Simple Pleasures

Discovering The Beatles and the World

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

The cheap red portable radio sat near the cash register on top of a display case at my stepfather’s grocery store.  From start to finish each work day the six “C” cell batteries inside powered the transistors to bring music into my world.  My Mother always had music going and lucky for me she liked the Top 40 music of the mid-60’s.  During the school year I worked in the store every day after school and all day Saturday plus six days a week in summer.  That red radio was a constant good friend. 

The time was 1963 to 1968, a time of great transition in music and in the country.  WVOK was a 50,000 watt ‘daytime’ AM radio station 70 miles away in Birmingham that broadcast from sunup to sundown.  The red radio brought the station in loud and clear all during the daytime. 

Through a $1 speaker came my first hearing of The Beatles at a time when Louie Armstrong’s “Hello Dolly” and Dean Martin’s “Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime” fit right in on the same radio station.  During that year I wished “my feet were fireproof” with the Drifters and wondered “where did our love go” with the Supremes.  My world was invaded by songs from Brittan by Chad and Jeremy, The Animals, The Dave Clark Five soon followed by the Rolling Stones, Herman’s Hermits, The Kinks and Tom Jones.  From radio broadcasts I learned about the “Mods” and the “Rockers” fighting in the streets in England and heard the first ads for a new car called the “Mustang”. 

As time passed the cheap radio’s volume knob became scratchy when the setting was changed, but was OK otherwise.  With a regular feeding of fresh “C” cells my red friend continued to create a soundtrack for my young teen life.  The Beatles were still going strong, but American acts started to strike back against the British Invasion.  Leading that charge were The Righteous Brothers, Four Tops, Lovin’ Spoonful, Tommy James, Paul Revere and The Raiders, Johnny Rivers, The Temptations, Stevie Wonder and Wilson Pickett.  It was about this time I heard about the riots in LA with entire blocks being burned.  Tmuch here were riots closer to home in Selma.  In contrast Walt Disney announced plans to build in Orlando. 

In 1966 I turned 13 and heard about the WVOK “Winter Shower of Stars” at the Birmingham Auditorium.  I went with Mike Sparks and his sister to see my first concert:  Paul Revere and The Raiders, The Buckingham’s, Tommy James, Lou Christie, Neil Diamond, The Music Explosion, Jon & Robin and a few more I can’t remember.  That was quite a line-up for a first concert experience and for me a magical time.   

The following March news of a “Spring Shower of Stars” came out of the speaker of that old radio.  Once I heard the list of the artists appearing I just had to go:  The Young Rascals, the Union Gap, Lemon Pipers, Billy Joe Royal, Gene and Debbie, Roy Head and more.  The Rascals were the first band I ever saw “jam” and two of the guys were outfitted in full hippe regalia.  I liked what I saw and in the time came to adopt that mode of being first witnessed in person at the show. 

From the innards of that cheap radio I heard about the Gemini space flights, Freedom Marches, draft cards being burned, a war in a place called Viet Nam and the protests against it.  The red radio told me about the assignations of Dr. Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy and when Jackie Kennedy married Aristotle Onassis.  I heard about the first warnings on the cigarette packs and listened to Coke teach the world to sing.  I also knew when Elvis married Priscilla.  How did I know?  My radio told me.  

Clearly I can in memory see that red music box of my youth which gave me a vision into the world with just the sound it produced.   I even ordered the first records I ever had from Rumore’s Record Rack who advertised on the radio and gave free records with every order!  

I have no idea what happened to that old radio that looked just like the one pictured at the top of this page.  Through lots of odd and difficult times what came through the transistors and out the speaker shaped a good portion of my musical tastes.  At a time when “made in China” was not a positive designation that red plastic radio with the handle on top made an impact on me to a greater degree than most people I knew then or have known since.  With just two controls, volume and tuning, it was my portal to the whole world.  I am wildly grateful for all I gained from that box of wires and stuff.  Just writing about it moved my age back at least a year or two! 

Last night I sent to see “1964:  The Tribute” which is a musical tribute to the early Beatles.  I appreciate that show for kicking off this trip down memory lane.  Thanks for the great show guys!

