this past week. I will no doubt return to the utter nonsense that is this blog's usual narrative, but right now I can't quite bring myself to do it. Just need some time for reflection, I guess. Tim Walsh played guitar with a band my brother and I started back in the seventies - a precursor to Big Green in many ways. We had about seventeen names for the group, none of which stuck. (It was a bit like Jethro Tull's early days when they played the same clubs over and over under different names - kind of a good strategy, that.) Tim was my sister's boyfriend at the time; a slightly older (at that point in life, three years made a big difference) kid from Florida who had hair down to his ass, a blackbelt in Tai Kwan Do, and a 1959 black beauty Les Paul Custom. I was young enough to look up to him in those first days. Later on, we were...

Because in the midst of dark, shocking disregard and cruelty, we were privileged to see such inspiring generosity and caring. It is impossible to imagine those first disorienting moments. Impossible to comprehend how the night had turned upside down and inside out. The smoke clawing. The audible terror of gunfire and screams of pain. The ripping flash of gunfire. The barely seen figure hell-bent on destruction. Yet, in this sensory assault, this mayhem, this perversity, decisions were instantly made based on the utmost kindness. While the gunman was cloaked in all manner of protective gear, people chose to use their bodies to protect others. These people had no Kevlar vests to shield them, but they would fling themselves, their futures, their possibilities, their tomorrows over others to offer them a chance. "Here," they said, "let me use all that I am to protect all that you are. You deserve a chance." Friends stayed at each other's side, offering life-gi...