Away manager

 For when they shall say, Peace and safety; then sudden destruction cometh upon them, as travail upon a woman with child; and they shall not escape.

Manger after wind storm

Madison

Past John Patrick

 Past John Patrick

Williston

We never quite knew what went on

behind the First Avenue brick facade

We knew that BMW’s went in eventually

to emerge and sit some more on the curb.

Eventually, what was once mystery, behind the boarded door, fell, to reveal, to those now seeing, there was nothing, except we who knew, saw the Night of the living dead

flickering, the vintage old beamers heading up Noble to the Red Devils auto mechanics class.

Nothing but net

 Nothing but net

Johnclarestokes 

it was an icy January...when the Angel came in spite...it was not good to part...leaving the ball in mid flight...but he said, it is time...who makes the last shot...you will soon find...is soon forgot...now lay you down.....the ice will soon thaw....with a swishing sound...in the fields of basketball.

To the memory of Pistol Pete Maravich 

Jan 5,1988

Pistol Pete

John Clare Stokes

Where were you on this day in eighty eight

The day Pistol Pete took his last shot?

Were you on some backyard court

Or were you in a gym in your baggy shorts?

Did you pause to watch the basketball swish?

Or just sit on the bench and for playing time wish?

Do you recall the day the magic came to play?

The capacity crowd watching the floppy sock Tiger

There will never be another Pete Maravich

I was glad I was there to see the all time best.

On this day, January 5, 1988 Pistol Pete Maravich passed away from a heart attack. He was at a church in Pasadena, California where he was playing basketball with James Dobson. He was 40 years old.

"I'd seen Maravich play in New Orleans once. He was something to see. Mop of brown hair, floppy socks, the holy terror of the basketball world. High flying, magician of the court. Scored something like 38 points. He could've played blind. Pistol Pete hadn't played professionally for a while and he was thought of as forgotten. I hadn't forgotten about him though."

Bob Dylan (the morning he heard the news that Pete Maravich passed away), taken from the first volume of his autobiography, Chronicles.

Peter Press "Pistol Pete" Maravich June 22, 1947 - January 5, 1988 Growing up in my life of sport early on I was quarterback Bart Star of Green Bay, wide receiver Fred Biletnikoff of Florida State and guard John Havlicek of the Celtics. Maravich was more my contemporary and I seldom imagined myself him for he was too good.

Rock in 2025

Rockin' with Geezus on the 'trot....knittin' booties a baby's comin'....dippin' Tops a missin' the pot...hesh now don't go a meddlin'....

Hello new year. Year I’ll be 70. Too sobering to think. Older I get realization things I’ll never get. Sent a birthday card to Nathaniel. 13 on the 5th. Haven’t seen since 2. Probably never will. 

Walking low

Stairway Made

johnclarestokes 

Walking low we 

 grow accustomed 

To the cadence 

Of the downcast

Seeing not

The Aufzug

The pulling up

For but a moment

Revealing the stairway

Made upon the clouds

Then the curtain lowers

And we walk on

Low below the

Stairway made.

My eyes

 I’ve viewed life through a  Yashica

I’ve gazed through a Pentax

I’ve wondered with a Canon

I’ve been inspired by a Nikon

Each showing what I have seen

From every scene.

The hunt

 The hunt

Johnclarestokes 

The night before we’d gather in the front room

Load our butternut vests with the green 4-10 shells

Lay out the thermal long johns by the down filled coat and rub down the single shot Stevens for soon

The frozen dark of dawn would shake us

With the smell of bacon and pancakes wafting

Down the cold dog trot to one soundly sleeping

In dream of bushy tails above making a fuss

The way up the Shadeville road to Ferrell’s seemed

To take too long but soon we arrived ready

A son with his father and a proud grand daddy

To begin our morning for squirrel and rabbit hunting

We’d stop and listen for a spell to tell

Which tree the commotion was taking place

Careful not to crunch twigs in our slow chase

In hopes of finding where the barking did dwell

Beneath the large oak grand daddy pointed

To let the grandson take the first shot

As the fathers son watched and never forgot

The day he was given the honor too

The green shell smoking with a sweet aroma

Leaves falling and a grey thud upon the ground

The son beamed as no prouder three were found

Oh how he couldn’t wait to tell mamma.

Sunny Bays

 Sonny Bays

Johnclarestokes 

Sonny never dreamed when but a boy

He would end up in room One seven teen

Dowling House isn't such a bad place

The bus comes regularly to wait

for him to slowly load his walker

and take the back seat by the talker

who goes on about things gone

How she wishes she was home

Sonny would talk to her of things 

he too is missing

But she's too lost in her past to listen

Of sunny days

When Sonny Bays

Was alone and happy.

Duck season

 Roscoe and I rode to Alligator Lake after CVS for awhile. It was duck season so several hunters were on the lake in the closed on Mondays park.

Moon spun

 Moon spun

Do not lose that capacity 

To cart wheel beneath 

A gleefully full moon

Though we may lay lame

Never let that tame

The inner joy

Of a little boy!

One blew in

 One blew in

Of all the leaves in the lot, only one chose to depart, so while the others are cold and wet, this one rides shotgun warm and content.

Waves

 Waves

All our days

Shore breaks

Spewing us out

Broken and bruised

Sand encrusted

We rise at last

These waves 

Now soothing 

Living waters