We do not remember days; we remember moments.  Cesare Pavese

A Lazy Sunday = Good Mojo

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

“This is usually “good morning gratitude” but today’s volume is arriving in an evening edition.  Once in while I need one of these laze around and take it easy “Sunday’s”.  You know the type.  Sleeping in a little was a treat.  My body appreciated the extra rest.  I had dreams that left me in a good mood although I don’t remember details.  Morning found feeling well.  

I slept until I was ready to get up, and then woke up with a first cup of coffee in front of the computer checking email.  I suspect most can remember a time when un-hurried they got caught up on their email.  There’s even the luxury of going back and reading emails you just never got to.   Today that bit of catching up was satisfying in some way I can’t explain exactly except it just felt good.  

Breakfast tasted good and my body appreciated it.  Fresh strawberries, blueberries, cantaloupe and a banana cut up in a bowl to go along with a one-egg cheese omelet.   My body knows the different between the bad and the good stuff.  It rewards me as it did today when I feed it well.      

My best friend M. called about 11am “just checking in” as we call it.  We ended up making plans for him to come over later.   We talked for a while then watched a movie and ate popcorn.  Then we talked some more.  Simple and calm the afternoon passed quickly and was a good time.  

Bedtime will be on schedule tonight.  I suspect when I lay down sleep will come comfortably and quickly.  That will be the end of a plain, nothing special, ordinary kind of delightful Sunday.  It was one of those days that are an ad-lib from start to finish.  “Time to waste” and spending it as I chose was good medicine. 

I am even cheating a little now and writing fewer words here than I usually hold myself to.  Even that little laziness is sweet.  I am grateful.

If you haven’t given yourself one of these lazy days I highly recommend you give yourself one soon. 

 Life passes very quickly.   

It is in his pleasure that a man really lives; it is from his leisure that he constructs the true fabric of self.  Agnes Repplier

 

A Roman Holiday with Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

Here in the age of High Definition, black and white movies are getting quite rare on local television and cable outside of a speciality channel or two.  Please don’t misunderstand.  I’m not some fossil who is stuck back in the time when B&W was state of the art for movie making.  Color came of age in the movies and on television during the same period of time I did. 

I have loved movies for as long as I can remember.  Seeing them is a favorite pastime whether at a theatre several times per month, watching favorites again at home or discovering old ones that are new to me on DVD or at the local art theatre.  I am grateful for the hundreds of hours I have spent in interesting places and within fascinating stories from the comfort of my seat. 

Contemporary movies filmed and shown in the new 3-D are enjoyable.  “Avatar” in 3-D was so awesome I ended up seeing in on the big screen six times.  I was always glad to accompany another friend to the theatre who had not seen it but wanted to go (the movie was such a hit it was at the theatres for well over six months).  On the other hand I am glad many new movies like “Super 8” produced by Steven Spielberg was not shot or shown in 3-D.  A friend and I saw that film yesterday and enjoyed the sort of “Goonies” gone sci-fi movie. 

On my list of favorite motion pictures are films from almost all genres: action, drama, science fiction, epic, thriller, love story, family, western, adventure, fantasy, comedy and more.  This long weekend I discovered a great old love story movie that was new to me.  Over the years here and there I have caught a few scenes of “Roman Holiday” but never have seen the whole thing.  It has been on my “to see” list for a long time.  Friday after work I stopped by a favorite used movie store and found a pristine copy of  “Roman Holiday”.  Friday night it was my evening’s entertainment. 

“Roman Holiday” is a wonderful old “G” movie made in 1953.  Audrey Hepburn became a star with this film, in which she played a princess (Princess Ann).  In it she is anxious to have some fun before she is made numb for life by the monotony of “affairs of state.” On a diplomatic visit to Rome, the princess escapes her keepers and goes incognito out into the Eternal City. She happens to meet American journalist (Joe Bradley) played by Gregory Peck, who, recognizing a hot news story, pretends that he doesn’t recognize her and offers to give her a guided tour of Rome. Eddie Albert is Peck’s photographer side-kick in the movie.  Naturally, Peck and Hepburn’s characters fall in love.  In her first major motion picture the 24-year-old Hepburn won an Academy Award for “Roman Holiday” for best actress.  Several other Oscar’s were won by the film as well. 

