Bread on a Stick

  •     2 handfuls of flour
  •     small amount of baking powder
  •     a pinch of salt
  •     quarter tin can of grease or lard
  •     over half a tin can of warm water

Mix everything but the water with your fingers until crumbly. Slowly add water and mix until dough feels soft. Don’t add more water, but keep working the dough till it holds together. Take a small handful and wrap around the end of a green stick, and work it so it stays together. Cook over coals, rotating to cook evenly.

Hobo Wedding Vows

We are in accord with the following:
1. You are the way you are, and, it’s OK for you to be that way.
2. May my love for you always be greater than my need for you.
3. May I always do what’s right even if it’s not what I want.
4. To help you be a success in your way.

The Truth

The most beautiful gift we can give each other is the truth. So just admit it, you’re not putting any more free samples out because of me.

Do not go gentle into that good night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


Are you tired of those sissy ‘friendship’ poems that always sound good, but never actually come close to reality?

Well, here is a series of promises that actually speak of true friendship.

You will see no cute little smiley faces on this ~ Just the stone cold truth of our great friendship.

1.. When you are sad ~ I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad.

2. When you are blue ~ I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.

3. When you smile ~ I will know you are thinking of something that I would probably want to be involved in.

4. When you are scared ~ I will rag on you about it every chance I get until you’re NOT.

5. When you are worried ~ I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be until you quit whining.

6. When you are confused ~ I will try to use only little words.

7.. When you are sick ~ Stay the hell away from me until you are well again. I don’t want whatever you have.

8. When you fall ~ I will laugh at your clumsy ass, but I’ll help you up.

9. This is my oath …. I pledge it to the end. ‘Why?’ you may ask ~ because you are my friend.


What do you see nurses? . . .. . .What do you see?
What are you thinking .. . when you’re looking at me?
A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,
Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . .. with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food .. . … . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . .’I do wish you’d try!’
Who seems not to notice . . .the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . .. . . A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not . . . … lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . .The long day to fill?
Is that what you’re thinking?. .Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse .you’re not looking at me.
I’ll tell you who I am . . . . .. As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, .. . . . as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of Ten . .with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters .. . . .. . who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen . . . .. with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover he’ll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows .. .. .that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . .I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . .. . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . .. With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons .. .have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me . . to see I don’t mourn.
At Fifty, once more, .. …Babies play ’round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me . . . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future … . . . . I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing .. . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . And the love that I’ve known.
I’m now an old man . . . . . . .. and nature is cruel.
It’s jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles .. .. . grace and vigour, depart.
There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass . A young man still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells
I remember the joys . . . . .. . I remember the pain.
And I’m loving and living . . . . . . . life over again.
I think of the years, all too few . . .. gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .. . . . .. . . open and see.
Not a cranky old man .
Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. …. . ME!!

Distant Obscurity

No matter who we are, or how rich we are, or how popular we become in our lives, in 1oo years we’ll be a distant obscurity.

The older I get the more I realize what I’ve learned from history was written by the concurers and probably never correct.

I watched the movie, Captain Philps, and it was a great movie but afterwards I read what the other crew members had said. The story was from his viewpoint and left out other parts as seen by the crew. In 100 years from now anyone who’d watch the old movie will think never have heard the other crew members and only watch the movie and assume everything was real and that is exactly the way it all happened.

Is this how we see Alexandar the Great, Ceasar, or Jesus himself. Most of those storys weren’t written until years after the event, and then by an historian of those people. It’s like me talking about my Dad, I only tell of the good things and skim over the not so good. I’ll also exagerate a little to make it a good story and to make him look good.

I’ve worked hard my entire life, making money and trying to be successful. In doing so I’ve made sacfifies. Mainly valuable time I could have spent with my sons. I think of the time I’ve had to work on holidays and wonder if it’s really worth it. I know people who live off welfare and don’t work and they spend a lot of time with their families. In the end are we going to look back at our lives and I envy them? This is one of my worries in life.

We all end up beside one another in the end. Rich man, poor man, hard worker, lazy bum, famous person, and us wonderers. In the end we’re all equal.

Here is a good poem, if it is:

Obscure Extremities

No Matter how deep, how far
our roots go,
they eventually taper off
buried in distant obcurity.

And no matter
how long we live
we also end up as
part of some from of eternity.

In between,
all we do is worry
constantly about
there obscrure extremitites.