In one of the more touching scenes in “Roman Holiday” is this dialogue: 

Princess Ann:  I have to leave you now. I’m going to that corner there and turn. You must stay in the car and drive away. Promise not to watch me go beyond the corner. Just drive away and leave me as I leave you.
Joe Bradley:  All right.
Princess Ann:  I don’t know how to say goodbye. I can’t think of any words.
Joe Bradley:  Don’t try. 

I will admit I have never been much of an Audrey Hepburn fan, at least not until now.  Seeing “Roman Holiday” helped me to realize what a good actress she was and one who was attractive in an unaffected way.  Already I have been on Amazon.com looking up her later movies like “Breakfast at Tiffanies” and sorting out which ones I want to see.  In discovering Ms. Hepburn it seems like I have discovered a little vein of gold that I get to mine.  

In the last two days, I have seen two movies.  One was brand new and another is almost 60 years old.  There is no certainty within why I will remember one more than the other.  Sitting here typing at this moment I know clearly it is “Roman Holiday” that will stick with me the strongest.  Why?  Because the movie made me feel good.  However implausible the story may be, its conclusion seemed perfectly fitting and realistic.  

Soon Ms. Hepburn will have been gone 20 years and Mr. Peck died nearly a decade ago.  While I can’t express my gratitude directly to them, I can write of it here with you as my witness.  I am glad I purchased a copy of “Roman Holiday” for I know it will be one I pull out every so often and watch again.  In my heart and mind the characters and the man and woman who played them are immortal.  

 You must know that in any moment a decision you make can change the course of your life forever: the very next person standing behind in line or sitting next to on an airplane, the very next phone call you make or receive, the very next movie you see or book you read or page you turn could be the one single thing that causes the floodgates to open, and all of the things that you’ve been waiting for to fall into place.   Anthony Robbins

Searching for Gratitude in 100° Heat

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

The weather forecast for today indicates the temperature will be 100.  It would be easy to complain about that.  My sweating is more profuse than most people and its gets annoying on the really hot days.  I worry that I smell like a goat as the day goes on!  But my doctor says my sweating is a healthful thing and the perspiration removes toxins from my body.  So these days I try to perspire in peace without complaint with some measure of gratitude for the good health contribution my doc says it contributes to. 

The winter weather the last few years has been just as extreme as the heat in an opposite manner.  Record snow and low temperatures were set several times.  When it is hot like today I try to imagine those winter days when the temp was double digits below zero or I bring to mind the massive snow storm last year.  In memory I try to conjure up shoveling snow last winter when I was thinking about the summer heat and wishing for it. 

Having screwy weather does lend a consistent subject for conversation.  What Mother Nature is doing is always the fallback topic for casual talk.  That’s a little feature of weather to be grateful for; an easy topic for light conversation.  (Have you noticed I am digging for reasons to be grateful for 100 degrees today?  If so, you are “catching my drift” as us children of the 60’s and 70’s like to say). 

When the first snow of the year arrives and the white stuff is falling slowly to a light accumulation of 2 or 3 inches, I love winter.  The flurries seem to make everything beautiful and after a snowfall even the sound of walking in snow is more resonant.  (OK, that helped me feel a little better about the 100 degree forecast for today.  The air conditioning vent with cool air blowing on my feet helped.  I promise I will be more grateful for cold weather next year!). 

Now in early summer, the flowers, grass and trees are vibrant, alive and un-bothered by a heat wave of a few days.  As long as rain comes with some regularity all the green seems to relish the hot days and happily makes the landscape beautiful.  (Chalk up another point for gratitude!) 

The clouds of summer are different than any other time of year.  I read there are over one thousand types of clouds and in warm weather we see a greater variety than at any other time of year.  Laying in the edge of the shadow of a big tree and watching the cloud shapes dance in the sky was a favorite summer pastime as a child.  (I have found another gratitude point!)    

I went looking for more to add to my gratitude scales this morning to tip them in favor of the heat that will be upon me today.  And I found a little jewel in a grammar school poem used to teach little kids about the weather: 

I like to watch the way the wind
can spin a weather vane.
I like to wear my big blue boots
to splash with in the rain.
I like to ride my bright red sled
on cold snowy days.
I like to feel the sun’s warm rays
when I wade in the ocean waves.
Wind, rain, snow, and sun
Every kind of weather
is wonderful and fun!

OK, OK.  I am getting there.  With a little more help from oldies from the late 60’s I think I can finally arrive with real and full gratitude for the 100 degrees today. 

Cool town, evening in the city
Dressing so fine and looking so pretty
Don’t you know it’s a pity
That the days can’t be like the nights
In the summer, in the city.
(Lovin’ Spoonful – Summer in the City) 

Just a few more lyrics from another song and I think I have arrived at the feeling of gratitude I was looking for this morning. 

Oh, the sun beats down
and burns the tar up on the roof.
And your shoes get so hot,
you wish your tired feet were fireproof.
(Drifters – Under the Boardwalk) 

There now, I have it.  I found my gratitude today for the summer heat.  I used several routes to get there:  old memories, favorite song lyrics and old-fashioned counting my blessings.  

Gratitude is not always something on the tip of my tongue or a first thought.  Yet, when I stop and focus for a short while I find I am grateful even for things that at first seem like nuisance.  There is a saying used in recovery groups that works and fits my occasion this morning.  “Fake it until you make it” worked just fine this morning to deposit me at my destination of thankfulness.  

PS:  My thanks to Stuart W. Cramer who is credited for inventing modern air conditioning without whom I don’t believe this blog would have been possible! 

The trouble with weather forecasting is that it’s right too often for us to ignore it and wrong too often for us to rely on it.  Patrick Young

Poets: The Craft of Rhyming Words

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

Last night I picked up an old book of poetry that I have had for many years.  The small red book was published in 1933 has the odd title of “Additional Poems to the Golden Treasury”.  There are at least a dozen small little pieces of torn paper that bookmark pages where some of my favorites are.  I thumbed through the book and absorbed again some old favorites which lead me to pick up two other poetry books in my library and thumb through their bookmarked pages.  From a little less than an hour last night I have typed here this morning parts of some favorites I wanted to share.  I feel a little like I am cheating in putting up this blog today as it will be mostly filled with the work of others.  Yet, I am doing so with great respect and gratitude for these famous writers whose even meter and rhyme sprinkle my spirit with joy each time I read their work.  

From When You are Old by W. B. Yeats
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; 

From I Love You by Sara Teasdale
When April bends above me
and finds me fast asleep,
Dust need not keep the secret
A live heart died to keep.
 
From The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

From Two In The Campagna by Robert Browning
For me, I touched a thought, I know,
Has tantalized me many times,
Like turns of thread the spiders throw
Mocking across our path for rhymes.
 
From A Word to Husbands by Ogden Nash
To keep your marriage brimming
With love in the loving cup,
Whenever you’re wrong, admit it;
Whenever you’re right, shut up.

From A Poison Tree by William Blake
I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

From Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

From If by Rudyard Kipling
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

Last lines of The Star-Spangled Banner by Francis Scott Key
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: “In God is our trust.”
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

From A Match by Algernon Charles Swinburne
If love were what the words are,
And love were like the tune
With double sound and single
Delight our lips would mingle
With kisses glad as birds are
That get sweet rain at noon.

From A Birthday by Christina Georgina Rossetti
My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a watered shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these,
Because my love is come to me.

From A Man’s Requirements by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Love me Sweet, with all thou art,
Feeling, thinking, seeing;
Love me in the lightest part,
Love me in full being.

Well written poetry that is smooth and even in the way it is crafted can move me deeply.  I know from trying to write poems myself how difficult it is to mold words in this manner.  Also, I realize the talent needed to write poetry I either do not possess or else have never brought it forth in a satisfactory way.  This makes me all the more grateful to those who paint  beautiful portraits with words.

He who draws noble delights from sentiments of poetry is a true poet, though he has never written a line in all his life.  George Sand

Sound Pictures

/ James Browning

About a decade ago I stumbled across an idea I call taking “sound pictures”.  I was sitting having coffee in a little European cafe and Iwas struck by how different what I was hearing was from home.  With most countries having their own tongue and with nations being closer together than many US states, speaking several languages is a necessity.  It is not unusual to hear three or four languages being spoken simultaneously.

While a portion of the music I heard in shops, bars and restaurants was songs I knew, much of it in Europe was foreign to me.  I learned about several artists and groups I would never have known about had I not traveled and paid attention to what I was hearing.  On each visit my music taste has broadened a bit more.

The sounds of the streets in European cities are unique.  The trams are different than trains here and often run right down the middle of streets where cars drive and people walk.  Mostly running on electricity the trams make much different noises than I’m accustomed to and the bells they clang sound unique in each country.  In some Euro-nations bicycles are everywhere and have their particular clatter.  Buses make distinctive noises and even car horns make sounds unique to European countries. 

Then there are the emergency vehicles that have sirens and warning sounds that are unique to Europe.  Most people in the United States have knowledge of them though movie exposure and recognize the sirens instantly as “foreign”.

It was in Europe where I first began to close my eyes for minute or two at a time while listening very closely to what sounds I was hearing.  I let what was in audible range soak into me until I had captured a “snapshot in sound” and stored it within my mind securely.  Even though those initial “sound pictures” were made over a decade ago, I can close my eyes and focus on a particular place and almost instantly the sounds of being there come back to me clearly.  Sometimes the images in sound I recorded mentally contain more detail and memory than actual photographs I took!  Further, it is not unusual that seeing any image of a place I visited will cause a “sound picture” to instantly pop into my head.  It is a unique experience.  

Being in New York City on business for the last couple of days I have had the opportunity to take a few “sound pictures”.  The street soundsare distinct in their intensity and frantic nature.  Human voice on the street in the Big Apple is noticeable in its absence.  People just don’t talk much on the streets in NYC unless they are tourists.  Here and there people do yell at each other, but they don’t talk much on the sidewalks and in the streets.

Restaurant ambience in general is louder in New Yorkand is a match for the overall high volume the great city has in general.  Then there are the street performers, while not particularly distinctive to NYC they lend dintinctive sounds to life in the big city.

I am grateful to have spent a morning on the 3rd floor pool and spa level of the New York Athletic Club where I was staying.  The institution dates back to the last 25 years of the 19th century and is a classy old world kind of place.  There I sat with my eyes closed taking in the varied accents I was hearing.  The moving water from the swimmers in the huge pool echoed off the cavernous walls and forty foot ceiling.  There was voices of attendents taking care of the guests and the sound of doors opening and closing.  As those sounds surrounded me I captured a mental “sound picture” of my morning experience that is now part of the memories in my mind.  That new “snapshot” is now cataloged with all the others safely in my memory.

The more I have participated in the practice of taking “sound pictures” the keener and more discerning of individual sounds I have come to be able to be.  I notice nuances far better over time than I ever did originally.  I am grateful for this unique practice even though I have no idea exactly where the idea came to me from.  Thankfulness for the wonderful places I have gotten to visit is greatly enhanced by my memories in sound I have carefully filed away.   That added dimension helps to keep recollections vibrant and alive.

i am grateful to have had the opportunity to visit New York City on this trip for just about the right amount of time for me which is three days.  I am ready to head westward toward home, but now have new Big Apple “sound pictures” to take home with me.  They are more of the simple gifts of living that I am grateful for. 

 We do not remember days; we remember moments.  Cesare Pavese

Simple Joy of Cool Air

/ James Browning

The age of air conditioning is considered to have begun in the 1950’s.  It wasn’t until 1969 or a little over 40 years ago that a little more than half  (54%) of new cars came with air conditioning.  The majority of homes did not have AC until 1978.

Today I wonder how we’d get along without it!  There is nothing like a 98 degree day to make one appreciate having air conditioned comfort at home, at work and in the car.  Here in early June I have tremendous gratitude for my AC this year.  The upper 90’s came early!

In the 1950’s and prior it was not unusual for offices and factories to shut down during some of the hottest parts of summer.  It was just unbearable to work at times.  Then starting in the middle of the 20th century businesses began to cool workspaces with water cooling towers and refrigerated units.  From there cooled air moved into homes and cars.

There are parts of our country that would be difficult to live in without cooled air.  Imagine Phoenix or Las Vegas in July or Orlando or south Florida in August without AC!  Air conditioning in the last 60 years has been a major contributor in shifting population in the United States.  Since 1950 the population of Phoenix has grown +255% and Las Vegas population has increased by 1843%!  The city of Jacksonville,Florida has 279% more people living that than in 1950.  In the same time frame Houston has grown 238% and Dallas 179%.

Sixty years ago the largest population centers were in the northern parts of the USA in large part because of summer weather there being more bearable.  Since 1950 and the growing use of air conditioning the populations of Cleveland and Detroit have decreased by 50%.  There are almost 30% less people living in Minneapolis, Philadelphia and Boston than lived there six decades ago.

I grew up in the south eastern part of the country where a 98 degree day was often matched by a humidity  percentage around the same number.  I was an adult and out on my own before I had an air conditioned place.  Growing up I do remember getting sweaty at night, but the back and forth of the oscillating fan and open windows made it bearable as I recall.

I was lucky to have visited the South American Amazon about 10 years ago.  The main camp where we stayed did have buildings with a roofs and floors, but there was no electricity which meant no AC.  I recall it being hard to go to sleep, but the jungle cooled  off at night.  As long as there was a breeze, by 10pm the night was bearable to try and get some rest in.

I sit here typing this at my desk with freshly cooled air pouring in my home office from the floor vent.  Soon I will be in my car driving with the air conditioning going.  From there I will be in offices and other businesses all during the day that I know will have units cooling the air to a comfortable level.  Being one who sweats like a faucet, I am more grateful than most to live in an age with air conditioning.  I can’t imagine living with out it.

Now that I stop and think about it I realize how very grateful I am for something I always take for granted.  I have been reminded of it by times when there were issues with AC units in my home or car or at work.  I remember how thankful I was when the failing units were repaired and cooling again. The more I pay attention to things I am grateful for, the more I realize I have to be thankful for.

               Whatever we think about and thank about we bring about.                 Dr John F. Demartini


Into the Sunset

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

What do the following people have in common?  Ed Asner, Jim Backus, Ralph Bellamy, Charles Bronson, John Carradine, Robert Culp, Bette Davis, Bruce Dern, Angie Dickinson, Sam Elliott, Harrison Ford, Jodie Foster, Anne Francis, Dennis Hopper, George Kennedy, Martin Landau, Strother Martin, Ricardo Montalbán, Harry Morgan, Leonard Nimoy, Nick Nolte, Kurt Russell, Burt Reynolds, William Shatner, Tom Skerritt, Loretta Swit, Lee Van Cleef, Jon Voight, Lesley Ann Warren,  and James Whitmore.

They were all were on the TV show Gunsmoke at one time or another along with at least a hundred other faces most people 35 and above will recognize.  Gunsmoke started in the mid-50’s in black and while and moved to color about half way through its twenty year run.  It became the longest running, prime time series of the twentieth century.

Growing up in the 60’s and early 70’s I remember well the cowboy shows on television:  Wagon Train, Rawhide, Maverick, Bonanza, The Rifleman, Have Gun Will Travel, The Virginian, Wild Wild West and many more.  But there was only one Gunsmoke.   Doc,  Festus, Chester and the unrequited love between Miss Kitty and Marshall Dillon.  Even today I watch reruns occasionally on cable’s Encore Westerns.  Seeing it is as comforting and American as “Mom and apple pie”.

I am grateful for the many hours of entertainment Gunsmoke gave me.  There is also gratitude within for the basic morals and standards the show portrayed.  Yes, people got shot fairly often, but it was the embellished “old west” and as a kid I knew it was all make believe.  Yet, I knew the “fiber” of the show was real.

The star of Gunsmoke and a childhood hero of mine, James Arness, died yesterday at the age of 88.  I feel like I have lost a family member like a distant great-uncle.  Mr. Arness wrote this letter to be released upon his death this past Friday, June 6, 2011:

Hi friends, 

I decided to write a letter to you for Janet to post on our website in the event I was no longer here. 

I had a wonderful life and was blessed with some many loving people and great friends. The best part of my life was my family, especially my wife Janet. Many of you met her at Dodge City so you understand what a special person she is. 

I wanted to take this time to thank all of you for the many years of being a fan of Gunsmoke, The Thing, How the West Was Won and all the other fun projects I was lucky enough to have been allowed to be a part of. I had the privilege of working with so many great actors over the years. 

I was honored to have served in the army for my country. I was at Anzio during WWII and it makes you realize how very precious life is. 

Thank you again for all the many letters, cards, emails and gifts we received from you over the years. You are and always have been truly appreciated. 

Sincerely,

Jim Arness 

The gratitude Mr. Arness expresses in his letter is touching.  I always thought he was that kind of guy and it does my heart good to know in reality he really was.

The very first episode of Gunsmoke was introduced by John Wayne:

Good evening. My name’s Wayne. Some of you may have seen me before; I hope so. I’ve been kicking around Hollywood a long time. I’ve made a lot of pictures out here, all kinds, and some of them have been Westerns. And that’s what I’m here to tell you about tonight: a Western—a new TV show called Gunsmoke. No, I’m not in it. I wish I were, though, because I think it’s the best thing of its kind that’s come along, and I hope you’ll agree with me; it’s honest, it’s adult, it’s realistic. 

When I first heard about the show Gunsmoke, I knew there was only one man to play in it: James Arness. He’s a young fellow, and maybe new to some of you, but I’ve worked with him and I predict he’ll be a big star. So you might as well get used to him, like you’ve had to get used to me! And now I’m proud to present my friend Jim Arness in Gunsmoke. 

So now Marshall Matt Dillon has ridden off into the sunset to join Marshall ”Rooster” Cogburn.  To both gentlemen:  thank you both for all the wonderful hours I wandered the old west in spirit with you.  And Marshall Dillon… I hope you and Miss Kitty finally can get together now!  Thank you Mr. Arness.  I will not forget you.

I know it’s hard but please don’t cry

Fer I’m now ridin’ God’s trails high up in the sky

(from “A Cowboy’s Last Request by Terry Ike Clanton)

In Memory of Strangers

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

Yesterday was a beautiful day in Boulder.  The sky above was the deep Edgewood blue that Colorado is famous for and underneath to the horizon was a wonderful day to be outside.  My son and I walked around Pearl Street, had lunch and went for ride up nearby Flagstaff Mountain.

The trees are starting to sprout leaves and the ground is greening-up I noticed from my vantage point on the passenger side.  Blissfully lost in the sights and beauty of the day my attention was pulled to a simple little sign attached to a curve warning sign.  It looked liked it belonged there and simply read “In Memory Of Amber McDonald”.  As we continued driving my mind wandered and the questions came.  Who was Amber McDonald?  Was she young or old?  Did the location of the sign have significance?  Was Amber a lover of the mountains?  Did she spend a lot of time outdoors?  Did she ride her bike up Flagstaff  Mountain Road?  Lots of times?  Was she single or married?  Did she have children?  Brothers or sisters?  

Later I spent about an hour searching on the Internet for clues as to who Amber McDonald was.  I found the first and last name combination is fairly common.  Sifting through them all I could not find that name with any ties to Boulder.  Lacking any definitive history I invented some.  

Based on absolutely no facts the story I created and settled on was Amber McDonald was probably a college age girl (University of Colorado Campus is close by).  She was a bike rider and a successful student just about finished with her Master’s studies.  I imagined Amber as single and happy.  Thinking that someone who loved the scenery at least as much as I do could no longer see what I was seeing made me appreciate the mountains more than usual.  It was a gift I got for remembering Amber McDonald through my made up story. 

As it turned out Amber McDonald paved the way for me to “meet” another woman.  When we stopped to take in the view at scenic overlook close to the top of the mountain I noticed a bench with a small plaque made into it:  “In Loving Memory of Judy McMillan Feb. 27, 1941 – Feb. 5, 1997”.  Judy lived until shortly before her 56th birthday.  Was she a wife?  A Mother?  A Grandmother?  Was this scenic point special to her?  I filled in a few blanks and felt she was all of the above.  I added in my thought that the spectacular view where the bench was located must have been her favorite.  I felt like she came there often. 

Adapted from “I Am Not There” – Mary Elizabeth Frye

I give you this one thought to keep –
I am with you still – I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning’s hush
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not think of me as gone –
I am with you still – in each new dawn. 

Knowing almost nothing about the two women, but spending time with their memories made my day better and more memorable at a unique level.  I honored the wishes of those who put the signs up for the Amber and Judy to be remembered.  It made me more grateful to be alive. 

It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.  Henry David Thoreau

Temporary Friends

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

A couple of days ago I flew to Colorado to visit my son.  When I arrived at my home airport I saw long lines in front of the counter of the airlines I was flying.  My first thought was this flight was going to be a hassle.  It turned out the lines were backed up from another airline.  Although storms had caused all sorts of cancellations to the east, those going westward as I was were unaffected.  The journey started well.

Once on board in my aisle seat I was soon joined by a late 20-something young woman in the window seat beside me.  She was attractive in an unaffected way and dressed simply in jeans.  She seemed happy, smiled a lot and stuck up a conversation with me.  In a pleasant conversation I learned she was married and had two children:  one a 12-year old stepson and another 7-year old son she and her husband had together.  They lived in Denver and she was returning after visiting family in Tulsa.  Prior to takeoff we talked for about five minutes before the flight attendant moved some people around for weight and balance on the small commuter jet and she was one of them.  For those few minutes we really did relate to each other as we talked about our families and reasons for our trips.  And for that short while she became another on my list of “temporary friends”.  I am grateful to have the conversation logged away with the beaming face of a happy young woman stored with it. 

When interacting with strangers most often all that happens is the waitress or guy at the checkout goes by the script of the customary things they are supposed to say.  Or the person sitting beside you is mentally somewhere else  and in 90 minutes speaks only 10 words:  hello, how are you, fine, excuse me please and thank you .  Outside of the mechanical, necessary word exchange nothing of meaning is spoken and little if any part of the encounter gets logged to memory.  There have been other times on a flight or similar situation where I have had a seat next to someone who drones on and on speaking lots of words and saying next to nothing.  I rarely retain any memory of these non-connections except possibly in a negative sense.

There are also those unique and rare times when real connections happen.  Maybe with a waiter for a minute where there is real eye contact and interpersonal interaction.  These I think of as “momentary friends”.  Or once in a while on an airplane two compatible complete strangers find connection and the minutes float away without awareness as a “temporary friendship” is enjoyed.

I recall the 80-something gentleman who I talked with for three hours on a flight to California.  I was flying out for a job interview and found out he had relocated for his work quite a few times.  As I was considering a move, I asked was all the moving worth it.  He said something like “Yes, at the time.  But looking back now it really wasn’t worth it”.  I have reflected on his statment and his following explanation several times when presented with job prospects that required moving.  It helped. 

In clear memory is an hour of conversation with  the woman in the next seat that resulted in a still practiced long distance friendship.  Through emails from time to time we still stay in touch although we met on a flight 15 years ago. 

And there was the software consultant from Norfolk who was a wood carver, the grandmother from Atlanta who knitted as we talked, the retired NASA worker from Florida who knew the first crop of Astronauts, the college aged newly weds sunburned and giddy from their Cayman honeymoon, the anthropologist who was coming home to see his family after several years in Africa, the dentist from Cleveland flying to Dallas for Superbowl week, the business executive from New York City who talked about her love of horses, the flight attendant returning home to Denver who was excited about both her children coming home for Christmas and all the other “temporary friends” who don’t immediately come to mind at the moment.   To each and every one, I am grateful for the small threads you became within the fabric of my life.  Thank you all for giving me that little piece of yourself.  

There are no such things as strangers, only friends we have not met.  William Butler Yeats